The Fall of the Dark Lord
Harry saw the avalanche of earthen spikes erupting from the ground like furious lances. Without wasting a second, he lowered his wand and pointed it directly at his feet.
A fiery explosion burst around him, engulfing everything in a burning storm that disintegrated the spikes before they could reach him. The flames roared violently, but Harry didn't wait for them to subside. He leapt forward, cutting through the fire like a living arrow, and his own spell scorched his arm and side as he moved through it. He didn't care. The pain was meaningless. The only thing that mattered was reaching him.
Voldemort looked up just in time to see the boy emerging from the flames like a figure out of hell. He was about to Apparate away when Harry shouted, his voice filled with fury and disdain:
"You're going to die alone! Because you're weak. You have no one who cares for you. You're not a Dark Lord… you're a pathetic old man who couldn't accept his own misery. You blame the world for what you lost, but everything—absolutely everything—was your fault."
Voldemort froze. The insult stung more than any curse. He lowered his wand, furious, ready to kill that insolent brat right then and there.
But just then, something gleamed.
A dagger. The same one Harry had used to stab him earlier. It appeared like lightning and pierced through Voldemort's wrist before he could utter a single word.
"Argh!" he screamed, losing control for a brief moment.
That second was enough.
Harry didn't hesitate.
With both hands, he gripped his spectral sword and drove it into the Dark Lord's chest. A blast of energy coursed through Voldemort's body as a desperate Avada Kedavra shot out from his wand at point-blank range.
Harry's mask glowed. Just for an instant. But it was enough.
The curse bounced off as if it had struck an invisible wall.
"Your attack is always the same… as predictable as your pathetic excuse of a life," Harry said coldly.
Voldemort looked down at his chest, still feeling the blade lodged inside. Then he slowly raised his gaze… and turned, only to see what remained of his army: bodies scattered everywhere, others fleeing like rats.
In the distance, Einar and his clone were merging back into one. The Nordic warrior looked at him with quiet pride.
"I… I'll return…" Voldemort muttered, feeling his body begin to crumble into dust.
"Oh? You mean this?" Einar asked, stepping forward and pulling out a tiara from his robes—its black gem now shattered.
"I don't think so."
It was the last Horcrux. Or perhaps the first. The object that had cursed Hogwarts for years and every Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. An artifact that had tried to curse Einar… only to be effortlessly destroyed.
Voldemort saw it. And for the first time… he understood. There was nothing left. No fragments. No anchors.
Only the void.
He took two steps back, trembling, as his body slowly disintegrated—like ashes swept away by the wind. Death, it seemed, was taking its time… just to let him watch.
Silence.
All he could hear was his own breath, growing weaker… and the steady breathing of the boy who had defeated him. Once in infancy, without even knowing. And now… with purpose, with strategy, with honor.
In the Great Hall, a small crystal sphere glowed atop Harry's wand.
The very same sphere the Weasley twins had given him during the Triwizard Tournament.
They had noticed Harry slipping away, and with their innate curiosity (and shameless expertise in gossip), they activated the sphere and linked its magical vision to the Hall.
One by one, students gathered. Then families. All watched in silence as the battle unfolded… and reached its end.
Fred and George even contacted members of the Order of the Phoenix, who tried to rush to Harry's aid.
But Sirius stopped them.
His fists were clenched so tightly that blood dripped between his fingers. He too wanted to run, to help, to protect… but he knew this was Harry's fight.
And Einar was there to protect him.
When the image showed Voldemort fading into dust… silence shattered.
Everyone screamed. They embraced. They cried and laughed. The darkness was over.
Elsewhere in the castle, the Stormborn group watched with serious expressions… but unmistakable satisfaction.
"He learned a lot in just a few days," murmured Avento, analyzing Harry's use of runes with respect.
"Hmph. He should learn to use a greatsword. Much faster for decapitating enemies," Blaise said, arms crossed, though his gaze showed clear approval.
"Or a warhammer!" exclaimed Lucía, bouncing with an innocent grin.
"Let's throw a party before Harry and the professor get back!" Fred shouted suddenly, throwing his hands in the air.
Everyone nodded eagerly, running through the castle to begin preparations.
"You did it, Harry," said Einar, slowly approaching.
Harry stared at the dust on the ground, where the most feared being in the magical world had stood just moments before.
"Professor… do you think I can be normal now?"
Einar paused for a moment… then smiled softly.
"Do you really want to be? It's pretty boring."
Harry blinked.
"You never wanted to be normal?"
Einar stopped, lifting his eyes to the sky with quiet thought.
"No. Not at all."
Harry chuckled faintly—for the first time in a long while.
"Then I'll enjoy whatever normal time I have left… for now."
He paused, then added:
"By the way… can we take the Knight Bus back? I don't think I can handle being carried again."
"Fine," Einar replied with unwavering calm.
And so, the two walked toward the nearest street, leaving behind the battlefield as it slowly faded into shadow…
…while Dren, hidden among the rubble, quietly began to erase the final traces of chaos.
