The moment had come.
I turned slowly within the circle, my cloak sweeping outward as my wand carved a perfect arc through the air.
"Protego Diabolica."
Blue fire exploded into existence.
Not ordinary flame—this was something alive. It roared outward in a perfect ring, rising high, twisting into serpentine shapes that snapped and coiled with intent. The heat alone warped the stone beneath our feet, cracking marble and scorching ancient runes into blackened scars.
The flames did not burn those loyal to me.
They recognized allegiance.
"Join me," I commanded, my voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.
The fire parted slightly, revealing the circle's heart.
"Step forward. Pledge your eternal loyalty."
They came.
First, my Death Eaters—without hesitation. Cloaked figures stepping through the inferno as if it were nothing more than a veil. The flames curled around them, almost reverent, letting them pass untouched.
Then the pureblood families.
Noble names. Ancient lines. Ambition burning in their eyes brighter than the fire itself.
Then… others.
Half-bloods. Opportunists. The ambitious. The desperate.
Even a few who trembled as they stepped forward—but stepped forward nonetheless.
"Good…" I murmured, watching them gather.
"Good."
The flames surged higher, reacting to the growing number of those bound to me.
Power fed power.
"Go," I said, lowering my wand slightly. "Spread the word."
With a chorus of cracks, they vanished. Apparition echoing through the hall like distant thunder.
And then…
Silence.
I turned.
Slowly.
The circle remained.
But beyond it—
They stood.
Aurors.
Order members.
Those who had refused.
I smiled.
"Come now," I said softly. "Dumbledore's loyal followers… Aurors…"
My voice hardened.
"Join me."
A pause.
"Or die."
The flames answered for me.
They surged outward—
Violent.
Hungry.
Blue inferno lashed toward the remaining crowd, splitting into dozens of writhing tendrils that struck like living whips.
Aurors reacted instantly—
"Protego!"
Shimmering shields burst into existence, but the flames smashed against them with terrifying force. Barriers cracked. Some shattered outright, sending their casters flying backward as the fire consumed them mid-air.
The screams were brief.
The flames did not linger.
They devoured.
Order members moved faster—more coordinated.
Spells collided with my inferno—jets of water, blasts of wind, counter-curses designed to disrupt magical constructs.
It slowed the flames.
But did not stop them.
Then—
Fire met fire.
A wave of golden-red flame erupted, colliding with my blue inferno in a violent explosion that shook the entire hall.
For a brief moment… I thought it was him.
But no.
Aberforth Dumbledore stepped forward.
"So," I said, my lips curling. "Albus sends his brother."
My wand snapped forward.
"Avada Kedavra."
A beam of pure green death shot toward him.
Aberforth reacted instantly—his wand slicing through the air as stone ripped itself from the ground, forming a massive wall in front of him.
The Killing Curse struck—
And the stone exploded.
Fragments blasted outward like shrapnel, tearing through the hall.
I flicked my wand again.
The blue flames surged forward, twisting into a massive wave that crashed toward him.
I could have killed him.
Easily.
But I remembered.
Ariana.
Her quiet voice.
Her request.
So I held back.
Slightly.
The flames struck Aberforth, forcing him backward as he conjured barrier after barrier—each one cracking under the pressure.
He was strong.
But not enough.
And around us—
The battle exploded.
Edward moved like a machine of precision and destruction.
Opposite him—Minerva McGonagall.
Their duel was… beautiful.
Stone became birds mid-flight, only to be transfigured into spears that shot forward with lethal intent. McGonagall countered instantly—turning the spears into ribbons that wrapped around Edward, only for him to shatter them with a pulse of raw magical force.
The ground beneath them shifted constantly—tiles becoming quicksand, then iron spikes, then glass.
Edward adapted quickly.
But not quickly enough.
Experience.
That was the difference.
McGonagall's movements were effortless, refined through decades of mastery. Every spell precise. Every counter immediate.
Edward, by contrast, relied on power. Raw, overwhelming magic fueled by dragon blood.
And then—
Dark magic.
A sharp flick of his wand sent a jagged curse slicing through the air, forcing McGonagall to abandon her position entirely as it carved a deep trench through the floor.
She frowned.
Adjusting.
I intervened.
A jet of blue fire tore across the battlefield toward her.
She barely managed to transfigure a section of the wall into a shield—but the flames shattered it instantly, forcing her backward.
Edward pressed the advantage immediately.
Elsewhere—
Filius Flitwick stood at the center of a storm.
Lucius Malfoy.
Abraxas Malfoy.
Orion Black.
Three against one.
Flitwick's wand blurred with speed, his dueling mastery unmatched as he deflected curse after curse. His small frame moved like lightning, avoiding killing spells by inches.
But numbers…
Numbers mattered.
Lucius launched a binding curse—Flitwick shattered it.
Orion followed with a blasting spell—Flitwick deflected it into the ceiling, causing part of it to collapse.
Abraxas struck from the side—forcing Flitwick to retreat.
Then—
Pomona Sprout entered the fray.
The ground erupted.
Vines exploded upward, thick and writhing, lashing toward the Death Eaters. Plants I recognized—dangerous, enhanced, lethal.
One snapped toward Lucius—he barely avoided it as it crushed stone like paper.
Another wrapped around Orion—only for him to incinerate it with a burst of fire.
The battle intensified.
Everywhere—
Chaos.
Aurors clashed with Death Eaters in brutal duels—spells colliding mid-air, explosions tearing through the structure. Walls shattered. Floors cracked. Entire sections of the hall began to collapse under the strain.
And then—
I saw him.
Sirius Black.
My eyes narrowed.
A traitor.
I raised my wand—targeting him specifically as he dueled one of my followers.
A curse shot toward him—fast, precise.
He barely dodged, spinning to face me with fury in his eyes.
Good.
Let him feel it.
Nearby—
Remus Lupin fought with controlled precision, his spells defensive yet effective.
Peter Pettigrew… lingered.
Watching.
Hesitating.
Useful.
The battlefield fractured into dozens of duels, each one deadly, each one pushing the limits of magic itself.
And at the center—
Aberforth still stood.
Barely.
I raised my wand once more.
This time—no restraint.
"Avada Kedavra."
The green light surged forward—unstoppable.
And then—
Fire.
A phoenix burst into existence.
The Killing Curse struck—
And vanished.
The bird let out a cry—ancient, powerful, defiant.
Flames swirled around it as it landed gracefully.
And beside it—
He appeared.
Albus Dumbledore.
The battlefield stilled.
Just for a moment.
My eyes met his.
And I smiled.