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 Legend." His voice was low and hoarse, with a morbid, desperate madness. "Then let's all come at once." He moved first.
He wasn't charging towards Dumbledore, nor towards Grindelwald, but towards Ian— the boy he feared most, dreaded most, and wanted to eliminate most. 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 wave of his wand, a silvery-white light shot out from the tip, as thin as a hair, yet carrying an irresistible force, severing John's newly broken 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, more tentacles surging from his body, lunging at Ian from different directions and angles! Dumbledore intervened. His golden flaming sword arced through the air, severing three tentacles. Grindelwald's Fiendfyre transformed into a black dragon, devouring the remaining two. Ian swung his wand repeatedly, the silvery light weaving into a net that ensnared all the remaining tentacles.
Voldemort's body trembled violently. His tentacles were severed, devoured, and entangled; each one was connected to his nerves, and each break brought excruciating pain. Yet, his mouth remained contorted in 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 Fiendfyre 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 only 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 burning with chaotic flames. He thrust it toward Dumbledore's chest with astonishing speed and force enough 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! 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 Power into it. "Your strength isn't what it used to be!" Dumbledore leaned back slightly, but his flaming sword still steadily blocked the spear. "Perhaps," his voice was calm and composed, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead, "But I'm not so old that I can't beat you." Grindelwald attacked from the side, black fiendish Fiendfyre coalescing into a giant hammer, smashing towards Voldemort's head! Voldemort had to use one hand, dark red light forming a shield in his palm, blocking the hammer. But his body was shaken to one side, and the spear's power 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, unable to advance. Both of his hands were restrained, and his tentacles danced wildly behind him—but Ian had already circled behind him, his silvery-white light transforming into countless tiny, needle-like beams of light, piercing towards those tentacles!
Tentacles snapped 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 Fiendfyre surged from the walls, forming a black wall of fire that blocked his path.
Voldemort turned to the other side, Dumbledore's golden light formed a golden barrier, forcing him back. He turned to the other side again, Ian's silvery-white light had woven a huge net, descending from the ceiling. There was nowhere to escape.
Voldemort stood in the center of the hall, his body covered in wounds. Black liquid was still dripping 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 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 Fiendfyre surged from Grindelwald's wand, transforming into a colossal black dragon that lunged at Voldemort with its jaws wide open. Crimson light erupted from Voldemort's body, colliding with the black dragon in another deafening roar. The Fiendfyre 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 band of light and Grindelwald's Fiendfyre! His body transformed into a black streak of light, rushing straight towards Dumbledore! "Die!"
The crimson spear materialized 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, his body wasn't knocked back; his flaming sword steadily blocked the spear, golden light and dark red confronting each other in mid-air. "You—how—" 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 that tired." Voldemort's body trembled violently, a burst of dark red light erupting, forcing Dumbledore back several steps. He seized the opportunity to retreat, back to the corner of the Great Deer. Three scarlet eyes swept over Dumbledore, over Grindelwald, over Ian. His robes were torn, his body covered in wounds, his tentacles broken one by one, still dripping black liquid. His breathing was rapid, his Magic Power was dwindling, his body was collapsing. But he had not yet lost.
"Very good." His voice was hoarse and low, carrying an eerie, calm, and almost deathly power. "You are strong. Three Legend, indeed very strong. Stronger than me." He paused, a more sinister smile spreading across his lips.
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, nor a defense, but a signal. "My power isn't mine," he said, his eyes burning with a mad light, "It belongs to the Deep Space. It belongs to the pools. I've lost, but the pools won't lose." Dumbledore's expression changed. "What are you doing?"
Voldemort laughed. The laughter echoed through the ruins, hoarse, mad, with a morbid, desperate glee. "Sacrifice!" his voice was sharp and piercing. "With my life as the sacrifice, with my soul as the conduit, with my death as the key—open the gates of the Deep Space! Let the pools descend! Let the pools devour this world!" The crimson light grew brighter and more intense, staining the entire hall a blood-red, eerie glow. Tentacles surged wildly from his body, no longer attacking, but extending towards the sky, through the collapsed ceiling, 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 of the Deep Space.
Dumbledore's wand pointed at Voldemort, golden light coalescing into a slender spear burning with golden flames. "I can't let you do this." Voldemort looked at him, his eyes filled with mockery. "You can't stop me. The sacrifice has begun. You kill me, and the passage will open. You don't kill me, and the passage will open. Either way, the pools will come." Ian stepped forward, silvery light gathering in his palm. He looked at Voldemort, his deep eyes devoid of emotion. "Not necessarily." Voldemort's smile froze. "What?"
Ian did not answer. He raised his hand, palm facing the outstretched tentacles in the sky.
A silvery-white light shot out from his palm, not as an attack, not as a defense, but as a purification. The moment the tentacles were touched by the silvery-white light, they began to wither, break, and turn to ash. Voldemort's body trembled violently; those tentacles were part of his body, and each break brought excruciating pain.
"How could you... how could this be?" 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 Fiendfyre shot towards Voldemort simultaneously. Voldemort raised his hand, and a dark red light formed a shield in front of him, blocking the spear and the Fiendfyre. 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! The pools are coming! You will all die! Everyone in this world will die!" Ian looked at him, his deep eyes still devoid of emotion. "The 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 Fiendfyre —three forces struck Voldemort's body simultaneously. The crimson light exploded one last time, sending him flying, crashing heavily against the remaining wall, sliding down to his knees. His robes were completely torn, revealing a non-human body twisted by the forces of Deep Space. 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, his life was slipping away. But there was no sacrifice.
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... you've won." Dumbledore looked at him, silent for a long time. "Yes. We've won."
Voldemort smiled. The smile was faint and gentle, tinged with self-mockery, resentment, and a sense of relief that even he himself was unwilling to admit. " Dumbledore... you really are... my dream-shattering..." Dumbledore remained silent.
Voldemort's eyes slowly closed. His tentacles twitched one last time, then drooped and remained still.
The tremors of Hogwarts ceased. The dark red light in the sky dissipated. The fragments of the tentacles turned to ash and drifted away in the wind. In the ruins, only three living people and one dead remained.
Grindelwald withdrew his Fiendfyre and let out a long breath. "It's over."
Dumbledore shook his head, looking 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, hands in his pockets, his deep eyes swirling with complex emotions.
Grindelwald looked at Ian. "That passage, is it really closed?"
Ian nodded. "It's closed."
Will he be resurrected?
Ian paused for a second.
"No. He has no more Horcrux. His clones are all destroyed. This is his last life."
He had already made sure that all of Voldemort's clones had been killed when he arrived, and that those Death Eater 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.