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******
Amidst the vivid green glow, silence did not fully take hold.
As the emerald light faded, an elderly man collapsed onto the ground, his mind blank with terror.
He had been standing far from the crowd, untouched by the arc of deadly green lightning. Yet, the icy grip of death slithered over him like a viper, draining his limbs of all strength—
And all courage.
Surviving by Inaction
The only reason he was still breathing?
He had been their guide, leading Harry and Fleur through the area.
Tom had no reason to involve him.
And when Harry had stepped away from Fleur's side, the old man had wisely made no move at all—no resistance, no hesitation, no misplaced bravery.
In moments like these, action meant mistakes.
By doing nothing, he had survived.
The Fate of the Others
The rest were not so lucky.
Every wizard and researcher who hadn't been ordered onto the Black Iron Armor had tried to resist—
And every single one of them now lay motionless on the ground.
Their breath stilled, their hearts stopped, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and disbelief.
To them, this was not the Killing Curse they knew.
This was something far beyond their understanding of magic.
Meanwhile, the activated humanoid war machines stood motionless, unfazed by the green bolts of death.
A few of them had been struck, but the Alchemized Black Iron Armor remained unscathed.
What appeared to be solid iron plating was no ordinary metal—this was a masterpiece, reforged by a legendary Awakened sorcerer.
It was far more than a mere toy.
"You—"
A cold voice echoed through the silent underground tomb.
Of course—
Tom was not dead.
Harry's Avada Kedavra Lightning Chain had locked onto him. The curse couldn't miss—not when cast using an Awakened's power as a homing marker.
Yet—
To a master of the Killing Curse, there were ways to survive.
Avada Kedavra only kills the soul—it only targets the soul.
A fragmented sliver of a soul, a living sacrifice, or any other decoy was enough.
For Tom, escaping certain death had been effortless.
Now, he hovered midair, his form wreathed in black mist.
Behind him loomed the Black Emperor—a four-hundred-meter-tall behemoth of Black Iron Armor, the crown jewel of the research facility.
"Harry Potter."
Tom's voice carried a strange undertone—
A hint of admiration, perhaps.
Or maybe—
The satisfaction of knowing he hadn't been wrong.
"Just like the first time I met you at Hogwarts," he murmured.
"I wasn't mistaken."
"I didn't misjudge you at all."
"You are—by far—the one closest to darkness. Even more than me."
"You were born to bring disaster upon others."
"To ignore the sanctity of life—"
"—this is where you truly excel. Even my past self—"
"I Don't Need Prisoners."
"I don't need prisoners mining for me," Harry interrupted, cutting off Tom's rising fervor.
"You all came here trying to kill me—why the hell would I leave you alive to breed more enemies?"
"If anything, you should be grateful."
"If you're dead, I won't have to hunt down your families later."
"One death is better than wiping out your entire bloodline, don't you think?"
A Thought That Never Came Before
Tom's expression shifted slightly.
Harry's words sparked a passing thought, a stray possibility—
"If I had simply wiped out the Potters—completely—"
"If I had drowned that infant in the river, instead of splitting my soul to escape—"
"If I had been willing to sacrifice one Horcrux, rather than clinging to them all—"
"Would my life have taken an entirely different path?"
His Heart Wasn't as Ruthless as Harry's
Or perhaps, it had never needed to be.
Back then, his only true desire had been immortality—and fear of death was a natural consequence.
"Not Interesting—Useful."
Without hesitation, Harry raised his wand and fired a shot—
A silent slash from Sectumsempra cut toward one of the survivors, a man who had evaded the Killing Curse by hiding inside a suit of Black Iron Armor.
But once again—
The pitch-black plating absorbed the blow.
Its immense magical resistance and reinforced structure nullified the Ebony Wand's armor-piercing effect.
A sharp metallic screech echoed through the chamber as the spell bit into the alloy, but failed to breach it.
The man inside flinched violently—
But remained unscathed.
"Tough Tin Can, Huh?"
Realizing his spells couldn't break through, Harry didn't bother wasting more magic.
Instead, he flashed forward—
And punched the armor straight into the ground.
The impact drove the suit half a foot deep into the Black Iron flooring, sending a resonant gong-like shockwave throughout the chamber.
The man inside let out a piercing scream—
Only to realize, moments later—
"Wait… I'm fine? I'm completely fine!"
His panicked screams turned to excited shouts.
"He can't hurt me! He can't break through!"
False Hope in Heavy Metal
This unexpected resilience made the remaining survivors nearly break down in tears.
For the thirty or so people left, the armor wasn't just protection anymore—
It was hope.
"Leave Him Here!"
Tom's voice boomed through the chamber, laced with coercion and commanding authority.
"If we let him leave, no one will avenge the dead!"
"This bastard has Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and even Nicolas Flamel backing him!"
"You all know what that means—"
"In the end, your memories will be wiped, your research sealed, and this entire disaster written off as a mere 'incident.'"
Tom's tone carried undeniable certainty—
Because he was telling the truth.
Australia's Ministry of Magic was just as corrupt as England's—if not worse.
They had neither the resources nor the will to pay compensation for over a hundred dead researchers.
Hell, even if they did, they'd probably make the families wait in line and enter a lottery for the payouts.
The bureaucratic rot ran deep.
"Then Try It."
A cold smirk spread across Harry's lips.
Some of the remaining personnel, still clinging to hope, finally moved to attack.
The Black Iron Armor was simple to control—
Once activated with magic, it mirrored the user's movements seamlessly, as if wearing a thick coat rather than piloting a machine.
"Mul."
A single word slipped from Harry's lips—
Raw, ancient, and unfamiliar.
At that instant—
The floor behind him exploded, sending a hailstorm of iron shrapnel blasting out like a shotgun blast!
And in the next breath—
Harry's fist slammed into the same suit of armor that had survived before.
This time—
The impact didn't just dent the plating.
It sent a cone-shaped bulge bursting outward from the armor's back—
Like a spiked hammer had been driven from the inside out.
"Still Not Breaking?"
Harry let out a low chuckle.
"Tch—"
"Guess I just need to hit harder."
The moment his cold gaze swept over the remaining enemies—
The resolve they had barely mustered crumbled once again.
The scene before them was too brutal, too overwhelming.
Their once invincible armor now felt fragile, their previous confidence a delusion.
But now—
They were beyond the point of no return.
The Only True Choice: Do Nothing.
More action meant more mistakes.
The only survivors so far were the ones who had done absolutely nothing—
Like the old man in the distance, who had refused to move, refused to speak, refused to think.
When it came to coaxing people to march to their deaths—
Tom Riddle was still leagues ahead of Harry Potter.
(End of Chapter)