Lin Mei didn't say a word as he stepped forward, placing a firm palm on Nicolas Flamel's shoulder.
Flamel opened his mouth, ready to scold Lin Mei for causing trouble, but before he could utter a single word, he felt his body being flung backward.
"Lin Mei!"
That was all Flamel could exclaim before an explosion of searing energy erupted. The fire surged outward, engulfing the entire manor in an inferno of blazing sparks.
Laughter—cold and cruel—echoed through the flames.
"Hahaha! Hahaha!"
Voldemort's pallid face twisted in a manic grin. His breath was labored, his magic nearly spent after unleashing the deadly flames.
"Since you refuse to bow before me, you will perish in agony!" he declared, his voice dripping with venom.
Yet his triumph was short-lived. The next sight he beheld made his blood run cold.
Amidst the inferno stood a lone figure, untouched by the flames. Lin Mei, bathed in the sea of fire, bore an expression of utter serenity—almost as if he were enjoying a warm bath.
If one looked closer, they would notice the thin layer of red scales covering his body, glistening like molten embers.
Then, Lin Mei did something that shattered Voldemort's understanding of magic. He reached into the flames—not to shield himself, not to cast a counterspell, but to grasp the fire and consume it.
He was devouring the flames.
Voldemort's crimson eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
"What kind of monster is this?!"
For the first time, his own magic had been rendered powerless. The infamous Lihuo—his most fearsome fire spell—was being swallowed as if it were nothing more than a mere meal.
Lin Mei didn't stop there. Realizing that eating the fire bit by bit was too slow, he took a deep breath. A powerful suction force pulled every last ember from the manor into his body.
The raging inferno disappeared in an instant.
Hiccup~!
Lin Mei clutched his slightly swollen belly and let out a burp, a tiny wisp of flame escaping from his lips before vanishing into the air.
Outside the manor, Nicolas Flamel stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what he had just witnessed.
"By Merlin's beard… Is this still the magical world I know?" he murmured, his centuries of accumulated knowledge utterly failing him.
Lin Mei, now brimming with the raw energy of Lihuo, felt a surge of power coursing through his veins. His stomach ached—not from discomfort, but from the overwhelming need to release the excess magic.
Without hesitation, he raised his hands.
"The Roar of the Fire Dragon!"
A deafening blast erupted from Lin Mei's mouth—a concentrated torrent of dragon's fire, scorching everything in its path as it barreled toward Voldemort.
The Dark Lord's magic reserves were nearly depleted. He had no means to counter such devastating magic.
Yet he did not panic. He had accomplished what he came for.
With a sharp movement, he vanished into the shadows, teleporting away just as the fire dragon's attack obliterated where he once stood.
The fiery blast soared skyward, painting the night in shades of crimson and gold.
A moment later, Dumbledore arrived, stepping through the ruins of the manor, his piercing blue eyes scanning the chaotic aftermath in silence.
Lin Mei exhaled, feeling the last of the magic settle within him. The sky darkened once more, the battle's radiance fading into the night.
"That was exhilarating," Lin Mei muttered, a triumphant smirk on his lips. He could feel it—his understanding of dragon-slaying magic had reached new heights.
Dumbledore finally spoke, his voice calm yet firm. "Now, can someone explain what exactly happened here?"
When he had received Flamel's distress call, he had wasted no time, teleporting from Hogwarts to the manor. But upon arrival, all he had seen was Lin Mei unleashing dragon fire, and the estate in ruins.
Lin Mei turned to him. "The manor was attacked by Death Eaters—led by Voldemort himself. He escaped before you arrived."
Dumbledore's brows furrowed. "Impossible. In his current state, Voldemort wouldn't take such a risk. His strength hasn't fully returned; I doubt he could even command the Death Eaters."
Without a word, Lin Mei flicked his wand. Four unconscious Death Eaters levitated from the hall and landed at Dumbledore's feet.
The headmaster's expression darkened as he recognized one of them—a former Death Eater, now a wanted criminal of the Ministry of Magic.
There was no longer any doubt. Voldemort had indeed led this attack.
Recalling Quirrell's disappearance from Hogwarts, Dumbledore's voice became grave. "Can Voldemort be resurrected? No—if he had been, he would have sent far more than just this handful of Death Eaters."
Lin Mei's gaze was serious. "He hasn't been resurrected. He has completely taken over Professor Quirrell's body."
Dumbledore's expression shifted to one of alarm. "Taken over…? You mean Quirrell's soul—?"
"Swallowed," Lin Mei confirmed. "Voldemort devoured Quirrell's soul entirely."
Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Souls can be… devoured?"
Lin Mei nodded. "There are dark alchemical methods that allow for such a thing. But the power gained from it is unstable—it dissipates over time. More importantly, it forces the one who devours the soul to absorb the memories and personality of the consumed."
He smirked slightly. "Which means… there's a good chance Voldemort will start acting like the real Quirrell before long."
Dumbledore pondered for a moment, a deep, contemplative look flashing in his eyes. "So that's it. This explains why he chose to act now, even though his strength hasn't been fully restored."
He exhaled slowly, his expression grave. "This soul-devouring technique is undoubtedly one of the most dangerous and forbidden aspects of dark magic. We must remain vigilant—Voldemort may attempt to use this method to regain his full power. Worse still, as a devourer, he could exploit this ability to infiltrate unseen, manipulating events from the shadows."
"Exactly!" Lin Mei agreed. "And I suspect Voldemort has more schemes in motion. His attack on Nicolas Flamel's estate might not have been just a test of strength. He could have been searching for something—an artifact, knowledge, anything that could accelerate his plans. Mr. Flamel is one of the oldest and most learned wizards in existence. His collection may hold secrets that Voldemort desperately desires."
At that moment, Nicolas Flamel, finally emerging from his stunned silence, stepped forward. Complex emotions flickered in his ancient eyes. "Mr. Lin Mei, your abilities far surpass anything I could have imagined. We must report this attack to the Ministry of Magic immediately and reinforce Hogwarts' defenses."
"I agree," Dumbledore nodded. "But before that, we need to secure the estate and check for any stolen or damaged items. And regarding Voldemort's possession of Professor Quirrell… we must handle this delicately to prevent unnecessary panic."
"Wait!" Lin Mei's eyes suddenly widened as realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.
Voldemort was never one to act without purpose.
Now that Dumbledore was here, it meant Hogwarts' defenses were at their weakest.
If Voldemort truly sought resurrection, there was only one thing powerful enough to restore him fully—the Philosopher's Stone!
This entire attack was a diversion.
Voldemort had drawn Dumbledore away from Hogwarts on purpose!
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