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Chapter 63: The Final Severance
The Great Hall buzzed with energy as the students finished the welcome feast. House tables gleamed with empty golden plates, and the echoes of laughter and chatter filled the vast space. Harry sat at the Slytherin table, casually watching as Professor McGonagall called for the students to head to their dormitories.
As Harry stood to join his housemates, he caught sight of Rose and Ron being escorted by Professor Lily Potter toward her office. Rose's defiant expression clashed with Ron's guilty grimace. Harry smirked inwardly. Molly must've already called mum about the flying car incident.
Good luck, Harry thought wryly.
He blended into the group of Slytherins as they made their way through the dimly lit corridors toward the dungeons. The cool air and flickering torchlight wrapped around him like a cloak. As soon as they reached the entrance to the common room, Harry murmured a quick excuse to his housemates and slipped away unnoticed.
He moved silently through the shadows, taking hidden passageways until he reached the entrance to his secret room—a chamber deep within Hogwarts, accessible only to descendants of Salazar Slytherin.
Placing his hand on the cold stone wall, Harry whispered the ancient Parseltongue password. The wall shimmered and parted, revealing a grand room filled with dark green tapestries and ancient tomes lining the shelves. A soft emerald glow illuminated the space.
Harry summoned his trunk to follow him and walked toward the bed. With a flick of his wand, the trunk popped open, and his belongings began to unpack themselves, floating gracefully to their designated places. Books arranged themselves on shelves, clothes folded neatly into drawers, and potions supplies organized themselves in glass cabinets.
Harry sat on the bed, stretching out his legs. But then—
A sudden, oppressive weight filled the air, prickling at his senses. His wand was in his hand before he realized it. The dark presence radiated from his trunk, and Harry's gaze sharpened.
The unpacking came to an abrupt halt, and one item floated slowly, ominously, toward him—the diary.
Tom Riddle's diary.
It hovered in the air, pulsing faintly with a malevolent energy.
Harry stood, heart steady but mind racing. How did it get here?
His eyes narrowed. Did someone slip it into my trunk while I was with Ron and Rose, distracted by the car?
A slow smile spread across Harry's face. No matter how it got here, it doesn't matter. I've got it now.
Summoning the Sword of Gryffindor with a single command, Harry watched as the gleaming blade appeared in his hand, its edge glinting with deadly purpose. The diary quivered, sensing its impending doom.
Without hesitation, Harry drove the sword through the diary.
A horrible, piercing scream filled the room as black ink gushed from the wound in the book. The pages writhed and twisted as if alive, but Harry held the sword firm.
A wisp of dark, smoky magic—the last fragment of Voldemort's soul—tore free from the diary, writhing and howling in rage.
Harry was ready.
He held up the ruby, shimmering with power, and the fragment was drawn toward it as if pulled by an irresistible force. The dark magic twisted and fought, but the ruby captured it, sealing it alongside the other fragments trapped within.
The room fell into silence.
Harry took a deep breath, his pulse finally slowing. He examined the ruby, now filled with the entirety of Voldemort's fractured soul.
"Fawkes," Harry called softly.
A burst of golden fire lit the room, and the magnificent phoenix appeared, his feathers shimmering like molten gold.
"Take me to Dumbledore," Harry said.
Fawkes trilled softly and extended his tail feathers. Harry grasped them, and in a flash of fire, they vanished from the room.
They reappeared in the Headmaster's office, where Dumbledore sat at his desk, the familiar twinkle in his eyes replaced by quiet contemplation.
"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore greeted, though his eyes flicked curiously to the ruby in Harry's hand. "I see you've been busy."
Harry placed the ruby on the desk. "It's done. All the fragments of Voldemort's soul are in here."
Dumbledore's expression turned grave as he studied the gem. "A truly remarkable feat. Few would even conceive of such a solution, let alone succeed."
Harry lifted the Sword of Gryffindor once more. "Time to finish it."
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Indeed."
With a steady hand, Harry brought the sword down upon the ruby.
The gem shattered with a blinding flash of light, fragments scattering across the desk. A surge of ancient, dark magic burst forth, only to be consumed by the venom imbued in the sword's magic.
The oppressive weight that had lingered in the world since Voldemort's rise lifted, dissipating into nothingness.
Harry felt it—the final severance. Death had claimed what was long overdue.
Silence enveloped the room once more.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. "You have done what many would consider impossible, Harry. Voldemort is truly gone."
Harry sheathed the sword. "It had to be done."
Dumbledore's eyes softened. "And you did it. The world owes you a debt it may never fully understand."
Harry shook his head. "I didn't do it for the world professor, I did it for me and those I care about.
Fawkes trilled a soft, triumphant melody, the sound resonating through the office like a benediction.
As Harry stood there, the weight of the past lifted from his shoulders, he knew that the world was finally free from Voldemort's shadow.
And for the first time in years, peace truly felt within reach.