Harry Potter Dark Disaster

A cold calculation settled over Andrew, replacing the initial wave of nausea and disbelief. The raw power coursing through him was intoxicating, a seductive poison that numbed the horror of his situation. He was Voldemort, and this…this was his power. He could feel it thrumming, a dark energy coiled and ready to strike.He looked at Harry Potter again, the boy tied to the statue, his face pale and drawn in sleep. The lightning-bolt scar on his forehead pulsed faintly in the moonlight, a stark reminder of the prophecy, the destiny that had brought them together in this macabre tableau. This was the boy who would defeat him. Or so the prophecy claimed. Andrew, or rather, Voldemort, felt a flicker of something akin to amusement. A prophecy? He had laughed at prophecies before, twisted them, broken them. He would not be defeated by a boy. He would rewrite the script. He raised his hand, his skeletal fingers extended towards Harry. The snake hissed, a low, guttural sound that resonated with the dark magic surging within him. Wormtail whimpered, his eyes wide with a mixture of anticipation and terror. "Avada Kedavra," Voldemort whispered, the words escaping his lips like a sigh. The incantation was as familiar as his own name, woven into the fabric of his being. A beam of green light erupted from his wand, hurtling towards the unsuspecting Harry.But something unexpected happened. As the Killing Curse streaked across the graveyard, a force of unknown origin pushed against it, deflecting it away from Harry. The green light dissipated harmlessly into the air, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.Voldemort felt a jolt, a surge of unexpected resistance, a tremor that ran through his very being. His power, which had felt infinite just moments before, felt…constrained. He lowered his hand, his pale face etched with an expression of surprised fury. He had felt the power of his own curse, a power that had brought countless souls to their knees. And it had been stopped.He turned his gaze towards the source of the interference, a flicker of movement in the shadows near the ancient graveyard walls. A figure emerged, shrouded in darkness, their features obscured, their presence radiating an immense and ancient power.Voldemort felt a prickle of unease, a tremor of fear that he hadn't felt in centuries. This was not a mere wizard, not a simple obstacle. This was something…else. The game, it seemed, had just become far more complex.