A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Wizards watching witnessed an abrupt appearance of a white-bearded old man. Hope surged in their eyes simultaneously, and in unison, they murmured, "Dumbledore." The voices of thousands merged like a muffled thunderclap, resonating near Voldemort's ears.

He spun around sharply. "Dumbledore?"

At that moment, an invisible blade sliced toward Voldemort; the air cleaved apart, and the Dark Lord himself split amidst the fray.

Voldemort raised his snake-wood wand, conjuring lush branches entwined into an astonishingly long, sharp spear. It pierced through bright white flames, casting numerous sparks, aiming directly at Felix.

Felix darted through the air like a fish, reappearing grounded. In his hand was a short sword—transformed from ebony wandwood. Its tip bore a transparent blade extended by magical force, swiftly sending slashing curses towards Voldemort, shattering the serpent-like branches.

"Dumbledore?" Felix halted, a perplexed expression crossing his face.

Dumbledore shook his head slightly, calmly advancing towards Voldemort. "Today, Tom, you are destined for disappointment."

Voldemort retorted with a cold smile, "Dumbledore, you have no idea what I've done, what I've gained. Do you seek to lecture me?" He took two steps back, positioning Dumbledore and Felix within his sight. He smirked, "Two against one?"

Felix gestured dismissively, "I'll take a rest." With narrowed silver-grey eyes, he strolled away.

Voldemort refocused on Dumbledore, releasing a lethal green light. Dumbledore gracefully twisted his wrist, turning the ground into shimmering golden shields. A thunderous sound echoed as the killing curse was deflected.

"Transfiguration," Voldemort sneered.

Among the crowd, the house-elf Bondy nodded vigorously. "Nasty magic." Draco Malfoy glanced at him, meeting eyes that induced fear; he instinctively looked away, vexed at his own retreat.

But the house-elf paid no heed, engrossed in the battle, muttering, "I detest Transfiguration, like toffees."

"I am aware of what you've done, Tom. You've committed a terrible murder just now, another innocent life lost because of you," Dumbledore said, steadily approaching Voldemort. His phoenix, Fawkes, circled above, emitting soft cries.

"You know? Then you should know whose wand I hold. You're no longer my match, Dumbledore. Try this!" Voldemort raised his snake-wood wand, leaning back slightly, unabashedly channeling magic. Both he and the wand emitted a spine-chilling hiss, as if thousands of snakes were hissing, distorting the surrounding environment strangely, shifting between light and darkness.

"He's speaking Parseltongue!" Harry exclaimed nervously.

"What did he say?" Ron yelled, covering his ears. The onlookers either followed suit or used silencing charms, yet the nauseating feeling lingered like maggots under the skin.

Fawkes swooped in, emitting a piercing cry, singing out loud. The discomfort dissipated.

People looked up—

"Avada Kedavra!" An evil, hoarse voice continually reverberated in the air. Countless tangible ropes surged from the snake-wood wand at Dumbledore, a green mist coalescing into an ominous cloud, advancing toward him.

Dumbledore suddenly halted; the ground beneath rippled like waves, earthen serpents surged, coiling into steadily growing formations, resembling rapidly growing ancient trees. Then, powerful vines extended from the tree's apex, lashing out forcefully toward Voldemort.

The ropes and green mist were swiftly swept away, easing Felix's raised concern.

Yet Dumbledore remained unwavering; the earthy vines broke halfway, crashing down from hundreds of feet high, shattering like lifeless pillars. However, Transfiguration's trait allowed them to reassemble under Dumbledore's control.

Voldemort struggled and vanished on the spot.

"Boom, boom, boom, boom!" A relentless assault shattered the remaining distorted ropes and green mist.

Dumbledore breathed lightly, and the wrinkles on his forehead smoothed in a peculiar way, making him appear several years younger in an instant. The scene quieted down, Voldemort gazing at Dumbledore with uncertain surprise. He had overestimated this old man, yet Dumbledore's displayed power shattered his perception once again.

Had he not exerted his full strength over a decade ago?

Voldemort felt a strong sense of humiliation, swiftly followed by fear. But then, his gaze froze. "Your hand!"

