Voldemort returns and is intent on revenge, preventing the prophecy from coming true and ensuring his reign over the wizarding world. But everything changes when he realizes the girl who lived, his ultimate nemesis...is actually a Horcrux...
Voldemo...
"Again!" Voldemort's command sliced through the crisp morning air, echoing with a tone of ironclad authority. Voldemort had begun gathering the Death Eaters twice a week for duel training. So that very morning after their coffee over simmering potions in the cellar he had whisked her away for yet another session.
The meadow near Malfoy Manor was shrouded in a mist that seemed to whisper of dark secrets and forbidden magic. Hadria Potter, once the beacon of hope for the light, now stood as a testament to the allure of power. Her eyes, an ocean of blue, flickered with an inner fire as she faced her opponent.
Travers, a seasoned Death Eater, regarded her with a mix of respect and something more insidious. His gaze lingered a moment too long, a smirk playing on his lips as he anticipated the thrill of the duel. Voldemort watched from the sidelines, his interest piqued not just by the display of skill, but by the undercurrents of tension that charged the air. He wasn't sure if he cared for the way the man was looking at her but he said nothing.
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The duel resumed with a ferocity that matched the rising sun. Travers unleashed a barrage of curses, each more vicious than the last, but Hadria was a tempest, her movements fluid and precise. She parried and countered, her wand an extension of her will, a conduit for her newfound darkness.
With each spell cast, the meadow became a stage for their deadly dance. The grass, still wet with dew, bore the scars of their magical onslaught. Hadria advanced, her spells carving through the air with lethal intent. Travers, fueled by a mix of desire and desperation, met her attacks with equal fervor.
The clash of their magic was a symphony of chaos, a testament to the power that coursed through Hadria's veins. She was no longer the girl who had lived, but a force of nature, reshaped by the dark arts and the intoxicating influence of the Dark Lord himself.
As the duel reached its crescendo, Hadria's final spell broke through Travers' defenses. The impact sent him flying, his body a ragdoll tossed by the sheer force of her magic. He landed with a thud, the ground trembling beneath him.
Voldemort's applause broke the silence, a slow, deliberate clapping that resonated with pride. Hadria turned to face him, her chest heaving with exertion, her eyes alight with triumph.
Voldemort's gaze shifted to Bellatrix, a silent command hanging in the air. She stepped forward, her own eyes gleaming with a volatile mix of desire and envy. The circle of Death Eaters tightened around them, a collective breath held in anticipation.
Hadria felt the familiar thrill of battle surge within her, the power of the dark arts pulsing at her fingertips. Bellatrix's mocking smile only stoked the flames of her determination. They bowed, a customary gesture belying the enmity that crackled between them.
