Voldemort's horrified roar finally made Harry lift his head, fighting through the pain still pulsing behind his scar.
He saw with his own eyes that his wand had somehow released a soft-toned, golden-red radiance—warm and magnificent, beautiful in a way that was almost indescribable. It looked exactly like the clouds that appear on the horizon at sunset during the most perfect summer evenings, utterly breathtaking to behold!
When Voldemort's dark figure vanished completely from sight, Harry's "great display of power" stopped as abruptly as it had begun.
The shining glow emanating from his wand spiraled gracefully back into the sky in a reverse of its original path. The light mist formed a dazzling spectacle like a laser beam in reverse looking beautiful and otherworldly, but ultimately scattered harmlessly into nothing under the gentle caress of the wandering breeze that swept across the fields.
'Huh? What just happened?'
Harry blinked rapidly in utter confusion, his mind was struggling to process what he'd just done.
His magic—his own magic, from his own wand had just driven Voldemort away?!
That couldn't be right.
Looking around for confirmation or explanation, Harry's gaze found Sirius. His godfather stood frozen with his mouth hanging wide open exactly like Remus beside him, both of them were staring at Harry with eyes wide with absolute shock, nearly bulging from their sockets in disbelief.
As for Alastor Moody, Tonks, Bill Weasley, and the other Order members standing nearby, their gazes fixed upon Harry were all tinged with admiration and awe!
The power and formidability of the Dark Lord went without saying—everyone knew his reputation, his history of terror.
Even Bryan Watson, fighting with all his might and utilizing his most powerful magic had managed to hold his own against Voldemort in battle but hadn't displayed an overwhelming advantage or dominance. It had been an even match at best.
Yet Harry Potter had somehow sent Voldemort fleeing in complete disarray with a single spell!
BANG—
Professor Watson emerged from thin air directly beside Harry with the crack of Apparition. His expression wasn't quite as exaggerated as Sirius and the others' open-mouthed shock, but Harry could still clearly read complexity in those brown eyes.
"Professor Watson, I—"
Harry's lips moved in complete bewilderment; his voice was uncertain. He desperately wanted to ask what had just happened, wanted to understand what that golden-red light had been but before he could ask the question properly, an irresistible dizziness suddenly arose without any warning.
The feeling instantly engulfed his consciousness like a dark wave, pulling him under.
THUD—
Harry's eyes rolled back in his head, showing only whites, and his face crashed heavily forward to the ground.
Needless to say, this sudden collapse scared everyone in the Order of the Phoenix half to death. Several people screamed.
Moody roared frantically for them to rush Harry to St. Mungo's immediately—the boy needed medical attention now!
"What's happening, Bryan? Harry, he—!"
Bryan remained remarkably calm despite the panic around him. He looked deeply at the unconscious Harry lying crumpled on the ground, studying him for a moment, then raised his hands to soothe the frightened crowd.
"No need to worry—he's just completely exhausted his magical reserves, nothing more serious than that. Of course, taking him to St. Mungo's for a thorough check-up would certainly be best for everyone's peace of mind. You all need to go to the hospital anyway to have your own injuries treated. Sirius, you especially should have your wounds examined properly—"
Sirius said nothing in response, but his expression showed profound gratitude and concern.
After nodding solemnly to Bryan in acknowledgment, he and Remus quickly moved to Harry's side. They each carefully took one of the unconscious boy's arms, supporting his weight between them, and disappeared together with the crack of Apparition.
"The Potter boy, what he just did—"
Before leaving the field himself, Moody paused and asked with slight hesitation, his magical eye was spinning to focus on Bryan while his normal eye watched the horizon warily.
"What was that magic? I've never seen anything like it in fifty years of fighting dark wizards."
"To truly explain it properly, Alastor, the reasons would be quite complex and would take considerable time."
Bryan's response was tactful, revealing nothing concrete.
Though he didn't get a direct answer to his question, Moody nevertheless breathed a heavy sigh of relief. The important thing was that the boy was safe and Voldemort had been driven off.
