Chapter 548: The Last Horcrux
Chapter 548: The Last Horcrux
The wizards in the crowd saw the sudden appearance of the white-bearded old man and their eyes sparkled with intense hope. They all murmured in unison, "Dumbledore." The voices of thousands mingled together, like a thunderclap that echoed in Voldemort's ears.
He turned sharply, "Dumbledore?"
At that moment, an invisible blade sliced toward Voldemort, cutting through the air and splitting the fiery blaze snake in two.
Voldemort turned and raised the Elder Wand, from which sprouted lush, entangled branches. These branches twisted into a long, sharp spear that pierced through the bright white fire, showering sparks as it lunged at Felix.
Felix darted through the air like a fish, reappearing on the ground. In his hand was a short sword—transformed from the Ebony Wand. The transparent blade at the tip, extended by magic, sent rapid Cutting Curses flying at Voldemort, slicing through the snake-like branches.
"Headmaster Dumbledore?" Felix paused, his face showing confusion.
Dumbledore shook his head slightly, walking calmly toward Voldemort, "You are destined to leave disappointed today, Tom."
Voldemort replied with a cold smile, "Dumbledore, you don't know what I've done, what I've gained, and you want to lecture me?" He took two steps back, placing Dumbledore and Felix within his field of vision, and sneered, "Two against one?"
Felix waved a hand at him, "I need a break." He narrowed his silver-gray eyes and strolled away.
Voldemort focused his attention on Dumbledore, raising his hand to release a deadly green light. Dumbledore deftly turned his wrist, turning the stones on the ground into a golden shield. A loud boom echoed through the air as the Killing Curse was deflected.
"Transfiguration", Voldemort said with disgust.
In the crowd, House-elf Bindi nodded vigorously, "Annoying magic." Draco Malfoy glanced at him, only to meet a pair of intimidating eyes. He instinctively looked away, then felt angry at his own retreat.
But the house-elf paid no attention, only staring at the battlefield and muttering, "I hate Transfiguration, it's like chewing gum."
"Of course, I know what you've done, Tom. You have just committed a terrible murder, and another innocent life has been taken by you", Dumbledore said, advancing step by step toward Voldemort. Phoenix Fawkes circled above, emitting a gentle cry.
"You know? Then you should be aware of whose wand I hold. You are no match for me, Dumbledore. Try this!"
Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, leaning back slightly. Magic poured recklessly into the wand, and both he and the wand emitted a chilling hiss, as if a thousand snakes were roaring. The surroundings distorted strangely, flickering between light and dark.
"Parseltongue!" Harry called out nervously from the crowd.
"What did he say?" Ron shouted, covering his ears. The wizards in the crowd either echoed his reaction or used Silencing Spells or Shield Charms to protect themselves, but the nauseating feeling lingered like a persistent parasite.
Fawkes flew over, emitting a sharp cry and singing loudly. The discomfort vanished.
People looked up—
"Avada Kedavra! (Parseltongue)" The evil, raspy voice reverberated through the air. From the Elder Wand, countless physical ropes emerged, moving with incredible speed. The surrounding green light coalesced into a cloud of ominous energy, spreading toward Dumbledore.
Dumbledore suddenly stopped, the ground beneath him undulating like waves. Earth dragons surged from the ground, coiling into towering mounds, like rapidly growing ancient trees. Then, powerful vines extended from the tops of the trees, lashing out at Voldemort in unison.
The ropes and green clouds were swept away, and Felix's heart eased.
But Dumbledore was not at ease either. Most of the earth vines broke, falling from a height of hundreds of feet and shattering like broken pillars. However, the key feature of Transfiguration was that as long as the magic was sustained, the transformation could continue. Under Dumbledore's control, the shattered pillars reformed.
Voldemort, unable to withstand the assault, disappeared from his spot.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! The relentless barrage of spells shattered the remaining twisted ropes and green clouds.
Dumbledore panted slightly, the wrinkles on his forehead strangely smoothing out, making him look several years younger. The scene fell quiet, and Voldemort looked at Dumbledore with a mixture of shock and doubt. Voldemort had already overestimated this old man, but Dumbledore’s demonstrated power shattered his preconceptions once again.
Could it be that he hadn’t used his full strength for all these years?
Voldemort felt a surge of humiliation, quickly followed by fear. But then, his gaze froze. "Your hand!"
Dumbledore looked at him calmly, more wrinkles disappearing from his forehead, making the change even more evident. Even Harry could see it. "Headmaster Dumbledore’s face looks younger..." Ron muttered under his breath. Harry’s heart raced; his intuition told him something was wrong.
Hermione’s eyes widened, and she let out a sharp intake of breath.
Felix was also startled. Dumbledore’s magic had permanently altered the landscape, and such a powerful Transfiguration... He suddenly recalled Dumbledore’s mention of the “special method” used to defeat Voldemort.
