Harry Potter: Dragonborn comes

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. One 'sorry' for each chapter that didn't get uploaded. I don't know what happened. I had everything prepared for two weeks.

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Light and Shadows

"That's enough, Tom," said Dumbledore, stepping forward with unshakable calm on his face. Voldemort, seeing that serene gaze, felt his rage intensify until it nearly slipped out of his control.

"Don't call me by that name!" Voldemort roared, raising his wand and pointing it straight at his former teacher. A jet of black energy erupted from the tip, cutting through the air with a deadly hiss.

Dumbledore lifted his wand in a smooth motion, and the golden statue of a wizard moved between them, absorbing the impact with a dull thud. Without losing his composure, he glanced at Harry, who was still bound by the roots that held him in place. Another statue, that of a house-elf, came to life and walked toward the boy, ready to protect him if necessary.

"It was a mistake to come here tonight, Tom. The Aurors are already on their way," Dumbledore warned in a calm voice, as if simply stating an inevitable fact.

"By the time they arrive, I will already be gone... and you will be dead," Voldemort replied coldly. Then he twisted his wrist, and fire began to gather in front of him, writhing until it took the shape of a gigantic, blazing serpent.

Meanwhile, the elf statue leaned over Harry and Viir, cutting the roots away with delicate movements of its stone hands.

"Aguamenti!" Dumbledore exclaimed firmly. A torrent of water burst from his wand, crashing against the serpent in an explosion of steam that drowned the flames until nothing remained but a black residue on the floor. The cloud of vapor enveloped both wizards, making their silhouettes look like specters in the swirling smoke.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted, his voice filled with absolute hatred. The green beam crossed the hall like a lightning bolt. At that exact instant, Fawkes appeared overhead with a clear cry and dove straight down. The curse struck his chest, and the phoenix disintegrated into a whirl of golden ashes that rained onto the marble.

For a second, Dumbledore allowed the pain to cross his face. Viir, finally freed, ran to the ashes and, with a quick gesture from Harry, covered them with one wing, protecting the tiny chick that emerged weakly from the remains.

Dumbledore gave Harry a look of gratitude before raising his wand again. From its tip, luminous ropes shot out, aiming to bind Voldemort. A burst of dark magic flared from the Dark Lord, and the ropes disintegrated in midair.

Seizing the distraction, Voldemort aimed at Dumbledore's wand with a sharp flick. The wand flew from his hand, but Dumbledore raised his open palm, and it froze in midair before returning obediently to him.

Without wasting a second, Dumbledore pointed toward the shattered fountain. The water rose in a swirling column and wrapped around Voldemort in a liquid capsule that spun violently, pressing against his body from every side. For an instant, he seemed trapped. But from his chest, a black aura pulsed outward, making the walls tremble. The prison of water exploded in a blast that sent a shockwave slamming into Dumbledore, who conjured a translucent shield just in time. For a moment, it was like watching light itself struggle against darkness.

Voldemort absorbed the dark energy he had unleashed. He raised both hands, and an inhuman roar tore from his throat. A sonic wave swept across the hall, shattering every window and mirror with a deafening crash. Immediately afterward, he gripped his wand in both hands, pointed it at Dumbledore, and all the shards of glass rose into the air as if they had minds of their own.

In a single heartbeat, thousands of crystal daggers shot toward the headmaster. Dumbledore turned his wrist with precision, and a shimmering layer of magic enveloped him. Every shard that crossed that barrier crumbled into harmless sand, falling softly at his feet. For a second, his gaze emptied of all emotion, and a dangerous glint sparked in his eyes.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Then, a heartbeat later, the floor beneath him cracked open. Spears of stone shot up so quickly that he barely had time to vanish in a swirl of black smoke. Even so, one of them grazed his shoulder, reopening the ancient wound Einar had left. Thick blood began to drip down his robes.

Even he seemed momentarily stunned by the damage. Dumbledore stood unmoving, wand raised, his eyes locked on his former student.

Without giving him a moment's respite, another statue—the wizard one, broken at its base—came to life behind Voldemort. In a silent motion, it lifted its wand like a blade and drove it toward Voldemort's heart just as he reappeared. It was as if Dumbledore had foreseen his every move.

But Voldemort, even wounded, dissolved into a spiral of smoke before the statue could reach him. He reappeared several meters away, breathing heavily, a grimace of pain twisting his features.

"I see your methods have changed, Dumbledore," he said in a low voice. His eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what lay behind that implacable calm.

Dumbledore blinked, as if returning to himself. He shook his head with a tired gesture, and when he looked back at Voldemort, there was no anger in his expression—only a profound sorrow that wasn't directed at Voldemort, but at everything that had been lost.

"Surrender, Tom. I already know your secret," he whispered, and the words sounded more lethal than any curse.