…
They stepped off the Knight Bus with calm steps. The cool air welcomed them… and something else unexpected.
All the students, professors, and their families were there, waiting for them in front of the castle gates. Even Sirius and the members of the Order of the Phoenix were present. Smiles lit up every face, like a wave of collective relief.
Harry stopped in his tracks, surprised by the crowd.
"We saw everything, Harry," said Sirius as he approached, his face full of pride. "You did an excellent job."
"Well done, boy. You really looked like a proper warrior," added Moody, clapping him on the shoulder with an unusually wide smile.
"Great job, Harry!" Tonks, Cedric, and Lupin said in unison, gathering around him.
"Do you need some extra healing?" asked Alice Longbottom, leaning in with maternal concern.
"I'm okay. The professor healed me," Harry replied, a bit embarrassed by all the attention.
Meanwhile, Einar stood back, arms crossed and wearing a slight smile. Calm. Proud.
"Come on, Harry! We've got a party ready for you!" shouted Fred.
"The best party Hogwarts has ever seen," added George.
"You did well, Harry," said Neville with a smile, while Ving, the small magical creature that followed him everywhere, sat perched on his shoulder. The little creature stared intently at Harry… as if recognizing him as his new rival, perhaps sensing his new rank as Dragon Priest.
Far away...
"I found a wand, Gellert."
The voice, laced with madness and broken memories, echoed through the dark halls of the prison. From the shadows, Dumbledore walked forward until he stood before Grindelwald's cell.
Gellert raised his eyes and gave a sad smile.
"You did well, Albus… for someone who has lost almost all of his sanity."
"Einar nearly awakened something that should never have returned… I suppose I've done my part," Dumbledore answered in a tired voice. He stopped in front of him and held his head with one hand. "Let's finish this, Grindelwald."
He tossed him the wand.
"Yes… it's time to end all of this," said Gellert, and in his eyes shone a cold, resolute seriousness.
"Aaaaaah!" Dumbledore screamed, as his magic spiraled out of control.
The end had come. There was nothing left to protect. No legacy left to guard. Only one final duty to fulfill.
"You did well," Grindelwald murmured, as blue fire began to emerge from the wand's tip. The flames rose like living columns, and from the prison windows one could see them growing stronger.
The walls groaned, and the fire consumed everything in its path.
The prison guards tried to fight it with water, shouted orders, conjured magical barriers… but it was useless. The fire didn't obey.
Then, a red flame joined the blue. Both swirled together like demonic dancers, devouring all. The entire prison burned until nothing remained but ruins. None of the witnesses truly understood what had happened.
Only that… it was over.
As the days passed, the world slowly began to return to normal.
The families who had taken refuge at Hogwarts began to return home, more at peace now. The Death Eaters who had escaped were being hunted down, one by one. And without any opposition, Amelia Bones was chosen as the new Minister for Magic—with the full support of Einar's students.
Even Einar returned to his home, which had to be expanded to accommodate his children and disciples.
Harry was invited to live with them.
At first, he hesitated, feeling a little overwhelmed by the idea. But everyone's insistence was impossible to resist. Saying no wasn't really an option.
"So, Dad… how did your date with Fleur go?" asked Sofie, walking over with a wide grin as Einar sat by the fireplace, sipping from a cup.
The others, who had been quietly eating dinner, all looked up. Some tried to hide their curiosity, but everyone was listening. Even if they pretended not to care, their teacher's love life intrigued them more than they'd admit.
"It's better not to talk about it," replied Einar calmly, taking another sip.
"Come on, tell us!" Sofie insisted, leaning in with growing curiosity.
"No."
"Ugh! Silly Dad! Then I'll just ask Fleur myself," she declared, turning to run off.
But Einar gently caught her by the arm and sat her beside him. He placed some snacks on her lap.
Sofie looked at the food, torn between temptation and offense. But under her father's calm gaze, she puffed her cheeks and accepted the snacks… though it was clear she still wanted answers.
Lucia sat next to her as if nothing was happening and began to eat casually.
"Obviously something happened," Blaise muttered quietly to the others.
They all nodded… except Sisel and Hrar, who didn't get it and returned to their meals.
Even Harry seemed interested.
He glanced at Sofie and Einar, then asked:
"Is it okay if I ask why she's so set on finding the professor a wife?"
There was a pause before Avento answered in a calm voice:
"Well… she's a little obsessed with having a mother. Her father wasn't a good person, and her mother died when she was just a baby. But she remembers that, during the short time her mother was alive… her family was happy. And she believes that if our father finds someone, we can be happy like that again."
He paused, then added more softly:
"And… it also has to do with Lucia's story."
Silence returned to the table, as if no one wanted to say more.
"Bah, don't mind it, Harry. Each of us is a bit weird in our own way. Just go with it," said Lars with a relaxed smile.
No one contradicted him.
Because it was true.
Each of them had their own story. Their own past. Their own way of meeting Einar.
Even Harry.