Harry Potter Dark Disaster

The darkness slowly faded, leaving a ringing in Voldemort's ears and a profound sense of disorientation. Gone was the icy certainty, the steely resolve, the all-consuming ambition that had defined him for so long. In its place was a bewildering emptiness, a void where his dark power used to reside. He blinked, his vision slowly clearing, focusing on the pale face of Harry Potter, still bound to the ancient statue.But something was different. The familiar surge of murderous rage, the instinctive desire to obliterate his nemesis, was absent. Instead, a strange, unsettling calm settled over him. He looked at his hands, still pale and skeletal, but the icy grip of pure malice seemed to have loosened, replaced by… confusion. Wormtail, ever the fawning lackey, squeaked in alarm, "My Lord? Are you… unwell?"Voldemort waved him away, the gesture lacking its usual imperiousness. He felt… weak. Not physically, but something deeper, a hollowness in his very core. "I… I don't know," he rasped, his voice a mere whisper, a far cry from the commanding tones he once employed.Harry, sensing the shift in his nemesis, stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at Voldemort, not with the terror he'd surely expected, but with a cautious curiosity. The prophecy, the destined battle—none of it felt real anymore.The urge to kill Harry was gone. In its place was… something else. A disconcerting emptiness, maybe. Or perhaps… curiosity? A desire to understand the boy who was supposed to be his doom. The very thought felt alien, a betrayal of everything he'd ever known.The dark mark, the symbol of his power, felt like a brand of shame. He didn't want to call his Death Eaters. The thought of wielding his power over them felt repulsive, distasteful. It was all so… wrong.A cold wind swept through the graveyard, carrying with it the scent of decay and an unsettling sense of… change. Voldemort was lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty, the formidable Dark Lord reduced to a bewildered man, his power dissipated, his purpose unclear. The future stretched before him, a vast, uncharted territory filled with the terrifying prospect of the unknown. He felt a profound loneliness, far greater than any battle he had ever faced. He wasn't sure who he was anymore, or what he was supposed to do. All he knew was that the game, as he knew it, was over. And he was utterly, terrifyingly unprepared for whatever came next.