The magic power used to cast spells has become completely dormant, devoid of any vitality, like stagnant water, and just like those Squibs he despises.
The weakening of magic power.
Causes Voldemort to struggle in dealing with the blades in the space around him.
His black robe is already ignited with flames, emitting a pungent burnt smell. He tries to continue using his shield to fend off the surrounding attacks, but the increasingly difficult-to-control magic power leads him to further decline.
The shield continuously crackles, seemingly on the verge of collapsing at any moment.
"As you said, perhaps it's the magic that Dumbledore was unwilling to teach you?" Ian also begins playing with psychology, making Voldemort grow increasingly enraged.
"Dumbledore is just a guy I toy around with! Damn bastard! You and Dumbledore will eventually taste the consequences of being my enemy!"
"I wasn't defeated by you! I was defeated by that damned thing you threw! We will meet again one day! I'll settle the score with you then!"
Voldemort has already realized he's been tricked by Ian, watching in desperation as his magic shield weakens, he curses through gritted teeth intending to flee.
Only to see.
Voldemort transforms into black smoke, rushing toward the ceiling.
"If you want to escape, it should be sooner. Unfortunately, you were trapped when I came in." Ian's words leave Voldemort bewildered, and an ominous premonition drives him to madly charge upward.
"See, you're merely postponing death..." Ian gently turns his magic wand, and immediately, as Voldemort's smoke drills into the ceiling, his movements suddenly halt.
In the black smoke that his body transformed into.
There is a trace of unusual color.
"Boom!"
It's as if the control over his body was seized; Voldemort drops from the ceiling, unable to maintain the magic, reverting to his wounded human form.
"No!"
Before he can get up.
Blades pierce through Voldemort's body, preventing him not only from moving the hand holding his magic wand, but also pinning him entirely to the ground.
"What have you done to me!"
Voldemort's eyes blaze red, roaring as he raises his head.
"A little Transformation Technique shock, how about it, isn't it great?" Ian glances at the Mirror of Erised for a moment before turning to speak to the miserable Voldemort.
"I already told you earlier, victory always stands on my side; I don't like to lie." Ian gently shakes his magic wand, and the spikes protruding from Voldemort's body suddenly turn into chains.
They emerge from Voldemort's flesh, binding his hands, feet, and head, making it possible for Ian to choose to torture and dismember Voldemort at any moment.
"This can't be Transformation Technique! It defies Gamp's Basic Transformation Law!" Voldemort glares with blood-red eyes, panting, his voice filled with disbelief.
"You see, I told you you didn't learn anything real at Hogwarts; you must have never attended Professor McGonagall's class. She personally told me that wizards are the truth of gods."
"Being gods, what's the point in discussing laws? It's the limitations of thought that bind you, Tom!" Amid deep crimson flames, Ian steps closer to Voldemort, who is pinned in the center of the room. Voldemort's magic wand has already turned to ash in the flames, whether it was Quirrell's original wand or not is unknown.
"What is this magic?"
Voldemort suddenly seems to calm down.
"It's magic I created myself... my odyssey." With each step, Ian treads on a carpet woven from flames, yet he feels no heat nor is affected by the fire one bit.
"Do you think by defeating and killing me, you can become a hero? Dumbledore won't let you go... and I, am the one who truly understands you!"
Voldemort struggles to lift his head to look at Ian.
"I don't think you can understand."
Ian purses his lips.
"You're just a synthetic memory, an alchemy weapon created by Dumbledore. When you're no longer useful, our headmaster will have you destroyed."
Clearly.
Voldemort's misunderstanding of Ian persists. He seems to have accepted the inevitable, abandoning the hysteria and frenzied anger that possessed him before.
"You're the biological weapon, your whole family is biological weapons." Ian gives Voldemort a resounding slap, denting one side of Voldemort's face.
This guy clearly sacrificed substantial flesh and blood to forcibly enhance his magic strength earlier.
"I have to say, if you intended to rise by stepping over me, you have succeeded... using some deceit and trickery." Voldemort enduringly suppresses his rage to speak in his hoarse voice.
"If you have ambition, as long as you don't kill me, I can assist you and make you the new generation Black Demon King... I think I would enjoy such an achievement."
"After all, I am not young anymore; it's time to find a successor." Of course, Voldemort is blatantly lying; he's merely attempting to preserve his hard-won life.
However.
This method of temptation is indeed somewhat unique.
"?????"
Ian feels that Voldemort probably regards the Black Demon King as a title of great prestige.
"Your brain certainly doesn't work like ours; how could you think I would desire to become a Black Demon King? Don't you know I hate it when others fear me?"