The battle at the Ministry of Magic did not go as many had expected. As Dumbledore faced Voldemort in a duel of powerful magic, Magnus Riddle appeared a minute later, emerging from the shadows like a disappointed spectator. The Dark Lord launched the dreaded Killing Curse at him, but Magnus simply disappeared with a silent Apparition and, to everyone's surprise, reappeared beside Voldemort, delivering a resounding slap to the wizard's pale face.
The impact of the blow sent Voldemort staggering and falling to the ground. Never before had anyone dared to touch him like that. Absolute silence filled the Ministry atrium. The members of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry Potter, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Draco Malfoy, the Death Eaters, and even Dumbledore were speechless.
Voldemort, furious, stood up with hatred in his eyes and tried to cast another spell. Once again, Magnus was out of the way in an instant, and before the spell could be completed, another, even stronger slap knocked him back down. Magnus's look was not one of fury, but of pure disgust. He began to berate Voldemort, his voice echoing throughout the hall:
— You are a complete waste of talent. You have chosen the most idiotic path possible. You have brought shame upon Slytherin House and all of magic. All you have done is wreak destruction without purpose, without legacy. You have built nothing. You are a joke, Tom.
The Death Eaters were stunned. They had never seen their master so vulnerable, being treated like a naughty child being scolded by an adult. Voldemort, shaking with rage, stood up again and tried another spell. Magnus, unmoved, Apparated beside him and, with even more force, delivered another slap that made Voldemort fall to the ground once more. With each attempt to get up, another slap knocked him down, and each blow carried even more contempt.
— You are no conqueror. You are no leader. You are nothing more than a bratty little boy playing at being a dictator. Even Salazar Slytherin would be ashamed to see what you have become. You are a disgrace to magic, Tom. You are a disgrace to me.
Voldemort's red eyes flickered. For the first time in his life, he felt something close to fear. His wand trembled in his hand as, with a simple snap of his fingers, Magnus snatched it from his grasp and held it up in front of everyone. Voldemort froze, as if an essential part of him had been ripped away. Magnus raised his wand before everyone's eyes and declared loudly:
— You will be remembered, yes, but only for the shame and senseless terror you caused.
And before everyone's incredulous eyes, Magnus incinerated Voldemort's wand until nothing remained but ashes. The silence was deathly. Even the members of the Order of the Phoenix did not know how to react. Harry, who had dedicated his life to destroying Voldemort, felt a pang of pity. Dumbledore, impassive, just watched.
The Death Eaters were utterly defeated. Not even Bellatrix Lestrange could move, shock overcoming even her madness. The great Dark Lord was humiliated, broken, reduced to a mere remnant of the fear he had once inspired.
Magnus then undid the spell that kept Voldemort in the air, and he fell to the ground, without the strength to get up. Fear consumed his body. Not the fear of death, but the fear of humiliation, of weakness. For the first time in his life, he felt truly helpless.
And then the silence was broken by the sound of footsteps. The Minister for Magic and a legion of Aurors arrived in the atrium and were met with an unbelievable sight: the Death Eaters defeated and Voldemort cowering at Magnus Riddle's feet, reduced to nothing but a man broken by shame.