HP: The Magical Gamer [Chapter 61: Repair! Arise! ] (Patreon)

It was a nightmare for Voldemort's army. They hurled spells and used swords and claws and everything, but the undead kept on shrugging off those attacks as if they were gentle love taps.

The battleground was filled with the dying screams of the living. The sounds of swords piercing flesh, and mad cackling had already seeped off the living's courage.

Only the Vampires and the Dementors hadn't lost any of their numbers while the other groups were halved in the last hour.

Their thousands of members had been reduced to a measly few hundreds. The brown muddy ground was splattered with blood and gore. Dead glassy eyes shone from the moonlight. There were more corpses than the living at this point.

Dai Deam was the Avatar of death as his divine retribution left corpses in his wake. He flicked his hand in front of him and a purple fire burned dozens of enemies in seconds. 

It didn't matter if they were werewolves or Death Eaters or magical animals. 

All suffered the same fate. Death. He was the strongest undead and he proved it why.

Voldemort's sigh was barely audible as he witnessed his once massive army dwindling into nothing. Still, he was confident in his own power and prepared himself to take on the whole army. 

But before he could swish his wand to show these undead pests who they were fighting against, he was suddenly surrounded by his inner circle.

Voldemort looked bamboozled at the sight of his loyal pets who had been turned into undead. Now he knew what had happened to his prime Death Eaters.

"Voldemort. Master sends his regards." Bellatrix's smile was blank as she trained her wand at him.

The sliced body of Nagini was lying beside her. Voldemort screamed in fury as he was forced to dodge the piercing curse. He yelled at the sky, he called for the preposterous bastard who had dared to throw his own once loyal servants at him. His call went unheard and he engaged in a deathly fight with his former loyal inner circle.

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Henry looked amused as he hovered in the sky, watching how Voldemort tried to kill Bellatrix and Lucius again.

His undead had risen and healed from everything. Voldemort had already killed all the members of his inner circle tens of times, but they never stayed dead and continued their relentless assault on the Dark Lord.

It went on like this for another hour. By this time, Voldemort's army was destroyed absolutely, not a single soldier was left alive. The battle in the end had turned into simple execution. Henry even took care of the Dementors and annihilated the dark spectres. The vampires had tried to run away, but Dai Deam had cornered and killed them mercilessly.

Now only Voldemort was alive, still fighting against his inner circle on the very same cliff where the duel first began.

The last few hours hadn't been good to him. While his body was still pristine and unhurt, his energy levels were at their all time low.

Henry's army had disappeared after their work was done, except these undead Death Eaters who hadn't been successful in taking down Voldemort. But the way the fight was going, he was sure it would be over soon.

Henry didn't even give the Dark Lord the satisfaction of knowing his enemy. In the end, he died by the hands of his pawns.

You could have unlimited power, but if you couldn't move your body in time for defence or offence then it was for nothing. Unlike Voldemort, Henry's undead didn't get tired or out of breath and hence the boogeyman died by the hands of his own people. Or more accurately by the hands of the bodies of his own people.

Bellatrix jumped onto his back and carved a crimson smile on his white neck with a dagger.

Henry lowered down on the ground and dismissed his undead who then disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

He looked down at the lifeless body of the terror of Britain and his rage wasn't abated in the least. Maybe because this wasn't the Voldemort who killed his sister. 

He wasn't the one who took away half his soul. He wasn't the one who drew a permanent scar on his heart.

Henry sighed and took a deep breath and abruptly gagged. The stench of blood was just too strong. Thousands of corpses lay sprawled down the cliff and the vultures flew overhead in circles, peering down at the meaty feast.

Henry juggled between the decision to turn them all into undead or leave their bodies in peace.

Since he had reached the level 300, no further quests were given to him. So, he didn't exactly get anything out of this massacre other than future safety for Harry. But that also meant that he wasn't forced to turn them into undead for any quest.

He didn't have a valid excuse. It was all up to him. Did he need any more undead? No, but it wasn't like he was running out of any space. Then again, there was that skill [Army of Dead] which gave him the skill to summon 30,000 soldiers in an instant.

…

He shrugged.

Extra undeads were extra undeads. He wasn't going to waste the bodies. You never know when a few thousand soldiers might be needed to change fate.

"Repair. Arise."

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Henry teleported directly into the Great Hall, getting more than a few surprised screams. He ignored them easily and walked to the corner of the room where Dumbledore had laid Harry down on a blanket.

Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny and a blonde haired girl were standing guard by his unconscious body. They parted for him quickly, recognising him, giving him space. Ron nodded at him while Hermione shot him a nervous smile.

Dumbledore and the Professors watched him carefully from some distance away but didn't interrupt him.

Henry kneeled by his older counterpart and touched his forehead gently. He unceremoniously destroyed the horcrux in his scar and then rennervated him. It was an easy task now since he had mastered necromancy.