Disclaimer: As sad as it is, I didn't receive ownership of the Harry Potter saga for Christmas. So I'm still not the owner.
Guest: I don't know if both reviews are from the same guest, but in any case, thank you ! That's very kind. I hope you'll like this one !
CaskettFan5: I agree that the cliffhanger for Christmas wasn't the best gift hahaha :). I'm glad you liked the conversation with Gellert though. I like this character and his story to be honest. Anyway, as usual, thanks for the review, and I wish you a happy new year !
Hey everyone ! I hope you had a incredible new year (and Christmas !). Let's do what we can to be better this year. And most importantly, let's all stick to our resolutions !
Here's the next chapter. The battle has started. How will it end ? We'll see ;)
12/14/1995, 02H36, Voldemort's Base, Romania:
Sirius, having returned to his human form, was sprinting alongside Fortuna through the dark corridors of the manor. Each step echoed with urgency on the cold stone floor, their ragged breaths accompanying their frantic race. A heavy sense of dread weighed on them. Why didn't Hadrian warn us about an alarm or some sort of defense system? This question kept looping through Sirius's mind. If no alert had been raised, it could only mean one thing: even Hadrian was unaware of the cunning protections now enveloping the estate.
Their first instinct was to try to apparate, to escape this deadly trap closing in on them. But to their horror, their efforts were in vain.
"All transport spells are blocked," Fortuna gasped, her face contorted with frustration. Invisible but alarmingly effective magical protections had been placed, either to imprison them or—worse still—to prevent Hadrian from escaping.
Their strategic minds needed only a few seconds to piece it together. 'It was all premeditated', Sirius realized, his heart pounding. He recalled how, upon their arrival, the manor teemed with magical beings, creatures ready to devour any threat within miles. But now, the place seemed deserted, emptied of all life. A perfect trap.
"This was planned from the beginning," Sirius murmured hoarsely, rage simmering in his veins.
Outside, the deafening sounds of powerful spells and furious shouts echoed through the thick walls. There was no doubt. 'Hadrian is in the middle of a battle', Sirius understood, clenching his teeth.
"We should go help him," Fortuna insisted, breathless, her legs trembling after their long run. They had been sprinting non-stop since entering the manor, feeling exposed in such a hostile environment. Yet despite their efforts, they had found nothing so far. No enemies to fight, not a single soul.
"No!" Sirius snapped harshly, the darkness in his gaze betraying the inner conflict tearing at his heart. "He gave us a mission." His voice, though firm, carried a trace of sorrow. "And besides, what could we possibly do against an opponent strong enough to hold him off for several minutes? If we intervene, we'll be dead before we can even raise our wands."
He was right. Hadrian possessed phenomenal power. If he was being cornered, Sirius and Fortuna's chances against such an adversary were slim.
Sirius Black's life had never been simple. From birth, he had been destined to become the next Lord Black, successor to Arcturus Black, a man whose cold reputation commanded both respect and fear within the Wizengamot. This burdensome destiny, this legacy of lineage, had weighed on Sirius from a young age. But contrary to what was expected of him, he had always yearned for something else: freedom, friendship, adventure. He wanted no part of his family's suffocating traditions or their archaic values.
Yet amidst his family's darkness, there were lights. His cousin Andromeda, his grandfather Arcturus, and even his younger brother Regulus—before their mother corrupted him—had shown glimpses of kindness. But these kind souls seemed insignificant compared to the all-consuming darkness of the other Black family members. One day, at sixteen, unable to bear the toxicity of his home, Sirius fled to join the Potters. He knew that by doing so, he would be disowned, his name forever burned from the family tapestry.
Fate, however, had other plans. To his great surprise, upon his release from Azkaban, Sirius discovered that he had become Lord Black, succeeding his grandfather. The news stunned him. He didn't feel ready for the role of family head.
'But power can be a weapon', he thought at the time. 'And I'll use it to protect Harry and crush Voldemort'.
With Hadrian's help, he gradually grew into his role, becoming a worthy heir to Arcturus. The main difference between them? Sirius retained a certain lightness of spirit, a carefree quality his grandfather had never possessed. But after Remus's death, the last of the Marauders, that lightness vanished. The murder, a devastating blow, left a deep scar on his heart.