He nodded once and gave Bryan a rare, genuine smile. His gaze openly showed his deep admiration for this exceptional young man.
"Well done, Bryan. Exceptionally well done. You saved us all today."
"Ah, thank you, Alastor—" Bryan's lips curved in a small smile.
The Death Eaters and their hired army of dark wizards had long since vanished without a trace, Apparating away to safety the moment it became clear their side was losing.
The Ministry's Hit Wizards and the remaining Order of the Phoenix members withdrew from the area one after another in groups, taking their wounded with them and leaving the ruins behind.
Only some "fearless" reporters who hadn't fled during the earlier mass evacuation remained in the vicinity. They had instead "lurked" cleverly on the periphery of the battlefield, hiding behind walls and barriers, risking their lives to witness history.
Now they emerged from their hiding spots and sprinted along the raised ridges dividing the rectangular fields, racing desperately toward where Voldemort had last appeared and where that mysterious sweep of golden-red radiance had bloomed across the sky like a second sunrise.
But at a distance of roughly a hundred yards or so from that spot, the reporters hesitated fearfully and dared not approach any closer.
Only Bryan Watson stood there in that space, completely alone.
At the edge of Diagon Alley where it met the vast agricultural fields, beneath a sky of shifting clouds still churning from the magical disturbance, Bryan Watson stood motionless and gazed at the ruins of war spread out before him. His expression was grave, and looked heavy with thought.
The once-prosperous Diagon Alley—Britain's best magical shopping district lay in complete darkness and devastation. It looked exactly like the crater of a volcano that had just violently erupted.
Gringotts, the iconic white marble building of Diagon Alley that had stood for centuries, had its entire above-ground structure completely obliterated. Nothing remained but rubble and broken stone.
The shops along both sides of the famous cobblestone road—Ollivanders, Flourish and Blotts, the apothecary, Quality Quidditch Supplies, all the beloved ones had all been completely leveled to the ground.
Diagon Alley Station still had a few broken walls struggling to stand up, but they looked ready to collapse at any moment.
As for the industrial district located further away from the battle's epicenter, those workshops and manufacturing facilities had been somewhat more fortunate.
Being distant from the battle's center and possessing their own magical protections built into their foundations, they had only collapsed partially under the war's tremendous aftershocks rather than being completely destroyed.
This was the absolutely perfect composition for the photographers!
Bryan Watson, having just fought a legendary battle and held his own against the Dark Lord, stood alone at the edge of the ruins gazing solemnly at the battlefield. He seemed to be worried deeply about the future of British magical society.
The reporters' cameras were working so frantically they were practically smoking from the friction!
Flash after flash lit up the gathering dusk.
POP!
Someone suddenly appeared directly beside Bryan without warning. The reporters froze in shock for a few seconds, recognizing the distinctive figure, then the shutter sounds became even more frenzied than before.
"Regretting that you couldn't defeat Tom, Bryan?"
Silver hair and long silver beard swaying gently in the wind that swept across the open fields, Dumbledore looked at this exceptional young man standing beside him and smiled lightly, his blue eyes were twinkling. He seemed in quite good spirits despite the devastation.
"I knew from the beginning that he and I would be evenly matched. It's just that the Dark Lord doesn't seem able to accept that reality."
Bryan smiled slightly showing a knowing expression. He and Dumbledore exchanged a meaningful glance, then both suddenly vanished from the spot simultaneously, leaving the disappointed reporters behind.
At the battle's center, where the fighting had been most intense, the scarlet magma pooled on the ground hadn't yet cooled to solid rock. The tremendous high temperature rising from it made the air above shimmer and dance, hazy and distorted like a mirage.
At their feet, partially submerged, an exquisite two-handled golden cup floated in a slowly cooling pool of magma. On the cup's surface clung a layer of dark, dried blood-like stains.
"This is already the fourth one."
It was genuinely hard to say whether Dumbledore's soft contemplative words held more severity or more relief.
