Boom!
The Smoke Rope Curse erupted with full force, unleashing a thick wave of black smoke that surged outward like a living creature.
Whether Harry could see it or not no longer mattered. The power Tom displayed had already far exceeded Sean's expectations. Traditional tactics were useless now. But for Sean, that only made things more interesting. The stronger Tom was, the more Sean stood to gain from this duel. The situation was getting dangerous—but that only meant one thing: this was going to be worth it.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…
Dark smoke tendrils unfurled from Sean's body, twisting and writhing through the air, lunging toward Tom like serpents hungry for prey.
The Smoke Rope Charm—powerful, ominous, and clearly beyond the current Tom's understanding—was likely a spell Tom had developed after leaving Hogwarts. Right now, he had no defense prepared. Eyes narrowing, Tom lifted his wand—Miles's wand—and fired off a barrage of spells. Dim yellow fireballs blasted forward in succession, striking the encroaching black arms.
Blasting Curses.
High-level and destructive. Peter Pettigrew had once used one to blow up a street full of Muggles, framing Sirius Black in the process. And now, in Tom's hands, they were rapid, precise, and relentless.
Each impact exploded with a thunderous roar, tearing Sean's smoke tendrils apart.
Sean's smile didn't fade. "Oh? You blocked a full-power Smoke Rope Curse? As expected of a Horcrux fragment of Lord Voldemort... you're not disappointing at all."
Muttering, Sean raised his wand slightly. With his left hand, he reached to his belt and drew three vials between his fingers. In one swift, practiced motion, he bit the corks off, downed all three potions in a single gulp, and tossed the bottles away without a second glance.
His chest rose with a deep inhale. He could already feel the effects coursing through him.
Sean grinned.
"Let's see how long you can keep this up."
With a swift, fluid motion, he raised his wand skyward.
Black smoke burst upward and swirled, coiling into an enormous hand that blotted out the light above, shadowing the battlefield. The smoky giant's palm curled and then descended like a divine punishment, crashing down toward Tom.
Tom's expression hardened. He thrust his wand forward with both hands, and this time, a massive fireball—far larger than before—exploded from the wand's tip, hurtling directly into the descending smoke hand.
BOOM!
A blinding blast engulfed the air as fire met shadow. The force of the explosion was overwhelming—winds howled, smoke surged outward in a choking tide, and for a moment, nothing could be seen.
But amidst the swirling fog, Tom's instincts screamed.
Something was wrong.
Backing away instantly, he slashed his wand through the air, conjuring a glowing spherical barrier—a Protego Totalum encasing himself completely. Miles's body shimmered behind the shield.
Just in time.
Crack!
From the mist, a clawed hand formed of black smoke lunged, slamming into the shield. A visible ripple pulsed outward from the point of contact as if reality itself had bent.
Seeing the black smoke claw, a sneer emerged on Tom's illusory face—but before it could fully settle, another claw grabbed the light shield. Then came the third, fourth, fifth… ten, fifteen… thirty. More and more claws latched onto the shield, producing a harsh sound like nails scraping across a blackboard. The screeching grew louder and more frequent. Countless ripples spread across the spherical light shield—until, at last, a crack appeared.
"Not good!"
Tom's expression shifted slightly, and he violently swung the wand in his hand. Just as the light shield collapsed and the swarm of black smoke claws surged toward him, a light blue mist burst outward. It swept across the battlefield, instantly dispersing the smoke and reducing it to nothingness.
As the smoke vanished, Tom immediately scanned the area for Sean—but Sean was nowhere to be seen.
Tom reacted swiftly, immediately realizing that Sean was behind him. He turned to launch a counterattack.
But in that moment, Sean appeared behind Tom and delivered a powerful kick to Miles's waist—the body Tom was possessing. A scream tore from both Miles and Tom, their voices overlapping. The force of the kick bent the possessed body backwards unnaturally, flinging the stomach forward and slamming it into the wall.
Tom ignored the pain and injuries, struggling to regain control of the body and rise. But then he noticed—Sean's kick had broken Miles's lumbar spine. As he attempted to cast a spell to mend the damage, a flash of white light struck his arm.
Instantly, the arm—Miles's arm—dropped uselessly, as if all the bones had vanished. Though the bones in the hand remained intact, he could no longer wield the wand.
The other hand reached for the wand in desperation, but more white light rained down. One by one, the bones in the limbs and spine disappeared. Only those protecting the internal organs and the brain were spared.
Sean had used the Bone-Vanishing Spell—an altered version of Lockhart's botched Bone-Healing Charm, refined through the panel. And it worked. Tom was finally subdued.
Sean stepped forward, crushing Miles's wand beneath his foot with a sharp crack. He then reached into Miles's arms and retrieved the diary.
Feeling the diary's frenzied, bewitching influence pressing against his mind, Sean immediately understood—this was the diary's final attempt.
The diary, too, seemed to realize that its enchantment held no sway over him. A thin stream of green light seeped from the gaps between the pages and coalesced into an illusory image of Tom, who now stood before Sean.
"Sean Bulstrode," the projection said coldly, "since you know of my existence, you must understand what I am. My original body will return sooner or later. And when he learns you destroyed me, he will not let you go. But if you protect me, preserve me, there might yet be a place for you—at his side, as one of his subordinates. You may survive."
Sean narrowed his eyes. "Last year, your 'original soul' possessed some poor, unlucky man and tried to sneak into Hogwarts to steal the Philosopher's Stone. I killed the body he was using and forced him to flee. Do you really think someone like Voldemort forgets things like that?"
The diary's image visibly faltered.
You're trying to persuade him—and he says he's already on the Dark Lord's hit list?The logic loop crashed. Tom's illusory face twitched slightly, unable to hide the frustration.
Trying to recover, Tom snapped, "You can't destroy me! I am the Horcrux of the great Lord Voldemort! I'm protected by powerful magic—I'm invincible!"
Sean rolled his eyes. "Bragging again? Please. Right here in this room, there are at least two things that can end you—the Sword of Gryffindor and the fang of a basilisk. Either one can pierce your 'invincible' protections and shatter your soul.
"And even without those, there are plenty of spells that can finish the job."
Without another word, Sean flung the diary to the ground and pointed his wand at it.
"Venomous Surge!"
From the wand's tip burst a dark purple, sticky, liquid-like light. It struck the diary with a hiss.
The spell—derived from basilisk venom—summoned toxins as corrosive and destructive as the hellfire of Fiendfyre. A uniquely lethal magic, and more than enough to destroy a Horcrux.
"Sean Bulstrode! You'll regret this—you will definitely regret it! Aaaah—!"
As the venom continued to corrode it, holes appeared across the illusory form of Tom. Under the onslaught of the poison, most of the diary turned to charcoal, the soul fragment and magic within it completely annihilated.
With that final, spiteful threat, Tom's illusory figure dissolved into a swirl of fluorescent light and vanished into nothingness.
At that moment, a prompt popped up on Sean's panel: