A second explosion rocked the world.
It wasn't just magic—it was history tearing itself apart.
Fire licked the sky inside the broken Hall of Fire. From the burning runes Lillian left behind, a creature rose—not a beast of flesh, but of spell and agony. A thing once buried in Hogwarts' deepest vault, nameless even to the founders.
Dumbledore's shield shattered on impact. The old wizard flew backwards, crashing into a fractured column, robes torn and blood blooming at his side. His wand was still clutched in his hand—but barely.
Voldemort did not pause. His eyes gleamed, face alight with thrill and fury. "Old fool," he hissed. "This is what your restraint has wrought."
He raised his wand. "Avada Ked—"
"FERRO IGNIUS!"
A jet of molten iron magic struck Voldemort's side. He screamed—a sound like glass shattering—and turned.
Lucius Malfoy stood. Pale, shaking, bleeding. But alive. Severus's body was behind him, cradled by protective wards Lucius had cast in pure instinct.
"You will not take him again," Lucius growled.
From the shattered corridor came backup.
James, wand blazing. Sirius, eyes wild, shield charms already forming. Narcis, his silver robes scorched, hair falling loose, cast a hex that sliced through the floor. Remus—limping, blood on his shirt—murmured incantations into the ground, ancient werewolf magic awakening around him.
Voldemort snarled. "You think your little rebellion will matter?"
Dumbledore rose again, voice a steel whisper. "It's not rebellion. It's war."
Spells exploded.
The battle became chaos.
"CRUCIO!"
"PROTEGO MAXIMA!"
"IGNIS SOMNUS!"
Shields shattered. Stones cracked. Air burst with color and fury. Hogwarts itself groaned beneath the force of colliding magic.
A blur streaked past—Lillian. His expression unreadable, he watched from the broken arch above like a god observing ants.
Snape, through gritted teeth, stirred. His chest burned—blood and bond magic both. He reached weakly toward Lucius, whose ward faltered for a breath.
"Don't—" Severus choked. "Don't give yourself—"
Lucius turned, forehead against Snape's. "I already have."
And dove back into the fray.
He met Narcis back-to-back, their movements a deadly waltz of curses and flame. James dueled a Death Eater with savage precision, Sirius guarding his flank. Remus howled—and shadows obeyed.
Then—
Voldemort noticed Lillian.
"You."
Lillian tilted his head. "Didn't expect me to be the storm, did you?"
"You betrayed me."
"I never served you."
Voldemort's scream cracked the ceiling.
He launched toward Lillian—just as Dumbledore intercepted. Their spells collided again, but now… now the floor split beneath them.
They fell.
A whirl of light and darkness swallowed them whole.
"DUMBLEDORE!" Sirius shouted.
James sprinted forward—but the chasm sealed, the stone healing like skin. Silence for a breath.
And then…
Lucius fell to his knees beside Severus again.
"He's gone," he whispered.
Snape managed a rasp. "We're not."
Behind them, Lillian was gone. Again. His mark still burning, summoning gods or monsters or both.
The battlefield quieted. Broken, smoldering, alive.
But not for long.
Because the war wasn't over.
This was only the second breath.