Unlike the earth element giants with their human-like legs, the water elemental giant's lower half was a swirling mass of rapidly spinning currents, twisting upward like a vortex, as if ceaselessly drawing water from the surface beneath its feet, sending splashes of waves in all directions.
Its upper body, however, bore a humanoid torso and head, complete with a pair of robust arms and hands. At first, one could still glimpse Harry through the translucent form of the water elemental, but as it swiftly absorbed more water, it was as though the liquid compressed and solidified within its frame. No longer transparent, it took on the murky blue-green hue of the Black Lake's depths.
Tendrils of spinning water splashed outward from the elemental's body in a ceaseless dance. Its towering figure was immense—so tall that its head grazed the corridor's ceiling, nearly filling the entire section of the hallway and blocking Voldemort's view of Harry behind it.
The green light of the Killing Curse sank into the water elemental's form and vanished, like a stone swallowed by the sea—whether it was digested or dispersed, no one could tell.
"What… what kind of magic is this?" Voldemort stared in stunned disbelief at the colossal entity before him. He had never encountered such a spell—not in its principles, its manifestation, or its origins did it resemble anything in his vast knowledge of magic.
Yet there was no doubt this was a creation of magic. Muggles couldn't conjure something like this.
To Voldemort, the source of Harry's summoned creature was unmistakably the waters of the Black Lake. He could see it clearly—fish were swimming within the elemental's body. Wait, they could swim in there?
But how could this be possible?!
A mere first-year wizard, no matter how extraordinarily gifted or prodigious, was limited by the physical development of his body and the magic it could contain.
So how could he possibly seize the waters of the Black Lake and craft a monstrosity like this?!
And now, the monster moved.
It merely raised its right arm and swung it toward Voldemort. A barrage of water arrows detached from its fist, hurtling toward him at breakneck speed.
Facing this unknown magic, Voldemort didn't dare underestimate it. Prepared as he was, he dodged the water arrows—only to gape in shock as they struck the wall behind him. On Hogwarts' magically reinforced stone, they carved out a fist-sized dent.
The destructive force of this magic rivaled some lesser dark spells! Yet Voldemort was certain it wasn't dark magic—just the sheer speed and power of the water propelled by that watery beast across from him.
Before he could further ponder the nature of this enigma, the water elemental launched its next assault—Freezing Spell!
A clear ring of ice radiated outward from the elemental, spreading rapidly in all directions. Wherever it passed, water solidified into ice. This was a spell with selective targeting, designed to strike only enemies within range, freezing them in place.
But it failed.
A torrent of roaring flames erupted from Voldemort's wand, crimson in hue. As they left the wand, they morphed into the shapes of birds, blazing with ferocious heat, clashing against the expanding ice ring.
In an instant, the once-frigid water evaporated into scorching steam. The flames Voldemort summoned burned with astonishing intensity and malevolence, devouring everything in their path—the oil paintings on the walls, the statues lining the corridor, even the plaster itself wasn't spared.
But Harry's water elemental refused to yield. Raising both hands, it summoned a surge of bursting pipes. A flood of Black Lake water gushed forth from the ruptured plumbing and the nearby bathroom—Water Jet!!
A torrent thicker than the embrace of three or four people shot from the elemental's hands. If Voldemort were hit head-on, the body he possessed would be reduced to a pulpy mess, let alone cast any spells.
As the icy deluge met those flames, it rapidly heated and turned into billowing steam. The corridor's temperature skyrocketed, as if it had become a sauna. White vapor clouded the air, obscuring all sight.
Unable to see the other side, Harry nonetheless heard a scream—Hermione's voice!
Panic seized him in an instant. Alongside Hermione's cry, he caught the roar of trolls. He hadn't forgotten—two trolls were still over there with her.
Harry sensed something unnatural about those flames. They seemed endless, as if they'd never extinguish so long as there was fuel to burn—even if that fuel was water, the natural enemy of fire.
"Hahahahahahahaha!!" Voldemort's maniacal laughter rang out. "Do you see, Harry?! This is the power of dark magic!! That monster you went to such lengths to summon is useless before Fiendfyre! Give it a little more time, and it'll consume all of Hogwarts! Burn this place to ashes!!"
Whoosh—!!
