It was impossible to know what treasures Dumbledore kept hidden in his office, but one thing was clear: if he ever returned, he'd have to redecorate the place from scratch.
Hopefully, the old man wouldn't weep too bitterly over the losses… probably not.
"Hey! Harry! Save your old hat!" the Sorting Hat cried out in a panic. "Merlin's beard! These flames are getting too close! No, wait—they're already burning me!"
"Accio Sorting Hat!"
With Harry's summoning charm, the Sorting Hat flew to his side just before the fel flames could reduce it to ashes.
"I owe you one, lad, though I'd prefer being on your head rather than tucked at your waist," the Sorting Hat grumbled. "Over a thousand years ago, that's how I fought alongside Gryffindor himself."
The Sorting Hat kept chattering away, its spirits surprisingly high for something that had nearly been incinerated by fel flames. It was far more resilient than Harry had expected, even cracking jokes in the face of near-destruction.
A blast of frost breath from Ragehorn roared through the shattered remains of the office's massive window. Even fel flames had to obey the laws of physics, and in the face of such extreme cold, they were being snuffed out in great swathes.
Quirrell's soul had long since vanished into the fel flames. If not for one of Voldemort's Horcruxes pulling his main soul to safety, the dazed spirit hovering in place would likely have been consumed by the infernal fire as well.
"Enough chatter, Hat. Didn't Dumbledore set any traps in his office? Or do you know of any special defenses unique to the Headmaster's office?" Harry interrupted, his voice sharp with urgency.
Green flashes of light streaked across the room as Voldemort, far more comfortable with the Unforgivable Curses than fel magic, unleashed a barrage of spells backed by years of dark expertise.
"Oh, good question," the Sorting Hat muttered. "I knew you'd be focused on saving that girl. Well… the answer is no! You see, some bold little witches and wizards have been known to sneak into the Headmaster's office, so for their safety, no Headmaster would leave dangerous defenses lying around."
"I can vouch for that, Harry," James Potter's voice chimed in from nearby, where he was channeling spirit energy to try and destroy Voldemort's main soul. "When we sneaked in back in the day, it was perfectly safe. But that Ravenclaw Diadem? It's definitely a Horcrux. It's controlling that girl—Ginny. You'd be better off destroying the Diadem yourself."
"Destroy the Diadem? Flitwick would have a fit," the Sorting Hat muttered again. "But… fine, desperate times and all that. I'll keep it hush-hush."
Ginny's body couldn't withstand Voldemort's relentless drain on her magic much longer. She was just a child, after all. Harry knew that if he didn't act fast, even if Ginny was saved, she might never wield magic again—a fate too cruel for a child who'd tasted the wonders of wizardry.
Harry, now ascended and wielding the primal elemental power far stronger than ordinary elementals, faced a Voldemort whose soul fragment was limited by its frail host. Without a proper body, the Dark Lord couldn't unleash the full extent of his unknown curses.
Before long, Ginny—still under Voldemort's control—tried to flee the Headmaster's office but was forced back by a raging storm. Unable to Apparate, her physical body couldn't break through the tempest. Voldemort didn't dare gamble on whether Harry would hold back if he abandoned Ginny's life to charge through the storm. After all, this cold, relentless boy had already looked ready to smash her skull with his warhammer.
Without a body to act through, a Horcrux alone was powerless. Unlike the main soul, these fragments couldn't operate independently.
"It's over, Voldemort."
Harry's voice whispered in Voldemort's ear. As a Storm Ascendant, Harry had transcended his mortal form, becoming a new kind of elemental being. His body was no longer flesh and blood but a core of elemental energy. He existed in one corner of the Headmaster's office, yet his essence flowed through the winds swirling within it.
He could be tangible or intangible.
Right now, a wisp of wind materialized near Ginny's ear—an extension of Harry's body, like a delicate hook. As he spoke, that hook deftly plucked the Ravenclaw Diadem from her head.
"No!!!"
Ginny's face twisted in terror—or rather, the soul fragment within the Diadem screamed. She reached desperately to reclaim her anchor, but faster than her hand was a warhammer, wreathed in storm energy, whistling through the air—CLANG!
The Diadem, caught mid-air, was smashed backward. Neither physical force nor most magic could destroy a Horcrux, especially not one fortified by Ravenclaw's protective enchantments. Yet, in that moment, all those defenses crumbled.
"This is impossible!!!" Ginny screamed, collapsing to her knees in agony. Harry clearly saw the Diadem hit the ground, a deep dent now marring its surface. From the gash poured a flood of milky-white, translucent liquid, like blood, as if the Diadem itself had been mortally wounded.
"I am immortal!! Nothing can destroy a Horcrux—impossible!!!"
"Nothing's impossible," Harry said coldly, raising his right hand. A chain of lightning yanked the warhammer back to his grip. "You're already dead."
