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HP458- Let's End It!
🕑 Added 2025-06-29 21:37:54 +0000 UTCVoldemort hissed low under his breath, and without warning, another spell flew. This one wasn’t green, it was a curse that burned gold at the edges, spiralling fast. Harry spun and batted it aside, the curse crashing into the warded beams above with a loud crack.
Voldemort didn’t waste time with small talk after that. He flicked his wand sharply, sending a volley of spells... jagged, fast, wild. Harry moved through them like he’d rehearsed this, shielding two, dodging the rest, firing back in twos and threes. One spell cracked the floor beneath Voldemort’s feet. Another slammed into a barrier of his own conjuring.
“I expected more, Tom,” Harry called out, not even winded. “Come on, I’ve seen second-years duel with more structure.”
A growl tore through the air. The torches around them began to flicker. The walls of the Hall rippled faintly with pressure.
Then, it shifted.
Cold.
Bone-deep cold.
From the outer corridors, the dark rolled in, not shadows, but something worse. Hundreds, no, thousands of Dementors started to sweep through the lower archways. Cloaks billowing, no sound but the soft rustle of death.
“Here come the pets,” Daphne muttered from the left flank.
“Lovely,” said Tracey, wand already up.
Voldemort stood at the centre of it all, arms wide. “Do you see it now, boy? You cannot stop me.”
Harry didn’t answer.
He looked up, lips twisting into something far too relaxed for the situation. His wand flicked. A silvery shape burst from the tip, forming a glowing doe... then, in one smooth motion, it folded into glinting armour that wrapped around him, head to heel. It shimmered like polished moonlight.
The front wave of Dementors froze mid-glide, hissed, then spun away like they'd just flown headfirst into sunlight.
Harry chuckled, not bothering to lower his wand.
“You want to know my happy memory?”
Voldemort didn’t speak. Just watched, eyes narrowed, wand angled low.
More Patronuses lit up across the hall... fox, badger, eagle, bunny, swan, cat from the upper platforms. Dozens of silver shapes darted through the smoke, pushing Dementors back. They scattered like ash in a windstorm.
Harry didn’t break stride.
“The day I ruined your resurrection,” he said, voice light as if chatting about the weather. “Gave you the wrong blood, remember? Willingly, even. That part was my favourite... watching you realise all that grand planning went straight into the bin.”
Voldemort’s red eyes flicked down to Harry’s wand, then back up.
“You dare mock-”
“Obviously.” Harry flicked his wand lazily. “Is that new? Thought I already established my brand.”
Another spell tore through the space between them, streaking sickly green. Harry shifted, side-stepping with barely a ripple of effort. He answered with a curse of his own... tight, silver-lined and Voldemort’s shield cracked, left a burn mark across the edge of his robes.
Behind Harry, Daphne’s voice rang clear. “Left quadrant... Dementors are breaching.”
“On it,” Tracey answered, and seconds later a flare of white light shot across the platform, carving through the dark shapes closing in.
Voldemort moved again, wand lashing with a wordless command. The torches lining the room flared out, smothered by waves of cold. The Dementors surged, thousands of them, clawing toward the hall like a living tide. Their cloaks rustled in unison, filling the air with the sound of despair.
But none of Harry’s group flinched. Not even Astoria, who had just finished the last chalk mark and was already holding her wand like she meant business.
A silver badger burst from the second platform, screeching as it cut through the horde. Susan stepped forward beside it, calm, wand raised. Ginny’s Patronus, a sleek, nimble horse, galloped through the smoke.
Voldemort sent another curse Harry’s way, this one curved like a hook, jagged at the tip. Harry caught it with a deflection, spun it mid-air, and flung it back. It snapped just over Voldemort’s shoulder, rattling the stone behind him.
“Getting slow, Tom,” Harry said, still grinning.
“I will break you,” Voldemort hissed.
“You are welcome to try.”
He shifted his weight and launched another volley. This time he didn't aim to disarm, he aimed to press. Spell after spell, each one sharper than the last, darting like lightning, hammering at Voldemort’s defences. The floor cracked. The beams overhead groaned. One of the Dementors burst apart mid-charge, torn through by a stray jet of silver fire.
Voldemort stumbled once, cloak torn, eyes bright with fury. “You...”
Harry pressed forward, spells hammering from his wand like a bloody metronome. Each strike forced Voldemort back, step by step. Dust rose, the edges of the Hall glowing faintly where stray curses had chipped the wards.
“This is your end, Tom,” Harry called out, not shouting... just matter-of-fact, like it was a deadline Voldemort had forgotten.
Voldemort didn’t answer. Another curse flew from his wand, sharp and flickering with some twisted charm laced through it. Harry caught it, bent it sideways with a flick, and sent a follow-up spell that cracked the stone just past the Dark Lord’s head.
