, Section 621: Defeating Voldemort

Chapter 612, Section 621: Defeating Voldemort

Voldemort raised his hand, and a dark red light gathered in his palm. Tentacles surged wildly from his body, swaying in the air, each carrying a terrifying power capable of tearing space apart. Three scarlet eyes swept over Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Ian, and a sinister smile spread across his lips.

"Three legends." His voice was low and hoarse, with a morbid, desperate madness. "Then come at us all at once."

He made the first move.

He wasn't rushing towards Dumbledore, nor towards Grindelwald, but towards Ian, the one he feared and dreaded most.

The boy he most wanted to eliminate. Dark red light erupted from his palm, transforming into a gigantic tentacle burning with chaotic flames, aimed straight at Ian's face!

Ian didn't dodge. With a gentle flick of his wand, a silvery-white light shot from its tip, as thin as a hair, yet carrying an irresistible force, severing John's tentacle. The severed tentacle fell to the ground, turning into a pool of black liquid that corroded numerous smoking pits.

"You can't kill me!" Voldemort roared, and more tentacles surged from his body, lunging at Ian from different directions and angles!

Dumbledore made his move. His golden flaming sword arced through the air, severing three tentacles. Grindelwald's Fiendfire transformed into a black dragon, devouring the remaining two. Ian waved his wand repeatedly, the silvery light weaving into a net that bound all the remaining tentacles.

Voldemort's body trembled violently. His tentacles were severed, devoured, and entangled, each one connected to his god.

Each tear brought excruciating pain. Yet, his lips still curled into a grin, and his eyes still burned with a mad glint.

"You think you can kill me like this?" He spread his arms, and dark red light erupted from his body, transforming into a massive shockwave that engulfed the entire hall! Wherever the shockwave passed, the walls cracked, the ceiling collapsed, the ground was lifted up, and the portraits fell from the walls, with the figures in the paintings screaming and scattering in all directions!

Dumbledore raised his flaming sword, and a golden barrier formed before him, blocking the shockwave. Grindelwald's Fiendfire transformed into a black shield, deflecting the shockwave to both sides. Ian's silvery-white light swirled around him, dissolving the shockwave into nothingness.

Voldemort seized the opportunity to rush towards Dumbledore. He didn't care about Grindelwald, he didn't care about Ian; he just wanted to kill Dumbledore. This old man, who had terrified him for decades and haunted him like a nightmare, had to die by his hand.

A crimson light coalesced in his palm, transforming into a slender spear wreathed in chaotic flames. He thrust it toward Dumbledore's chest with astonishing speed and force sufficient to pierce any defense!

Dumbledore did not dodge.

The golden flaming sword met the dark red spear. The two forces collided in mid-air, unleashing a deafening roar! The golden light and dark red intertwined, the cracks in the walls deepened, the stone slabs on the ground were blown away, and fragments from the ceiling fell like rain.

"You're old, Dumbledore!" Voldemort roared, gripping his spear with both hands and pouring more magic into it. "Your strength is not what it used to be!"

Dumbledore leaned back slightly, but his flaming sword still firmly blocked the spear. "Perhaps," he said.

Calm and composed, with fine beads of sweat on his forehead, he said, "But I'm not so old that I can't beat you."

Grindelwald attacked from the side, his black Fiendfyre coalescing into a giant hammer that slammed down on Voldemort's head! Voldemort was forced to use one hand, a crimson light forming a shield in his palm to block the hammer. However, the impact caused his body to tilt to one side, and the power of his spear weakened.

"Where are you looking?" Grindelwald's voice was hoarse and cold as he retracted the giant hammer and brought it down again!

Voldemort gritted his teeth, his shield blocking the giant hammer, but his spear was suppressed by Dumbledore's flaming sword, preventing him from advancing. Both of his hands were restrained, and his tentacles thrashed wildly behind him. But once Ian had circled behind him, the silvery-white light transformed into countless tiny, needle-like beams of light, piercing towards those tentacles!

Tentacles snapped off one by one, black liquid splattering everywhere. Voldemort let out a painful roar, abruptly retracting his spear and shield, his body transforming into a cloud of black smoke as he fled to the other side of the hall!

