In the office, Harry felt as though his head was about to split open completely. His scar burned with a searing pain, and his consciousness grew increasingly blurred.
He saw Dumbledore – the Headmaster, no, the former Headmaster – who was not as gentle as usual. His expression was calm, but behind his half-moon spectacles, his eyes blazed with fierce intensity.
Dumbledore elegantly waved his wand, a transformed army fighting alongside him.
Harry could feel golden light brushing past his body, as if space itself had become Dumbledore's weapon, sending spells at him from all directions.
But he wasn't afraid. His heart was filled with killing intent and brutality, wanting to determine a victor between them.
'Harry' raised his wand, and a sickly green Killing Curse shot from its tip. Wailing spirits howled around the wand – they were the people 'he' had killed before, their resentment and unwillingness adding power to the curse.
Harry had never felt as powerful as he did now, as if he could accomplish anything with magic – except kill the old man before him.
With each of Dumbledore's cutting remarks, he grew angrier, his rage nearly consuming his sanity.
"Don't try to interfere with him, Harry!"
A voice imbued with magical power broke into Harry's mind, helping him regain a sliver of reason.
"Follow your inner thoughts! Don't resist, don't oppose! You are Voldemort. Open your eyes and look at me!"
With the last sentence, Wayne even used the Imperius Curse, making Harry involuntarily obey his command, struggling to open his eyes.
His originally clear, unclouded green eyes – once like a university student's – now flashed with shocking killing intent and madness. His right hand unconsciously reached for his wand.
Wayne snatched the wand away. When Harry tried to resist, he received another slap.
"Stay awake! Do you want to become Voldemort's puppet, his Horcrux, and perish with him? Think of your parents! Think of what your mother sacrificed to keep you alive!"
The portraits of former Headmasters on the wall watched the two nervously, secretly worried and anxious for Harry.
Even Phineas thought Harry's situation was utterly awful.
Orphaned, and himself a Horcrux of the Dark Lord – if Wayne couldn't succeed, he would still have to fight Voldemort to the death.
Wayne's words finally had an effect. Harry remembered that night when his mother knelt before Voldemort, begging for his life, and the blinding green light.
"Wayne... kill me..." Harry roared with all his willpower, the muscles in his face twitching violently.
Wayne raised his finger, and everything around them fell into stillness. His eyes emitted brilliant starlight as the world gradually faded of colour.
Under the magical vision, Harry's forehead shone brightly. His body grew increasingly ethereal, emitting a white halo. Only his forehead showed a faint green light, where an irregular fragment struggled desperately, seemingly eager to separate from Harry and fly out of his body.
That was the source of everything – the fragment of Voldemort's soul within Harry.
Since it wasn't created through the proper Horcrux-making process, this fragment had an instinct to return to its master's body. This was why Harry's headaches became so unbearable each time they occurred.
Over a decade, as Harry grew up, his soul gradually strengthened, and the two had begun showing signs of fusion, almost forming a symbiotic relationship.
Trying to remove this fragment while keeping Harry alive was more difficult than reaching for the heavens.
Yet Wayne still wanted to try.
He used magic to amplify the emotions in Harry's heart, intensifying Harry's mental fluctuations. The green light trembled slightly, and in his soul state, Harry's features became distorted, a large bulge growing on his forehead.
But the bulge remained part of his soul; the two had not separated.
"Really won't come off?" He had stimulated it to this extent, yet they remained firmly connected, leaving him muttering in disbelief.
Seeing Harry's consciousness slipping into chaos, on the verge of fainting, he had no choice but to resort to his final move, Legilimency.
Using Harry as a conduit, a sensation of being watched crossed space. Voldemort felt as if his brain had been struck, his movements faltering slightly.
"Wayne Lawrence?!"
Voldemort screamed in terror, feeling Lawrence appear in his mind, roughly rifling through his thoughts. This was no illusion. He desperately used Occlumency to erect layer upon layer of defences, but the effect was minimal.
Voldemort vanished, dodging the slashes of two knights, reappearing at the edge of the battlefield and seizing a Death Eater's head.
"Arghhhhh!"
After the scream, the Death Eater went limp like mud, a vengeful spirit forming above his head and rushing into Voldemort's brow.
The malicious hatred assaulted his mind, finally allowing Voldemort to successfully expel Wayne from his thoughts.
"Is this your trick?" Voldemort sneered. "Lawrence tried to interfere in our duel, but he failed."
"No, he should have obtained the information he wanted," Dumbledore said calmly. "For instance, the location of that Basilisk?"
Voldemort's face changed dramatically, his pupils narrowing completely.
Meanwhile, far away at Hogwarts, Wayne set down the unconscious Harry, took a step forward, and flames forged a passage. He walked through it as casually as strolling in a garden.
"I will have you dead!"
Voldemort started uttering the most vicious curse, muttering words that seemed not of human language.
It was Parseltongue. The Gaunt family had a tradition of using Parseltongue to cast spells, enhancing the power of Dark Magic.
He raised his wand, its tip gathering a deep, rippling green light like emerald waves, unfathomable and undiminished.