“Getting rattled?” Harry said lightly.
Voldemort snarled, flicking a second wand from inside his robes... blackwood, twisted. That was new.
“Desperate enough to dual-wield?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. “You really are slipping.”
But Voldemort didn’t rise to the bait. Both wands flared at once, unleashing a twin burst of dark curses... one arced like a blade, the other slicing backwards toward the flank where Luna and Ginny had just repositioned. Harry moved fast, wand slashing through the air. The corridor around him shifted... stone groaning as it morphed, walls bulging into pillars to soak the first blast while the second exploded harmlessly into reshaped rock.
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You are going for my friends now?” His voice was cold enough to cut. “That is where you’ve landed, Tom?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. “Bombarda Maxima!”
The curse thundered from his wand, smashing into the floor near Voldemort’s left side. Stone shattered, forcing the Dark Lord to leap back, shield raised in a sharp flick. One of his wands flared, absorbing the edge of the blast... still staggered him.
Smoke rose between them.
Across the platform, Daphne called out, “South corner is sealed!”
“Dementors breaching again!” Tracey added, already sending her Patronus surging down the corridor.
Voldemort hissed and twisted both wands, conjuring a spinning disc of dark flame that circled him, pushing back the debris.
“Is this your strategy?” he sneered. “Friends and fireworks?”
Harry grinned, not moving. “Well, I would call it working.”
Another green bolt shot across the gap. Harry ducked, twisted his wand, and sent it careening into the upper arch, where it detonated in a shower of sparks.
Behind Voldemort, more Dementors poured in like a tide... thousands now, no longer just a front. They twisted unnaturally, their movement smooth, too smooth, they moved like puppets, coordinated, compelled, corrupted.
Susan, still holding the left platform, swore under her breath. “That is not normal. They’re following his will.”
“They’ are not just Dementors,” Luna said. Her Patronus bunny darted ahead, flaring against the dark tide. “They are bound. He’s fed them magic. Emotion. Warped them.”
“Farmed despair,” Hermione muttered, disgusted.
“North Korea,” Harry said. “He harvested whole towns. Tortured them. Made these things his.”
Voldemort raised his head slightly, almost proud. “Power has its sources.”
“Yours stink,” Harry shot back, and launched another spell... this one crackled white and silver, slicing forward like a thrown blade. Voldemort countered with a twisting net of shadows, but Harry’s spell punched through, grazing his arm. Cloth tore, and Voldemort stumbled.
Harry followed as Voldemort stumbled, wand already angled for the next shot. A sharp flick, Incarcerous Tempesta, and a set of silver-flecked chains shot forward, wrapping around Voldemort’s legs before he could step again. The Dark Lord snarled, slashing his wand through the spell. The chains shattered, but not fast enough to stop Harry landing another hit, a jolting force that knocked Voldemort back against the base of the platform steps.
Smoke hung in the air. Wards flared along the walls behind them. The Hall vibrated with leftover force, like thunder waiting.
Voldemort pushed himself up slowly, eyes narrowed. He wasn’t beaten yet—scarred and rattled, sure... but still standing, magic still snarling around him like static.
Harry rolled his wrist once, wand loose in his grip. “That it, Tom? Was expecting more than half-rate theatrics and Dementor cosplay.”
Voldemort raised both wands again, teeth bared. “You insolent..."
A flick, Expulso, and the stone at Voldemort’s feet cracked open, sending him sliding back into the base of the platform. Robes torn, eyes blazing, both wands still gripped like claws.
Harry didn’t stop. Another spell, tight and fast, shot toward Voldemort’s shoulder. A jagged shield flared up just in time to deflect it, but the recoil snapped through his stance again.
“You are slipping,” Harry said, walking forward, wand still raised. “Two wands, one brain. Must be a strain.”
Voldemort’s answer was a curse that arced like a whip, slashing across the air. Harry ducked, pivoted, and sent a blast of silver light that cracked one of the pillars behind the Dark Lord’s head.
Voldemort staggered upright, one wand pointed, the other hand sparking with raw energy. “You will break before me.”
“Keep saying that,” Harry said. “It’s working wonders for morale.”
He slashed his wand. Crack... Voldemort’s second wand snapped in half.
The air froze.
Even the Dementors paused.
He looked down. Just a stump of wand left, then he dropped it. His gaze snapped back up, eyes furious, lip curled. The last wand trembled slightly in his grip.
Harry raised his own wand, now barely a few metres away.
“Let’s end it.”
He took one step closer, wand lifted, spell already humming at the tip. Voldemort didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He was breathing hard, robes scorched, magic flickering wild around him... but his wand was still aimed, defiant.
Harry pointed straight at his chest. A spell sat on the edge of release.
And that is when...
CRACK.
A burst of flame.
