Chapter 267
The two beams of light collided midair—
Harry Potter's wand trembled violently, as if charged with electricity. His grip tightened instinctively; even if he had wanted to let go, he wouldn't have been able to. A thin thread of light stretched between the two wands—neither red nor green, but a brilliant, blinding gold.
Harry followed the beam in astonishment.
At the other end, Lord Voldemort's long, pale fingers held a wand that was trembling just as fiercely.
Then—
Without warning—
Harry's feet left the ground.
He was lifted into the air.
Voldemort rose with him, both suspended, the golden thread still binding their wands together.
The thread suddenly cracked—
But did not break.
Instead, thousands of arcs of light burst into existence above them. They twisted and wove together, forming a vast golden dome—a cage made of light, enclosing the two of them within.
"So… that's it."
Albus Dumbledore looked up at the phenomenon, his blue eyes hidden behind his half-moon glasses. His expression revealed nothing.
He did not move.
It was as if he had no intention of attacking.
Then—
A sound filled the air.
Clear. Pure. Otherworldly.
It came from every strand of the shimmering web of light surrounding Harry and Voldemort.
Harry recognized it at once.
The song of the phoenix.
He had only heard it once before—but he would never forget it.
To him, it was the sound of hope.
The most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
It did not seem to come from outside—
It resonated from within him.
"Hold on, Harry. Keep the connection."
Dumbledore's voice reached him through the golden cage.
Harry was still dazed, still struggling to understand what was happening—but one thing became clear.
If the connection broke—
Something terrible would happen.
It couldn't break.
It must not break.
Yet even as that thought formed, the strain intensified.
His wand shook more violently.
The golden thread pulsed—
And then changed.
A sphere of light appeared on the thread, like a glowing bead sliding along it.
Harry felt the movement immediately.
The orb was coming toward him.
Away from Voldemort.
His wand burned.
The closer the orb came, the more violently it trembled. Heat surged through it, as if it might ignite in his hand—or shatter entirely.
For a moment, it felt unbearable.
But then—
Harry focused.
Every thought.
Every ounce of will.
He pushed back.
Forced the orb away.
The phoenix song filled his ears, steady and unwavering.
His eyes hardened.
Filled with determination.
With anger.
Slowly—
The trembling stopped.
Then—
The orb began to move.
Back.
Toward Voldemort.
Now it was Voldemort's wand that shook violently.
His red eyes widened.
Not with anger—
But with something closer to fear.
The orb edged closer… closer… only inches from the tip of Voldemort's wand.
Harry didn't understand what he was doing.
Didn't know what would happen.
But he had never been more focused in his life.
Push it back.
That was all that mattered.
Slowly…
Slowly…
The orb slid forward—
Paused—
Then touched the tip of Voldemort's wand.
At once—
A terrible, piercing shriek erupted from it, echoing endlessly through the night.
Voldemort's eyes snapped wide open.
The golden cage shattered.
The arcs of light vanished.
The night sky returned, empty and vast above them.
Voldemort's arm trembled violently.
He tried to cast a spell—
Tried to steady himself in midair—
But something was wrong.
His wand no longer obeyed him.
It quivered as though it might fall from his grasp at any moment.
Thick smoke began pouring from its tip.
Voldemort stared at it—
For the first time—
Panicked.
Weakness in power?
That he could accept.
Power could be regained.
Magic could be studied, refined, deepened.
There was no limit.
But this—
This was different.
This was something he did not understand.
"Stop!" he snarled, gripping the wand harder, as if sheer force could compel it to obey.
A faint, unwilling whimper echoed in the air—
Then faded.
Gradually, the wand steadied.
Barely.
Voldemort's mind raced.
The smoke thickened—
Condensing—
Taking shape.
But he didn't wait to see what it would become.
He saw opportunity.
"Goodbye… Professor."
"And you… so-called savior."
"I will return."
His voice was sharp with unwilling retreat.
Then—
His body dissolved.
Breaking apart into smoke—
Blending into the swirling mass—
And in the next instant, a violent gust of wind tore through the graveyard, scattering everything.
The smoke vanished.
Voldemort was gone.
As if he had never been there at all.
Only the fallen Death Eaters remained—
Proof that it had been real.
The connection snapped.
Harry dropped.
The wind howled past his ears as he fell, sharp and piercing. His body felt distant, numb—
His vision blurred.
He was about to lose consciousness.
And yet—
At the very last moment—
He smiled.
Because he saw them.
Not an illusion.
His parents.
A woman's figure—soft, gentle—descended like mist and landed lightly on the ground. She looked up at him, her green eyes filled with warmth.
Harry's arms trembled.
"Your father's here too," she said softly. "He wants to see you. It's all right… just hold on…"
Then—
He appeared.
First his head—
Then his body—
A tall man with untidy hair.
James Potter stepped forward, standing beside her.
He looked down at Harry.
His voice was distant, echoing—yet gentle.
They were not carried away by the wind.
They remained.
"Am I… dying?"
"Is this… a dream…?"
That was Harry's final thought—
Before darkness took him.
"Professor Dumbledore… it's been a long time."
The two figures turned, smiling faintly.
"Yes… a long time," Dumbledore replied quietly, wiping at the corner of his eye.
"It seems our child is doing well," Lily Potter said, her gaze soft as she looked at Harry. "Thank you… for taking care of him."
"It is my duty," Dumbledore said, lowering his eyes.
"We won't stay long," James added. "Please… take care of him a little more. He's lost us… he's grown up without parents."
"Of course," Dumbledore nodded.
"And don't go easy on him," James added with a grin. "If he breaks school rules, punish him."
"Honestly," Lily said, giving him a reproachful look. "Harry must be a good boy."
Dumbledore coughed lightly.
"I think," he said, "Harry takes after his father."
Lily sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead.
"…Perhaps."
Then—
They both looked at each other.
"It's time."
Their forms began to fade.
"Goodbye."
Dumbledore raised his hand slowly.
"Goodbye, Professor."
A gentle breeze passed through.
And just like that—
They were gone.
As though they had never been there at all.