Chapter 304: Is That You, Nagini?

The black serpent shot forward, its gaping maw wide open as it lunged toward Voldemort.

In that instant, Voldemort's entire vision was filled with the shadow of the massive snake.

Its slitted pupils reflected his own figure, and in his eyes, the ferocious head of the serpent was all he could see.

"Hissss!"

Its red forked tongue quivered like a tightly drawn bowstring.

He could almost smell the foul, putrid scent rushing toward him—the snake's fangs were mere centimeters from his throat.

Yet, Voldemort remained utterly calm.

With the slightest press of his wand, the massive serpent suddenly convulsed, as if something had struck its vital weak point, and it plummeted to the ground, crashing heavily.

A mere serpent could never hope to harm him.

However, Voldemort couldn't shake the familiarity of the sight before him.

The snake writhed on the ground, as though pinned by an invisible spike, its body twisting in agony.

It let out a chilling, pain-filled hiss, the language of serpents stirring long-buried memories deep within Voldemort's mind.

"You… are Nagini."

In his memories, that was a past so distant it felt like another lifetime.

Back then, he hadn't even arrived at Hogwarts yet, but he had already demonstrated extraordinary talent at the orphanage.

It was during that time that Voldemort discovered his ability to communicate with snakes.

These creatures, which appeared cold and sinister to others, were completely submissive to his will.

—He was the King of Serpents!

And it was Nagini who had first made him aware of this gift.

Yet, Voldemort never imagined he would see her again.

"Good girl, did he deceive you? Did he make you obey him?"

Voldemort's voice was almost gentle as he spoke.

He communicated with Nagini in Parseltongue, his magic seeping into her mind, attempting to influence her will.

The serpent before him was of little actual use, but she held great significance to him.

She was a reminder of his past—a past unlike any other.

A past where he had power beyond the understanding of Muggles, or even most wizards.

He was different.

He was born to stand at the pinnacle!

And as soon as he spoke, a flicker of confusion seemed to appear on Nagini's face.

At this moment, Voldemort had lifted the spell that had been restraining Nagini, yet she did not attack him.

She raised the upper half of her body, flicking her forked tongue, while Voldemort extended his palm toward her in response.

Nagini immediately felt a familiar sensation, and she turned her head in confusion, looking toward Cyrus—as if she could no longer tell which of them was truly the one she had first met.

"Come back to me, Nagini," Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue.

"He is not your friend—I am!"

Through the power of his words, he seemed to awaken her memories, forcing her to relive their past.

Now, the massive serpent no longer hesitated.

She shifted her stance, coiling around Voldemort's side, her dangerous gaze scanning the surroundings, filled with a newfound wariness toward everyone else.

"Come back, Nagini!"

Cyrus watched her actions with a deep frown, issuing a stern command.

But Nagini did not move.

She had chosen Voldemort.

Seeing this, Voldemort's lips curled into a triumphant smile.

He extended his hand, placing his palm firmly on Nagini's head, then turned to Cyrus.

"Look at this."

"You thought you could take something from me—but in the end, you get nothing. What is mine will always belong to me!"

As he spoke, his tone suddenly sharpened, like the sound of a blade snapping in half—unyielding and absolute!

"That includes Slytherin's wand—and your soul!"

"Admit it! I am the true heir of Slytherin's great bloodline, and you are nothing but a fraud!" he declared.

Regaining Nagini's loyalty filled Voldemort with immense satisfaction.

In truth, she wasn't particularly useful—her combat ability was far inferior to that of the massive, mutated Runespoor.

But from the Elder Wand to Nagini, Voldemort was reveling in the pleasure of taking things away.

He wanted to watch Cyrus lose everything, piece by piece—until, in the end, he lost his very life.

However, what Voldemort failed to notice was the subtle intelligence in Nagini's gaze.

Perhaps Voldemort had enough magical power to control any serpent, but Nagini was different—because deep within her body, there remained a part that was human.

It seemed that the part of her that belonged to humanity, to wizardkind, had long been forgotten—but just like a werewolf, it could never fully disappear.

Voldemort never considered the possibility that Cyrus was not truly relying on Nagini to kill him.

So if Cyrus had let Nagini come out, there must have been a purpose behind it.

She was meant to be a crucial piece in the plan.

Cyrus lowered his gaze, his half-lidded eyes glowing like two golden suns hidden behind the clouds.

He said nothing to Voldemort and instead continued his attack.

At this moment, he held the third Elder Wand. Though it granted him power, Voldemort also wielded an Elder Wand—and the origins of the one in Cyrus's hand were far from legitimate…

On top of that, he had already passed Morgana's inheritance to Harry.

So right now, Cyrus was under immense pressure.

His spells were not as powerful as Voldemort's, forcing him to rely on Ancient Magic, using its unique properties to bridge the gap in raw magical strength.

A surge of crackling lightning gathered in his hands!

Electricity coiled around his entire body, engulfing him in a storm of pure energy!

BOOM!!!

The blinding flash was so intense that even Harry had to squint, unable to keep his eyes open.

And it wasn't just Harry. In fact, the entire audience outside the battlefield could no longer see anything at all.

On their magical screens, all that remained was an overwhelming field of searing white light, so blinding that it brought tears to their eyes.

However, Voldemort remained completely unaffected.

He swiftly waved his wand, shattering the lightning as if it were nothing.

"Nagini, step back."

He didn't need Nagini to fight—he only needed her to remain by his side.

Only then could his dominance be fully displayed!

He moved like a god walking across the wilderness, with beasts following at his heels.

The lightning could not touch him—he needed only to lift his wand, shift his will, and he could unleash unfathomable power.

Especially now—he was nothing like the Voldemort from the Department of Mysteries, who had toyed with his opponent like a cat playing with a mouse.

This time, he was fighting with his full strength!

Each strike made the castle tremble!

And it wasn't just shaking—with every attack, the castle was beginning to collapse, bit by bit.

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