Time slowed in Fred's eyes.
When a person nears death, that strange sensation seems to push every sense to its limit.
Fred heard George calling his name. At the same time, the noise of chaos and battle rang in his ears.
Somewhere, faintly, he thought he heard Mrs. Weasley screaming.
"Sorry, George... Looks like I won't be able to keep running the shop with you."
Fred's thoughts grew unusually clear. He found himself thinking that maybe he shouldn't have teased his girlfriend, Angelina Johnson, the last time—it had only made her angry.
Death always came unbearably slowly.
Fred tried to force a smile, as if offering his younger brother one final gift.
A shard sliced across Fred's cheek. He could feel the pain magnified countless times, along with the rush of blood flowing through his veins, almost audible like wind.
Fred truly felt that he was going to die.
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had only just gotten on track. He hadn't even managed to buy out Zonko's Joke Shop yet.
He wondered whether George could keep going on his own. He probably could.
As the older brother, Fred had always thought George was actually the more mature one—though to outsiders, they both looked like nothing but troublemakers.
In that instant, countless thoughts passed through Fred's mind, until at last he resigned himself to death.
The explosion surged toward him, his pupils dilating.
In the next instant.
The expression of resignation on Fred's face suddenly widened in shock.
Chaotic spatial turbulence collided in front of his eyes, and then a figure appeared.
Purple, black, white, and gold intertwined to form a space around them, cutting everything off.
That fatal curse was forcibly stopped outside by this power.
Fred stared in disbelief, mouth opening as he breathed out two words.
"John?"
What was going on?
Wasn't John supposed to be missing?
And why did this John look… noticeably younger? (A/N: Do you guys remember? 😺)
Fred was filled with confusion, yet from the outside, not even half a second had passed.
Then he saw John swallowed up by an explosion.
The deadly curse that should have struck Fred was erased into nothingness within the even greater blast.
Fred was thrown away by another wave of explosion.
He rolled across the ground more than a dozen times, yet somehow suffered no further injuries.
A sharp buzzing filled his ears, the piercing tinnitus humming loudly. The heightened senses from moments ago vanished, leaving behind a dizzying blur.
He felt someone shaking his shoulder, anxious calls mixed with a harsh cacophony ringing in his ears.
He didn't know how long passed before Fred finally managed to pull his scattered vision back into focus.
A face that looked like the one he saw in the mirror every day was right in front of him, filled with worry and panic.
"Fred, Fred!" George's voice came through. "Are you alright?"
"Perfectly fine. Feels like looking in a mirror—though you're missing a bit of an ear."
Fred had come to. With a familiar twin joke, he finally let George's tightly wound heart relax.
"I can't believe you survived that explosion," George said.
He collapsed weakly onto the ground and looked to the side. Fred followed his gaze.
The wall that had been there moments ago was now replaced by a crater more than ten meters across.
Even Fred found it unbelievable, exclaiming exaggeratedly, "Looks like I really was protected by John."
"Too bad John isn't here, or he might've given you a raise," George said, thinking it was just a joke.
But Fred was utterly convinced of what he'd seen. He raised his hand and gave a salute toward the crater.
"To our boss."
After walking the line between life and death, Fred could still smile and say something like that.
…
Bellatrix cast a vicious curse and then left.
It wasn't because she'd suddenly grown a conscience, nor because she was running low on magic.
That was because she had spotted someone even more infuriating.
Draco Malfoy.
"Draco, little Dracky poo~ Cissy's precious darling."
Bellatrix let out a sickly, twisted laugh. Like a reaper come to claim a soul, she dragged her crooked wand along the wall, carving a white scar into the stone.
Hearing her voice, Malfoy turned around and immediately snapped, "You? With a face like that, it's impressive you still have the confidence to keep living in this world."
The effect was outstanding.
Malfoy ducked a streak of green light and swung his wand, firing a burst of red magic in return.
"Perfect timing. I still haven't settled the score from last time. You walking mummy, hurry up and stop being an eyesore."
Malfoy drew her hatred effortlessly, yet his movements never slowed in the slightest.
He kept firing spell after spell. Already exceptional in spellwork, Malfoy cast without restraint, flinging magic as if it cost him nothing.
A spell struck Bellatrix—only for an Ironclad Charm to flash over her body.