"Trying to run?" Grindelwald's Fiery Blaze surged from the wall, forming a black wall of fire that blocked his path.

Voldemort turned to the other side, and Dumbledore's golden light formed a golden barrier, forcing him back. He turned to the other side again, and Ian's silvery-white light had woven into a huge net, descending from the ceiling.

There is nowhere to escape.

Voldemort stood in the center of the hall, his body covered in wounds. Black liquid still dripped from his severed tentacles, and his wounds were slowly healing, but at an increasingly slower pace. His breathing became rapid, and the light in his eyes dimmed considerably, but his mouth still twisted in a mad grin.

"You think you can kill me like this?" His voice was hoarse and deep. "I am a legend. I am immortal. I have the power of the deep space." "Then let's see if the deep space can save you," Ian interrupted him.

A silvery-white light shot from the wand, transforming into a thin, chain-like ribbon that wrapped around Voldemort's ankle. Voldemort glanced down, snorted, and a dark red light exploded at his ankle, shattering the ribbon. But more ribbons of light surged from the tip of Ian's wand, wrapping around his arms, his waist, and his neck.

"Grindelwald!" Ian shouted.

Black Fiendfire surged from Grindelwald's wand, transforming into a gigantic black dragon that lunged at Voldemort with its jaws wide open.

A crimson light erupted from Voldemort's body, colliding with the black dragon with another deafening roar. Fiendfire and the power of deep space intertwined, devoured, and entangled, blasting a massive crater in the center of the hall.

Dumbledore didn't make a move. He stood there, his golden flaming sword embedded in the ground, his hands gripping the hilt, panting heavily. His face was pale, his forehead covered in sweat, but his deep blue eyes remained calm, focused, and searching for an opportunity.

Voldemort noticed.

He exerted his strength suddenly, and the dark red light simultaneously shattered Ian's light band and Grindelwald's Fiendfire! His body transformed into a black streak of light, rushing straight towards Dumbledore!

"Go to hell!"

The dark red spear coalesced once more, aiming for Dumbledore's chest.

Dumbledore didn't dodge. He pulled his flaming sword from the ground and met the spear head-on. This time, he wasn't knocked back; his flaming sword steadily blocked the spear, golden light and dark red confronting each other in mid-air.

"How could you do this?" Voldemort's voice was filled with disbelief.

"I was lying to you just now." Dumbledore's voice was calm and composed, the golden light growing brighter. "I'm not that old. Nor am I that tired."

Voldemort's body shuddered violently, and a burst of crimson light erupted, forcing Dumbledore back several steps. He seized the opportunity to retreat, retreating to a corner of the hall. Three scarlet eyes swept over Dumbledore, over Grindelwald, and over Ian. His robes were torn, his body was covered in wounds, his whiskers were broken one by one, still dripping black liquid. His breathing was rapid, his magic was dwindling, and his body was collapsing.

But he hasn't lost yet.

"Very good." His voice was hoarse and deep, carrying an eerie, calm, and almost deathly power. "You are strong. Three legends, indeed very strong. Stronger than me."

He paused, then a more ferocious smile spread across his face.

"But you've forgotten one thing."

He spread his arms, and a dark red light erupted from his body, shooting straight to the ceiling! That light wasn't an attack, it wasn't...

It's not defense, it's a signal.

"My power is not mine." A mad light burned in his eyes. "It belongs to the deep space. It belongs to them. I have lost, but they will not lose."

Dumbledore's expression changed. "What are you doing?"

Voldemort burst into laughter. The laughter echoed through the ruins, hoarse, manic, with a morbid, desperate glee.

"Sacrifice!" His voice was sharp and piercing. "Use my life as a sacrifice, my soul as a conduit, my death as the key to open the gates of deep space! Let them descend! Let them devour this world!"

The crimson light grew brighter and more intense, bathing the entire hall in a blood-red, eerie glow. Tentacles surged wildly from his body, no longer attacking, but extending towards the sky, piercing the collapsing ceiling, passing through the clouds, reaching into the indescribable, dimensional void. Hogwarts began to tremble. Not an earthquake, not magic, but—fear. The castle itself trembled. The ancient stones, the millennia-old magic, the power that had protected countless students, trembled instinctively in the face of the threat from deep space.

