The Death of Voldemort

Voldemort was lying in the stroller.

A cold wind blew by, and he, whose body was very weak, like an infant, wrapped himself tightly in the small blanket.

He fiddled with a magic wand, carefully considering his next plan.

Yes, he had already conceived a daring idea: to get his beloved Potter right under Dumbledore's ridiculous hooked nose.

The witch not far away had already been tortured into unconsciousness.

He hadn't expected to get much useful information, but he was surprised to discover that Bertha had some memory loss.

As a master of memory manipulation, Voldemort killed his father, Old Tom, when he was sixteen years old.

She then framed her uncle, rewrote his memory, and made him the scapegoat.

To date, no one has noticed anything amiss.

In terms of memory, Voldemort believed he was at the forefront of all wizards.

Therefore, even if Voldemort were to suffer a powerful Memory Charm, he could still regain his complete memories.

If he were in his youth, he would definitely have used Legilimency to gradually dredge up his memories.

But he doesn't have that patience now. He'll just use the cruelest methods—torture.

Although the method is crude and will cause serious harm to the witch, it is efficient and quick.

Suddenly, a mouse crawled out of the mud.

Voldemort, fiddling with his wand, smiled and asked in a good mood, "Wormtail, are they all dead?"

"Yes, Master." The mouse, now Peter, glanced almost imperceptibly at Bertha lay unconscious on the ground.

The two were not in the same year, but they had met many times at school, so it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say they were old friends.

But old friends... are meant to be sold.

"Did you get any important intelligence?" Peter asked cautiously.

"Of course, I found a loyal servant lying in a dark, sunless place, waiting for me to rescue him," Voldemort said lazily.

"I am your loyal servant!" the Wormtail cried out hastily. "Master, don't you want me anymore?"

"Wormtail, I need a servant with brains, a servant who is absolutely loyal to me and never wavers. And you, unfortunately, do not meet either of these conditions."

"I found you!" Wormtail said, his voice tinged with obvious anger. "I brought you here; I brought Bertha Jorkins to you."

"That's true," Voldemort said in a teasing tone, "I never expected you to say something so clever, Wormtail."

"But to be honest, when you captured Bertha, you didn't realize how useful she was, did you?"

"I—I know she'll be useful, Master..."

"Lying," Voldemort said coldly.

"However, the information she provided was very valuable. Wormtail, you will be rewarded after my resurrection."

But now... we should leave.

"Where are we going, Master?"

"Let's go to a safe place first, where my poor father's bones lie, essential materials for my resurrection."

"And Bertha?" Peter asked in a high-pitched voice.

"Of course... he was killed," Voldemort said coldly.

"Master, I still think it's better to alter her memory and then let her go back."

"A witch from the United Kingdom Ministry of Magic has suddenly disappeared; they'll investigate," Peter said, head bowed.

"The investigation won't find us. Everyone at the Prancing Pony Inn is dead. Just leave Bertha's body there."

Even if Dumbledore to investigate, he would only conclude that Bertha was killed by Lethifold.

Voldemort snorted:

"But altering her memories... if she encounters a powerful wizard, like Dumbledore, the Memory Charm might not work."

I confirmed this during my interrogation of her.

Do it! I want you to kill her right now!

The Wormtail trembled as it raised its wand, and just then, a scream came from the sky.

Voldemort raised his head, squinted, and when he saw the animals in the sky clearly, his expression changed.

He said in a hoarse voice, "Wormtail, who did you bring here?!"

Peter looked up in horror.

A huge sea eagle was seen plummeting straight down from the sky.

--Eagle!

He knows it all too well!

Wormtail hastily raised his wand, but the young witch riding on the eagle was already poised to strike.

A flash of red light appeared, and the Wormtail and wand detached, flying backward.

William descended rapidly, and Peter could even land, he grabbed Peter's shoulders and pulled him forward and to the side.

Peter was like a piece of dried meat hanging in a claw, powerless to fight back, his whole body rising higher and higher off the ground.

The claws were so sharp that they pierced through Peter's body with just a slight hook. Peter fell from mid-air and rolled several times on the ground before coming to a stop.

William circled around and landed again, preparing to hook Peter to death with his claws, but his pupils contracted sharply—a keen intuition that sensed danger.

"Watch out!" Hermione shouted a warning.

William seemingly effortlessly sidestepped, swiftly dodging a tricky green beam of light.

Only then did he notice that there was someone hiding in the stroller.

William used another spiral maneuver to dodge the wizard's spell once again.