The diadem of Ravenclaw, the diary of Tom Riddle, the locket of Slytherin, and now the cup of Hufflepuff—so far, four Horcruxes had been successfully destroyed at Bryan's hands.
Besides Harry Potter himself who they were both certain was an unintentional Horcrux and Voldemort's snake Nagini, which was also highly likely to contain a soul fragment, there was also the Gaunt family ring.
That ancestral heirloom was hidden somewhere unknown but was also extremely likely to be a Horcrux given its significance to Voldemort's heritage.
That made seven total Horcruxes they knew of or strongly suspected.
Bryan and Dumbledore's gazes met in the air between them, both men understood what the other was thinking without needing to speak.
They had to quickly determine exactly how many Horcruxes Voldemort had ultimately created for himself.
Dumbledore's view was that Voldemort simply couldn't split his soul more than ten times maximum, or he would completely lose his sanity and become little more than a beast. The soul couldn't withstand more fragmentation than that.
That meant there might be at most two additional Horcruxes they currently had no information about whatsoever that they would need to somehow locate and destroy. Of course, with luck and fortune on their side, perhaps the seven Horcruxes they currently knew of or suspected represented all of Voldemort's soul anchors.
Harry's unique situation could only be resolved last, after all the others were destroyed. It was too dangerous otherwise.
The ring could only be left to Dumbledore, who understood Voldemort's psychology and history best, to search for using his knowledge of Voldemort's past. As for that snake called Nagini—
Bryan gazed up at the ash and smoke drifting in the air above the ruins, his eyes turned distant and thoughtful.
To ensure complete certainty, to maintain Voldemort's belief that the cup's destruction had been coincidental, neither he nor Dumbledore could personally move against Nagini anymore.
Voldemort would hold onto the wishful belief that the cup had been destroyed by pure coincidence during the chaos of battle.
But if Nagini also died at his hands or Dumbledore's hands or even at the hands of any known Order member or Harry—Voldemort would immediately become alert and suspicious.
They had to find someone "safe and harmless," someone Voldemort would never in a thousand years suspect of being part of a conspiracy, to kill that snake under appropriate coincidental circumstances that would appear natural.
This required extremely careful planning and precise execution. After committing the strategic problem to memory for later consideration, Bryan set the matter aside for now.
HUM—
With a casual flick of his finger, the golden cup floating in the gradually cooling magma rose smoothly into the air, spined slowly and rotated under the gaze of both Bryan and Dumbledore.
"Helga Hufflepuff's bequest—"
Dumbledore's gaze held a trace of reverence as he looked at the ancient artifact, his voice was soft with respect for their founder.
"Have you noticed, Bryan? Like Ravenclaw's diadem, it wasn't actually destroyed by your powerful Fiendfyre—"
Bryan nodded slightly in confirmation, his own gaze grll intently on a real magical rune etched at the base of the cup. The symbol was completely different in style and purpose from the merely decorative patterns the goblin smiths had etched when originally forging the cup centuries ago.
The same distinctive style of rune as on the diadem, the locket, and the Sword of Gryffindor currently resting in Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts!
Suddenly, Bryan's brow twitched with realization. His eyes were burning with excitement as he spun to face Dumbledore.
Bryan seemed particularly interested in the runes on the relics left by Hogwarts' four founders ever since he'd first encountered them, studying them obsessively.
"If I'm not mistaken, Bryan, you're thinking—"
Dumbledore's own brow furrowed with sudden understanding, his mind made the same connection.
"I nearly forgot this crucial point. Inadvertently, we've come to possess each of the four founders' most famous treasures—four separate artifacts, each bearing a real rune of power."
Even facing Voldemort directly in battle hadn't made Bryan's heart pound with excitement like this revelation did.
"If they were to come together—"
"Fawkes!"
Dumbledore made an instant decision. His aged but powerful voice was echoing through the hellish, devastated landscape of Diagon Alley.
"Please take Bryan and me back to Hogwarts!"
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