Chapter 223: Soul Proxy
"Hah~ Hah~ Hah~"
From deep within the Forbidden Forest came the terrible, hungry panting of a werewolf. The sound was rapidly approaching.
The sheer wildness, amplified by magic, seemed to paint the entire world with its ferocious arrogance, all teeth and claws, and a growling that was unnerving to hear.
In comparison, the werewolf Lockhart had transformed into had a bit less wildness and a bit more 'human' cunning and malice. One was the exposure and expansion of one's nature, while the other was the unrestrained release of the dark part of one's being.
Compared to these two, Lupin looked much more normal. He panted, bathed in moonlight, and although he also appeared very wild, he always gave off a pale impression of loneliness, forbearance, restraint, and a willingness to retreat into the shadows.
"Return to human form!"
"Finite Incantatem!"
Grindelwald pulled out his wand and cast a spell at Lupin. The scattered pieces of clothing flew back to Lupin as if time were in reverse. Lupin's body twisted and transformed rapidly, finally returning to his original appearance.
Lupin was so flustered. He tried to flee in a panic, but Grindelwald grabbed him. The shriveled old man's strength was so great that Lupin couldn't break free for a moment. He had to lower his head in embarrassment, not daring to look at the others, and not daring to imagine what kind of look Tonks was giving him.
"You can continue to run away, or you can choose to face yourself!" Grindelwald's voice was deep.
Lupin looked up at him in confusion.
"A werewolf is a werewolf. Does hiding it make you not a werewolf?" Grindelwald stared intently at him. "Face yourself, face the fact that being a werewolf is a part of you. Face your current state!"
"If you can't figure out your place, you will never find yourself in this world!"
Lupin was on the verge of tears, his sweat-soaked face hidden by messy hair. He was in utter pain. "What place can I have? What self..."
"You do!" Grindelwald pointed at Lockhart's back as he charged into the forest. "He certainly isn't a true werewolf, but if he were, I dare say he would naturally announce to the whole world that he is a werewolf. His heart is so powerful, so his strength is also great. He would forcefully and domineeringly demand that this world respects his identity as a werewolf!"
"But you, you only hide your identity as a werewolf and beg the world for tolerance. Heh, the world will tolerate you? What a fool's dream. You will always be ostracized!"
"The world will not tolerate a weakling; the world will only submit to a strong one," Grindelwald's words were so cutting and cold. "You will only prove to people that their stereotypes about werewolves are correct—that they deserve to be bullied and discriminated against. But he would fight for a place for werewolves to live freely!"
Lupin's expression was so bleak and lifeless. He shrank in on himself, full of pain. "Yes, people like me shouldn't be alive..."
"I!" Grindelwald was on the verge of saying, "If you don't want to live, should I just give you the Avada Kedavra right now?"
Damn it!
If I actually tried to kill you, you'd know how much you want to live.
Grindelwald stared at him. "If you really surrendered to fate, that would be one thing. But your heart is filled with resentment and grievance. You can't live like a werewolf such as Fenrir Greyback, nor can you live like a man such as Lockhart. Are you... truly content?"
Lupin was silent.
Of course, he didn't want to live this way.
Grindelwald's words echoed in his heart, stinging his soul, and also giving birth to an extremely unfamiliar power within him.
"Go help Lockhart. You're the only one here who can help him!"
Professor Kettleburn, who was anxiously watching the roaring battle in the forest, was wondering whether to rush in. He paused at the words. "We're not helping?"
Grindelwald sneered. "Tom is spreading the werewolf curse to the entire world. If you want to become a werewolf, you can go ahead!"
Professor Kettleburn didn't understand. But he quickly did.
Following a gasp from Tonks, they looked on in horror as the surrounding trees began to twist and transform, becoming terrifying and grotesque.
The werewolf curse could even infect trees?
Oh, this was very easy for Grindelwald to understand. He had seen too many similar things: the powerful, resentful ghosts of the dead changing the magical nature of an entire castle; the unique connection between Dementors and Azkaban; the joyful walk of a witch causing flowers to bloom around her...
"Back away!" Grindelwald warned them in a low voice. "If you don't want to become a werewolf, get back!"
As soon as he spoke, an impossibly hot fire roared out from the forest, taking on the shape of a serpent and streaking past them into another part of the forest. Along its path, all the trees, flowers, and ground were instantly burned to ash and disintegrated by the high temperature. The strange thing was that only the burned areas were affected; the rest remained untouched by the heat.
It was an extremely concentrated yet explosive scorching heat, full of destructive power.
