Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

If this was still the same Voldemort from his great battle with Dumbledore at the Ministry, then even if Evan couldn’t win a duel against him, he wouldn’t have lost so miserably.

But now he had already begun that vile body-modification magic, transforming himself into an evil god, possessing powers far beyond those of any wizard.

As the transformation progressed, his strength would only continue to grow.

Ordinary magic could no longer harm Voldemort. If it weren’t for the Patronus Charm having a certain restraining effect on evil gods, Evan probably wouldn’t have escaped so easily this time.

The Patronus had been effective throughout his battles against evil gods, but while it worked this time, it might not be effective the next time he encountered Voldemort.

Against a wizard like Voldemort, the same spell or attack would not keep working over and over, even if the Patronus Charm was strongly effective against evil gods. From tonight’s battle, Evan realized they were currently in no position to take Voldemort head-on — there was simply no way to confront him directly. They had to focus on finding the remaining Horcruxes and the key to the secret treasure as quickly as possible.

“Sirius, how are they?” Evan asked between breaths, locking eyes with Hedwig inside the cage.

Hedwig stared at him reproachfully with her large amber eyes, as if blaming him for the collision caused by his reckless high-speed flight just moments earlier.

Then she lowered her head and began to preen her ruffled feathers.

“Alive! Thanks to you tonight, Evan!” said Sirius. He had just finished examining Moody and was pounding roughly on the door of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. “Mad-Eye is very weak. He’ll probably be in bed for a long time. I’ll have Remus check on him later. I’m not very good at dealing with this kind of Dark Magic damage. Ron’s fine, he’s just unconscious. The Dark Lord must have mistaken him for Harry. We got there in time, before he could do further harm to Ron — thankfully.”

At that moment, the door opened from the inside, and Kreacher stood there, staring in alarm at the four of them.

“Oh, Master — Master Evan, you —”

“Shut up, Kreacher, and help carry the two of them in,” said Sirius impatiently. His attitude toward Kreacher had never been friendly. After handing Moody and Ron over to the house-elf, he led Evan through the dark doorway and shut the door. “Our plan for tonight was leaked. There’s a traitor in the Order of the Phoenix. That’s why we were ambushed. The Dark Lord showing up where Ron was is a terrible thing, but it’s also good news. It means Harry and Hagrid should have had plenty of time to get away.”

“By now, they should have arrived,” said Evan. “As long as their identities aren’t exposed, there shouldn’t be any problems.”

Although Evan and Sirius had fought Voldemort and the Death Eaters for a while, it hadn’t lasted long. Moreover, they had Apparated directly to Grimmauld Place with Moody and Ron, saving a lot of time. As a result, they arrived earlier than the other five groups. Hopefully, nothing had gone wrong on Harry’s end.

………………………………………………………………….

As the motorbike slowly descended, Harry suddenly felt a wave of worry. Voldemort’s continued absence only made him uneasy.

He glanced at the endless darkness around him, feeling a sense of danger. Where were they?

Suddenly, the scar on Harry’s forehead burned like fire. He could feel it: Voldemort was furious, incredibly furious. A blurry image formed in Harry’s mind: a vast mass of black smoke, surrounding Voldemort as he hovered in midair, raging.

Voldemort’s fury shattered the constraints of the magic that bound him, drawing him closer to Harry.

“Faster, Hagrid, he’s coming!” said Harry in pain, clutching his scar, leaning weakly against Hagrid’s back.

“Who’s coming?” Hagrid asked, turning back with concern. “Don’t worry, Harry, we’re nearly there, we’ve nearly made it.”

“No, he’s coming! Faster, Hagrid, Vol—” Harry stopped abruptly, as the Voldemort in his mind appeared before him, and the two merged.

The black smoke, the crimson eyes, the piercing pain, and—

Hagrid saw Voldemort too. He let out a bellow of fear and steered the motorbike into a vertical dive.

Harry seized hold of the back of Hagrid’s jacket tightly, feeling like he was going to faint from the pain in his scar.

Green jets of light shot past him. There was a loud bang, sparks erupted from the motorbike’s engine, and the bike spiraled through the air, completely out of control —

Harry had no idea which way was up, which down: His scar was still burning; he expected to die at any second.

Black smoke surged in from all sides, enveloping Harry. A chill ran down his spine. He saw Voldemort’s pale, snake-like face approaching him. It was all over. Harry knew he had been captured by Voldemort, despair and death were imminent. The intense pain from his scar forced his eyes shut.

At that moment, his wand began to act on its own accord.

Harry felt the wand drag his hand around like some great magnet. Through the inky smoke, his wand pointed itself directly at Voldemort. Harry saw a spurt of golden fire through his half-closed eyelids, and heard a crack and a scream of fury.

Voldemort screamed, “No!”

To Harry’s astonishment, the mighty Dark Lord was blasted backward by the magic his wand had unleashed on its own.

Then, he found his nose an inch from the dragon-fire button. He punched it with his wand-free hand and the bike shot more flames into the air, hurtling straight toward the ground.

“Hagrid!” Harry called, holding on to the bike for dear life. “Hagrid — Accio Hagrid!”

Boom!

The motorbike sped up, sucked toward the earth like a meteor, and Harry’s magic dispelled even the black smoke surrounding Hagrid.

Now, he could see nothing but distant lights growing nearer and nearer.

At the last moment, he turned his head in mid-air, staring into those red eyes for what seemed like the last thing he would see.

In the blink of an eye, Voldemort vanished, and all was quiet.

Harry looked down and saw Hagrid spread-eagled on the ground below him.

Then, he and the motorbike smashed into a muddy pond.

“Hagrid?”

Harry struggled to raise himself out of the debris of metal and leather that surrounded him; his hands sank into inches of muddy water as he tried to stand.

He could not understand where Voldemort had gone, nor could he understand why his wand had moved on its own to drive Voldemort back.

Harry found it incredible. Perhaps only Evan could have such powerful magic to repel Voldemort’s.

If Evan knew what Harry was thinking, he would have told him plainly: he couldn’t.

It was the Sacrificial Protection left by Harry’s mother that had saved him. This ancient protective magic was far more powerful than anyone had imagined — powerful enough even to overcome Voldemort in his form as an evil god.

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