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A complex light flashed in Dumbledore's bright blue eyes—a look that scrutinized the past, yet held the absolute resolve to execute what must be done.
He slowly turned, aiming the Elder Wand at the tightly bound, cocoon-like physical body of Tom on the floor.
No blinding light erupted from the wand's tip. Instead, a deep, highly condensed wave of magic quietly rippled outward.
"Protego Totalum."
Dumbledore's voice was low and clear, echoing through the space like an ancient incantation.
With a tap of the wand, a spherical shield—thin as a cicada's wing but flowing with a pale golden luster—materialized out of thin air.
Like a delicate bubble, it gently enveloped Tom's bound body completely.
Once formed, the shield levitated, lifting Tom's trussed-up physical form about half a meter into the air and holding it steady.
Immediately following, Dumbledore raised his wrist with practiced stability, tracing a profound, esoteric trajectory with the Elder Wand.
"Soul Extraction."
There was no earth-shattering noise, but an invisible, overwhelmingly powerful pulling force instantly acted upon Tom's physical body.
"Urrrrgghh—!"
A shrill, distorted shriek—brimming with agony and endless, toxic malice—tore out from every orifice of Tom's body, sounding as if it were ripping the very boundary between reality and the soul!
The voice didn't belong to Tom. It was the final, desperate struggle and roar of the diadem Horcrux's remnant soul being forcefully evicted from its "nest."
Accompanying the shriek, a mass of thick, ink-black mist, churning and twisting violently, was "dragged" out from the top of Tom's head by a gentle yet irresistible golden light!
The black mist struggled and roared, morphing into countless agonizing or demonic faces, but none could resist the pull of the Elder Wand and Dumbledore's immense magical power.
It was pulled completely free of Tom's body, gathering and condensing in mid-air.
Finally, the black mist stabilized into the semi-transparent image of a young wizard wearing an old-style Hogwarts robe.
He was handsome to the point of being eerie, his black hair neatly combed. It was the exact visage of a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old Tom Riddle.
But those eyes burned with a madness, malice, and brutality far beyond his years. It was the true spiritual manifestation of the diadem Horcrux!
The exact second the remnant soul was entirely extracted, Tom's physical body inside the pale golden shield seemed to lose all support. The eyes went totally vacant, and the body fell limply downward.
Viktor, who had been on high alert, flicked his wand at almost the exact same time.
An invisible, lifting force caught Tom's falling body, lowering it gently to the ground.
Simultaneously, as if receiving a silent command, the eclectic "deluxe suppression package" binding Tom...
The unicorn hair rope, the yellow talismans, the anti-magic chains, the crucifix, the scarab amulet, the voodoo doll, the vajra, the peach-wood stopper...
They all deactivated, untied themselves nimbly, and fell away. Then, forming an orderly little queue, they whoosh-whooshed right back into the unassuming suitcase Viktor had left by his feet, vanishing completely.
"Meow-ow!"
Nearby, Tom's soul—which had been waiting with burning impatience—let out a cheer of pure excitement.
Seeing his body lying stiff on the ground and the hateful black-mist monster dragged out of it, he hesitated no longer.
Tom's soul assumed the starting stance of an Olympic diver.
With a powerful kick of his hind legs, the cat transformed into a smooth arc of pearlescent white light. With a pop, he dove with pinpoint accuracy straight back into his own physical mouth.
The cat body on the floor jerked violently. Then, those sapphire-blue eyes snapped open!
He blinked a few times in confusion, shook his head, and rapidly regained his usual vibrant spark.
He rolled to his feet. His first action was to look down and quickly pat himself over.
He used his paws to check his forehead and belly. Only after confirming he hadn't grown any weird extra parts or lost any essential ones did he let out a long sigh of relief.
Immediately after, his gaze snapped upward, locking onto the young Voldemort soul, which was now trapped inside the pale golden spherical barrier and thrashing wildly.
Tom's feline face instantly broke into an expression of profound, vengeful satisfaction and naked contempt.
That's what you get for stealing my stuff! That's what you get for trying to steal my body! Serves you right!
Trapped within the barrier, the diadem Voldemort recovered from the searing pain and disorientation of the forceful extraction, instantly spiraling into hysterical fury.
His handsome face contorted into something demonic. Gathering dark magic in his hands, he began to frantically pound against the pale golden shield.
His mouth opened and closed, unleashing silent curses and roars of pure malice that felt like they could pierce the soul itself.
However, Dumbledore's magic stood as solid as a mountain.
The seemingly fragile pale golden barrier only rippled faintly under the frenzied assault, completely absorbing, isolating, and dissolving every impact and foul intention into nothingness.