Now, Sirius was determined to honor his title: Lord Sirius Black, rightful leader of the noble and ancient House of Black. This war, the cursed war that had stolen so many loved ones, had to end. He refused to let his name be further tarnished by history, or to see more innocents perish under this reign of terror.
A sudden movement caught Fortuna's eye.
"There! Look!" she cried, her gaze fixed on a long snake gliding silently from one room to another.
"It's the Horcrux!" Sirius whispered, his instincts on high alert. "I'm sure of it."
Fortuna nodded, her fingers tightening on a door handle for balance as the ground trembled beneath them.
"We have to follow the snake! If we can destroy it, maybe..." began Sirius.
"But Hadrian ordered us to—" she began, her voice uncertain.
"I know what he said!" Sirius interrupted sharply, his voice vibrating with anger and determination. "But he didn't account for this! All those Death Eaters leaving the building the moment he arrived, this barrier that's trapping him? It's a trap, Fortuna! Hadrian is being held here while Voldemort and his army attack. We need to end this war, and that starts with destroying this Horcrux, right here and now!"
He finished his sentence by darting after the serpent, forcing Fortuna to follow him. She cared deeply for Sirius, but she knew all too well that he was letting his emotions take over. And yet, deep down, she couldn't help but feel he was right. Hadrian spends so much time crafting intricate plans, but in the end, the solution to all this is simple: face Voldemort directly.
Hadrian had always avoided that final confrontation, probably because he knew it would be brutal. But to Fortuna, prolonging the war only condemned more innocent lives. Every day, Voldemort's ranks grew larger, and every day, Muggles were massacred.
'This war must end today', she decided, gripping her wand tightly. 'No matter the consequences'.
They ran relentlessly, stealing quick glances toward the garden outside, where Hadrian was locked in combat. The speed and ferocity of the spells being exchanged made it impossible to discern exactly what was happening.
Then, a harsh, mocking voice shattered the oppressive silence of the manor.
"Oh, oh, oh! Who do we have here? My dear cousin Sirius, and… Fortuna Moon, is it? Are you lost?" The voice, dripping with madness, made them spin around.
"Bellatrix," Sirius spat, his eyes narrowing in pure hatred.
The scarred witch stood before them. Hadrian had faced her multiple times, and each time, she had survived against all odds. But today, she was changed, almost broken. Her body bore the marks of previous battles, yet a malevolent gleam still burned in her eyes. 'Her magic is even more dangerous than before', Sirius realized, his fists tightening around his wand.
"Master didn't expect Potter to bring along a few insignificant pawns. It seems he's finally decided to sacrifice you lot." Bellatrix's sadistic laughter echoed through the empty corridors of the manor.
Sirius gritted his teeth, refusing to rise to her bait. "You're not looking so great, Bella," he retorted with disdain. "I can't decide who's uglier—you or the snake." He pointed at the sinister creature coiled around her neck.
"What did you say?!" Bellatrix screeched, enraged. "Filthy blood traitor, I'll kill you here and now!"
"Still as mad as ever," Sirius muttered, glancing briefly at Fortuna. "I'll handle her. This is family business. You deal with the snake." Without waiting for a reply, he cast the first spell at Bellatrix.
"But Sirius, together we could—" Fortuna began, hesitant.
"I know!" he roared. "But we don't have time! The protections holding Hadrian likely prevent Voldemort from returning immediately. We need to act before he finds a way back!"
Fortuna quickly grasped Sirius's meaning. Despite his impulsiveness, he was right. They needed to strike fast and hard. 'If we destroy the Horcrux now, Voldemort will become mortal again', she thought, steeling herself.
She hurled a powerful elemental spell at Bellatrix, but the snake intervened, deflecting the attack.
"Now's the time," she murmured, her eyes locked on the creature as it slithered away.
Without hesitation, she sprinted after it. 'I have to destroy this snake. I have to do it now.'
Meanwhile, Sirius faced Bellatrix, his wand weaving through the air in a duel of fierce intensity.
"It's just you and me, Bella," he growled through clenched teeth, rage burning in his veins.
"Oh, Siri!" Bellatrix exclaimed, a manic smile twisting her lips. "I see you've finally learned to wield the Black family's dark magic. But it's a pity for you—I'm far better at it." Her shrill laughter pierced the air as she deftly deflected his spells.
'It's up to you, Fortuna', Sirius thought with growing urgency, his wand meeting every one of Bellatrix's attacks.
