"Dumbledore!" Voldemort snarled, his blood-red eyes locked on the frail old figure.
The Death Eaters were thrown into chaos the instant they saw the Headmaster of Hogwarts standing before them.
"Why is Dumbledore here?!" one of them shouted, his trembling voice heavy with panic.
"And Mad-Eye Moody too!!" another followed, his fear only intensifying.
"It's you." Voldemort's gaze shifted to the young man standing behind Dumbledore.
"Senior, now isn't the time for pleasantries."
As Wes spoke, five golden spheres shot into the air under his deft control, soaring to five different positions around the graveyard. Once they locked into place, beams of soft yet impenetrable light spread outward, connecting into a vast, translucent dome that sealed over the entire graveyard, trapping every Death Eater inside.
"None of you are running this time."
Without another word, Wes swung his wand. Instantly, a torrent of conjured blades rained down from the air like a storm, each strike sharp and precise, slashing toward the Death Eaters.
Several of them tried to Disapparate, but the barrier Wes had cast had only one function—containment. No one could escape, no matter how hard they tried.
Realizing they were cornered, the Death Eaters turned desperate. They knew their only chance was to combine their power, overwhelm Wes, and break through his assault. With grim determination, they unleashed a barrage of complex and deadly spells.
But Wes tracked each curse with unerring precision. His lips moved quickly, releasing a single, devastating incantation:
"Blasting Surge!"
Explosive hexes burst from his wand tip in rapid succession. Every targeted Death Eater was torn apart in an instant, their screams and the deafening roar of explosions echoing through the graveyard.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore and Voldemort were locked in combat. The duel between the two greatest living wizards blazed with unpredictable intensity, yet Dumbledore held the upper hand, suppressing Voldemort and preventing him from aiding his followers.
Moody, meanwhile, stood guard over the two boys, ensuring they weren't caught in the crossfire. His magical eye never left the battlefield, ready to step in at the first sign the tide might turn.
"Don't be afraid, he's just one man!" a Death Eater bellowed, trying to rally the others. "He can't Disapparate either—close in on him! Box him in!"
At once, a dozen Death Eaters coordinated their assault, moving like a trained unit. Voldemort's most loyal and seasoned followers wove their attacks into a tight net of multicolored curses, streaking through the night sky toward Wes.
But Wes only stood calmly, raising his wand as he spoke in a low, firm voice:
"Protego Maxima."
A shimmering shield enveloped him. Each incoming curse struck the barrier, rippling across its surface like waves, but not a single spell broke through.
"Plenty of numbers," Wes said coolly. "But the quality is far too low."
Then he turned his wand toward the largest tree in the graveyard.
The tree seemed to be infused with life itself. Its branches stretched wildly, and its thick roots tore free from the soil, transforming the entire tree into a massive treant.
Under Wes's command, countless branches lashed out like whips, wrapping around the struggling Death Eaters. One of them tried to retaliate with fire magic, shouting: "Blazing Flames!" A torrent of fire roared toward the treant.
Wes, however, simply opened his palm. The flames were drawn to his hand, condensing into a bright orange fireball.
"Blazing Flames!!"
Wes answered with the same incantation—but the energy he released was several times stronger. The Death Eater had no chance to dodge. He was engulfed by the fire, his body reduced to a charred corpse.
The others fared no better. Their wrists were tightly bound by branches until bones snapped with audible cracks. Their wands fell uselessly from their hands, leaving them unable to resist.
The treant showed no mercy. Its jagged maw opened wide, swallowing the helpless Death Eaters whole.
After this relentless assault, the once-formidable Death Eater force was reduced to only five survivors.
Panic set in.
"If we don't think of something, we'll all die here!"
"Reveal our identities! We're prominent figures—he won't dare kill us if he knows who we are!"
But their fear kept them wavering, unable to reach a decision.
Before they could act, Wes struck again. With a wave of his wand, the ground beneath them softened into a swamp. Then, with a press of his wrist, he unleashed a Gravity Charm. The Death Eaters collapsed as though a mountain had been dropped upon their shoulders, their breathing strained and desperate.
One of them, struggling, tried to tear off his mask and reveal his face. But Wes increased the spell's intensity—the crushing weight doubled. The man was dragged down into the swamp before a single word left his lips, and his companions soon followed, swallowed by the darkness.
The treant did not rest. It snapped the wands of the captives who could no longer fight back.
When the last Death Eater finally cried, "Wait—we surrender!!" it was already too late.
With a final flick of his wand, Wes restored the earth to solid ground. The treant returned to its place, its leaves looking even greener than before.
The battle had lasted less than three minutes, but for the Death Eaters, it was an endless nightmare.
Wes stood calmly amidst the silence.
The fight had ended so quickly that Harry and Cedric hadn't even had time to recover from the tension before Wes had already wiped out more than a dozen Death Eaters.
Moody, standing nearby, prided himself on vigilance, yet even he was caught off guard by Wes's ruthless decisiveness. Not a single enemy had been spared. Such merciless efficiency was rare even among Dark wizards, and it made Moody instinctively wary of Wes.
Wes then turned his gaze to the battle between Dumbledore and Voldemort.
Dumbledore seemed to have the upper hand, but completely defeating Voldemort was no simple task.
At that moment, Wes began walking toward the center of the battlefield.
Voldemort's already twisted face contorted further when he saw him.
"You again—always ruining my plans!"
But Wes remained calm, composed. He inclined his head slightly, his tone polite yet unyielding:
"Senior, we meet again."
°°°
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