"I don't know what you're talking about..." Voldemort replied, though for an instant his gaze wavered. "But I know your weakness."

He vanished in a stream of black smoke that cut across the hall like a living shadow. Before Dumbledore could react, that darkness merged with Harry's body.

Dumbledore turned at once, his wand trembling between his fingers. But before he could conjure a spell, Viir, who was still guarding the little phoenix, spun with a deep roar. He opened his jaws, and a stream of green fire burst from his throat, encircling Harry in a ring that did not burn him but made his veins glow with an unnatural light.

A scream of fury tore from Voldemort's throat as his shadow was ripped from Harry's body. Harry collapsed to his knees while the green flames slowly faded.

The Dark Lord materialized on the floor, his face contorted with rage and a pain that went beyond the physical. His gaze went straight to Dumbledore, but then fixed on the ring and the cup the old man held. For the first time in years, fear flickered in his red eyes.

At that moment, a series of flashes erupted from the fireplaces. Dozens of Aurors and Ministry wizards appeared in the devastated chamber. Among them was Fudge himself, who opened his eyes wide with absolute terror as he beheld Voldemort standing there, real and undeniable before them all.

Voldemort seemed to consider fighting on. But his eyes returned to the Horcruxes in Dumbledore's hands, and he understood that his advantage was lost.

Without so much as a farewell gesture, he tried to vanish in Apparition. But before his entire body could slip into the void, an iron hand emerged from nowhere, seizing him by the shoulder and dragging him back to the floor.

A sword sank into his chest with a golden glow that made his very soul shudder. One of the Horcruxes in Dumbledore's hands burst apart with a sharp crack, like a heart breaking.

"Normally, I would despise striking like this… from behind, without honor," murmured a rough voice by his ear. "But I am not here as a warrior. I am here as an assassin. And assassins have no need for such niceties."

Voldemort recognized that voice instantly: the same that had left him with a wound that never healed. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his body began to dissolve into dust, falling in absolute silence over the blood-stained marble.

Harry, seeing Einar arrive, finally released a trembling sigh, as if all the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders. Then he fell backward onto the floor, exhausted, his heart pounding. As he closed his eyes, he could think only of Sirius and of the chaos his stupid idea of acting without thinking had caused.

"Dumbledore…" murmured Fudge, approaching with unsteady steps. His eyes were still fixed on the spot where, only an instant ago, they had seen Voldemort reduced to ash.

"Minister Fudge." Dumbledore greeted him calmly, holding the ring and the cup in one hand. His gaze, shielded by perfect Occlumency, seemed devoid of any emotion, though his voice was steady. "I told you. Voldemort had returned. It seems you needed to see him face to face to believe it."

Fudge swallowed, his face drained of all color. "B-but… you did it… you managed to kill him again," he stammered, already searching for some excuse that might save him.

"Yes. But it is only temporary," Dumbledore replied, his voice so calm it made the air feel cold. "He created Horcruxes. Ancient, forbidden magic. And this time, I brought proof, in case you still intended to deny it." He raised the cup for all to see. "The Ministry must have records of the Horcruxes studied by Herpo the Foul. I suggest you start investigating immediately."

Several gazes turned to Fudge with solemn expectation, waiting to see what he would say.

"Then… destroy it right now, and we'll be rid of him," Fudge demanded at once. But his voice shook, and anyone could see that his mind was already working on a way to escape the situation. He was even wondering if it might be possible to pin everything on Dumbledore.

"It would be useless," Dumbledore answered with the same quiet certainty. "After studying it, I believe there are at least seven Horcruxes. Seven fragments of soul hidden away." Just the mention of it made Fudge's nerves stretch to the point of snapping.

"Then find them. You are the headmaster of Hogwarts, the most prestigious school in the world," Fudge insisted, raising his voice slightly in a pathetic attempt to hide his fear.

"No." Dumbledore tilted his head. "You seem to forget, Minister: I am now a fugitive. I was accused of conspiracy by your administration."

A heavy silence fell. Several Ministry witches and wizards lowered their eyes to the floor, remembering perfectly well who had signed that order.

"Then… you are no longer the headmaster?" Einar asked suddenly. His voice was calm, but there was a note of curiosity in it that made it all the more dangerous.

"That's correct." Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Just as you are no longer a professor, I am no longer headmaster."

"I see." Einar turned his gaze to Fudge. "Then your request that I not attack the Ministry or harm these incompetents no longer applies." He took a step forward, his composure so serene that it was more terrifying than any shout.

"No. It doesn't." Dumbledore stepped aside without haste. "From the moment they attacked the students, you are free to do as you see fit, Professor."

Fudge recoiled instinctively. His eyes darted to the sword that still dripped dark blood and to the armor that looked as though it had been forged in the deepest pit of hell.

