This was the first time Lynn had focused his telekinesis with such raw intensity. His body hovered slightly off the ground, his willpower becoming a physical extension of his own limbs.
A swirl of black fire drifted past them—the same flames that had blocked the entrance they came through. Now, wrapped in an invisible telekinetic grip, the fire was forcibly yanked from its spot.
At the same time, the purple flames guarding the door ahead were swept up. Like a pair of invisible hands, Lynn's power bundled the two fires together, churning the purple and black flames into a single, unstable mass.
An instant later, he slammed the massive, ominous fireball into the wooden door. It hit like a tidal wave, pouring into the next room with a roar. A blood-curdling scream erupted from the other side, and a sudden, violent surge of magic leveled the stone wall separating the two rooms.
It was like a bomb had gone off. Shards of brick and stone whistled through the air like shrapnel, flying straight at the four of them!
But Lynn's telekinetic barrier acted like a wall of thick syrup, absorbing all the kinetic energy. The stones barely managed to penetrate an inch or two into the "invisible cushion" before losing all momentum and clattering harmlessly to the floor.
Through the settling dust of the demolished wall, a humanoid shadow struggled and wailed. His voice went from a piercing shriek to a raspy wheeze before falling completely silent—all in the span of a couple of seconds.
The figure, now completely engulfed in purple fire, was melting at a terrifying rate. Snape's purple flames were far more lethal than they had appeared during their earlier tests.
Black liquid hissed as it hit the floor—the remains of the body being liquefied by the heat—corroding the stone tiles into a pitted mess. Within seconds, the shadow stopped thrashing. Flesh turned to sludge, bone dissolved into ash, and by the time the smoke cleared, nothing remained but a puddle of dark goo.
"What was that?!"
Neville let out a high-pitched yell. Beside him, Hallie clutched her forehead in agony. She had never felt anything like this pain before; it felt like someone was taking a power drill to her skull.
"Hallie, are you okay?" Cho grabbed her, pulling her close.
"It hurts..." Hallie whimpered, her eyes watering. Her gut told her that whatever caused this pain was right in front of them.
Suddenly, a cloud of grayish-black smoke billowed up from the black puddle. Within the smoke, a twisted, hideous face flickered into view.
As it rose, the face let out a screech filled with pure malice and spite. It lunged toward the four students but froze mid-air as if hitting an invisible wall.
"Tell me your name!!!"
The specter stared intensely at Hallie, then turned to Neville, screaming hysterically.
"Neville Longbottom!" Neville drew his Denkomaru lightning blade and gripped his wand, shouting back through gritted teeth. "I'm not afraid of you, you disgusting, rotting ghost!" A sudden, fierce urge to tear this spirit apart surged through him.
"You!"
The ghost ignored Neville and snapped its gaze back to Hallie.
"Are you... Harry Potter?" The ghost spat the name as if it were poison. "How could you be Harry Potter?!"
"Harry Potter is a boy! The Boy Who Lived! Born at the end of July!" The spirit writhed frantically in the air, clawing at its own head as if trying to crush its own skull. "How could it be you? It's not you! You're not Harry Potter! You're not the boy!!"
"This is impossible!!!"
"I couldn't have chosen wrong!!!"
"Who the hell are you?" Neville demanded, stepping bravely in front of the group.
"Who am I? Hahaha!" The ghost let out a piercing, jagged laugh. It forced its smoke into a semi-human shape and offered a mockingly elegant bow, looking more insane by the second. "They call me—Voldemort."
"I see it now! I finally understand!" Voldemort laughed maniacally. He was struggling to maintain his form; a shattered soul can barely hold onto its power once its vessel is destroyed. He was running on fumes.
"I picked the wrong target back then!"
"What a wicked lie... your filthy Muggle-born mother actually managed to play me! She played the Great Lord Voldemort!" He let out a cruel, twisted smile. "She had her child pose as the 'Chosen One.' What a ruthless mother..."
In that moment, he felt a twisted sense of clarity. He finally "knew" why he had failed ten years ago. It wasn't because of some ancient magic; it was because he had targeted the wrong person. He had tried to kill the boy from the prophecy to break its power, but he'd been misled.
He believed he should have been able to kill a mere infant effortlessly. To think he could fail against a baby was a joke! It had to be that woman's scheme. She had pointed him at a decoy. If he had chosen Neville—another boy born at the end of July—the prophecy would have been over a decade ago.
The Great Voldemort couldn't be beaten by a baby! His downfall had to be the result of a master manipulation. After all, there shouldn't have been two candidates. It had to be Neville. Hallie was just a trap set to lure him in!
"I get it! I get it all now!" Voldemort cackled, while the scar on Hallie's head throbbed so hard she could barely stand.
"I will be back!" He shot one last look at Hallie and a murderous glare at Neville. "I'll be back very soon!"
The soul of Voldemort dissolved into a black mist and streaked away, vanishing instantly.
"Damn, couldn't catch him," Lynn said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "If Voldemort had a semi-solid body like Peeves, I would've grabbed him and flushed him down a toilet." Telekinesis didn't work on completely intangible spirits, which bothered him.
"Does it still hurt, Hallie?" He turned and patted her head.
"It's better now." Hallie leaned into Lynn, wiping sweat from her brow. "But that was brutal. It hurt worse than the worst cramps of my life..." She stomped her foot, looking ready to pick a fight. "If I wasn't so dizzy, I would've hexed him! How dare that jerk talk about my mom like that!"
