Chapter 38.4- Doom Days

But if time was on Dumbledore’s side, then chaos was on Voldemort’s. He was like a boulder tossed into the ocean. He looked at every factor arrayed against him and then laughed in their faces. With a vicious slash of his wand, fiendfyre bloomed into being. Now, I had controlled flames before. Fire was literally my element of choice when it came down to it, but what he did? Comparing what he did to what I usually did was like comparing an ember to a firestorm. It was like trying to see the similarities between a running tap and a tsunami. There in a flash, roaring into the air and claiming the oxygen like a stallion covered a mare.

All the creature close to him were incinerated in a single pass of the fire as it flowed around him in a circle. No, flow was a bad word. It indicated a certain level of smoothness. There was nothing smooth about what Voldemort did. It was raw, agrssive, powerful, but not smooth. Not even in the slightest bit. The fire fanned out, taking all Dumbledore’s creatures in its grasp and turning them to ash as it moved, coalescing to form a giant serpent.

“Want to play with snakes, Dumbledore. Cower in awe and witness what the heir of Slytherin has wrought.” He said, cackling like very stereotypical villain ever as he slashed his wand and the snake reared up before diving down at the Hogwarts headmaster. The old man just watched the creature approach before he waved his own wand. The ground rose under his control, stone turning to sand as it rose before it dove at the fiery snake.

The sand glassed in real time— at least some of it did as it touched the fire— but Dumbledore’s magic did not just call upon a few buckets of sand. It was like half the alley between them had been turned to sand with a wave of the man’s wand. Of course, that could not be true. It was more like that he’d done the transfigurations with no wand movements, from the second that Voldemort had called upon his fiendfyre. It was still an impressive feat nonetheless as the headmaster, with a wave of his wand and looking like he was out for nothing more than a casual stroll buried the fiendfyre with the sheer weight and amount of sand under his control.

The fire burned blue, and the strain on Voldemort’s face was visible as he brought his unbelievable power to bear. Nonetheless, it did nothing to stop the inevitable. The fire fought brilliantly but even as it moaned, groaned and bellowed, the sand was relentless. Every spark that tried to escape was hunted down by a tendril of sand that separated from the main mass. it was like a dance except that Voldemort was trying to lead the waltz and Dumbledore was stomping on his feet at every turn.