A Special Killing Curse

"Anti-Apparition Jinx! Damn Dumbledore!" Voldemort roared in the minds of the remaining three.

Yet a smile still appeared on his illusory face.

Dumbledore and the others must have expended most of their magic just now.

Now was the time to launch the final assault!

"Travers! Go! Show them the spell you're best at—the Killing Curse!"

At Hogwarts, McGonagall touched her burning brooch.

Having received Dumbledore's message, she began directing the students to cast group magic once more.

On Azkaban Island, Grindelwald drew the Blue Fiendfyre that had spread across half the island into his body.

Dumbledore feigned weakness, gripping his wand tightly.

Riddle descended from the sky and came to stand beside the two of them.

The three stood back-to-back in a triangle, seemingly guarding against a sneak attack—in their "weakened" state.

The Travers version of Voldemort laughed madly as he directly "killed" everything around him and slipped into the world called "death."

A flash of green light passed. Distance was killed.

The next second, he appeared before the three of them, accompanied by another burst of green light raised with his wand.

His body vanished.

Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle!

It sounded like water splashing onto a red-hot iron plate.

The light wing on Riddle's left blocked the front of him.

It kept vanishing, then reappearing.

Green mandrake flowers bloomed across it.

Dumbledore took Grindelwald's hand.

The two raised their clasped hands.

Silvery-white flames spread from where their hands met, eventually igniting around all three of them.

The sizzling stopped.

The mandrake flowers disappeared.

Riddle's left light wing returned to normal.

"Where is he?" Dumbledore asked gravely.

The silver ring in Riddle's eyes spun as his pupils narrowed.

A hundred meters away, Voldemort appeared.

He was waving at them.

"At your nine o'clock." Riddle narrowed his eyes.

The Voldemort before him