Malfoy's expression darkened as he cursed, "Tck~ Shameless witch, stealing other people's tricks."
Bellatrix's silver light hit Malfoy, and an Ironclad Charm flared around him as well.
The two of them exchanged fire like this, neither bothering to dodge.
Another streak of green light came flying in. Malfoy used a Summoning Charm to yank over a suit of medieval armor.
The armor was blasted apart, and Malfoy followed up with a volley spell, sending the shattered pieces hurtling toward Bellatrix.
Cedric arrived at that moment as well. Seeing the situation, he used high-speed Transfiguration, turning the flying armor fragments into small snakes that slithered around toward her.
Caught off guard by the two of them working together, Bellatrix was bitten by one of the transfigured snakes—only for the snake to collapse lifelessly the instant it struck her.
"What a powerful curse."
Cedric could tell at a glance what state Bellatrix was in.
She was even more saturated with curses than the mummies he had seen inside the pyramid.
Calling her alive was generous. Bellatrix was closer to a cursed corpse.
"Let's finish her here."
Cedric and Malfoy exchanged a look and attacked at the same time.
They were nothing like ordinary students—both had been trained, and both had even crossed wands with Dumbledore before.
With the two of them working together, Bellatrix was forced steadily backward.
Boom!
Violent tremors shook the area they were in.
The two of them nearly lost their footing. Across from them, Bellatrix suddenly looked delighted.
A sense of foreboding surged in their hearts.
Voldemort.
…
Voldemort had made his move.
He had waited for a while, using that time to confirm whether Dumbledore had truly been poisoned by him.
When he saw Hogwarts becoming increasingly precarious under the assault, and Dumbledore still failing to appear, Voldemort knew he had succeeded.
With John and Dumbledore both gone, the current Hogwarts posed no threat to him at all.
Voldemort entered the battlefield. Empowered by his powerful Wand, his magic was like that of a god walking among mortals—terrifying beyond measure.
Slughorn, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick.
The three of them joined forces to stop the Dark Lord, yet even so, they were steadily driven back under Voldemort's onslaught.
One man suppressing three.
And not just any three, but three immensely powerful wizards.
Sixth-tier magic power, completely pinned down by a single person, unable to fight back.
Even considering that Slughorn was already elderly and not a combat-oriented wizard, it was still a shocking sight.
Voldemort raised his wand and spoke his signature spell.
"Avada Kedavra."
Green light shot toward the three of them. Slughorn, dragging his cumbersome body, tripped over a stone and narrowly avoided it.
The green light struck the castle, and all the magic layered upon it shattered in an instant.
Facing his former teachers, Voldemort showed no mercy.
On the contrary, his gaze toward Slughorn was icy cold as he spoke with false civility, "I thought you wouldn't be so foolish, Horace."
"To resist like this, and to stand against me."
Crimson eyes like those of a serpent looked down at Slughorn from above.
"You turned a blind eye to my invitation, yet chose to come back to this school that has long since rotted away."
"I once admired you, followed your example, built my own network because of you. You have disappointed me, Horace."
Professor McGonagall helped Slughorn to his feet. Facing the once-prized student he had personally taught, Slughorn said angrily, "I never should have trusted you in the first place, Riddle!"
"Don't call me that name!"
Hearing that loathed surname, Voldemort flew into a rage.
He raised his wand and fired the Dark Mark into the sky.
Proclaiming to everyone the fall of Hogwarts.
Professor McGonagall's face went deathly pale as she said angrily, "Albus is still in the castle, Voldemort."
"Is he?" Voldemort sneered. "Then he should be nearly finished by now. He hides away and refuses to appear—do you really think he can still save you?"
Certain that Dumbledore had already been poisoned, Voldemort looked upon the devastation of Hogwarts.
This was a place he had once regarded as his home.
After graduating, he had applied to become the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, hoping to stay.
But the headmaster at the time rejected him on the grounds that he was too young.
A few years later, after Voldemort believed he had tempered himself and mastered countless spells,
the headmaster had become Dumbledore—yet he was rejected once again.
Twice rejected by the place he had treated as home, Voldemort's intense attachment to it twisted into a curse, a curse laid upon everyone who took the position he believed should have been his.
Now, that home was being destroyed.
It didn't matter.
After achieving immortality, Voldemort would rebuild this place into a new school—one that belonged to him alone.
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