Fortuna ran with all her strength, her heart pounding wildly. 'Hadrian is in danger. Sirius is in danger. And if Voldemort marches on Hogwarts… Harry will be in danger too'. She knew the means to destroy a Horcrux, but in her current state of stress and exhaustion, she doubted her ability to conjure a Fiendfyre strong enough to destroy Nagini.
Still, she had to try. Failure was not an option. 'That snake cannot escape', she told herself, her mind racing.
She cast another spell at the serpent, this time landing a glancing blow that left a thin, bloody gash on its scales. But it wasn't enough. 'I need to stop it', she thought. 'Just long enough to destroy it'.
'This war must end today', she decided, gripping her wand with renewed determination. 'No matter what it takes'.
12/14/1995, 02H41, Voldemort's Base, Romania:
The battle had raged for over fifteen minutes, and Hadrian was beginning to feel the toll of time. Each second stretched endlessly in this relentless fight, and yet he saw no end in sight. The anxiety gnawing at him over leaving Harry and Albus alone tightened his chest like an iron vice, and it was this fear that slowly led him to cast aside his limits.
Well… almost all of them. One restraint still held firm: the manor. Sirius, Fortuna, and the members of the DWT were still inside. Hadrian had to ensure he didn't destroy everything in a fit of unchecked rage. Despite his immense power, he couldn't afford to annihilate the foundations of the building that still sheltered his allies. It made everything far more complicated.
Extraordinarily powerful spells continuously burst from his wand, tearing through the thick air that seemed to grow heavier with every second of the prolonged duel. Nemesis and Siena retaliated with terrifying coordination, covering each other, their magic intertwining with his in a chaotic dance of destruction.
The atmosphere was nearly tangible, saturated with magic to the point where the air itself seemed to tremble. Spectacular beams of light and energy clashed, illuminating the night in blinding bursts. With each impact, the ground heaved as though it were a furious beast reacting to the intensity of their attacks. Even the elements seemed to join the fray: the torrential rain turned into razor-sharp blades, brutally slashing at the flesh of the three combatants as if nature itself sought to eliminate them.
At one point, the magic in the air became so thick that even their wands seemed to behave erratically. Hadrian felt his wand tremble in his hand multiple times, as if the ambient magic was slipping out of control. The battle had reached a breaking point where maintaining command of their spells bordered on impossible.
Dodging a Killing Curse that streaked toward him from the younger witch, Hadrian countered with a volley of fiery blades. The incandescent flames cut through the air, burning the atmosphere before they descended on Siena. But she was not alone. Nemesis intervened, deflecting the blades just in time with a conjured sword of fire, which she then hurled at Hadrian with deadly precision. He leapt backward, twisting his body in a desperate maneuver, and banished the flying weapon into the rubble of an old garden shed. The sweat on his brow mingled with the rain that still poured relentlessly.
Taking a brief moment of respite, Hadrian attempted once again to use his temporal magic. He raised his wand high above his head, a low rumble resonating as the hands of a clock appeared beneath his feet, marking each beat of his heart. With a sharp gesture, he cut through the air. Time ceased to flow, and the world around him froze, plunging into absolute silence. Only the thundering rhythm of his own heartbeat echoed in the frozen void, solitary and cold.
But the reprieve was short-lived.
"Not this time!" A voice pierced through the stillness of the suspended time. A second heartbeat, faster than his own, thudded in his ears, overlaying his. Hadrian froze, a flash of realization hitting him. 'She's accelerating her own timeline?!' he thought, retreating from Nemesis's rapid assault.
It was like watching a scene in fast-forward. Her movements, her voice—everything happened at a blistering pace, as though she had slipped free of his temporal grip. 'She's manipulating time to do the opposite of what I'm doing. She's speeding up while I'm slowing everything down'. This made his task exponentially harder. Though they were in the same temporal distortion zone, she seemed immune to the constraints he imposed on the surrounding space.
With a sweeping arc of his wand, Hadrian conjured a terrifying arc of electricity, forcing Nemesis to retreat. Even this incredibly powerful sorceress couldn't ignore the threat posed by an adversary like Hadrian. Despite her efforts to mask her emotions, she was scared. How could he still hold his own against someone moving 1.5 times faster than him? His eyes anticipated her attacks, and his reflexes seemed to defy the natural order.