Following the trail burned by the fiery snake, they looked deep into the forest and could see two werewolves tearing at each other. The werewolf Lockhart had transformed into was immensely powerful and ferocious. The black smoke and fiery serpents that emerged from him with every attack carried great force.
The werewolf Voldemort had transformed into, however, was incredibly fast. It was so fast that even after watching for a while, no one could make out his specific features; all they could see were blurred afterimages.
This wasn't a contest of power versus speed.
Lockhart felt immense pressure.
Every one of his attacks unleashed the most powerful strength of his werewolf body, and each attack was accompanied by powerful magic. From the perspective of the fantasy novels he had read in his past life, this was practically a master of both physical and magical combat.
But it was useless!
The werewolf Voldemort had transformed into used very simple attacks. Claws, nothing but claws! But what seemed like a simple scratching, combined with the werewolf's powerful magical resistance, a speed so fast the brain couldn't analyze it, and an attack rhythm that outpaced thought, was terrifying.
Lockhart's every move seemed impressive, but he was actually completely on the defensive. If Voldemort hadn't been instinctively influenced by his werewolf nature to attack the person he perceived as closest to him, he might have already escaped Lockhart's attack range. And Lockhart had to admit, he probably couldn't keep a Voldemort in this state.
It was then that Lockhart truly understood where the terrifying part of werewolves lay!
The werewolf's attacks weren't thought out!
Yes, it was that simple.
The soul directly controlled the body, and the mind no longer served as a buffer or a transfer point. This allowed all actions and reactions to reach the most primal and extreme state of life, a responsiveness that the mind or brain could not achieve.
This was the ultimate 'true self.'
Lockhart was doing the exact opposite. He had transformed into a werewolf but was still retaining his human thoughts, trying to use magic to enhance his physical body.
With this realization, it was simple to know what to do.
But he needed time!
Voldemort's attacks were so fast that Lockhart was overwhelmed and didn't have a chance to make a change.
Just then, Lupin rushed forward.
Of all the wizards present, no one understood werewolves better than Lupin. He knew exactly how to deal with this situation. He waved his wand and summoned a swarm of bees. The buzzing sound and the ubiquitous sensory disruption they created quickly caused Voldemort to make a mistake in his judgment, finally giving Lockhart a moment to breathe.
Summoning a swarm of bees wasn't difficult. This type of flocking magic was often used as a distraction. But knowing that the bees would be effective against a werewolf and judging the timing of the spell required an extremely keen eye for combat.
Lupin had suffered from the torment of being a werewolf his entire life. Through his monthly, decade-long pain, his understanding and mastery of werewolves had reached a level far beyond what anyone could imagine.
Lockhart nodded at him, quickly closed his eyes, and his large werewolf body rapidly collapsed and twisted, his magic boiling within him. When he opened his eyes again, only a pair of cold, vertical pupils remained.
A snake's vertical pupils.
At the end of the day, he wasn't a true werewolf. His werewolf form was more of a manifestation, a spiritual form of self-preservation that came from sealing away all his negative aspects.
But he was a Parselmouth.
He was a more-than-Parselmouth existence. He had a real grasp of the magical bloodline of the 'serpent.' There was probably no one in this world who understood the existence of snakes better than he did.
Unlike the snakes of his past life, which represented wisdom, luck, wealth, and all things good, the 'serpent' in the wizarding bloodline contained a more devious power.
Healing and regeneration in the domain of nature, temptation and redemption in the domain of fate, and danger and hope in the domain of mystery.
Soon, Lockhart became a long snake.
Unlike his state in the river of time, he no longer focused on controlling life. He decided to entrust everything to the instincts of his soul, restricting his mind's involvement in his actions. This wasn't something he could do in his human or werewolf form, but it was now possible in the form of a snake.
It was an incredibly subtle state.
He seemed to have become a god, looking down at all the changes in time, watching 'himself' as a snake attack the werewolf that was Voldemort, wrestling and hissing. He was no longer passively resisting and barely holding on; he was now fighting back and forth.
It was so magical. He could always make the most accurate and timely reactions. Sometimes, his own attack methods would make even him gasp in amazement—"I can do that?"
Yes, he knew he could do such things, but he had never done them before.
The instinct of the soul was a very strange ability. It was not just physical actions; it also included thoughts and all other abilities. And it wasn't a simple feint and surprise attack. One action led to another, and every attack was a way of guiding the enemy into a specific posture for the final blow he wanted.
This interesting observation made Lockhart realize that human thought wasn't just limited to the brain. The soul and the body had their own thinking capabilities.
He called this fascinating state 'Soul Proxy.'
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