Chapter 23 Finally the time

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It was finally the time for the final war to begin. The fate of the magical world hung in a thred. As the dark lord and his army of death eaters march towards the Diagon Alley, the last place for the resistance.

The air crackled with tension and fear. As the neutral witches and wizards hide in the shadows, unsure of which side to support. 

The final battle was about to begin, and the outcome would determine the future of magic for generations to come. 

The dark lord felt that it was the right time for him to take control over the magical world and invade the muggle world. 

He ordered every death eater to go to the last hidden place of those inferior beings.

He would massacre them to make them an example to every witch and wizard in the magical world that they shouldn't mess with him.

He needed to create new order through fear. And no one would be able to stop him.

Even Dumbledore fell from his throne and became just history. The dark lord's reign of terror spread quickly, striking fear into the hearts of all magical beings. 

With Dumbledore out of the way, there seemed to be no hope left for those who opposed him. 

Only one person could hope to stand against him but he was in jail and no one even knew of his existence.

Voldemort along with his army of death eaters arrived at the front entrance to Diagon Alley. 

The once bustling alley was now deserted, with shops shuttered and residents in hiding. 

Voldemort's presence loomed over the cobblestone streets, casting a shadow of fear and despair. 

He was about to make his grand entrance by using fiendish fire but he stopped. 

A sudden feeling of unease washed over him as he sensed something wrong in the air.

Every death eater looked at him in confusion. Why did the dark lord stop doing what he wanted to do suddenly? 

Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he scanned the empty alley, searching for the source of his unease.

"This is strange."

Even though he couldn't see it, he could feel that something was off. The feeling of unease lingered, causing a ripple of uncertainty among his followers. 

"You go there."

Voldemort ordered one of the death eaters that wasn't important to him.

The man didn't have a choice but to do what he was told to.

He walked toward where Voldemort pointed him to go.

And suddenly he disappeared. 

Voldemort's eyes widened as he watched the death eater vanish into thin air. The feeling of unease intensified, making him realize that something powerful was at play. 

"What happened? I can't feel any magical signature."

The death eaters talked among themselves. 

Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

"It seems my judgment is correct. That isn't magic but the mystic arts of a sorcerer."

"Sorcerer?"

The existence of sorcerers outside the magical world was something that a few people know.

Only Dumbledore and his equals knew about it. 

And Voldemort knew about them after he floated around in the void between the afterlife and the living world. 

It was no surprise that no one knew about them.

"To deal with mystic arts, a much more powerful magic spell is needed. Fortunately I am the dark lord. I have plenty of such spells that could deal with it."

Magic was versatile but not powerful compared to the mystic arts. 

If he wanted to destroy mystic arts he needed to use more powerful magic to deal with less powerful mystic arts.

And from looking at the mystic arts. It was of low-level. He could deal with it easily.

"Fiendfyre!"

Voldemort shouted, unleashing a powerful spell that engulfed the mystic arts in flames. 

The dark lord's confidence in his abilities but something unexpected happened - the mystic arts seemed to be absorbing the flames instead of being destroyed by them. 

Voldemort's expression turned to one of surprise.

"My fiendish fire is not enough to defeat these mystic arts."

His face turned uglier than before. He lost his face in front of all of his  followers. He used even more magic, but it was useless against the power of the mystic arts.

The death eaters looked at him and they thought to themselves that the sorcerer who used the mystic arts must be very powerful to make Voldemort fail like this.

The death eaters began to doubt Voldemort's power, realizing that the sorcerer wielding the mystic arts must be incredibly strong. 

They exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what would happen next.

"Oh my, Oh my, It seems that my mystic arts are too powerful for you, Tom Marvolo Riddle."

While Voldemort tried to maintain his composure. He heard someone calling his real name.

The name that he had long abandoned in favor of his dark alias.

"Who are you?"

Voldemort looked at the one who appeared inside his fiendish fire. He seemed to be fine, even though the fire was burning brightly around him. 

"I am the one who will bring your downfall, ew~ how could I say something this cringe!?" 

The man that Voldemort knew was the sorcerer who came to stop his plan said confidently, his eyes glowing with power. 

Voldemort felt a chill run down his spine, realizing that he may have faced his greatest adversary yet. The mysterious sorcerer's presence was a threat unlike any other he had encountered before.

'His magic power is enormous. Even I and Dumbledore couldn't reach that level of power.'

Voldemort thought to himself, feeling a sense of unease creeping in.