Suddenly, Hadrian dropped to one knee, driving his wand into the ground with force. Time resumed its normal flow, but not before he unleashed one final attack: the gravity around Nemesis multiplied tenfold, slamming her violently into the ground. A strangled cry of rage escaped her throat as her body refused to move, pinned by an invisible force.
Struggling to lift her wand, she barely managed to raise her arm. Hadrian, satisfied, rose to his feet, ready to deliver the final blow. 'It's over', he thought, pointing his wand at the subdued sorceress. But his moment of triumph was short-lived.
A sudden explosion erupted behind him.
"Bombarda!" The spell, cast by Siena, shot through the space and detonated near Hadrian, flinging him into the air with brutal force. His body collided with the magical barrier, which shuddered under the impact. Winded and dazed, Hadrian rolled to the ground, coughing as his muscles screamed in protest. He barely had time to recover before the two witches resumed their onslaught, their spells tearing through the air with renewed fury.
Hadrian dodged with instinctive precision, diving, rolling, and countering. Every movement drained him, every action was a battle against the fatigue dulling his limbs. His magical reserves were depleting rapidly, but he couldn't afford to think about that now. His reinforced magical core allowed him to draw energy from the ambient magic, but the amount he absorbed was far less than what he used. Still, it bought him a few precious moments.
And in a battle like this, every second was vital.
'I can't destabilise them', he realized as he deflected a volley of curses. 'I need to separate them. Siena is the weak link. I'll deal with her first'.
Closing his eyes briefly to focus, Hadrian conjured his signature spell: a modified Fiendfyre. A storm of black flames erupted around him, swirling with devastating power. The infernal heat made him grit his teeth—controlling such a force required tremendous effort, especially so close to a manor he couldn't afford to destroy.
A massive serpent made of black fire materialized, lunging toward Siena with terrifying speed. The young witch, caught off guard, attempted to conjure a shield but failed. The fiery serpent bore down on her, ready to consume her in a roar of flames.
"Dream on, Potter!" Nemesis screamed, throwing herself into the fire in a desperate attempt to tear through the inferno. Her body dripped with sweat, her breath ragged. She managed to repel the serpent but at a cost: her face bore marks of exhaustion, her energy visibly waning. In her gaze, beyond the rage, Hadrian saw something else—was it fear?
"You… protected me?" Siena murmured, stunned, her wide eyes betraying disbelief. The older woman faltered, dropping to her knees under the weight of her exhaustion, before forcing herself upright.
Hadrian, on his end, extinguished the flames before unleashing another salvo of attacks. Siena, despite the fear that paralyzed her, managed to regain her composure and retaliated with newfound fury. Despite her youth, she displayed exceptional power. 'She's impressive', Hadrian admitted. When fully focused, Siena could keep up with his pace, even though her fatigue was beginning to show.
He decided to change tactics. Plunging his wand into the ground, he transfigured the earth into stone wolves and sent them charging at the two witches. The massive creatures leapt from side to side, dodging the spells of Nemesis and Siena, closing in on them with terrifying precision.
Nemesis reacted swiftly, casting an explosive spell that obliterated the stone wolves, sending a cloud of debris into the air, obscuring Hadrian's view. Taking advantage of the diversion, she grabbed Siena and pulled her out of harm's way.
Once they were in a safer position, Nemesis nodded to her companion and rejoined the fight, launching a ferocious assault that forced Hadrian to step back slightly. The duel grew even more intense, both sides drawing on their dwindling reserves of magic, wounding and weakening one another without either gaining a clear advantage.
Despite his engagement with Nemesis, Hadrian kept Siena in his peripheral vision. He saw her begin to chant in an ancient language, and a surge of dread filled him. He knew the rule of ancient spells: the longer the incantation, the more devastating the resulting spell.
'I have to stop her before she finishes', he thought, his tension ratcheting up another notch. Using a technique he had mastered as Ghost, he ascended into the air, his body transforming into a swirling black mist. In this form, he bypassed spells and glided across the battlefield.
Reverting to his corporeal form, Hadrian drew Vengeance and fired three magical bullets at the young girl. To his surprise, a black shield materialized in front of Siena, deflecting the energy projectiles. Hadrian turned to see Nemesis, her wand raised, maintaining the shield with remarkable control.