Watching his former student thrash in vain, his face twisted in rage, Dumbledore showed no pleasure. There was only a profound sigh, and the calm certainty that this had to end.
He spoke softly. His voice wasn't loud, but it pierced the barrier clearly, echoing directly in the depths of the diadem Voldemort's soul.
"Then... goodbye, Tom."
Those words were the spark that ignited the final powder keg.
The diadem Voldemort froze inside the barrier, before erupting into an even more psychotic rage. The bone-deep humiliation of being addressed by the "mediocre" name he had long since discarded drove him mad.
He slammed against the barrier with such ferocity that his spiritual form became unstable, wisps of black smoke flaking off the edges of his manifested school robes.
"Tom?"
Nearby, the smugly spectating cat's ears perked up sharply, catching the word.
He tilted his head in confusion, looking from the guy in the bubble to Dumbledore.
When he realized Dumbledore was indeed talking to the black-mist monster, Tom's eyes widened to the size of saucers!
He whipped his head around to stare at his master, Viktor, his eyes frantically demanding: That bad thing is called Tom too?!
Seeing his cat's Are you kidding me right now? expression, Viktor fought down a laugh and nodded affirmatively.
"!!!"
Confirming this devastating news, Tom instantly transcended ordinary anger!
What kind of low-tier trash is this?! He thinks he's worthy of the name Tom?!
Stole my crown! Tried to steal my body! He's cold and gross! And now he dares to share my name?!
This was the ultimate disgrace to feline kind! He was polluting the great, resounding name of "Tom"!
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. His fur stood entirely on end.
He rolled up his imaginary sleeves and looked around left and right, clearly searching for a suitable "weapon."
A second later, Tom reached behind his own back.
With a heave, he pulled out a heavy-looking, cold-gleaming... massive iron sledgehammer right out of thin air!
The hammerhead was easily twice the size of his cat head!
"MEOW!"
Tom planted his hind legs, spun his body, and used every ounce of his strength to hurl the giant sledgehammer straight at the pale golden barrier containing the diadem Voldemort!
Astonishingly, the pale golden barrier offered absolutely zero resistance to this purely "manifested" physical hammer created by Tom!
The hammer flew right through the shield with a whoosh—
THUD!!!
A dull, teeth-aching sound of impact.
The massive iron hammerhead planted itself squarely, without any loss of momentum, dead center into the handsome-yet-contorted face of the diadem Voldemort!
Though it wasn't a physical attack, the sheer, unadulterated fury of the "Real Tom," combined with his absolute disgust at his name being tarnished, seemed to carry a unique concussive force against the soul.
The phantom of Voldemort was knocked violently backward. His entire face caved in and blurred for a second, letting out an even more horrific silent shriek as a significant chunk of his dark mist simply dispersed from the impact.
The physical damage might have been minimal, but the emotional damage was critical!
"Well done, Tom," Viktor chuckled softly, rubbing the head of the cat who had just bounced back to his feet, whiskers still trembling with indignation.
Watching this unexpected, yet strangely satisfying scene, a very faint smile touched Dumbledore's blue eyes behind his spectacles, though it was quickly replaced by solemnity.
It was time.
He hesitated no longer. He raised the Elder Wand steadily, aiming it at the pale golden barrier, and chanted an ancient, terrifying incantation:
"Fiendfyre."
There was none of the usual violent, scorching, apocalyptic prelude that accompanied the casting of Fiendfyre.
What flowed from the tip of the wand was a single, hyper-condensed wisp of magnificently radiant, crimson-gold flame.
The flame seemed alive, possessing supreme sentience. It drifted gracefully into the pale golden barrier.
The moment it entered, the crimson-gold flame violently expanded and unfurled!
It didn't burn wildly. Instead, it rapidly transformed into a breathtakingly lifelike, majestic, and awe-inspiring Phoenix of fire!
The Phoenix spread wings made entirely of pure, raging inferno, threw its head back, and let out a clear, ringing cry that radiated a ravenous hunger for magic.
Facing the Fiendfyre Phoenix, the remnant soul of Voldemort displayed an unprecedented, instinctual terror born from the very depths of his soul.
He shrieked, contorting all his remaining dark magic into shields and spikes in a desperate bid to resist.
Yet, before Dumbledore's flawlessly controlled Fiendfyre Phoenix, all struggle was futile.
The fiery bird dove gracefully, opening a blazing beak that seemed capable of swallowing stars, and in one gulp, completely devoured the thrashing, wailing dark soul!
"AAAAAAHHHH—!!! DUMBLEDORE—!!!"
The final psychic roar, saturated with endless hatred and agony, was cut off instantly.
The Fiendfyre Phoenix circled elegantly within the barrier once more.
Its crimson-gold body seemed to burn even brighter and more solidly after consuming such a powerful dark soul.
