Hogwarts.
Harry was summoned to the Headmaster's Office.
He had been completely bewildered when the summons came. It was already ten o'clock, and he had been lying in bed discussing the upcoming Quidditch match with Ron when Sir Cadogan burst in shouting, waking Seamus and the others.
Without time to change out of his pyjamas, Harry had rushed over in a fluster.
"Long live Headmaster Lawrence."
Forcing down his disgust as he spoke the password, Harry found Wayne chatting with the Sorting Hat.
"Wayne, what's happened? Why call me over so late?"
"Take a seat first." Gesturing for him to sit, Wayne returned the Sorting Hat to its place before saying, "The Ministry of Magic is making its move against Voldemort tonight."
Harry's expression immediately sharpened with excitement. "Have they found him?"
"Yes. Voldemort's hiding at the Lestranges' home, along with those escaped Death Eaters. The Ministry has already begun operations - they'll prune his wings first before launching the final assault."
"What do you need me to do?" Harry asked decisively, knowing Wayne wouldn't have summoned him so late just to deliver news.
"Let me first tell you about Voldemort's story." Wayne avoided answering directly.
Though puzzled, Harry obediently nodded.
"When Voldemort was still Tom Riddle, his academic record was outstanding. Nearly everyone in the school liked him and believed he would achieve great things in the future. But Tom considered this normal—something he deserved because he was unique. From his fifth year, he began contemplating one question."
"What question?" Harry asked curiously, genuinely interested in stories about Voldemort's past.
"How to achieve eternal life... How to become... immortal."
"Fifth year? When he was our age?" Harry's mind filled with question marks.
He truly couldn't understand Voldemort's thought process.
In the fifth year, shouldn't he have been thinking about winning Quidditch matches and finding a pretty girlfriend?
"Exactly. Tom Riddle's diary was his achievement." Wayne nodded gently. "It's a form of Dark Magic called a Horcrux. As long as the Horcrux remains undestroyed, even if hit with the Killing Curse, he wouldn't die but would become a wraith inferior even to ghosts."
Harry instinctively touched the scar on his forehead.
"But... wasn't the diary already destroyed?" Harry looked at Wayne in confusion.
"Generally, Dark Wizards only create one Horcrux because making them requires tearing apart one's soul, which is extremely dangerous."
"A single Horcrux can ensure they live far longer than ordinary people."
"But unfortunately..." Wayne shook his head, "Voldemort isn't human. He's a madman. The number of Horcruxes he created exceeds the final exams you've taken."
Harry was now sweating profusely. "So you mean, unless we destroy all his Horcruxes, even you and Dumbledore can't completely kill him?"
"Correct." Wayne nodded.
This was the law of this world. The Horcrux magic developed by Herpo the Foul was a legendary spell powerful enough to match a Lich's phylactery magic.
You might despise the Horcrux's evil nature and its creator's cowardly attachment to life, but you couldn't deny the formidable power of this magic.
"So how many Horcruxes did Voldemort actually make?"
"He only knew about six, but there were actually six and a half."
Harry froze.
"You can make half a Horcrux?"
"Not half, just an incomplete one," Wayne explained. "Fourteen years ago, when Voldemort tried to kill a baby, his spell rebounded. Having made too many Horcruxes, his soul was already fragmented and exceptionally fragile."
"It was at that moment, when hit by the Killing Curse, a piece of Voldemort's soul broke off and entered the baby's body. That baby was called..."
"Harry Potter..."
Harry didn't know what expression he should be wearing at this moment.
He just stared blankly at Wayne, his mind empty.
So it was true - he wasn't any chosen saviour, nor was he Voldemort's destined enemy.
His ability to speak Parseltongue and his dreams of Voldemort's movements were all because of the soul fragment inside him.
Suddenly, Harry thought of something, his face turning deathly pale as he asked with difficulty, "So... to completely kill Voldemort, do I have to die too?"
Wayne watched this scene with great interest internally, but maintained a serious expression. "What if I said yes?"
Harry felt dizzy, and it took him an unknown amount of time for his consciousness to gradually return.
"Could you give me some time? Just half an hour to say goodbye to Ron, Neville, and Sirius. Is that alright?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid not," Wayne shook his head regretfully.
Harry closed his eyes in pain. "Then do it, Wayne. Kill me. If it means destroying Voldemort, it would be revenge for my parents."
Wayne smiled.
Despite Harry's various flaws and his often slow thinking...
Choosing to sacrifice himself to save the world at just fifteen years old already placed him above countless others.
Even if he were in Harry's position, he probably wouldn't accept it but would instead think about resisting and escaping.
Wayne decided to stop teasing him. "What I meant was you don't need to say goodbye at all. Things haven't reached the worst possible scenario, and you don't necessarily have to die."
Harry's eyes snapped open in surprise.
"Voldemort's Horcruxes haven't all been found yet. Even if you have to die, you should be the last one."
Wayne said with a smile, "The reason I called you here today was just to see if we could extract that soul fragment. When Voldemort gets emotionally agitated, the connection between you two deepens, and we might be able to detect something."
Harry completely slumped in his chair, his voice trembling slightly. "Wayne, next time could you finish what you're saying in one go? I'd already planned out how to write my will."
Wayne laughed, and the portraits of Headmasters on the wall laughed too, filling the room with a cheerful atmosphere.
...
Meanwhile.
After gathering the Aurors, Crouch immediately set out with his team.