A gust of wind howled past, so swift that even the Fiendfyre beasts lunging forward couldn't catch it. It was Harry!
Encased in a layer of icy armor—a frost shield bestowed by the water elemental upon its summoning—Harry moved with blinding speed, what one might call a charge. Voldemort flinched, instinctively halting the Fiendfyre's release to cast a protective shield on himself. But Harry's target wasn't him.
Whistling past Voldemort, through the steam-cloaked, vision-blocked corridor, Harry slid across the icy floor with a smooth skrrt, as fluid as water itself.
At that moment, the water elemental's entire form unraveled, melting into the surrounding lake water. It transformed into a surging tide, crashing toward Voldemort with a force that threatened to flood the entire hallway.
The reason Harry couldn't even spare a thought for Voldemort was, of course, Hermione. Especially after realizing the potency of Fiendfyre, her position behind Voldemort grew ever more perilous—Harry didn't trust Voldemort to kindly spare her from its wrath.
When Harry broke through and saw Hermione, the little girl was kneeling on the ground, her face etched with terror. She seemed too frightened to stand, her legs trembling as she tried to rise and flee, only managing to scoot backward, desperate to escape the two hulking trolls before her.
One of the trolls had already noticed Hermione. Scratching its comically small head atop its massive frame, it grinned stupidly and raised its club, swinging it down toward her with ferocious force!!
Elemental Strike!!!
The corridor, already brimming with water elements, fused with omnipresent storm and flame elements, coalescing rapidly around Harry. The sheer force even tore a chunk from the bathroom wall near the door—because, as the saying goes, concrete's an earth element too!!
In a life-or-death moment like this, preserving the castle took a backseat. The power of four elements—earth, water, wind, and fire—spiraled and fused, slamming into the troll's head!!
Unlike spells lacking tangible weight, Elemental Strike carried the heft of earth, delivering a devastating impact. The troll's entire body lurched sideways—but even so, its descending club merely veered from Hermione's head to her body.
"Ah—!!" Hermione instinctively covered her head, screaming.
But at the last second, Harry lunged forward. His entire form morphed midair into a translucent Spirit Wolf, jaws wide as it clamped onto Hermione's waist, yanking her out of harm's way!
To Hermione, the world spun into chaos in an instant. The immense force at her waist left her powerless, flung like a ragdoll with no resistance.
When the brief loss of control ended and she hit the ground, Hermione opened her eyes to see a translucent blue giant wolf wheel around and pounce on the second troll. The two titans clashed in the corridor with earth-shaking ferocity, the troll toppled to the ground under the wolf's assault.
Hermione also saw the other troll—its head, even the flesh near its neck, was gone, leaving only a charred, bloody stump oozing crimson. Its massive body slumped lifelessly.
From start to finish, the little girl's screams had barely ceased. Now, flailing in the water, she finally managed to dodge the collapsing corpse of the dead troll.
"Urgh!!" It was her first time seeing such a gruesome death. Hermione couldn't hold back a dry heave.
For Harry, though, Hermione's reaction was a relief—it meant she was safe. Compared to Voldemort, dispatching these two trolls was child's play.
A wizard's magic posed a far greater threat than the brute strength of creatures like trolls.
To Harry, the real menace of these magical beasts wasn't their power—it was their stench. To a wolf, that smell was just too…
But then again, as a seasoned shaman hardened by countless battles, what hadn't Harry encountered? Compared to ogres, boarmen, demons, and the myriad places he'd ventured—sewers included—a troll's odor was a mere sprinkle of water.
He'd even bitten down on the troll's tiny head, wrenching it clean off. The massive Spirit Wolf landed atop the falling corpse, spat out the head, and turned its gaze back to Voldemort.
It all seemed to take an eternity, but in truth, mere seconds had passed. Voldemort had only just sealed the water elemental—now a raging torrent—on the other side of the corridor with a spell. When he turned, Harry had already slain both trolls and was glaring at him with predatory intent.
"So this is the soul magic you wield?" Voldemort chuckled darkly, his rationality seemingly regained after his outburst. "Interesting—come on, Harry, let me see just how powerful your soul magic really is."
Harry didn't respond, only letting out a low growl.
The next second—
"Avada Kedavra!!!"
