"Are you all right, Tom?" Jon asked casually.
Harry didn't answer. He forced himself to his feet. His eyes—once bright green—were now blood-red, twisted with something feral.
"What… are you… talking about…" he snarled.
"At this very moment, Hogwarts is a net cast from all sides—a massive trap designed specifically for you," Jon said calmly. "You don't actually believe you killed Albus Dumbledore, do you? That was a fake. Dumbledore's phoenix took his form. It was meant to lull you into lowering your guard."
"So that's it…" Harry's body trembled again.
"You didn't seriously think Draco Malfoy's pitiful acting could deceive Albus Dumbledore? Or that those two clumsy spies, Severus Snape and Horace Slughorn, could conceal everything?"
Jon said bluntly.
"You're too naive, Tom. Even if you could fool Dumbledore, you couldn't fool me."
"So…"
"I saw that you would come to Hogwarts. I saw that you intended to kill Albus Dumbledore. So we guided you here, step by step." Jon raised Hufflepuff's Cup in his hand. "And now you have no Horcruxes left, Tom. You can die."
"What gives you the right to kill me?" Harry roared. "You think one Dumbledore is enough? The naive one is you, Hart."
"One Dumbledore isn't enough," Jon said lightly. "What about two?"
"Who? You?"
"Of course not. Have you forgotten who I am, Tom?" Jon blinked playfully. "I am Jon Hart… and also Christopher Patrick."
"Jon Hart is Albus Dumbledore's prized student. And Christopher Patrick is Gellert Grindelwald's spokesman."
"What?" Harry's expression shifted abruptly.
The Voldemort controlling him had clearly realized something.
"You understand now? Unfortunately, it's too late." Jon shook his head with mock regret. "Everything you've seen was false. All of it was staged to trap you."
"Gellert Grindelwald was Albus Dumbledore's enemy—and also his closest friend. I suppose you never paid much attention to magical history. With your intelligence, you should have noticed the clues."
"The fall of Nurmengard Tower happened because Dumbledore released his old friend. And he released him for one reason only—to deal with you, Tom."
Harry's fists clenched tightly. His face was rigid with fury.
"The Order of the Phoenix was never weakened. Kingsley Shacklebolt isn't dead. As you saw, he was just fighting alongside me to destroy your final Horcrux. And the other two wizards fighting beside us? You probably don't know who they are. They're Grindelwald's followers."
Jon continued slowly.
"Do you see it now, Tom? The attack on the Order of the Phoenix was fake—a performance we staged. The assault on Hogwarts Castle was fake—another performance. What happened at Azkaban yesterday? Still fake. All of it carefully arranged to convince you that the Order was in crisis. To restore your confidence. To draw you out."
"Just like tonight. You and your Death Eaters walked straight into Hogwarts, convinced you were hunting Albus Dumbledore."
Jon shrugged.
"But you were so busy hunting that you never realized someone was hunting you."
"You must be close to the edge of the Forbidden Forest by now, chased by Hogwarts' defenders." Jon waved a hand almost apologetically. "There's no need to hurry. The moment you leave the grounds, you'll find Dumbledore and Grindelwald waiting—with the Order of the Phoenix and Grindelwald's followers."
He lifted the Golden Cup again.
"Your final Horcrux was destroyed only moments ago. You must be feeling weak. Tell me, Tom—do you really think you can stand against Dumbledore and Grindelwald together?"
"…Though I do hope you act confident. It will make your fall look more dramatic."
Harry's expression turned cold. Utterly cold.
"So, Tom," Jon concluded, "Surrender."
"What did you say…"
"Lay down your wand. Surrender without condition."
Jon looked down at him calmly.
"Confess what you've done. Repent for your crimes. We'll spare your life. You will spend what remains of your life in Azkaban. You have no other choice."
"Ha!"
A vicious smile twisted Harry's lips.
"Hart, your plan was impressive. I was one step away from falling into your abyss…"
"But you were too arrogant. Too proud. If you'd waited just a few more minutes—if I'd walked straight into Dumbledore and Grindelwald's encirclement unaware—I truly would have had no way out. And yet you chose this moment to reveal everything."
"You still think you can turn this around?" Jon asked evenly.
Harry burst into harsh laughter.
"You're right. In my current state, I am no match for Dumbledore and Grindelwald. But if I leave now—if I retreat before stepping into their trap—they won't be able to catch me."
"Farewell, Hart. I won't forget your name. The next time we meet, I swear you'll kneel before me, writhing in agony…"
...
Make it stop, Harry thought faintly. Kill me. End it. Compared to this, death would be nothing.
Just as that thought surfaced, the monstrous presence coiled around him vanished. The pain disappeared with it.
He collapsed face-down onto the ground. His glasses were gone. His body shook uncontrollably, as though he were lying on ice instead of earth.
Voices echoed through the graveyard. He couldn't remember what had just happened—only fragments of terror and rage.
"We're leaving, Harry." A warm hand gripped his arm. Jon's voice. "This place isn't safe. We need to get back to Hogwarts."
Jon's palm was damp with sweat. Harry could feel it clearly.