He stared at Dumbledore’s relaxed brows, wondering what price had been paid.
Voldemort didn’t notice these subtle changes. His entire focus was on Dumbledore’s withered, blackened hand, specifically the unassuming black gem ring on it.
His face contorted in rage.
"Tom, you’ve been too arrogant, thinking no one could uncover your secrets", Dumbledore said calmly, waving his wand. The ground suddenly sank, and Voldemort was sucked into a powerful vortex, but even as he disappeared, he kept his eyes fixed on the ring on Dumbledore’s hand, his snake-like pupils trembling involuntarily.
A Horcrux, his Horcrux.
Dumbledore had discovered it! He turned to Felix, who looked solemn.
The next moment, Voldemort was pulled into the vortex.
For a fleeting instant, the battle seemed to be over. The scene was silent for a few seconds—
"Is he dead?" a wizard asked, trembling.
"No", a voice answered without hesitation. All the nearby wizards turned to the speaker, who was Harry. He clutched his forehead, his expression pained.
Voldemort’s emotional turmoil was too intense for Harry to ignore. Images flooded his mind, showing Voldemort at different ages, all sharing the same characteristic: committing horrific murders without hesitation...
The scenes then shifted abruptly: a featureless Voldemort, his face waxy, handing a diary to a young blonde man, who accepted it meekly;
A Voldemort, having failed to secure a teaching position, appearing in the Room of Requirement and placing a diadem on a pile of trash, a smug smile on his face;
A pale hand discarding the black gem ring in an abandoned hut;
Slytherin’s Locket being dropped into a liquid that glowed with a greenish light;
An infant-like hand petting a giant serpent, a cold voice calling it "Nagini...";
And the familiar woman, holding a golden cup with trembling hands, her reflection in her pupils confirming that this had happened not long ago...
Dumbledore struggled to control the magic. The ground continued to crack, thorns piercing through the earth, and the tightening vortex emitted a bone-chilling sound. Then, Voldemort reappeared, looking disheveled with over a dozen cuts on his face and body.
The Elder Wand hummed in his hand, the green glow spreading over his pale body, healing the wounds on his face. He glared at Dumbledore, hissing in Parseltongue, and the Elder Wand trembled as if thousands of snakes were responding to him.
"Avada Kedavra (Parseltongue)!"
"Be careful, Headmaster Dumbledore, he’s using the Parseltongue curse—"
"Silence, Harry!" Dumbledore shouted.
The next second, Voldemort vanished, and Harry found himself trapped in a circle of a red-eyed monster.
The monster was like a sticky glue or a parasite, tightly entwined with him, making it impossible to distinguish where Harry’s body ended and the monster’s began. Trapped inside, Harry felt himself sinking deeper and deeper, just like Voldemort had in the swamp, but he had no way to escape on his own.
The scar on Harry's forehead throbbed with an intensity unlike anything he had ever felt before. Harry thought he was going to die, and in a way, that would be a relief from the agony. But this was beyond his control. The monster spoke through his own mouth, and Harry could only feel his lips moving as he writhed in excruciating pain.
The onlookers were taken aback. "Invisibility? Or did he Disapparate?" Aurors from the Ministry of Magic looked around, and then Harry suddenly collapsed, his body contorting stiffly, his neck rising like a snake, and his pupils turning into the vertical slits of a serpent.
"Harry?" Sirius Black called out.
"What's happening to that boy..."
"What's wrong with him?"
"No, that voice—"
More people gathered around. Dumbledore bent down, locking eyes with Harry's snake-like gaze. He urged, "Harry, hold on! Don't forget who you are!"
"Who am I?" 'Harry's' eyes turned blood-red, and a hissing sound escaped his lips. "I am, of course, the greatest Dark Lord in history—"
"Heavens! The boy is possessed!"
Dumbledore gripped Harry's shoulders and said firmly, "You are Harry Potter, the son of James and Lily. Think of them, Harry. They would be proud of you if they were still alive! Think of your friends at school, Harry! Remember who you are!"
Harry found himself trapped in endless darkness, his consciousness blurred by the pain. He felt himself falling, falling... Then, he heard a faint voice, Dumbledore's, calling his name.
What's my name again?
Harry's memory was hazy. Was he Tom Riddle, or Harry Potter?
"Harry, hold on!" Hermione said anxiously. "Think of Sirius Black, think of Remus, think of Hagrid..." She recited the names of the people Harry knew best, and in the endless darkness, Harry's consciousness began to clear.
"I am Harry Potter", Harry muttered to himself, lifting his head to stare at the red-eyed monster that clung to him. "You are Voldemort."
Outside, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Sirius Black, and Dumbledore tightly surrounded Harry, calling his name repeatedly. Auror Bones looked worried but turned to shout, "All Aurors, clear the area, maintain vigilance, and have the healers ready."