The bullets, too powerful to be fully stopped, ricocheted in various directions. Before Nemesis could smirk in triumph, Hadrian spun his wand counterclockwise.
The bullets reversed their course. Two of them struck Siena squarely—one in the back and the other in the leg. A piercing scream tore through the air as the young girl collapsed to the ground, grievously injured.
Nemesis screamed in rage, but Siena's chant ended in a strangled, muffled whisper. The ground beneath Hadrian shattered, forming razor-sharp spikes that lunged toward him in a barrage of deadly attacks. Dodging with all his might, Hadrian felt one spike graze his leg and another slash his back. He was forced into constant motion, each jolt of pain reminding him of the stakes.
The memory of his severed leg surfaced unbidden. 'This prosthetic won't hold up if this continues', he thought grimly, his jaw clenched against the pain. He couldn't afford a pause to heal or strategize. Every second brought him closer to total exhaustion.
'How much longer?!' he shouted inwardly, deflecting another slashing curse. Rage flared in him, a fury he hadn't felt in years. His friends were in danger, his nephew was likely facing Voldemort at this very moment, and he was stuck here, battling two insane witches in a cursed manor.
The anger consumed him, a searing fire fueled by his despair at being unable to protect the ones he cared about. Nemesis, too, was consumed by a nameless fury. Seeing her younger counterpart gravely injured had stripped away her composure. Her hatred surged into each attack, her face twisted with uncontrollable rage.
The battle escalated even further—stone spikes erupted from the ground, devastating explosions shook the earth, and flames scorched the air. Both combatants, battered and worn, fought with a desperate energy that bordered on madness.
Hadrian knew he was in the more precarious position. 'Even if I beat them, I'll still have to help Harry and Dumbledore', he thought, anxiety gnawing at him. 'And in this state, I won't last'.
The temporal magic both sides wielded was taking its toll as well. Each spell drew on the distortions in time, slowing or accelerating attacks, creating dangerous anomalies that threatened the stability of reality itself.
Finally, the stone spikes ceased. The two adversaries stood still, locked in an intense stare.
"You don't have an ordinary core," Hadrian said between ragged breaths.
"About time! I was wondering how long it would take you to figure that out," Nemesis replied, equally breathless. She stood tall despite her injuries, her face contorted in a mocking grin.
Hadrian raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"I've followed you for years. I know your secrets, Potter," she said with malicious glee. "I underwent the ritual too. My core was enhanced, just like yours. And for that, I have you to thank. I've never been more powerful."
Hadrian finally understood why this fight seemed endless. Their enhanced magical cores were constantly regenerating, allowing each of them to recover a portion of their energy. The only difference lay in their raw strength and skill.
"I see…" he began, but his words caught in his throat as his eyes locked onto a figure emerging from the manor.
Fortuna! The young woman was limping, her face pale as death. She's hurt, he realized with a sinking feeling. But what alarmed him even more was the absence of Sirius and the DWT members.
Hadrian didn't hesitate. He knew he had to protect her. "I claim my debt to Fortuna Moon. My command is simple: leave this manor immediately!" he ordered in a booming voice.
Fortuna tried to lift her wand to aid Hadrian, but her body refused to obey. Against her will, she turned and crossed the magical barrier, vanishing from sight as she Disapparated.
'Something's gone wrong', Hadrian thought, his chest tightening. Fortuna is injured, and Sirius… But he couldn't dwell on it now. He couldn't afford to lose anyone else. At least she would be safe at Potter Manor.
Redirecting his focus to Nemesis, Hadrian felt his emotions roil within him like a raging torrent. 'I have to end this. Now.'
Desperation seeped into every fiber of his being, but he refused to let it overwhelm him. 'I can do this!' With a primal roar, Hadrian unleashed all the magic he had left, his attacks raining down on Nemesis with feral intensity.
The witch staggered under the ferocity of his strikes, for the first time truly overwhelmed. But even as he dominated the fight, Hadrian knew he couldn't afford to let up. 'I can't fail… I won't fail'.
12/14/1995, 02H28, Hogwarts, Scotland:
"Protego totalum," murmured the Headmaster, completing the final layer of protection around Hogwarts. The magical barriers shimmered faintly in the air before becoming invisible, encasing the school like a second skin, ready to repel the imminent assault.