It was a peculiar kind of magic. If a Horcrux was the vessel for a soul fragment, then judging by the sheer volume of "blood" spilling out, Harry figured the Diadem was akin to a human with half their chest caved in—roughly speaking.
"Basilisk venom?! You used basilisk venom?!" The soul fragment, realizing the truth, shrieked as it glared at Harry's warhammer. Weakness overwhelmed the fragment's consciousness as it screamed and clawed toward its dying vessel. The blood-like liquid slowed to a trickle, growing thinner and dimmer.
Less and less, until it vanished entirely.
Crawling across the floor, the Diadem's consciousness couldn't reach its "corpse" before Ginny's body collapsed, one hand outstretched but unable to close the distance.
"Basilisk venom does special damage to Horcruxes?" Harry muttered, glancing curiously at his weapon.
That was useful to know.
Striding through the wrecked Headmaster's office, Harry reached the Diadem's "corpse." The description felt odd, but it was, in a way, a piece of Voldemort's remains.
Carefully, he used a hand encased in earth elemental energy to pick up the Diadem. Until he was certain it was safe, he wasn't about to touch such a dangerous dark artifact with his bare hands—who knew what vile traps Voldemort might have left behind?
The translucent, blood-like liquid that had coated the floor near the wall was now fading, as if it had never existed.
Could a soul bleed?
Harry didn't know the answer. Perhaps it was part of Voldemort himself? These questions would have to wait until he faced the Dark Lord again. For now, he placed the Diadem in a box crafted from earth elemental energy and turned to check on Ginny.
The idea of killing Ginny to destroy Voldemort was, of course, a bluff… mostly. If Voldemort had refused to leave her body and used her as a hostage, Harry would have struck her down without hesitation, regardless of his loyalty to the Weasleys. But if he could save her, he'd never willingly break his friend's heart.
His gambit had paid off. Voldemort hadn't dared to hold a wand to his own throat and demand Harry's surrender.
Ginny was frail, her breathing so faint it was almost imperceptible. But it was steady—not erratic or fading—which gave Harry some reassurance.
Healing Wave, Spirit Cleanse, Riptide… With time running short, Harry cast a series of rapid healing spells to stabilize her condition. The purifying and restorative power of water visibly helped; the deathly pallor from having her life force and magic drained began to ease slightly. For now, this was all he could do. Restoring her lost vitality would have to wait until the crisis was over.
Once he confirmed Ginny's condition was stable, Harry prepared to move her to the safety of his enchanted suitcase world. With demons rampaging through the castle, it was the only secure place left.
Slipping his arms under her knees and neck, Harry lifted her. But just as he stood, Ginny's eyes snapped open.
They weren't the shy eyes Harry knew. These were cold, malicious—Voldemort's eyes. No, it was Voldemort.
Without hesitation, Ginny drew a dagger from her robes and plunged it toward Harry's heart.
There was no time to dodge or throw her aside. In a split second, Harry released her and leaned back. The wind elements swirling in the air surged toward his chest, attempting to form a protective wind wall.
But the dagger in Ginny's hand gleamed with malevolent energy. Neither the wind barrier nor the chainmail Harry wore could stop it. The blade sliced through both as if they were nothing, its edge only slightly slowed.
Blood sprayed.
It splattered across Ginny's face, inches away. After Harry flung her back, she waved a hand, levitating herself briefly before landing lightly on the ground, a manic grin spreading across her face.
"Haha, hahahaha, AHAHAHAHAHA!" Ginny—or rather, Voldemort—cackled wildly.
"Potter! Oh, noble Potter! You were far too careless! AHAHAHAHA!" Seeing Harry clutch his chest and collapse to one knee, her laughter grew even more unhinged, her body shaking with glee.
Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Ginny reached into her robes and pulled out a black-covered notebook, waving it triumphantly at Harry.
"Didn't see that coming, did you, Potter?" she taunted. "Not one Horcrux, but two!"
The notebook was another Horcrux.
"I owe Lucius a thank you, the utter fool," Ginny said, shaking her head in mock pity. "All to settle a petty grudge with the Weasleys, he dared to give away what I entrusted to him!"
"If he were here, I'd show him true suffering!" Sheathing the bloodied dagger at her waist, Ginny's face twisted with rage before breaking into a grin again. "But thanks to his stupidity, I have the chance to rid myself of you, the Boy Who Lived, and Dumbledore in one fell swoop—and take another step toward true immortality! To become even stronger!"
Certain of her victory, this new Voldemort shouted with fervent zeal.
No one knew better than Voldemort the power of the dagger now lodged in Potter's body or the dark enchantments woven into it. The boy's life was ticking away.
"How foolish!" As if shedding a cloak, this new Voldemort abandoned Ginny's body, manifesting as a spectral figure in the real world. Ginny's form collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
This Voldemort appeared younger, more handsome—at least compared to the main soul Harry had seen before.
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