A blinding green light streaked through the corridor. The Fiendfyre beasts under Voldemort's command lunged forward, claws bared, their scorching heat washing over Harry!
With agile twists, he dodged the Killing Curse's beam and charged at Voldemort!!
Then—"Finite Incantatem!!!"
A resonant, aged voice pierced the corridor. A visible orange ring pulsed outward from the floor, and wherever it passed, the Fiendfyre weakened, its bestial forms shrinking in fear.
Even the golden shield around Voldemort flickered briefly before vanishing entirely. As the spell's name implied, all enchantments met their end.
By the time Harry reached Voldemort, the once-raging Fiendfyre had fully extinguished. His massive wolf claws slashed down! Razor-sharp talons tore through Voldemort's entire form!
A shrieking black shadow burst from the confines of the dark robe, wailing in agony. Yet Voldemort laughed hysterically even as he fled, slipping through the floor without a single parting word, vanishing from sight.
A flash of blue light shimmered, and the giant wolf in the corridor's center faded. Harry stood on the ground once more, staring at what lay before him—a corpse, if it could even be called that.
It melted.
Just as the word suggested, the body Voldemort had possessed dissolved. No flesh, no bones—just a black robe soaking in the water that now flooded the corridor, swaying gently. A tar-like,liquid seeped faintly from the fabric, mingling with the current.
Gazing at where Voldemort had disappeared, Harry realized this was the first time he'd clearly seen Voldemort's soul. It was indeed his soul—not some new dark creature or shadow being, but a fragment, reduced to just a head.
And on that fragment, Harry saw Voldemort's tormented expression.
Beyond the fundamental agony of a soul split into pieces, there were the wounds left by the Spirit Wolf's claws.
When transformed into the Spirit Wolf, Harry's attacks didn't just rend flesh—they harmed the soul itself.
But these were mere post-battle musings. What struck Harry as familiar was the state of Voldemort's soul fragment now—a state he knew well, intimately so.
Back in Azeroth, Harry had seen a soul fragment just like this, radiating a pitch-black glow. Not anywhere else, but within himself.
To be precise, at his forehead.
That scar.
As a gifted shaman, Harry had only discovered that soul fragment after delving deep into the ways of the shaman, during his first infusion of elemental power, when he briefly ascended into an Elemental Ascendant form—the Ascension Ritual.
And that was where the story had ended.
Unlike Harry, who had walked far down the shaman's path, that soul fragment seemed devoid of awareness, utterly ignorant of shamanic arts.
The Ascension Ritual transformed a shaman's mortal flesh into an elemental body—a process that essentially birthed a new elemental being.
During the ritual, both body and soul underwent a baptism of elemental power. Only a shaman who truly grasped the essence of the elements and wielded their forces with mastery could complete it, emerging with the Elemental Ascendant form.
Fire, air, water—the three forms.
The Ascendant could take on countless shapes, not limited to the four classical elements. Frost, mercury, even raw essence were among the possibilities.
For Harry, it was simply a new power to protect Azeroth.
But for the soul fragment lodged in him, it meant one thing—death.
Throughout the ritual, Harry could keenly sense the fragment in his head, watching as it shattered and disintegrated under the elemental infusion, leaving not even a trace of soul residue behind.
No last words—Harry hadn't even known why such a fragment existed within him, or whose it was, carelessly discarded. His own soul, after all, was whole and hale.
Yet now, this mystery that had haunted him for years found its answer. Harry had never imagined that fragment could belong to Voldemort—so minuscule it couldn't even retain its own consciousness.
Voldemort wouldn't have deliberately sliced off a piece of his soul to plant in his enemy, either. It could only have been an accident—an unintended consequence of that murderous night eleven years ago.
This sudden revelation left Harry's emotions tangled and complex.
"Clouds part, mists clear."
Dumbledore's incantation sounded from behind, accompanied by the sloshing of many feet wading through water. In an instant, the steam clogging the corridor—blinding all sight—dissipated.
"Good heavens!!"
Harry heard Professor McGonagall gasp, her voice trembling with shock at the scene before her.
"Was it him, Harry?" Dumbledore's voice cut in, calm but abrupt.
"Yes, Headmaster," Harry turned, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the professors. "Just as you suspected—he set a trap here."
"—Voldemort."
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