As soon as Hadrian's message had reached him, Albus had thrown himself into preparing the castle's defenses. The urgency of the situation had forced him to make difficult but necessary decisions. All students below fifth year had been sent home, whether they wanted to leave or not. There was no room for debate in a crisis this grave. As for the older students, they were given the choice to stay and fight, though Dumbledore fervently hoped they would choose to leave. Despite the months of intense training Harry had provided, Dumbledore knew these young witches and wizards weren't truly ready for war.
No amount of training can prepare someone for death, he thought solemnly, the weight of the truth pressing heavily on him.
Still, Albus was a man of wisdom, and if life had taught him anything, it was the value of trusting the young. Harry believed some of his peers were ready to fight, ready to defend what they held dear, and Dumbledore respected that conviction. If Harry thought his classmates should stay and fight, Albus would honor his faith. But that wouldn't stop him from taking the lead, buying as much time as possible before the inevitable clash with Voldemort and his forces.
"Gather around me!" he called from the great castle doors. Instantly, every remaining member of the Order of the Phoenix, the Hogwarts staff, and even some parents who had come to help, assembled. Worry etched their faces as they waited, the looming threat of Voldemort's army casting a heavy shadow. The absence of Hadrian at such a crucial moment puzzled even Dumbledore. 'What could have delayed someone as capable as him, leaving him to send only a message?' he wondered.
Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand for silence.
"I apologize for waking you at such a late hour," he began, his voice gentle but resonating with a gravity that immediately captured everyone's attention. "But you must understand: Hogwarts is in great danger." His piercing gaze swept over the gathered crowd, ensuring they grasped the seriousness of the situation.
"As we speak, Voldemort and his forces march toward us. If he wins today, he will be just one step away from controlling the magical world. We must stop him."
His words hung in the air like a dark incantation, yet Albus knew that sometimes, truth was the strongest catalyst to ignite courage in the hearts of wizards. 'Voldemort's true targets are Harry and me', he thought with grim determination. The Dark Lord had one goal: to eliminate the two greatest threats to his rise.
As for himself, Dumbledore didn't fear death. He had lived a long life, over a century of struggles, and felt the weight of time pressing on him. But Harry… That young man had his whole life ahead of him, and Albus would do everything in his power to ensure he got the chance to live it.
"Tonight," he continued, a weary smile gracing his face as he saw fear flicker across some faces, "I may leave you." He raised his hand quickly to quell the murmurs of protest rippling through the group.
"Not willingly, I assure you," he added with a small laugh, though it was tinged with sorrow. "But if my students' lives are at stake, I will not hold back."
He turned his gaze to Minerva McGonagall, his former student and most steadfast ally. "Minerva, should anything happen to me, will you take my place?" he asked calmly. The question struck McGonagall like a blow, and for a moment, she froze, terror at the thought of losing her mentor flashing in her eyes. But she nodded firmly after a brief hesitation.
"Y-yes, Albus. It would be an honor," she stammered, her voice trembling but resolute.
Dumbledore nodded slowly, sensing the approach of Voldemort's magic—a dark, rippling current on the horizon. Time was running out, and he intended to use every remaining moment to prepare them.
"Voldemort will target Harry and me first," he said, his voice harder than usual. "We will do everything in our power to stop him once and for all." His eyes, usually warm, were now steely as he compressed his magical core, feeling the familiar power of his youth surge through him—power he hadn't wielded in years.
"Defend the school and the students with all your strength. Tonight, the fate of our world may be decided. Fight with everything you have!" His tone had sharpened, echoing the younger Albus, the one who had once led battles with passion and determination. Despite his age, he was ready to become that formidable warrior again, prepared to face his former student.
"And you, Albus, where will you go?" asked Filius Flitwick, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern for his Headmaster.
Dumbledore offered a gentle smile before drawing his wand with a slowness that bordered on reverence, his gaze distant as he inspected the wand he hadn't wielded like this in decades. 'I hope she won't resent me for waiting so long', he thought with faint amusement.
"I will take the lead," he declared, his tone resolute, his grip on his wand firm.
"Wait… What do you mean?" exclaimed Hagrid, clutching his umbrella-wand tightly, his eyes wide with concern. "You're not seriously thinking of going alone, are you?"