Hermione raised her wand, a white light flashed, but instead of shooting towards the wizard, it struck the ground.

Did it miss?

Of course not!

Having studied with William for so long, Hermione's combat skills have improved rapidly, making it impossible for her to miss so far.

She did it on purpose.

The hidden wizard is very powerful; her spells will definitely be debunked.

I might as well just aim wide and catch them off guard.

Voldemort did indeed think so. He was now in a special form, extremely weak, like an infant, and with very little magic power.

He intended to wait for the curse to get closer, then use an effortless move to smash it back.

But the beam of light was so erratic that it fell two meters away from him before it even got close.

An explosion!

The stroller was thrown out by the blast wave, spun three or four times in the air, and a "baby" fell out.

The eagle transformed back into William, who waved his wand, drawing Bertha from the ground towards him.

He bent down and reached out to gently examine Bertha's injuries.

The woman did not die, but she fell into a coma, barely alive, covered in wounds, and unconscious, clearly having endured cruel torture.

William straightened up and looked at the "baby".

The baby was already standing on the head of the Runespoor, its red pupils staring eerily at William.

Babies who can use Avada Kedavra

A snake's face?

Who this person is, is self-evident!

William didn't care at all how Voldemort had transformed from the shadows into this form, or what state he was in at this moment.

Anger flashed in his eyes as he pointed at Bertha and asked:

"You did this?"

A cruel, triumphant expression appeared on Voldemort's face. He raised his head and scanned William.

"William Stark, we meet again. It has been three years since you stopped me from taking the Philosopher's Stone."

I think of you every single moment.

William didn't exchange pleasantries with Voldemort, but instead raised his voice. "You did this?!"

"Tsk tsk, I saw her memories. I know she worked for you and gathered a lot of interesting information for you..."

"Did you do this?!" William asked for the third time.

Voldemort stared at William, his face contorted with rage, and said, "I did it, so what?"

"Then you..." William raised his wand, saying each word clearly, "Go to hell!"

Voldemort seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the world, and he laughed arrogantly.

"You brat, you're so adorably arrogant! No one has ever dared to speak to the Dark Lord like that before! I'm suddenly finding myself a little reluctant to kill you!"

William strode forward, tapped his wand lightly, and two craters appeared in the ground.

Two beams of light, each carrying a surge of magical power, intertwined in the air and cascaded down like a waterfall towards Voldemort.

Standing atop the head of the Runespoor, Voldemort stretched out his arm and shattered the first spell.

Runespoor's tail whipping, it smashed the second spell with brute force.

Voldemort's eyes were sinister; Stark was much stronger than he had been three years ago.

Snap!

William disappeared from the spot.

A chilling killing intent enveloped his back, and Voldemort, sensing something was wrong, waved his wand.

Just as he was about to recite the incantation, the young wizard behind him grabbed him by the neck!

William sneered, "You're so weak, Voldemort!"

Voldemort's frail body was swung high into the air and then casually slammed to the ground.

Voldemort crashed into a tree and fell to the ground, filled with regret.

He shouldn't have transformed from shadow into this peculiar form so early.

In his shadow form, although his power is reduced, he remains immortal.

Magic had no effect on him; he could move freely and escape whenever he wanted.

Having a physical form, yet as weak as an infant, he was left to run rampant by the Stark!

The crucial point is that he never expected Stark to appear here!

William also discovered Voldemort's special abilities, so he was determined to kill him.

Snap!

He Apparition again, appearing on the ground, and stepped on Voldemort's forehead, increasing the pressure.

Perhaps because his skull was more sturdy than mud, the Dark Lord's entire head gradually sank into the ground.

Peter, who had been lying on the ground pretending to be dead, was terrified at the sight and immediately turned into a mouse, scurrying into the mouse hole he had dug beforehand.

Voldemort felt an unprecedented humiliation!

It was even more humiliating than being killed by the backlash of one's own Killing Curse!

He was furious. "I want you..."

Before the word "death" could be uttered, William raised his wand, pointed it at Voldemort's head, and whispered:

"Cruciatus Curse!"

Voldemort let out a piercing scream.

William increased the pressure on his leg, still holding Voldemort's head firmly, and unleashed another Cruciatus Curse.

This process continued incessantly, and Voldemort's head sank deeper and deeper into the mud, like a hammer blow.

Deep in the Albanian Forest, terrifying screams echoed.

Avada Kedavra!

Voldemort, who hadn't been able to resist from beginning to end, lay limp and lifeless on the ground.

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