"A-a… arrest… arrest that man," he stammered, his voice so weak it was barely audible.

Many of the wizards hesitated. Some stared at the scene in disbelief. But even so, several raised their wands and unleashed a torrent of spells at Einar.

Einar walked without hurry. Every curse, every bolt of energy, disintegrated the instant it struck his armor, unable to leave so much as a mark. It was as if he were strolling through a light drizzle.

He came to a stop right in front of Fudge, who could barely contain the urge to collapse or flee. Einar's gaze weighed on him like a sentence already pronounced.

"Wait, Professor," said Percy, who had just arrived. His voice rang through the silence.

Fudge whipped his head around as if he were seeing a savior. But the relief on his face vanished the moment he heard Percy continue.

"You promised you would let us handle this," Percy said, addressing Einar directly. "So I gathered all the information about the bribes Fudge accepted, the names of the Death Eaters he met with, and the orders he gave to protect his power while denying Voldemort's return. Also…the reports about what Umbridge did at Hogwarts, torturing students with his approval."

Fudge's eyes widened, his face draining of all color as he stared at his assistant, utterly betrayed.

"No! That's not true! I never…I never authorized any of that!" he shouted in desperation.

"Then why did you deny the return of the Dark Lord for so long?" asked a firm voice. Amelia Bones stepped forward among the Aurors, her expression so severe that no one dared interrupt her. "You were always with them, weren't you, Cornelius?"

Several Aurors behind her raised their wands, ready to act. Amelia held the documents Percy had given her, her cold gaze never leaving Fudge.

Einar remained silent, observing with a calm pride. He gave a small nod. After all, this was what he wanted: for his students to take their world's future into their own hands. And they were doing it with a courage that did not fall short of any hero.

"If it is truly as Headmaster Dumbledore says—if Voldemort divided his soul and can return—then the Ministry has the duty to search every last corner of this country," Amelia declared in a voice that filled the silence with authority. "And if Umbridge attacked the students, Professor Einar acted in defense of them."

Her gaze settled on Fudge with a mix of pity and contempt.

"I hope, Cornelius, that you are not as deeply involved in this as it appears," she finished before giving a brief gesture. The Aurors stepped forward decisively and arrested him without resistance.

Amelia then looked up at Einar, her expression respectful but wary. "Can you tell me what happened at Azkaban?" she asked in a low voice.

"The innocent survived," Einar replied without hesitation. "The guilty…received the Dementors' Kiss. They were serving under Voldemort. I had no choice but to destroy them all. The innocent prisoners were freed and taken to a nearby island."

Amelia narrowed her eyes, as if weighing every word. In the end, she nodded without argument.

Many present wanted to protest. Some had relatives in Azkaban. But after seeing how Einar had walked through curses that would have felled a giant without even pausing, none were foolish enough to raise their voices.

"What will happen to Voldemort?" someone asked in a trembling whisper.

"He will return," Dumbledore answered solemnly. "But now we know. And we have time to prepare. Unless…Professor Einar wishes to help us."

Einar remained still for a few seconds before turning toward Harry, who was still sitting on the floor, gasping for breath.

"No. The students I trained will be able to handle it themselves…after paying the consequences of their actions," he said seriously, his voice resonating beneath the mask.

Of course, he would not abandon them. He would watch from the shadows, ready to intervene if the threat arose too soon. But they had to learn to save their own world…just as he had saved his.

And even if Voldemort took years to return—if he managed it at all—Einar would make sure that when that day came, his students would be ready to finish him once and for all. Though if they found the Horcruxes, perhaps it would never happen.

—-

Meanwhile, in the mansion that had once served as the Death Eaters' base, a man sat in the great chair that had belonged to Voldemort. A mocking smile curved his lips.

Around him, several hooded figures watched in silence, their faces so empty they looked like corpses standing upright.

"So he truly died…in such a pathetic way," the man remarked in a calm, almost amused tone. "Ha, ha, ha… In the end, they discovered his secret. How stupid."

He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the arm of the chair, his gaze fixed on the crystal ball floating before him, showing the image of the ruined Ministry.

"While they distract themselves…searching every corner, convinced they've actually won something," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a glint of madness. "Let the preparations for the final battle begin. A grand war…full of excitement."

His laughter grew louder, sharper, echoing off the stone walls as the crystal ball flickered. In an instant, he pointed toward the image of Einar, who turned abruptly, as if sensing he was being watched.

The man's smile widened just before the crystal ball cracked and exploded in a burst of blue sparks.

"Ha, ha, ha… Someone truly interesting has arrived. Perfect. Perfect." His voice fell to a deranged whisper as he reclined in the chair. "I was already rotting in this miserable existence… A pitiful, boring life isn't worth living."

And as his laughter resounded in the darkness, the shadows around him seemed to bow, as though some ancient power were waking from a long sleep.