The young bronze dragon raised its neck, gathering arcane energy in its throat. With a thunderous roar, a powerful wave of repulsive force erupted from Harry Number One at its center, fanning out in a wide arc. The surrounding water tanks shattered, and the mind flayer, Barty Crouch Jr., was hurled forty feet through the air, crashing to the ground in a disheveled heap. At the same time, Harry's tail coiled around the table, sweeping its contents aside.
Before the mind flayer Barty Crouch Jr. could scramble to his feet, a bolt of blue lightning, laced with several crimson curses, struck him. For a fleeting moment, he seemed to hover in midair, spells and electricity crackling across his body. Then, with the acrid scent of burning protein, a twisted, charred humanoid lump collapsed to the ground.
"Capture, resist, kill!" the Elder Brain screeched, its massive tentacle whipping through the air toward Harry and his companions. But Harry—Bronze Dragon Harry—was faster. His tail lashed out, and with a deafening crash, the two forces collided midair. The Elder Brain's tentacle recoiled, trembling, while Harry, enlarged to three times his original size by Dumbledore's Engorgio charm, stood steadfastly in front of the group.
To the right of the Elder Brain, Dumbledore brandished his wand, conjuring a roaring orange-yellow fire dragon that tore into the creature, leaving a sprawling patch of scorched flesh in its wake.
Meanwhile, in the world of Harry Number One, within the halls of Malfoy Manor, six figures cloaked in black robes sat silently in the grand hall. Before them, the floor slowly parted, and a fully matured Elder Brain emerged, its tentacles writhing as it floated upward. A piercing, psychic scream reverberated through the manor, and the servants, guards, and Death Eaters working within collapsed, writhing in agony. Their limbs twisted unnaturally, their bones elongated and contorted, skulls split open, and jaws vanished…
One by one, newborn mind flayers rose from the chaos.
"Hey, mates, something's seriously off at Malfoy Manor," Neville said, wide-eyed, peering through his binoculars from a hill two miles away, where he was conducting routine surveillance.
"What's going on?" Several Harrys rushed out of their tent.
"See for yourselves. I need some fresh air to clear my head," Neville said, fighting the urge to vomit. He handed the binoculars to one of the Harrys and staggered to his feet, only to collapse a few steps later, retching violently.
"That's bloody disgusting…" Harry Number Three muttered after glimpsing the scene at Malfoy Manor. He joined Neville, doubled over and dry-heaving.
"Looks like the enemy's planning something big… Plan B?" Harry Number Five lowered the binoculars and asked.
"I'll go tell Hermione and the others," Harry Number Six said, darting back into the tent.
"I'll notify Hogwarts!" Harry Number Four waved his wand, summoning his stag Patronus. He quickly relayed the situation and sent the silvery messenger speeding toward Hogwarts.
Inside the tent, the four Hermiones sprang into action upon receiving Harry Number Four's message, swiftly packing their belongings.
"What's this about? Are we moving house or something?" The three Rons clambered out of their beds, blinking sleepily and staring in confusion at their bustling girlfriends.
"Shut it, you three, and get up! Pack your things—we're evacuating!" Hermione Number Three shot them a glare, sidestepping them to stuff food into her beaded bag.
"Are we finally going home? I can't wait to eat Mum's cooking again!" Ron Number Three said, practically bouncing with excitement.
"Honestly, Hermione, you really should learn to cook from my mum," another Ron chimed in, trailing after his girlfriend. "You'll need to manage the household someday. How can you not know how to cook? We're going to have loads of kids, and if you can't even make a decent meal, how am I supposed to focus on work when the kids need you to—"
All three Rons, including the one who hadn't spoken yet, faced the wrathful wands of their respective Hermiones and wisely chose to shut their mouths.
"First, zip it and pack your things. Second, we're retreating to a safe location, not fleeing this world. Third, we are not your girlfriends!" Hermione snapped.
The sulky Rons haphazardly stuffed their clothes into their bags and shuffled out of the tent, waiting for Hermione or one of the Harrys to Apparate them to Hogwarts. Their own Apparition skills were shaky at best, and attempting to travel such a distance risked leaving behind a limb or two. As for why the three Rons—who spent their days eating, sleeping, and eating again—assumed they were heading to Hogwarts rather than somewhere else, well, obviously! Hogwarts was the safest place in the entire country. Surely they wouldn't go to the Burrow… or would they?
The three Rons, now reminiscing about their mother's cooking, exchanged glances and came to an agreement. As the Harrys approached, faces grim, the Rons cheerfully proposed, "Why don't we go to the Burrow? Mum would love to have us!"
The four Harrys stared at them as if they were complete idiots.
The four Hermiones felt their exhaustion deepen.
Three minutes later, with several loud cracks, the hilltop fell silent once more.
Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, where Harry Number Four's message had just arrived, chaos erupted.
For maximum reach, Harry Number Four's stag Patronus had materialized in the center of the Great Hall—right in the middle of lunch. When a silvery Patronus appeared, speaking in Harry Potter's voice and announcing that seven Voldemorts, accompanied by a horde of squid-headed monsters, might be attacking, the students' first reaction wasn't panic but incredulity.
Seven Voldemorts? With a bunch of squid-headed monsters? Had Harry Potter lost his mind or just not woken up yet?
The students brushed off the message, continuing to eat, joke, and snog as if nothing had happened. But at the staff table, the expressions of Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and others darkened. They were aware of the existence of multiple Voldemorts. They also knew Dumbledore had left to investigate the origins of these additional Dark Lords and that Harry and his group had recently joined him. While it was odd that Harry, not Dumbledore, had sent the Patronus, preparing for the worst was never a bad idea.
McGonagall turned to Professor Flitwick. "Filius, go alert the other professors who aren't here. We need to reinforce the castle's protective charms… No, no need to notify Sybill…"
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