Voldemort lowered his head, staring in disbelief at the sudden flare of flame in front of him.
In a way, the Firestorm Charm combined with Fiendfyre was like the sharpest blade imaginable—capable of slicing through any obstacle with ease.
Back in the Hebrides, that same combination had effortlessly cleaved through an entire island.
This time, while the scale wasn’t nearly as grand, Voldemort’s body was certainly no island.
Just as he was still reeling from the Basilisk’s death, a flash of scarlet fire streaked across his chest.
Voldemort finally snapped out of it, stumbling backward as he looked down at the blazing red flame now burning through him.
Moments later, cracks began to spread across his body—like sun-baked earth dried and fractured under intense heat.
Soon, the Fiendfyre dissipated, but the cracks only deepened, glowing faintly with red light from within.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only broken, muddled whimpers came out. His crimson eyes flared even brighter, the light completely swallowing the narrow slits of his pupils.
With a heavy thud, Voldemort’s body collapsed, crashing to the ground.
Tom Riddle lay sprawled in the dirt like a poorly made statue—motionless.
The forest fell silent.
Rosier, who had been content to watch from the sidelines, now wore a stunned expression. She hadn’t expected it—Kyle had actually killed Voldemort.
How had he done it…?
“Ugh... nnnh…” A sudden moan shattered the silence.
It came from Snape, lying not far away. His body trembled violently, as if no longer under his control. His eyes rolled back, his mouth parted slightly…
In the distance—so faint it almost seemed imagined—Kyle thought he heard a series of piercing, agonized screams.
Snape’s convulsions grew more intense. His whole body jerked, nearly lifting off the ground.
“Voldemort did something to him.”
Rosier, oddly calm and almost pleased, offered Kyle a passing remark. “If you want to save him, now’s your chance to do something.”
“I…” Kyle frowned. Easier said than done. He didn’t even know what Voldemort had done. He asked Rosier, but she just hovered there silently, offering no further help.
Left with no alternative, Kyle rushed forward. A few thick tree branches snaked out, coiling tightly around Snape to hold down his spasming body.
But then—Kyle hesitated.
He had no idea what was happening to Snape, which meant he had no idea how to stop it.
Maybe… he could bind him up, throw him in the suitcase, and have Fawkes fly them both to St. Mungo’s?
Kyle weighed the idea. Honestly, he didn’t want to get dragged into whatever complicated mess existed between Dumbledore and Grindelwald. This could be the perfect excuse to leave the forest with a clear conscience.
Yeah. That would work.
He turned toward Fawkes—but before he could speak, he caught something in the corner of his eye.
Snape’s unconscious gaze flickered. A brief flash of crimson glowed in his irises.
Kyle froze.
If he wasn’t mistaken, that crimson glow—it looked exactly like Voldemort’s eyes.
Did… did he turn Snape into a Horcrux? No—that couldn’t be. Horcruxes were meant to keep Voldemort alive, not allow him to possess someone else.
Wait...
Kyle’s thoughts jolted. He suddenly remembered—years ago, when the Death Eaters had broken into the Department of Mysteries, trying to steal the prophecy orb containing information about the Chosen One.
They’d failed, and Voldemort had appeared at the Ministry himself, clashing with Dumbledore in a fierce duel.
At the end of that fight, Voldemort had used a peculiar spell… one that let him project his consciousness into Harry’s body. And at the time, Harry’s condition looked exactly like Snape’s now.
Could Voldemort have just transferred his consciousness into Snape?
The more Kyle thought about it, the more likely it seemed. It would also explain why Voldemort had been so desperate to stop Kyle from taking Snape away.
He’d needed a vessel nearby to transfer into.
Kyle certainly wasn’t an option—that had been proven at the Ministry. Voldemort had tried him first and failed, only then turning to Harry.
Rosier? Even less suitable. A seasoned dark witch like her? Who knew what tricks she had up her sleeve.
Which left only one viable choice: the unconscious Snape.
The violent struggle just now—it must have been Voldemort’s consciousness clashing with Snape’s Occlumency.
On instinct, Kyle yanked a Dementor from the suitcase, ready to unleash it and have it administer the Kiss.
But this Kyle… He didn’t even hesitate.
Now, Voldemort was truly afraid.
Just as Kyle had said—if Snape were killed by a Killing Curse right now, then so would he.
And this wasn’t some bluff. Voldemort could see it clearly—Rosier had used the real thing.
No—he couldn’t die here!
As the Killing Curse descended, Voldemort finally snapped. He tore himself free from Snape’s body and shot straight toward Kyle.
Kyle calmly raised his wand.
“It’s no use,” Voldemort’s voice echoed from every direction, tinged with hysteria. “Even Fiendfyre can’t kill me now!”
Understandable—after having his plans foiled by Kyle time and again, anyone would start to unravel.
“I’m going to… kill you…”
The voice grew closer, almost right in front of him.
Kyle’s lips curled slightly.
Then he shut his eyes and swung his wand with force.
Two orange eyes flew from the dead Basilisk’s head, whirling through the air like searchlights.
And then—Voldemort’s agonized scream tore through the forest.
“Ah... ah...”
“You should... you...”
Moments later, the voice vanished, as if it had never existed.
Voldemort was dead—truly dead this time. Though it wasn’t Dumbledore who ended him, it was still better than how things went a dozen years ago, when he’d been killed by the rebound of his own curse... At least this time, it wasn’t quite so humiliating.