Their first stop was the Flint family.
Although the Flint family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families, their foundation was nowhere near as strong as the Black Family or the Malfoy Family. The protective magic around their family manor wasn't powerful, and a single volley from ten Aurors shattered the wards.
"Crouch? What are you doing? Why have you brought so many people to my home!"
Douglas Flint and his son, Marcus Flint, rushed out, immediately spotting Crouch at the head of the group and angrily demanding an explanation.
Yet Crouch showed no intention of heeding them, not even glancing at the two Flints. Instead, he drew his wand and aimed it at his own arm.
Thud!
After a dull sound, a spell pierced straight through his arm, blood instantly dripping onto the ground.
"The Flints resisted arrest, everyone – you may begin!"
"Yes!"
The two young enforcement officers immediately aimed their wands at the father and son.
"Crucio!"
"Arghhhhh!"
The screams came swiftly and faded just as quickly. Soon, all three members of the Flint family lay peacefully on the ground.
Kingsley, who was following the main group, was utterly stunned. Watching Crouch wave his hand and send half the team to plunder the Flint family's assets, he hurried forward and grabbed Crouch's arm.
"Have you gone mad? This isn't being an Auror – this is robbery!"
Crouch shook off his hand, expressionless, and produced the Phoenix tears Wayne had given him, dripping them onto his fresh wound.
"Shacklebolt, both you and I know how many atrocities the Flint family committed while following the Dark Lord – it was only the law's mercy that spared them.
"But now things are different." Crouch turned, his sharp eyes fixed intently on him. "This is all deserved retribution. If you can't stomach it, then stand aside.
"But if you dare oppose us... the tide of this era will crush you completely."
Silently, five figures had already encircled them. At the slightest suspicious move from Kingsley Shacklebolt, they would strike without hesitation.
This was precisely why Wayne valued Crouch.
Driven by the motivation to resurrect his wife and bolstered by the immense benefits Wayne provided, both the Aurors and the enforcement officers of the Integrity Department had now become fiercely loyal followers.
They wouldn't hesitate to kill Death Eaters – or even storm the Ministry and take down Fudge tonight if ordered.
Kingsley immediately felt spines pricking his back, not daring to make any move.
Ten minutes later, the looting squad returned to formation.
With a sweeping gesture, Crouch led the team away from the Flint residence toward the next target.
Nott, Fawley, Parkinson, Shafiq – one by one, the twenty-eight pure-blood families were breached that night. Not a single member with a criminal record was spared, and the Shafiq family was completely wiped out.
Years ago, the Shafiq family had brutally tortured and murdered over twenty Muggles, with only one member stepping forward to take the blame and be sent to Azkaban.
Crouch's arm had been wounded and healed several times over.
Finally, emerging from the last target – the Carrow family – Crouch led his team to the ancestral home of the Lestrange Family.
Protected by the Fidelius Charm, Crouch knew the manor was right there, yet he could see nothing.
He produced a dark, tarnished ring and tossed it toward the empty space ahead.
The ring erupted with a black glow in midair, clashing with an unseen force.
Crack! Crack!
The sound of shattering echoed as the invisible barrier shattered, and the Lestrange ancestral grounds finally appeared before everyone.
Simultaneously, over a dozen wand-wielding Death Eaters stood ready.
Bellatrix's eyes burned with madness. "Aurors? To think you found this place. The Ministry isn't entirely useless after all.
"But... you will all die here today!"
No sooner had Bellatrix finished speaking than she burst into laughter and struck. The recent period of hiding had built up a raging fire within her. Though shocked that Crouch had managed to track them here with others, it didn't matter – as long as they killed everyone, their location wouldn't be exposed.
The other Death Eaters showed no fear either, howling like ghosts and wolves as they cast curses. These people had already lost their sanity in Azkaban, turning completely mad.
The battle escalated to a fever pitch from the very start. It wasn't just the Death Eaters – even Crouch's people were shouting "Crucio" one moment and "Avada Kedavra" the next.
If not for their uniform, one couldn't tell which side the Death Eaters were on.
However, the Death Eaters soon found themselves at a disadvantage.
Their expensive protective artefacts, bought at great cost, proved as fragile as paper, while the Ministry fighters' gear could even block Killing Curses.
These were artefacts personally crafted by Wayne. Unless the Killing Curse was cast by Voldemort himself, those used by Death Eaters could only withstand two or three strikes.
Within mere minutes, five Death Eaters had fallen where they stood. Bellatrix screamed madly but couldn't break through the encirclement, finding herself in grave danger.
Voldemort, who had been observing the situation, finally lost patience. A cloud of black smoke flew over from the rear of the manor.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Though foolish, he was certainly not weak.
The green Killing Curse transformed into a sharp sword, instantly shattering the energy shield around Crouch. The air seemed to freeze solid. His Killing Curse appeared to possess the property of destroying magical defences – the land's protections crumbled effortlessly before the eerie glow.
Crouch tried to dodge, but a chilling cold spreading from within slowed his movements, leaving him to watch helplessly as the curse drew nearer.
After an ear-splitting, tearing sound came a dull thud. A shield materialised before him, blocking the Killing Curse before shattering into pieces.
"What—?" Voldemort shouted, glancing around, then gasped sharply. "Dumbledore!"
Crouch's heart pounded wildly. He looked behind him to see Dumbledore standing in the darkness.