"You'll get your chance for payback later," Lynn said, pinching her cheek. "Don't waste your energy being mad at him now. Getting angry doesn't fix anything."
"Maybe, but he's on my list now!"
"You did great, Neville," Lynn said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Stepping up when you know something is dangerous... that's a rare kind of courage. Not everyone has that. That's what makes someone a hero."
Neville flushed at the praise, but a small, determined smile finally broke through his tense expression.
"But why did he say he picked the wrong person? Voldemort's real target should be me, right?" Neville didn't call him "You-Know-Who" anymore. Realizing they were destined to be enemies had given him the courage to look the future in the eye.
"He mentioned a prophecy," Cho added. "Maybe that's why he's so obsessed with you two. He thinks he missed the mark because Hallie is a girl and the prophecy specified a boy."
"That makes sense," Neville nodded firmly. "Everyone calls it 'The Boy Who Lived,' but Hallie's a girl. So yeah!" He looked at Hallie with total sincerity. "Voldemort has found his real target now—me. And I'm going to take him down!"
"I'm helping too!" Hallie said. She knew the truth—that she had been a boy and Voldemort hadn't actually made a mistake—but she couldn't explain that to anyone. Lynn was the only one who knew her secret, so she kept her mouth shut. "Regardless of who his 'target' is, my parents died because of him. I'm not letting him get away with it."
"Lynn, he really got away, didn't he?"
"Yeah. He was hitching a ride in Quirrell's body. Once I burned the body, he had to bail. But it looks like he can't maintain a physical form as a ghost, unlike the ones here at Hogwarts. He's probably hiding somewhere, waiting for another chance to rise."
"So what was he looking for here? Something to bring him back to life?"
They walked into the final room, stepping carefully around the puddle of black sludge.
"The Mirror of Erised again?" Neville stared at the mirror in confusion. "Did Professor Dumbledore hide whatever Voldemort wanted inside the mirror?"
They gathered in front of the glass.
"Don't get sucked into the illusions, Cho," Lynn warned, starting to explain how the mirror worked, but she cut him off.
"We have one at home," Cho said casually. "Though it's much smaller—about the size of a vanity mirror. My dad brought it back from an old ruin."
"What do you see in it?" Lynn asked, curious.
"Just myself," Cho replied plainly. "My dad taught me how to use it properly. Besides, I'm pretty happy with what I have."
"Maybe Voldemort was looking for this."
Suddenly, Cho reached into the 'reflection' of her pocket and pulled out a real, jagged red gemstone. "I was thinking about what Voldemort wanted, and then I saw it. You can change what the Mirror shows by clearing your mind and focusing on a specific intent. It's a little trick my dad taught me."
She held the stone up. "If I had to guess, this is the Sorcerer's Stone."
She inspected it for a second before handing it to Hallie.
"It just looks like a dusty rock," Hallie said, unimpressed, before passing it to Neville.
"The Sorcerer's Stone... could this heal my parents?" Neville asked, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
"Neville's parents?" Hallie asked softly. "What happened to them?"
"Bellatrix Lestrange used the Cruciatus Curse on them until they lost their minds," Lynn explained quietly. "Permanent mental damage."
"But I believe in miracles," Neville said, his voice turning firm. "If I keep looking, I'll find a way to bring them back!"
"Maybe we should ask Professor Dumbledore," Lynn said, glancing toward a seemingly solid stone wall. "Professor, you can come out now. I know you're there."
As soon as Lynn spoke, an archway appeared in the stone wall. The tall figure of Albus Dumbledore stepped through, a proud, twinkling smile on his face.
"How did you spot me? If it's a secret, I can pretend I didn't ask."
"It's no big secret, Professor," Lynn said, having already prepared his explanation. "Telekinesis. It's a power I had before I ever came to Hogwarts. It lets me move things without touching them, lets me fly, and apparently, lets me sense things around me."
"It's how I handled the fire earlier. My 'will' can touch anything physical—even spirits like Peeves."
"A very useful gift indeed," Dumbledore nodded. He wasn't entirely surprised; the wizarding world was full of oddities, from natural Seers to Metamorphmagi who could change their faces at will.
"Professor Dumbledore," Neville asked hopefully, "can the Stone heal my parents?"
"I'm deeply sorry, Neville, but I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said gently. "The Stone's power lies in alchemy—it can transform base metals into gold and produce the Elixir of Life. It is the ultimate achievement of Transfiguration. But it cannot mend the mind. The trauma your parents suffered is beyond the Stone's reach."
Neville sighed, disappointed but not defeated.
"Then you should have this back, sir," Neville said, handing over the stone. "Isn't this Nicholas Flamel's? Why was it here?"
"Nicholas and I are old friends. He lent it to me because he has decided it is time for his long journey to finally end. Besides, the Stone is nearly spent. Even if Voldemort had taken it, he would have been disappointed. There's enough juice left for a few party tricks, but not enough to craft a new body."
Dumbledore smiled warmly at the group. "You all performed magnificently. You navigated a gauntlet designed to test the best of wizards. Congratulations—twenty points to each of your Houses."
He gestured toward the exit. "But it is very late. The adventure is over, and it is time for warm beds and sleep."
"If you have more questions, come see me tomorrow. It's the last day of the term. My door is always open—the password is 'Cockroach Clusters.'"
"Goodnight, children. Sleep well."
As they walked through the archway Dumbledore had used, they found themselves back on the seventh floor, right near the Room of Requirement.
"Goodnight, Professor Dumbledore."
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