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[Ding Ding Ding! [The Pink Toad's Unrequited Love Comes to an End]]

[Ding Ding Ding! [The Pink Toad's Unrequited Love Comes to an End] quest complete. 10 experience points awarded. Silver Magic Knowledge 1 received.]

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Huh? How did it get completed?

This was the first time Harry had seen a quest get completed before its description even appeared.

Damn it, Voldemort—why now...?

A streak of green light, cold as moonlight.

Silent, cold, sacred, with a layer of madness beneath it.

Even though Harry's body moved faster than his thoughts—

"Avada Kedavra!"

But as the chilling incantation rang out from the moonlight, someone had already fallen not far away.

The Sith Sword Hilt had only just appeared in his hand, and the blood-red blade of the Love Charm had only just taken shape.

Harry knew Voldemort hadn't spoken the incantation. His senses were simply so sharp that he'd heard Voldemort's intent within the silent Killing Curse.

It had all happened too fast.

Fast enough for him to block the attack, but not to save the victim—especially since her identity had made him hesitate for a moment.

Green light flashed. Fudge lost his footing and tumbled down the mound. Umbridge instinctively stepped in front of Mad-Eye and stopped breathing, collapsing into his arms. Dumbledore conjured a massive, solid silver shield. It had all happened in an instant.

The quickest of the other wizards had only just drawn their wands.

Most hadn't even realized what was happening.

And then there was Fudge, cowering on the ground and trembling.

No, he was the only one who had wriggled over to Dumbledore's legs like a caterpillar.

"Don't look so glum, Moody. Your secret lover got to die at the hands of the future Savior. It's an honor."

A pale, moon-white cloud of steam spoke, its shape just beginning to resemble a person.

Its alien magic pressed down over the whole field like a wall of air. Almost everyone seemed to see a full moon before their eyes, and the emotional bullets they'd been preparing to load into their spells suddenly lost their edge.

"Someone like you... will never change. Only death can end this!" Tears streamed from Moody's one good eye as he broke free of the influence.

He hadn't known Umbridge, let alone that she'd fallen in love with him. But he'd now felt the weight of that love deeply.

The flames of revenge ignited every bit of his magic.

Even so, he didn't lose his reason.

His magical eye stayed locked on his opponent, and he adjusted his wand to the best casting position, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Tom?" Dumbledore's wand tip gathered a boundless, warm compassion that no one present could ignore, dispelling the pressure of the Steam Figure. But Dumbledore himself looked bewildered. Who was this spirit before him, one who was not only un-evil but seemed almost sacred?

After all, he wasn't Harry. He couldn't sense the sacred undertone of madness through a Horcrux—a madness even Voldemort himself hadn't noticed.

"The true Savior. The Cosmic Mage. The one who flew beyond death." Voldemort's voice spread throughout the Quidditch Pitch. "But of course, you can also call me by my old name... Voldemort."

The field instantly filled with cries of terror.

"What a lovely smell—the scent of fear on all of you."

Was Voldemort a name, or a spell?

Harry could see fear taking physical form, being seized.

Dumbledore seemed to see it too. He hurriedly punctured the aura of terror Voldemort had been building. "Your power is waning, Tom. You have only one strike left."

"How dull." The Steam Figure shook his head. He didn't seem to be planning to flee. "I don't mean you, Dumbledore. I'm lamenting that even now, among all these upper-class wizards, not one dares to cast a spell at me."

"They're all afraid—afraid of my retaliation, afraid that the saintly Dumbledore, the one person I fear... will once again be too late, once again fail to save a life."

"And—"

Boom!

An explosion in the sky cut Voldemort off.

"They're just waiting for Dumbledore to give the word."

As the smoke cleared, a figure with eight wings hovered in midair, wiping his fair fist as if he'd touched something filthy.

Everyone cheered.

"It's Harry! Harry Potter!"

"He's flying!"

"Harry Potter just blasted the Dark Lord!"

Fudge shakily raised his head too.

Yet some people noticed that the immense power gathered at Dumbledore's wand tip hadn't faded. In fact, his lips were still moving, as though he were preparing a powerful spell.

"Flying with paper wings? Where'd you come from, you three-year-old?"

The scattered steam gathered again, and a cold voice rang out from within it.

The cheers abruptly stopped. The field fell silent enough to hear a pin drop.

"As long as they work." Harry's face was cold.

Woohoo, this feels amazing.

Facing his acknowledged nemesis, he finally didn't have to force a smile.

"No one can kill me. I've only just realized that I'm actually in a strange foggy realm. The me in the real world is merely a shadow cast there."

"Not even that flash of magical energy from your Muggle-born mother's so-called love magic, which appeared for just an instant within the blade of light you conjured."

Damn, the Misty Illusion—the space between the worlds of the living and the dead. How did Haki-Voldy Mega Evolve?

Harry was astonished. He added a touch of Gandalf's holy light to the fist he was holding at the ready.

"I don't believe it!" Moody didn't recite an incantation. He'd aimed at Voldemort even before he spoke.

The fire of his vengeance was the perfect spell.

A force that seemed capable of reducing everything to dust struck the Steam Figure in the form of a plain red ray of magic.

Unless you're up close, only elite wizards can see what makes it so masterful. Modern magic's light and sound effects are too weak. It should look like plasma or ionized gas, like in the movies.

As he grumbled inwardly, Harry continued building up a spell in his right fist, which had begun to gleam with silvery metal.

"Phew! Reducto. Your blasting curse really packs a punch," Voldemort said with a laugh. "Too bad I'd rather see your Killing Curse—the foremost of the Unforgivable Curses, as you call them."

"Hey, Cornelius Fudge. Surely you can grant permission to use the Killing Curse on me?"

"By the way, there's something you should know. I was aiming at you."

"But that mound the Pink Toad created saved your life."

Fudge didn't dare speak. He curled up beside Dumbledore's legs.

"Ehehehe..." After a burst of wild laughter, Voldemort mocked them. "You chose that thing to be Minister for Magic? A pig would be more suitable."

Fudge remained silent.

In the stands,

many wizards like Percy, who'd viewed power through rose-colored glasses, felt those glasses shatter.

So the Minister for Magic was just a pig cowering at the feet of wizards like Dumbledore.

"All right, that should have been long enough. You've finished preparing, haven't you?" Voldemort sneered. "I'm ready too. I'll use the fear of the crowd you're trying to protect."

Another moon appeared above his head, this one pitch-black, surging with despair, fear, and rage...

"Your power is in there too, Moody."

"Only positive emotions—only love—can truly hurt my projection in this world."

"Your spell, overflowing with vengeful fury, is just an appetizer."

"Can't truly hurt you?" Harry finally spoke up. He raised what looked like King Nuada's weapon. "My special effects... are better than yours!"

[Butt-Breaker Potter], load! ```