Dumbledore pointed his wand at Voldemort, and golden light coalesced into a slender spear burning with golden flames. "I can't let you do that."

Voldemort looked at him, his eyes filled with mockery. "You can't stop me. The sacrifice has begun. If you kill me, the passage will open. If you don't kill me, the passage will open. Either way, they will come."

Ian stepped forward, a silvery-white light gathering in his palm. He looked at Voldemort, his deep eyes showing no...

What emotion? "Not necessarily."

Voldemort's smile froze for a moment. "What?"

Ian did not answer. He raised his hand, palm facing the outstretched tentacles in the sky.

A silvery-white light shot from his palm, not as an attack, not as a defense, but as a purification. The moment the silvery-white light touched the tentacles, they began to wither, break, and turn to ash. Voldemort's body trembled violently; those tentacles were part of his body, and each broken one brought excruciating pain.

"How—how—could you—?" His voice was hoarse and trembling.

"I told you," Ian's voice was calm and composed, "the power of deep space is useless against me."

Dumbledore's golden spear and Grindelwald's black Fiendfire shot towards Voldemort simultaneously. Voldemort raised his hand, and a dark red light formed a shield before him, blocking the spear and the Fiendfire. But the shield trembled violently, cracks spreading from the edges to the center, and his body retreated, step by step, towards the edge of the pit.

"The sacrifice has begun!" he roared. "You can't stop it! They're coming! You will all die! Everyone in this world will die!"

Ian looked at him, his deep eyes still devoid of any emotion. "Sacrifice requires a sacrifice. As long as you are alive, the sacrifice is not complete."

Voldemort's pupils contracted sharply.

Ian's silvery-white light, Dumbledore's golden spear, and Grindelwald's black fiendish flames—three forces struck Voldemort's body simultaneously. A final burst of crimson light sent him flying, crashing heavily against the remaining wall before sliding down to his knees. His robes were shattered, revealing a non-human body twisted by the forces of deep space. His tentacles snapped off one by one, never to grow back. His eyes detached from his body, shattering into pools of black liquid. His body was collapsing, his soul was crumbling, and his life was slipping away.

But no sacrifice was offered.

Because he is still alive.

Voldemort knelt amidst the ruins, looking up at them. The light in his three crimson eyes had dimmed, leaving only a final, faint glow. "You—have won."

Dumbledore looked at him and remained silent for a long time. "Yes. We won."

Voldemort smiled. It was a faint, subtle smile, tinged with self-mockery, resentment, and a sense of relief he himself refused to acknowledge. "Dumbledore—you truly—are my nightmare—"

Dumbledore did not speak.

Voldemort's eyes slowly closed. His tentacles twitched one last time, then drooped and remained still.

The tremors of Hogwarts ceased. The crimson light in the sky dissipated. The fragments of the tentacles turned to ash and scattered in the wind.

In the ruins, only three people were alive and one was dead.

Grindelwald withdrew his fiery aura and let out a long breath. "It's over."

Dumbledore shook his head. He looked at Voldemort's corpse, at that twisted, inhuman face that had finally regained some semblance of peace. "Yes. It's over."

Ian stood to the side, his hands in his pockets, his deep eyes swirling with complex emotions.

Grindelwald looked at Ian. "That passage...it's really closed?"

Ian nodded. "It's closed."

Will he be resurrected?

Ian was silent for a second.

"No. He has no Horcruxes left. His clones are all destroyed. This is his last life."

When he arrived, he made sure that all of Voldemort's clones had been killed, and that those Death Eaters who had been corrupted had not been spared either.

Grindelwald did not ask any further questions.

He stared at Voldemort's corpse in silence for a long time.

"What a tragic ending."

He thought back to many years ago, to that lonely, intelligent child in the orphanage, yearning to be seen. If someone had lent him a hand back then, if he hadn't been so proud, if Dumbledore hadn't been so stubborn, perhaps everything would have been different. But there are no "ifs."

Dumbledore knelt down, reached out his hand, and gently closed Voldemort's eyes.

"Rest in peace, Tom," he whispered.