House-elf Bindi watched the scene calmly, almost too calm compared to the others' panic. "This is really scary..." Suddenly, a figure stumbled toward him. Bindi looked up coldly and saw the young man who was wrapped tightly, only exposing a sharp, thin chin.
"Student?" he muttered, snapped his fingers, and vanished.
Draco Malfoy was pushed to the ground by the crowd and, through the gaps, saw Harry's face contorted in pain. His heart trembled in fear, unable to imagine the agony the boy his age was enduring.
He saw Harry's mouth open, and his eyes turned back to their emerald green.
"Get out of my head, Voldemort!"
Harry's roar echoed, and he pounded the ground, causing it to tremble strangely. Small stones leapt into the air.
"Hisss... I am you, Harry Potter. We share the same name..."
"No—never—" Harry gritted his teeth, struggling to free himself from the red-eyed monster's grip.
"Get out—of my—head—"
He punched the ground, his arms like drumsticks, creating a thunderous sound that seemed to reverberate in everyone's chest.
"My God, look at that boy, what is he doing—"
"Incredible!"
"Who is he?"
"It's working, keep bringing Harry back. This is a battle of wills", Felix said from the back, his eyes changing colors like a kaleidoscope—star rings, silver, silver-gray. Silver threads gathered at his fingertips.
Ron, Hermione, and Neville called out desperately, their voices overlapping—
“I’m Neville, Neville Longbottom. Harry, you taught me magic, remember?”
“Think of Ginny, Harry! Don’t you want to see her?” Hermione shouted.
“We drove halfway across Britain in a car—” Ron suddenly froze, staring at Harry, his words stumbling, “Merlin’s socks, you and Ginny? When did that happen?”
Finally, a cloud of black mist burst out from Harry. Felix reached out, but missed. He then threw a strand of silver thread, and a scream echoed from the black mist as it gradually took shape in the air, forming Voldemort’s body.
Voldemort’s snake-like face seemed to wear a mask, reflecting a mix of joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness...
He glared at Felix with intense hatred and vanished without warning.
Felix was unmoved by Voldemort’s venomous gaze and quietly pondered, “It seems to have some effect, but it’s not significant... Did I choose the wrong emotion? What could it be? Horcrux... complete soul... remorse? Remorse!”
He had initially wanted to test if emotions could affect Voldemort. If it worked, he could conduct targeted research. But he suddenly had a new idea:
A Horcrux is a method of splitting the soul to achieve immortality, but the cost is the pain of soul fragmentation, making one less human and leading to soul instability. Harry became a half-Horcrux for this reason—when Voldemort was hit by the rebounding Killing Curse at the Potter house in Godric's Hollow, a fragment of Voldemort’s soul was also blasted away and attached to the only living soul in the collapsing house.
Voldemort didn’t even notice this process.
Of course, there are ways to make the soul whole again, Felix thought. According to the annotations in Advanced Black Magic, true remorse can reunite the fragmented soul with the main body, but the accompanying pain is devastating.
Voldemort probably has no intention of trying this. But if he doesn’t want to, others can help.
The method involves capturing Voldemort alive and helpless. Then, brainwashing or creating a sense of remorse... but this is no easier than killing Voldemort directly.
Harry lay on the ground, panting and shivering from the cold. Then he found himself floating on a stretcher, surrounded by footsteps. Harry wanted to say something, but his mind spun.
He heard someone speaking above him, but he couldn’t tell who it was—possibly Headmaster Dumbledore, or Professor Hep, or Ron and Hermione. He opened his eyes, and everything was blurry. A hand reached out and placed his glasses on his ears, and the surroundings became clear.
Dumbledore’s nose was inches from his face, and when Harry looked up, he saw concerned blue eyes gazing at him.
“Are you all right, Harry?”
“I’m fine,” Harry said, slightly embarrassed. “Drink this, boy, it will make you feel better.” Harry looked up to see Professor Slughorn, who held a thumb-sized glass vial and looked at him with a complex expression, a mix of regret and admiration.
“Thanks,” Harry muttered and drank the potion.
He found himself lying in a temporary tent, with a school crest hanging on the wall. He stared at it for a moment and realized it wasn’t the Hogwarts crest—though it looked similar, it was the Ilvermorny crest.
Harry suddenly realized he was in the Headmaster of Ilvermorny’s tent. Thinking of the Headmaster who had been killed by Voldemort, he felt a deep sadness and a growing hatred for Voldemort. His consciousness began to fade, and a flash of insight passed through his mind. He suddenly remembered the memory of Voldemort he had seen.
Harry grabbed Dumbledore’s arms and slurred, “Cup—Bellatrix.”
“What? Harry, what did you say?” Dumbledore leaned down.
“Bellatrix! He gave the Golden Cup to Bellatrix Lestrange!” Harry shouted and then fainted.
Here, Grindelwald was not House-elf Bindi; he was seeing everything through Bindi’s eyes.
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(End of Chapter)
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