“Avada—”
Before Kyle could exhale in relief, a flash of green light shot down from above—but he dodged it just in time.
Kyle opened his eyes and looked up at Rosier.
“What the hell was that?”
“You really don’t know?” Rosier said coldly. “The Basilisk’s eyes… You were trying to kill me too, weren’t you?”
“Of course not, I warned you,” Kyle replied. “I gave you a hand signal to shut your eyes. You just didn’t see it.”
“Warned me?” Rosier let out a sharp laugh. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
She was certain—Kyle had meant to kill her. If she hadn’t known about the Basilisk in advance and stayed alert, she might have looked straight into its eyes.
And who would’ve thought that thing would still be dangerous even after death?
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She was ready to blast Kyle to pieces right then and there—but then a different idea came to her.
“Alright,” she said suddenly. “I believe it wasn’t intentional.”
Caught off guard by Rosier’s sudden shift in tone, Kyle blinked before replying, “Good. We may have been enemies once, but right now we’re allies. Why would I deliberately kill you? It makes no sense.”
“No need to explain. I get it,” Rosier said. “So I hope you’ll also understand if I happen to mention later that you killed Severus Snape.”
“Don’t twist things.”
“Twist?” Rosier’s voice turned mocking. “You think just because you didn’t do it yourself, it doesn’t count?
Let me guess, you’re planning to explain this to that witch… What’s her name again?”
“Kanna Prince,” Kyle replied helpfully. “And I don’t see what I’d need to explain—Snape isn’t dead.”
“Ha! You’ve lost your mind.” Rosier sneered. “No one survives the Killing Curse.”
She had seen it clearly. Even though Voldemort’s consciousness had fled, the Killing Curse had struck that wizard named Snape squarely.
She couldn’t be wrong about that.
“Strange?” Kyle shrugged. “Harry Potter survived the Killing Curse. Perfectly plausible.”
“That’s not the same,” Rosier snapped.
“If you don’t believe me, why not take a closer look?” Kyle said with a smile. “See for yourself—has Snape really died?”
Rosier couldn’t understand why Kyle kept insisting the man wasn’t dead... She had cast the Killing Curse herself—she would know whether she held back or not.
So she looked up at Snape, ready to shatter Kyle’s foolish fantasy...
“What—what is this?!”
Her eyes went wide, the wrinkles on her face stretching taut in disbelief.
Snape was still alive.
No, that had to be an illusion.
Rosier flew over at once, heading straight for Snape to get a better look.
Kyle didn’t stop her. He just stood nearby, watching calmly as her expression shifted by the second.
“He’s really not dead... That’s impossible. How is this possible?!”
Rosier had never seen anything like it—someone surviving a direct hit from the Killing Curse.
If it were just hearsay, she could explain it away—maybe the spell was altered, maybe a trick was used.
But she’d witnessed everything firsthand. She was the one who cast the curse. There was no chance of a miscast or a decoy spell.
So what in Merlin’s name was going on?
Veins pulsed at her temples, and her head felt like it was going to burst. She instinctively wanted to report this to Grindelwald.
But just as she turned to leave, something caught her eye.
On Snape’s wrist, two silver phoenixes shimmered in flight. One of them was fading—its color draining away bit by bit.
By the time she focused on it, that phoenix had vanished completely.
The remaining one returned to Snape’s wrist, shrinking into a small, silver ornament—plain and inconspicuous.
It was Kanna’s. Or more precisely, something Nicolas Flamel had reforged using alchemy after receiving her Phoenix Potion—then returned to her.
Its effect was as blunt as it was effective: it could block two Killing Curses.
Kyle had noticed Kanna’s bracelet was missing back at Hogwarts—but he hadn’t expected to find it here, on Snape.
Strange. So it can be removed... Maybe because of their blood relation?
Kyle shook his head. No need to overthink it.
That was why he had let Rosier cast the Killing Curse—because he’d seen the bracelet.
He had no idea how to expel Voldemort’s consciousness. So he gambled—betting Voldemort wouldn’t risk his own life. That before the curse landed, he would abandon Snape’s body.
And it turned out he was right. Even knowing escape was impossible afterward, Voldemort still fled.
Then Kyle finished him off—using the Basilisk’s eyes.
Rosier didn’t know the full truth, but she could tell the silver phoenix-shaped charm wasn’t ordinary.
Maybe it was because of that item that Snape had survived the Killing Curse.
Her eyes gleamed. Without thinking, she reached out to grab the bracelet-like charm.
If it really had blocked a Killing Curse, its value was beyond estimation. Grindelwald would definitely want it...
“Hey, Madam Rosier—that’s not yours.”
A tree branch extended in front of her. Another one swept in from the side, lifting the unconscious Snape away.
“Look all you want, but trying to take it’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
“Stop! Put him down!” Rosier instinctively raised her wand, pointing it toward the direction of the retreating branches.
“What exactly are you doing, Madam Rosier?” Kyle raised his wand as well, his expression grave.
“Should I take this to mean... the fight between us is back on?”
“Of course... not.”
Seeing clearly who stood across from her, Rosier’s expression shifted once more. She took a long breath and narrowed her eyes.
“I’m just curious about alchemy,” she said coolly. “I wanted a closer look at his... trinket.”
“Oh, I see. Looks like I misunderstood.”
Kyle replied as he guided the branches, placing Snape safely into the suitcase.