Voldemort's nostrils flared, his slit-like nose twitching as he stared at the casual posture of the man in the leather jacket. Around them, the rubble of the courtyard was still settling, and the air hummed with the residual heat of Ethan's solar burst.
"You speak to me as if you are my equal," Voldemort hissed, his grip tightening on the Elder Wand. The wood groaned under his touch, sensing the lack of true mastery. "I have conquered death. I have walked paths that would shatter a mind like yours. You are a nameless nobody from a world that will be forgotten before your body is cold."
Ethan sighed, checking his fingernails. "Yeah, I get the 'immortal god' pitch a lot. Usually from guys who end up being punched into a different zip code. Honestly, Tom? You're kind of a mid-tier villain. A bit too much monologue, not enough actual spatial awareness. It's embarrassing, really."
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The green bolt of the Killing Curse tore through the air, faster and more violent than any Ethan had seen before. Voldemort wasn't holding back; he was trying to erase the insult.
Ethan didn't move. He didn't even raise a hand. Instead, the air six inches in front of his face simply fractured. Like a glass pane being struck by a hammer, the space shattered into a hundred kaleidoscopic shards. The green curse hit the Mirror Dimension barrier and was instantly refracted, splitting into a dozen harmless sparks that flew off into the night sky like dying fireflies.
"Is that it?" Ethan asked, leaning against a stone pillar that was technically still part of a living statue. "A green light? It's a bit one-note, don't you think? In my world, we call that a laser pointer."
Voldemort roared in frustration, a sound that was more animal than human. He slashed his wand upward, and the very ground beneath Ethan's feet erupted into a massive, flaming serpent made of living Fiendfyre. The beast was forty feet tall, its eyes glowing with a malevolent, cursed heat that began to melt the stone of the courtyard into slag.
Ethan finally moved. He performed a sharp, circular motion with his right hand, and a massive Tao Mandala flared to life, rotating with a mechanical hum. As the fire snake lunged, Ethan didn't block it. He folded the courtyard.
With a sickening crunch of geometry, the space between Ethan and the snake was squeezed into nothingness. The Fiendfyre serpent suddenly found itself biting its own tail as Ethan looped the local space into a Möbius strip. The snake, confused by its own tail, incinerated itself in a spectacular burst of cursed flames that illuminated the entire valley.
"My turn," Ethan said.
He flicked his wrist, and the air around Voldemort turned into a localized Mirror Dimension. The environment began to spinâthe sky became the ground, the broken walls of Hogwarts became a ceiling of jagged stone, and Voldemort found himself trapped in a recursive loop of his own angry reflection.
*****
While Voldemort was busy trying to blast his way out of a spatial paradox, the battle for the courtyard reached a fever pitch.
"Severus!" Bellatrix shrieked, her face twisted in a mask of manic zeal as she pointed her wand at Harry. "Kill the boy! Do it now for our Lord!"
Snape stepped forward, his face a mask of cold iron. He looked at Voldemort, spinning in a cage of glass and gravity, and then at the man in the leather jacket who was casually rewriting the laws of physics thirty yards away. Snape was many things, but he was never a fool. He knew the winning side when he saw it.
He raised his wand. But he didn't point it at Harry.
"Expulso!"
The curse hit Bellatrix square in the chest, the kinetic force blowing her backward through a stone archway. She landed in a heap, her wand skittering across the rubble.
"Severus?!" Lucius Malfoy yelled, his eyes wide with horror as he clutched his own wand.
"The Dark Lord is a walking corpse, Lucius," Snape said, his voice carrying over the din of the battle with chilling clarity. "I suggest you decide which side of history you wish to be on before the sorcerer decides for you."
Draco Malfoy, who had been standing trembling behind his father, suddenly drew his wand. He didn't look at the Death Eaters. He looked at the line of studentsâhis classmatesâwho were bleeding to keep the castle standing.
"Potter!" Draco yelled, his voice cracking. "Watch out!"
He fired a stunning spell that dropped a Snatcher creeping up behind Ron. The Malfoy heir stepped forward, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Neville Longbottom. Both boys were breathing hard, their wands pointed at the black-robed invaders. For the first time in centuries, the divide between Slytherin and Gryffindor simply ceased to exist.
****
Dumbledore moved through the fray like a wraith. He wasn't the frail old man the students remembered; he was a force of nature restored to his prime. He was facing off against Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood at once, moving with a grace that made the younger wizards look sluggish.
Dumbledore swept the Elder Wand in a wide circle, and a ring of pure, white fire erupted around him. He flicked the wand, and the fire turned into a whip of elemental heat. He lashed out, the whip catching Dolohov's shield and melting the magical barrier as if it were wax.
Rookwood fired a dark, screaming curse that looked like a cloud of black needles. Dumbledore didn't block it; he Transfigured the floor in front of the curse into a solid wall of lead. The needles thudded into it harmlessly. Then, with a casual wave, Dumbledore turned the lead wall into a swarm of crystal birds that flew at Rookwood, their wings sharp as razors.
"Minerva! To the left!" Dumbledore called out, even as he blocked a Killing Curse from a distant Death Eater with a silver shield he'd conjured from thin air.
The high-level magic was blindingâflashes of gold, silver, and toxic green lighting up the night every half-second. The air smelled of ozone, burnt stone, and victory.
****
Over the ruins of the bridge, the Dementors were regrouping. Ethan's "Solar Flare" had incinerated the front line, but hundreds more were pouring out of the dark forest, drawn by the scent of death and the cold promise of despair.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing on the edge of the ravine, backed by Neville and the Weasley twins.
"They're coming back!" Ron yelled, his voice cracking as the temperature began to plummet. "Harry, do something!"
Harry stepped forward, his face set in a grim mask. He didn't just think of a happy memory; he thought of the feeling of Ethan ripping the soul-shard out of his head. He thought of the feeling of his mind finally being his own.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The silver stag that erupted from his wand was larger and brighter than ever before. It didn't just stand its ground; it charged. The stag galloped through the air, its hooves leaving trails of silver mist that pushed back the shadows. Behind it, Hermione's otter and Ron's terrier joined the charge, their light magnified by the presence of the stag.
But the sheer numbers were overwhelming. The Dementors were a tide of black silk and rotting skin, trying to smother the light through sheer volume.
"The powder!" Fred yelled, reaching into his vest. "George, give 'em the new batch!"
The twins threw a dozen vials of Instant Solar Powderâa product they'd been developing since Ethan had shown them the light spell. The vials exploded in mid-air, creating small, localized bursts of blinding white light. The Dementors shrieked, their ragged forms dissolving wherever the light touched them.
Neville wasn't using light; he was using the Sword of Gryffindor. A Death Eater tried to Apparate behind him, but Neville spun, the silver blade whistling through the air. The sword, impregnated with Basilisk venom, sliced through the Death Eater's shield and his chest in one fluid motion.
"STAY BACK!" Neville roared, the sword gleaming with a bloody, righteous light. "THIS IS OUR HOUSE!"
Author's Note:
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