Marvel's master of cosmic magic

Chapter 497

"I swear my absolute loyalty to you, my lord," Dolores Umbridge said, kneeling on the filthy concrete floor beneath Oxford Street. Her round face shone with desperate devotion. "From this day on, I will obey every command."

Since Rowan Mercer had taken office, her power had been steadily stripped away. Committees ignored her. Subordinates stalled her orders. Influence slipped through her fingers like sand.

Then Voldemort had summoned her.

It felt like salvation.

If she helped him conquer the wizarding world, how could she ever lack authority again?

"Very good," Voldemort said lazily. "Serve me well, and you will become the next Minister for Magic."

He looked down at her with faint amusement.

The Ministry didn’t need many survivors.

Lucius Malfoy alone would be enough.

This toad would be disposed of the moment she stopped being useful.

"Voldemort! You’re surrounded!" Rufus Scrimgeour shouted as the basement doors burst open. "Drop your wand and surrender immediately, or you will be executed on the spot!"

Elite Aurors flooded in, wands raised.

Voldemort glanced down at Umbridge, whose face had gone paper-white.

"So it was you who led them here," he said coldly. "I don’t need incompetent servants."

"My lord, it wasn’t me, I—"

Green light flashed.

Umbridge’s body collapsed into ash before she could finish her sentence.

Scrimgeour flinched.

"So this is all you have?" Voldemort sneered. "You think this rabble can stop me?"

Rowan stepped into the doorway.

"They might not," he said calmly. "But what about me?"

Voldemort’s eyes lit with theatrical irritation.

"You again. Such a waste. We should be fighting Muggles, not each other. If you insist on standing in my way, then you die."

"You can’t wash away what you’ve done," Rowan replied coldly. "Release the hostages. Now."

"No negotiations," Voldemort said lightly. "Petrificus Totalus. Chain variant."

Blue bolts lanced outward, freezing Aurors in place one by one.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Rowan swept his wand, breaking the spell across the room, then launched his own attack.

The basement detonated.

Concrete vaporized.

Steel beams screamed.

They blasted upward through the ceiling, out into the street, then into the sky.

Even with the area cleared, Scrimgeour and his Aurors could only stare helplessly.

Their spells disintegrated in the shockwaves before reaching either combatant.

For the first time, they understood.

Only Rowan Mercer could fight Voldemort.

"You’ve mastered far more than I expected," Voldemort said, circling him midair. "Even forbidden magic tied to love itself."

He laughed.

"But I’m no longer what I was. That trick won’t work on me again."

His body convulsed.

Then stretched.

Scales erupted.

Wings tore free.

A colossal black dragon surged into the clouds, blotting out half the skyline.

"Enough hiding!" Voldemort roared, his voice echoing across London. "Let the Muggles see the truth. Wizards rule this world!"

Scrimgeour went pale.

"He’s insane..."

Animagi weren’t supposed to become dragons.

And not monsters the size of skyscrapers.

Phones were already out across London.

Videos were uploading.

Live streams were starting.

The Statute of Secrecy was dying in real time.

This wasn’t 1926.

There was no erasing the internet.

"This is exactly what he wants," Scrimgeour whispered.

Rowan turned to him.

"Get everyone evacuating civilians. Push them back as far as you can. Minimize casualties."

He spread his wings and soared upward.

Then his body ignited with white light.

It expanded.

Bones reshaped.

Flesh stretched into something impossible.

A towering giant of radiant energy rose to meet the dragon, thousands of meters tall.

Rowan flexed his glowing fists.

"Well," he muttered, "this escalated quickly."

He launched himself forward.

The impact thundered across London.

Fire met lightning.

Blue energy spears ripped through the sky.

Flames rolled over rooftops.

Above the city, a radiant titan and a black dragon tore into each other like gods at war.