Charles had known that Voldemort could create Inferi, but he hadn't expected this. The Dark Lord could make corpses—long dead, buried, and decayed—suddenly rise without warning.
Still, Charles didn't pay it much mind. After all, Voldemort was reputed to be the strongest Dark wizard alive, though in the original history his actual methods were hardly impressive.
But in truth, even Voldemort couldn't just raise the dead without preparation. The creation of Inferi required prior arrangements—a dark ritual performed long before the corpses were used.
Decades ago, Voldemort had already laid the foundation for this spell in this very graveyard. At first, his intention was merely to ensure that his father's bones wouldn't be lost to the soil. But while he was at it, he turned the rest of the corpses here into Inferi as well.
Watching those rotted things shuffle about in front of him—fear was one thing, but disgust was another matter entirely.
The stench of decay filled the air. Maggots writhed in the rotting flesh of the dead, and every step the corpses took sent fetid chunks of meat sloughing off their bones with a wet squelch.
"Disgusting things—"
Charles frowned sharply and drew the Destruction Wand without hesitation. A terrifying aura of darkness surged around him, so dense and deep that even Voldemort himself felt his heart clench in alarm.
Bloody hell… and I call myself a Dark wizard?
Now this—this was what a true Dark wizard looked like!
Compared to him, Voldemort's own so-called dark arts were pitiful.Dumbledore, why don't you focus on getting rid of this Charles Gold instead of harassing me all the time?!
Voldemort didn't understand the unique nature of the Destruction Wand. He only knew that dark magic twisted the user's emotions and soul—and right now, Charles looked infinitely darker than he ever had.
"Infernal Abyss!"
Charles had no interest in Voldemort's inner thoughts. All he wanted was to purge these foul abominations from his sight before they polluted the air around him.And if any of those things so much as brushed against him—he didn't care whether it hurt or not—he'd rather lose that piece of skin entirely.
From beneath his feet rose black-red flames, erupting from the cracks of the underworld itself and swallowing him whole.Though it contained the power of Fiendfyre, the flames didn't harm Charles—just as Grindelwald's flame shields had spared his loyal acolytes.
The inferno burst outward like a feral wildfire, consuming the entire graveyard. Every corpse touched by it disintegrated instantly, their soulless bodies reduced to nothing as though summoned to Hell itself.
From their hollow eye sockets blazed a final light—a blessing of release for the dead who had been denied rest.
At last, those pitiful souls who could not even die in peace turned into silent, drifting white ash.
But the flames did not stop. Instead, they rose even higher.
Within the conflagration, a creature emerged—horned like a goat, its body dark crimson and glowing like molten rock flickering with embered veins of light.
This was no deliberate change wrought by Charles's spellwork. Back in Russia, he had once fought against worthless foes where modifying a curse mid-battle was a waste of effort and mana.But in truth, Fiendfyre was naturally mutable.
Voldemort's Fiendfyre took the form of a massive serpent. Grindelwald's became a dragon. It was only fitting that Charles's Infernal Abyss should manifest as a demonic being of flame.
The infernal creature roared and rose toward Voldemort, who floated in midair.Next to that towering fire demon, Voldemort looked as small as a rat.
A rat—albeit one that could still bite.
Voldemort opened his mouth wide and spewed forth his own Fiendfyre.The two torrents of flame collided, twisting and devouring each other. The power Voldemort unleashed this time was far greater than the fire he had conjured in last year's Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
The flaming serpent and the infernal demon wrestled violently, black and orange fire entwining into a massive vortex—a tornado of flame.
If Charles hadn't preemptively cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm, this battle would've drawn half the British countryside by now.
Even so, the magic shockwaves were intense enough that the Ministry of Magic would surely notice. The Aurors were probably already on their way.
Not that either of them cared.Voldemort had long since reduced the Ministry to a hollow shell. What were a few Aurors to him? Were it not for Dumbledore and his Phoenix Order meddling, Britain's magical society would've been nothing but ash long ago.
As the two faced each other, a wall of flame cut off their line of sight. Voldemort's shadow flickered through the blaze like a wraith.
Both men wrestled for control over the raging fire, which surged and churned like a living sea—too deep, too powerful, almost suffocating.
Realizing this deadlock could drag on, Voldemort changed tactics. With a flick of his wand, the ground of Little Hangleton's graveyard convulsed.The soil rose and spun violently, pressing down upon the flames like a collapsing mountain, threatening to bury Charles alive.
Charles showed no fear. He gripped the Destruction Wand in his left hand, its power amplifying the darkness within him. In his right palm, he gathered a sphere of dark-violet energy—Shadow Ball!
The orb swelled rapidly, absorbing the very darkness around him like a miniature black hole.
Raising it high, Charles poured his power into it.The Shadow Ball, once the size of a basketball, suddenly expanded—boom!—into a sphere over two meters wide!
It looked less like a Shadow Ball and more like something out of Naruto: a giant, spiraling mass of annihilation.
BOOM!!!
The explosion shattered the wave of earth Voldemort had sent crashing toward him.
The ensuing shockwave snuffed out both torrents of fire entirely.Air currents whipped violently in every direction, and dense clouds of smoke rolled over the battlefield, blotting out Charles's vision.
From above, Voldemort saw his opening.He vanished in an instant—then reappeared behind Charles amid the haze.
A flash of green light flared through the smoke.
Avada Kedavra!
Voldemort didn't even speak aloud—he shouted the Killing Curse in his mind.
The deadly emerald glow engulfed Charles in an instant.At the final moment, Charles turned as though just realizing something was behind him.
In Voldemort's wild, ecstatic gaze, the Killing Curse struck true—hitting Charles Gold squarely in the chest.
(End of Chapter)