"Don't worry, Hagrid. I won't be alone." Dumbledore smiled kindly before adding in a mysterious tone, "Besides, I made a promise to Lady Magic herself. There's no turning back now."
Hagrid opened his mouth to insist, clearly ready to follow his old friend into the fray, but Dumbledore gently, yet firmly, cut him off. "No, Hagrid. I entrust you with defending the school. Protect the students, please." Shoulders slumping, the half-giant understood he had no choice but to obey. McGonagall stepped closer, resting a comforting hand on his broad back.
"Don't worry, my friends," Dumbledore continued, standing tall as his calm gaze swept over them all. "We will do what is right, not what is easy. And for that, you can be proud of yourselves."
Finishing his speech, the Headmaster took a step back, casting one last look over the assembly of witches and wizards before him. He knew that in moments, they would be joined by the students who had chosen to stay and fight alongside their elders. Together, they would face one of the most pivotal battles in magical history. He took a deep breath, and just as the castle doors opened to reveal Harry and the other students, he Disapparated.
The effect was immediate: a gasp rippled through the crowd. Apparition at Hogwarts was supposed to be impossible, but what was the point of being Headmaster if he couldn't exploit all the school's intricacies?
He reappeared atop a hill, at a safe distance from the castle, overlooking the valley below. It was there that he saw them.
A massive black army stretched endlessly into the night, its ranks filled with wizards, magical creatures, and strange beings as far as the eye could see. A chill ran down the Headmaster's spine.
'There are far more soldiers than we anticipated', he realized, his mind racing. The Hogwarts forces were severely outnumbered.
The two greatest fighters on their side were himself and Harry, but if the boy was destined to face Tom directly, Dumbledore would have to confront this overwhelming wave of destruction alone.
'I have no choice', he thought, tightening his grip on his wand. 'There's no room for doubt anymore'.
As he prepared to launch his first attack, he froze.
Down below, Harry was already there. The young man stood on his broomstick, calmly facing Voldemort. And… They were talking?
The Dark Lord suddenly laughed—a cruel, mocking sound that spread to his ranks—and pointed toward a small valley near the school. Harry nodded and headed toward it, while Voldemort returned to his army.
'What does this mean?' Dumbledore's thoughts raced. 'Voldemort isn't directly leading his army anymore?' The realization hit him like a blow. 'He's planning something bigger.'
At that moment, Voldemort raised his wand, and a wave of raw magic surged toward Hogwarts. The castle's protections weakened immediately, some even shattering entirely. Dumbledore winced. He could restore them, but doing so would cost him precious energy he couldn't afford to waste.
Voldemort staggered briefly, visibly drained by his attack, but another figure stepped forward to stand beside him. Ollivander—his old friend—was there, bound and clearly held against his will. The Dark Lord pressed his wand against the wandmaker's abdomen and, with a sinister gesture, began absorbing his magic.
"He's replenishing his reserves by draining Ollivander's life!" Dumbledore realized in horror.
Immediately, he prepared to intervene, conjuring a massive fireball at the tip of his wand, ready to strike. But Voldemort, as if sensing the danger, turned and dragged Ollivander in front of him, using the man as a human shield.
"Stay where you are, Albus!" Voldemort's voice, amplified by magic, echoed through the valley. "Our duel will come later. For now, let me rid myself of the brat, and then we'll finish what we started."
Dumbledore, his heart heavy, let his spell dissipate. It was too late. Life had already fled from Ollivander's body. The wandmaker's eyes closed forever as he crumpled lifelessly to the ground.
Voldemort then rose into the air, flying toward Harry's location. For a fleeting moment, Dumbledore felt an overwhelming urge to pursue him, but he knew he couldn't.
Voldemort's army, now led by a commander chosen by the Dark Lord, was advancing toward him. Spells began to whistle through the air, forcing Dumbledore to raise his wand to defend himself.
Then, a sudden cry rang out behind him:
"Atlas!"
A massive shield appeared, repelling the incoming attacks.
Dumbledore turned, a smile forming on his lips as he recognized the newcomer.
"02:33, not a minute late! Ready to fight?" came a familiar voice.
Dumbledore sighed, amusement breaking through his weariness, as he gazed at the horizon.
"By Merlin, tell me I'm dreaming," the man grumbled, staring in stunned disbelief at the countless army of witches, wizards, magical creatures, and strange beings emerging over the surrounding hills.