It even turned its gaze—eyes made entirely of flame, yet seemingly possessing a physical stare—outward, clearly wanting more.
It lingered on Viktor and Tom for a fraction of a second, displaying a pure energy entity's instinctual greed for "high-quality fuel."
Seeing this, Dumbledore frowned slightly and gave the Elder Wand another gentle tap.
The Fiendfyre Phoenix let out a soft, slightly unwilling trill.
Its massive body rapidly collapsed inward, condensing into a single, utterly pure spark, before annihilating completely into the air, leaving not even a trace of residual heat behind.
The pale golden barrier dissolved silently along with it.
The space within the barrier was completely empty.
The remnant soul of the diadem Voldemort had been utterly purified and incinerated by the Fiendfyre Phoenix. Nothing remained.
Almost at the exact second the soul was eradicated...
Crack!
A faint but distinct sound of shattering echoed from the hovering crystal casket nearby.
Inside the casket, dead center of the exquisitely beautiful Ravenclaw diadem...
The sapphire—which had previously only been dull—now sported a long, jagged, horrifying crack running straight through it!
The last trace of magical light within the gem faded completely, leaving it looking like dead, grey glass.
The diadem itself seemed to lose the underlying magic that made it "extraordinary."
Though it remained a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, it had been reduced to nothing more than a historical antique, completely devoid of any eerie dark magic vibrations.
The Horcrux was destroyed.
Viktor tore his gaze away from the broken diadem and looked at Dumbledore, his eyes burning with the awe and thirst for knowledge of a researcher witnessing pinnacle technique.
"Headmaster, the way you controlled that Fiendfyre..."
He couldn't help but ask. That effortless manipulation, turning chaotic, apocalyptic destruction into surgical purification, completely overturned everything he thought he knew about the highly dangerous dark art of Fiendfyre.
However, before he could finish his sentence...
RUMBLE...!!
Without any warning, the entire Room of Requirement began to violently quake!
It wasn't the shaking of an earthquake. It felt as if the very "structure" of this magical space was undergoing a fundamental collapse!
The solid floor beneath their feet instantly turned illusory and transparent.
Then, like a shattered mirror, it began to disappear piece by piece, revealing a bottomless, absolute darkness that seemed connected to the void!
The towering mountains of junk, the shelves reaching the ceiling, the suspended objects...
Everything began to collapse, fall, and dissolve into motes of light in a way that defied all laws of physics, like a toppled tower of blocks!
"MEOW-OW!!!"
Tom was terrified out of his wits. He let out a shriek and used all four limbs to latch onto Viktor's calf in a death grip, practically embedding himself in the flesh.
Viktor and Dumbledore's expressions changed. Both whipped their wands up simultaneously.
"Protego Totalum!"
"Protego!"
Working in perfect synchronization, the two cast powerful shielding charms, enveloping themselves and the clinging cat.
But this collapse wasn't an attack. It was a spatial transformation.
The light of their spells was stretched and distorted by the violently shifting environment.
In just a few breaths, the cluttered, chaotic, yet incredibly real Room of Requirement vanished completely.
All the junk, the walls, the ceiling, the floor... everything was gone.
The two wizards and one cat suddenly found themselves standing in a bizarre, alien space.
Above, below, and all around them was an endless, profound expanse of starry sky. Countless stars and vast galaxies glittered, as if they had been dropped into the vacuum of outer space.
But directly beneath their feet was an absolute, all-consuming darkness—a bottomless void that was terrifying to behold.
They simply hovered there, suspended at the boundary between the starry sky and the abyss.
In this space, aside from Viktor, Tom (still death-gripping his leg), and Dumbledore (still holding the Elder Wand)...
The only other thing that remained was the hovering crystal casket containing the shattered diadem. It still emitted a faint, steady glow, serving as the only familiar anchor point in this bizarre, starry void.
It seemed that the total destruction of the Horcrux, or perhaps some deeper magical chain reaction it triggered, had forced the Room of Requirement into an unprecedented state of... "reset" or "exposure."
"It appears," Dumbledore said, looking around the vast, alien starscape, the galaxies reflecting in his bright blue eyes, his voice carrying a trace of inquiry and surprise.
"We have touched upon some of the older secrets of this castle. This... may very well be the true foundation of the 'Room of Requirement.' Or rather... an intersection point of Hogwarts' magical network."
Viktor gripped his wand tightly. Feeling the flow of magic around him—which was completely different from the norm—he felt both profound awe and intense, cautious curiosity.
Tom, meanwhile, buried his head deep into Viktor's robes, leaving only one eye peeking out. He nervously scanned the starry sky around them and the terrifying darkness below, his tail stiff as a board.