The Death of Dumbledore

Professor McGonagall's entire body shuddered violently, her eyes snapping wide with shock, agony, and a final, indescribable complexity as they fixed on Hermione's face.

Her lips moved, as if to speak, but only a mouthful of dark red blood spilled forth.

The strength drained from her body like water from a cracked vessel; she collapsed backward, soft as a fallen leaf with no anchor, her gaze dimming swiftly, the breath of life guttering out like a candle in the wind.

Even in death, her eyes remained locked on Hermione, as if she would carve the face of this student—once her hope, now her murderer—into the depths of her soul.

"Minerva—!"

Dumbledore let out a heart-wrenching roar, his blue eyes instantly ablaze with immense grief and blazing fury.

The Elder Wand erupted with unprecedented, dazzling silver light, like a river of stars reversing its flow, carrying a majestic will to purify all darkness, mourn the fallen, and punish sin, cascading down upon Hermione!

This time, he held nothing back.

But in the instant she succeeded, Hermione used the recoil from striking McGonagall with her wand, combined with the stumble from her grievously wounded left shoulder, to roll backward, narrowly evading the full brunt of the silver torrent.

The shockwave grazed her back, shredding her already tattered school robes and leaving a large patch of charred burns across her spine, yet she seemed to feel no pain.

Mid-roll, her gaze locked onto Dumbledore.

More precisely, it locked onto the moment when Dumbledore, in his all-out attack, had slightly loosened his control over the Philosopher's Stone—the deep red stone slipping just a fraction from his sleeve!

An opening!

Ignoring the severe wounds on her back and shoulder, Hermione landed on one knee and drove her wand into the ground!

"Earth Bind!"

The ground instantly turned into viscous mire, and several thick arms of rock and earth shot up, grasping at Dumbledore's feet!

At the same time, she raised her left hand with difficulty, fingers curling into a claw toward the Philosopher's Stone suspended in midair!

"Accio!"

A powerful summoning force struck the stone; it shuddered violently, about to break free from Dumbledore's control!

Dumbledore let out a furious snort, stamping the Elder Wand downward. The mire and rock arms instantly hardened into solid stone slabs that shattered into pieces. His other hand shot out to grab the stone.

But Hermione's madness exceeded his expectations.

In the moment he was distracted by the Earth Bind and the grab for the stone, Hermione abandoned all defense and hurled herself at him like a cannonball!

She poured every last shred of her remaining magic, along with that reckless, insane will, into this single charge!

Caught off guard, Dumbledore took the full force of the impact to his chest. Even with his powerful magical protection, the blow sent his qi and blood churning, forcing him back several steps.

His hand reaching for the stone was forced to withdraw and block.

Now!

Hermione's right hand shot out like lightning, its target not Dumbledore, but the Philosopher's Stone—suspended in midair, unclaimed, as their clashing magics roiled around it!

Her fingertips just brushed the stone's warm, smooth surface.

A fierce glint flashed in Dumbledore's eyes. The Elder Wand aimed unhesitatingly at Hermione's back.

This time, closer, more concentrated—determined to slay this fallen, master-murdering girl on the spot!

Yet Hermione, as if she had eyes in the back of her head, twisted her body at an impossible, nearly bone-snapping angle the moment her fingers touched the stone.

She met the Elder Wand's fatal strike with her already grievously wounded left shoulder blade!

Another dull thud. The tip of the Elder Wand sank almost entirely into Hermione's left shoulder, emerging a short length from the front, trailing a spray of gory blood and bone fragments.

The unimaginable pain plunged Hermione's vision into darkness; she nearly blacked out.

But the taste of blood from her bitten tongue and the sole figure in her mind drove her to unleash a final burst of ferocity.

Using the momentum of the Elder Wand piercing her body, she lunged forward, ripping the Philosopher's Stone from midair and clenching it tightly in her palm, now drenched in her own blood!

At the same time, her body fully pulled free from the wand's penetration, leaving a horrifying through-and-through wound that spurted blood like a fountain.

"Ugh—ah—!" She finally let out a suppressed, agonized cry, collapsing to the ground like a broken ragdoll, yet the stone in her hand was clenched deathly tight.

Dumbledore stared at Hermione, lying wounded but still gripping the Philosopher's Stone with all her might.

He looked at Professor McGonagall's cold corpse nearby. For the first time, his aged face twisted with a near-feral rage and deep sorrow.

He raised the Elder Wand, its tip gathering a light of annihilation. This time, there would be no accidents.

But just as he was about to deliver the final blow—

A faint, yet madly satisfied, eerie smile crept across Hermione's bloodstained face.

She looked at Dumbledore, using her last strength to press the fist clutching the Philosopher's Stone hard against her own mangled chest, as if trying to shove the stone into her heart.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, yet clear in Dumbledore's ears, she rasped:

"...He... waits for me..."

The next moment, her body was enveloped by a sudden, wildly unstable and chaotic spatial fluctuation erupting simultaneously from the Philosopher's Stone and her own blood!

Was it a random teleportation triggered by the stone being violently struck by magic and soaked in blood?

Or had she, in her dying moments, unconsciously activated some life-saving contingency Caesar had once branded into her mind?

Dumbledore's expression shifted, the light of the Elder Wand shooting forth, but it only shattered the gradually fading spatial ripples.

Hermione Granger, along with the blood-stained Philosopher's Stone, vanished from the spot.

Yet, in that instant of teacher and student turning against each other—

"Avada Kedavra!"

An extremely faint, yet viciously precise, emerald-green light shot out from the gaps in the rubble pile.

Its target was not Hermione, but Dumbledore, whose defense had left an opening due to the shock in his heart!

It was Voldemort!

He still had the strength and malice left to unleash one final strike!

Everything happened too fast.

Dumbledore's dodging spell was half a beat too slow...

Deep within the castle, the Abandoned Potions Classroom now resembled a forgotten tomb, deathly still, filled with dust and a faint scent of blood. The sounds of battle, explosions, and dragon roars outside were muffled by the thick stone walls and the protective spells Hermione had cast, reduced to a blurry background noise that only made the silence inside feel more oppressive and surreal.

Hermione practically slammed the door open.

She had sprinted all the way here, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest, each beat pulling at the pain beneath her ribs and the string stretched to its breaking point deep in her soul.

In her hand, she clutched the deep red Philosopher's Stone. The warmth of the stone contrasted sharply with the cold sweat on her palm, as if it were her last connection to the world.

The sight inside the classroom made her breath catch abruptly.