Then, in an instant, Victor's body was cut into hundreds of pieces—
Head, limbs, lungs, heart, fingers... all were finely segmented, like a prime cut of beef dissected by the most skilled chef, yet without a drop of blood splattering. Each cut was as smooth as a mirror, revealing the pale, bloodless interior of the body.
At the same time, these severed pieces did not fall to the ground due to gravity.
They hovered in mid-air, connected by strands of black smoke seeping from the breaks. The smoke writhed and tangled with one another, like living black threads, pulling the fragments back together and knitting them. The head returned to the neck, arms reattached to shoulders, the torso reassembled, fingers went back into place...
The entire process was eerily silent.
Seconds later, Victor Rookwood stood again before William, completely unharmed, with even the holes in his robe restored. He lifted his hand, looked at his reassembled fingers, bent them, stretched them, "Useless."
He said, casting his gaze back at William, "This body has long ceased to be flesh and blood. It's merely a vessel for obsession, a 'potentiality' frozen in time. Any physical destruction, magical annihilation, to it... is merely a temporary 'state change'. "
As he spoke, he paused, a rigid smile appeared on his face—a smile that, with just a glance, would send shivers down one's spine, "Before you die, we are also immortal—"
William did not continue to attack.
Instead, he stared at Victor, or rather, at the faintly swirling black smoke on Victor's body.
"What... exactly are you now?"
He asked slowly, ignoring the inexplicable words from the other, and lowering his magic wand slightly, "Not a ghost, not an Inferi, nor a cursed creature... this form of existence, I've seen it before... is it a Dementor?"
"No..."
"You won't know unless you try—"
Without waiting for Victor's response, William waved his magic wand directly, "Expecto Patronum." The next moment, a large, white patron animal rushed out from the void and slammed into Victor, but the latter showed no real reaction, only silently watched William after the impact, as if to say—See? I told you.
Though William disagreed, observing the wisp of black smoke on the man's shoulder swayed as if in the wind, a smile appeared on his face.
"Oh, almost thought you were really unkillable—"
"What did you say..."
"Beep beep—"
A sharp, piercing whistle interrupted the man's question; countless truck engines appeared from all directions in the void, with sharp whistles charging toward the man. Initially, he had no visible reaction, but as truck after truck hit him, more and more black smoke dispersed from his body, and his pupils widened.
Wait, they've researched for years and got nowhere, why did the person before him find a way to restrain him in just half a minute?
He doesn't even know!
"Enough..."
"Beep beep!"
"I said, enough!"
Rookwood shouted, barely able to suppress his anger in his voice. The Patronus Charm clearly not only melted his black fog like sunshine on snow, continually eroding the foundation of his black fog body, but also scoured his mind, which should have been stagnant. A sharp, long-forgotten emotional fluctuation, like a rusty gear forcefully pried open, brought intense "pain" and a sense of loss of control—
So, the rigid mask-like expression on the man's face completely shattered, twisting into a grimace of mixed pain and incredulity, clearly, the sensation of being "cleansed" was not pleasant.
"...What?"
The sharp, continuous truck whistles abruptly stopped, as if cut off by an invisible baton, and the poised engines in the void began to fade. William lowered his magic wand, flapping his bright yellow wings leisurely, looking at Victor with a hint of exploration—
"Who do you think you are?!"
Victor's roar burst from his throat, his voice distorted and false due to the intense fluctuations of the black fog, no longer carrying the previous dryness, "A latecomer stealing power, a trespasser disturbing time, without those foreign objects, you are nothing! Clearly, I was first..."
William raised an eyebrow, showing a "here we go again with the clichés" bored expression, not even bothering to refute, his wrist casually flicked—
"Beep beep beep beep—!!!"
An even denser, sharper and more piercing truck whistle burst forth without warning.
"How dare you—"
Victor's shattered screech was completely drowned out by the rumbling of the trucks. His surrounding black fog surged wildly, trying to form a shield, but he could never manage to do so, only able to see his barely restored form start to violently shake and flicker under the wash of silver light.
But, abruptly, as William focused on having others run into him by chance, he seemed to suddenly sense something, turned around, and looked at the "silence" just a short distance away.
No trace of magic, no spatial fluctuations, not even a breath of wind disturbed.
Yet someone appeared, abruptly, behind him.
William blinked.
Not far behind him, about ten meters in the empty air, a woman stood quietly, stepping on nothing as if she were a strong warrior.
Her appearance had no warning, it was as if she was always there, just now allowed to be seen.
The woman wore a simple brown robe, timeless and unseasonal, her long hair braided into a plait behind her. Her features seemed unfamiliar to William, unlike any adversary he recalled, but her facial features gave William a certain sense of familiarity.
He knew this person.
William squinted his eyes, seeming to remember something, his gaze lowered—
On the woman's chest was a hideous, broken wound, surrounded by deep green mist entwined with flickering electric light, casting her pale face in a green hue. She did nothing, just quietly observed William, her deep gray eyes emotionless like a deep pool.
"You..."
"First time meeting, let me introduce myself, I am..."
"Isadora Morgana? That's the name."
With William's affirmation, a flash of surprise crossed the woman's eyes, "You recognize me."
"Professor Percival's good student, the source of 'my power's source'—of course, I recognize you."
William nodded with a smile, then asked, "What do you mean, are you here to die too?" Pausing, his brows furrowed slightly, "That's strange, I've never killed you. The debt has a head and a master, you should be looking for... Professor Bakar, shouldn't you?"
Sen Bakar, a Professor from Slytherin, the "instigator" behind the wound on Isadora's chest.