NOVEL NEXT Chapter 4: The Guardian
The figure emerged fully from the shadows, its form slowly resolving itself from the inky blackness. It was tall and imposing, cloaked in a garment that seemed to absorb the moonlight, making it appear almost nonexistent. The face, when it finally became visible, was ancient and weathered, etched with the lines of countless ages, yet somehow ageless. Eyes, like burning embers, glowed with an intensity that rivaled Voldemort's own dark magic.Voldemort felt a primal fear, a cold dread that ran deeper than any he had experienced in his long, brutal existence. This wasn't the fear of a rival wizard, or even a powerful creature. This was the fear of the unknown, the fear of something beyond his comprehension, something that challenged his very essence.The figure raised a hand, a slender, elegant gesture, and Voldemort felt an immense pressure bear down upon him, crushing him, stifling his magic. The raw power emanating from the figure was overwhelming, a force that dwarfed even his own dark arts."You dare trespass here, Lord Voldemort?" the figure's voice echoed, resonating with the weight of ages, a voice that seemed to carry the weight of the very universe. It wasn't a voice of anger or malice, but one of profound disappointment, a deep-seated weariness.Voldemort struggled, his own magic flailing uselessly against the overwhelming force. He tried to speak, to retort, but the words caught in his throat. The figure's power was absolute, a suffocating weight that pinned him to the spot."This realm," the figure continued, its voice a low rumble, "is not for the likes of you. Your dark magic, your cruel ambition...they are an affront to the balance."The figure paused, its gaze piercing Voldemort's very soul. "You sought power, immortality. But true power lies not in domination, but in understanding. True immortality lies not in endless life, but in the legacy you leave behind."Voldemort felt a strange shift within him, a crack in the icy shell of his dark ambition. The figure's words, though delivered with a seemingly infinite power, resonated with an unexpected wisdom. A flicker of doubt, a tiny spark of something he hadn't felt in centuries, ignited within his heart.The pressure lessened, the suffocating weight lifting slightly. Voldemort, still weak and trembling, managed to speak. "Who...who are you?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.The figure smiled, a slow, sad smile that held both immense power and a hint of sorrow. "I am the Guardian of this realm, the keeper of its balance. And you, Lord Voldemort, are a threat to that balance. Leave now, and perhaps…perhaps there is still a chance for redemption."The figure's words hung in the air, a challenge and a warning. Voldemort, the Dark Lord, stood defeated, not by brute force, but by a wisdom that transcended his own dark ambitions. His gaze fell upon Harry, still bound to the statue, his fate hanging in the balance. The true battle had only just begun.