Dumbledore gazed calmly at him, a few more lines disappearing from his forehead, a noticeable change that even Harry noticed. "Why's Professor Dumbledore's face looking younger...?" Ron murmured softly. Harry's heart raced; he sensed something was amiss.

Hermione's eyes widened, emitting short gasps.

Felix also felt a jolt; Dumbledore's magic had permanently altered the landscape. But such potent transfiguration... he suddenly recalled Dumbledore's earlier mention of the "special method" used to defeat Voldemort.

He stared at the relaxed corners of Dumbledore's eyes, uncertain of the price to pay.

Voldemort hadn't noticed these subtle changes; his entire focus fixated on Dumbledore's withered, charred hand, specifically on the inconspicuous black gemstone ring.

His face contorted instantly.

"Tom, you're too arrogant, thinking no one can uncover your secrets," Dumbledore said calmly, waving his elder wand. Suddenly, the ground caved in, a powerful force pulling Voldemort in, yet, before vanishing, his gaze remained fixed on the ring on Dumbledore's hand, his snake-like pupils involuntarily trembling.

A Horcrux, his Horcrux.

Dumbledore had discovered it! He turned to Felix, who looked solemn.

The next moment, Voldemort was pulled into the vortex.

For an instant, it seemed the battle had ended. Silence enveloped the scene for a few moments—

"He's dead?" a wizard trembled, asking.

"No," a voice spoke without hesitation. Nearby wizards stared at the speaker, Harry, who clutched his forehead, an expression of unbearable pain.

Voldemort's emotional fluctuations were too intense; Harry couldn't ignore them. Images flashed in Harry's mind—different ages of Voldemort, all with one common trait: committing horrifying murders without hesitation...

Then, the scene abruptly shifted: Voldemort, featureless as wax, handed a diary to a young blond man, who obediently accepted it;

A failed job applicant Voldemort appeared at Borgin and Burkes, placing a crown on a pile of rubbish, a smug smile on his face;

A pale hand discarded a black gemstone ring in an abandoned shack;

A Slytherin locket was tossed into a shimmering green liquid;

Baby-like hands petting a large snake, a cold voice calling it "Nagini..."

And a familiar woman, excitedly clutching a golden cup. Reflected in her eyes was a scene that had occurred not long ago...

Dumbledore struggled to control the magic. The earth continuously cracked, thorns thrusting from the depths, eerie muffled sounds emanating from the tightening vortex. Then, Voldemort reappeared, looking slightly disheveled, with a dozen cuts on his face and body.

His snake wand emitted a soft hum, iridescent green light enveloping him, healing his facial wounds. He glared at Dumbledore, emitting a "hiss," the sensation from before returning. The snake wand quivered, as if a thousand serpents were responding to him.

"Avada—Kedavra—"

"Careful, Headmaster Dumbledore, he's trying to use Parseltongue curse—"

"Don't make a sound, Harry!" Dumbledore shouted.

The next moment, Voldemort vanished suddenly, and Harry found himself tightly ensnared within a circle of a creature with red eyes.

The creature was like some sticky adhesive or parasite, entwined so tightly with him that Harry couldn't distinguish his own body from the creature's. Harry was trapped inside, sinking deeper into it like Voldemort had just sunk into the marsh, yet he lacked the ability to free himself.

The scar on his forehead throbbed with an unprecedented intensity. Harry felt he was about to die, which wasn't too bad, as it would free him from the agony. But it was all beyond his control. The creature spoke, using his own mouth, so Harry could only feel his mouth opening and closing in extreme pain.

Onlookers were startled, "Invisibility? Or did he vanish using a shape-shifting illusion?" Ministry officials looked around anxiously, when suddenly, Harry collapsed to the ground, his body stiffening and contorting, his neck rising like that of a snake, his irises transforming into vertical snake eyes.

"Harry?" Sirius called out.

"Kill me now, Dumbledore?" came a hoarse voice from Harry's mouth, eerily similar to Voldemort's.

Onlookers retreated in panic.

"What's happening to that child?"

"Is he under some curse?"

"No, that voice—"

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