The sky above Hogwarts was dark, swirling with storm clouds conjured by the immense magical battle. Voldemort and Dumbledore stood amidst the ruins of the battlefield, their magic still radiating like a tempest. The air was thick with tension, every observer frozen in awe and fear as the titanic duel reached its apex.
Dumbledore's every movement was precise, each spell he cast masterful in its execution. Fire, ice, and pure force clashed with Voldemort's dark arts, their attacks lighting up the landscape. The ground beneath them trembled with each exchange.
"Admit it, Tom," Dumbledore said, his voice steady despite the chaos. "You've lost your edge. You cannot defeat me."
Voldemort sneered, his crimson eyes burning with fury. "And yet you cannot kill me, old man. How many more will die because of your hesitations?"
Dumbledore's expression hardened. "If death were truly the end, perhaps. But there is always hope, even in darkness."
The duel escalated, spells breaking apart the earth and sending shockwaves into the distance. But then, as Dumbledore prepared a devastating counterattack, the unthinkable happened.
From the shadows, Death Eaters hidden in the chaos of the battle struck.
"KILL HIM!" Bellatrix Lestrange's voice screeched, piercing the cacophony.
A dozen green bolts of light erupted from multiple angles, a coordinated ambush targeting Dumbledore. His shield snapped into place, deflecting most of the curses, but it was overwhelmed by the sheer volume. One Killing Curse struck him in the back, then another in the chest.
"Albus!" Harry's voice rang out, but it was too late.
Dumbledore stumbled, his wand slipping from his fingers as he fell to his knees. His piercing blue eyes met Harry's, and he managed a faint smile. "It's... all yours now," he whispered, his body collapsing in a swirl of golden light as his life force ebbed away.
For a moment, the battlefield was silent, the death of Albus Dumbledore shocking everyone.
Then, Voldemort's cold laughter cut through the air. "And so the mighty Phoenix falls. Hogwarts is mine."
But before the Dark Lord could claim his victory, Harry stepped forward, his presence commanding. His emerald eyes glowed with a deadly light as his aura surged, filling the air with a power that silenced even Voldemort.
"You're wrong, Asshole," Harry said, his voice calm but laced with menace. "This fight isn't over."
In a blur, Harry teleported to the side of his allies, conjuring a massive barrier of golden light that engulfed the battlefield. With a single, sweeping gesture, he transported the students and professors allied with him to safety, away from the chaos.
Left alone with the Death Eaters, Harry smirked, his aura flaring. "Now, it's just you and me."
Bellatrix screamed and lunged at him, her wand flashing. Harry caught her wrist mid-air and drove his knee into her stomach with bone-crushing force. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious before she could utter another curse.
The remaining Death Eaters charged, wands firing in unison. Harry vanished in a blur, appearing behind one and delivering a devastating roundhouse kick that sent the man flying. Another tried to hex him, but Harry caught the spell with his bare hand, redirecting it back at its caster with deadly precision.
"Too slow," he muttered, weaving through the chaos with a speed and precision honed by years of brutal combat experience.
One Death Eater swung a blade enchanted with dark curses, but Harry shattered it with a palm strike, the fragments exploding outward. His punches and kicks carried the force of a hurricane, enhanced by the teachings of his five masters and his mastery of Death's force. Each movement was calculated, devastating, and final.
Voldemort watched, his expression growing darker with each defeated ally. Harry turned toward him, the battlefield littered with unconscious or fleeing Death Eaters.
"You've lost your army,and YOU are next." Harry said, his voice steady.
Voldemort snarled, his wand trembling in his grasp. "This isn't over, Potter. I'll be back, stronger than ever."
With a flick of his wand, Voldemort vanished into the shadows, his form dissipating into smoke. The remaining Death Eaters followed suit, retreating into the darkness.
As the battlefield fell silent, Harry stood alone amidst the wreckage. The adrenaline faded, and the weight of what had happened began to sink in. Dumbledore was gone.
He clenched his fists, his mind racing. "This isn't how it ends. I'll make sure of it."
The next day, as the students and staff began to recover from the battle, Harry found himself reflecting on the chaos. He sat with Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey, the four of them quietly enjoying each other's company in the aftermath.
"Quite the sendoff to summer vacation, huh?" Harry said, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
Hermione sighed. "That's one way to put it. But... we'll rebuild. We always do."
Tracey nudged him playfully. "And next time, try not to save the day all by yourself, hero boy."
Harry chuckled, placing a loving kiss to her forehead, though his gaze remained distant. He couldn't shake the memories of the fight, of Dumbledore's final moments, and of the battle yet to come.
As he lay in his bed that night, Harry stared at the ceiling, his thoughts a whirlwind. He couldn't help but compare this reality to the stories he'd read and watched before his arrival here.
"Guess it didn't go as bad as it could have," he muttered to himself. "But it's far from over."
He closed his eyes, steeling himself for the challenges ahead. The summer loomed, and with it, preparations for the final confrontation with Voldemort. Harry was ready.
The Dark Lord had made one fatal mistake—he had left Harry alive.