Dumbledore's expression turned extremely grave, his wand crackling with energy.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
One after another, knight constructs and tree-men steadfastly blocked his path as Dumbledore retreated to a distance. Through the gaps, he could see a green, scythe-wielding phantom rising behind Voldemort.
"This is true death," Voldemort said rapturously. Fueled by rage, crisis, and killing intent, his Dark Magic had advanced once more. His mastery of the Killing Curse had surpassed everyone in the world; even if its inventor, Herpo the Foul, resurrected, they would pale in comparison.
One after another, golden lights flew from Dumbledore's wand, transforming into phoenixes soaring on outstretched wings. The Death God swung its scythe, and Dumbledore's army of transfigurations was shattered to pieces.
The phoenixes drew closer, fearless and undying. With each one that vanished, the green light weakened a shade.
A violent explosion sent dust and debris flying across the battlefield. Dumbledore watched from afar as the green light dissipated, lowering his wand while panting heavily.
In that moment, he had felt the threat of death, as another great adventure eagerly opened its arms to welcome him.
Voldemort stood in place, coldly watching him, with no obstacles remaining between them.
"Tell Lawrence that in one month, it will be a fight to the death."
His body twisted and vanished, his wand falling to the ground where it crumbled to dust in the wind, scattering into nothingness.
"Master!"
Bellatrix, who had been struggling desperately, let out a mournful wail. Around her, only a dozen Death Eaters remained standing, their defeat merely a matter of time.
It was unclear whether she was grieving because she couldn't believe her invincible master had fled, or because she felt abandoned.
In any case, their fate was sealed.
Dumbledore gazed at the spot where Voldemort had disappeared, making no move to intervene in Crouch's battle. He Apparated to where the wand had shattered, still contemplating the spell from moments before.
"You've grown stronger again, Tom." The old man shook his head slightly, lamenting Voldemort's path. Such remarkable talent, yet not used for good, making himself despised by both heaven and man.
Flames flickered as Wayne appeared beside him, glancing around. "He's gone?"
"Gone. How did things go on your end?"
"The Basilisk has been found, but there's no trace of Hufflepuff's Cup. Voldemort has sealed away that portion of his memories." Wayne shook his head gently. "The moment I touched the seal, he found a way to drive me out."
"The applications of Dark Magic are truly varied."
Wayne also marvelled at this—when it came to unorthodox methods, Voldemort could truly be called a grandmaster.
"That's troublesome indeed." Dumbledore frowned. "He's already on guard. It won't be so easy next time."
"He can't sever this connection." Wayne was far more optimistic than Dumbledore. He glanced at the still-fighting Death Eaters and raised an eyebrow.
"Everyone, fall back."
Crouch retreated without hesitation and ordered his subordinates to follow.
Seizing this breathing space, the remaining Death Eaters attempted to flee. A pillar of starlight descended from the heavens, crystallising everyone except Bellatrix - including two who had already taken flight, preparing to Apparate.
"Restrain her. I'll have use for her later."
"Yes, sir." Crouch swallowed hard. These remaining Death Eaters were the most powerful among them - dozens of his people had fought for ages without subduing them, yet Wayne had resolved it with a single spell.
The despondent Bellatrix offered no resistance as two Aurors bound her.
"This isn't the place to talk. Let them clean up here."
After speaking, the fiery vortex glowed once more. Dumbledore didn't refuse, stepping into the passageway first.
Returning to Hogwarts, Dumbledore's eyes showed concern as he looked at the unconscious Harry.
"Will he be alright?"
"He's merely unconscious. He'll be fine after two or three days of rest." Wayne sat in what was once Dumbledore's seat, gesturing for him to sit opposite.
"Professor, Harry's condition is dreadful. That fragment of soul is beginning to merge with him. If this continues for a few more years, they may become indistinguishable."
Dumbledore's hand trembled slightly. Though he had long been mentally prepared, Wayne's blunt statement was still difficult for him to bear.
Revealing the full truth to Harry was something Dumbledore had only reluctantly agreed to after extensive discussions with Wayne.
Dumbledore felt Harry was too young to carry such a heavy burden, but Wayne believed that, regardless of age, the person involved had the right to know.
Even if they concealed it now, once all of Voldemort's Horcruxes were dealt with, he would still have to learn the truth eventually.
Now was the best opportunity to try and see if there was a way to separate the soul fragment.
"I currently have two methods to resolve this." Wayne held up two fingers, and Dumbledore looked at him with hopeful eyes.
"First, create a Horcrux."
Dumbledore's expression shifted slightly, but Wayne continued, "When it comes to tearing the soul, no magic is more suitable than a Horcrux.
"Once the Horcrux is destroyed, everything will be settled.
"Setting aside the evil process of creating a Horcrux, I don't wish for this magic to reappear in the world," Dumbledore said gravely. "Can you guarantee that the split portion of the soul will be the one carrying Voldemort's soul fragment?"
"Most likely." Wayne had anticipated this question. "Voldemort's soul fragment is highly active and inherently unstable, so there's a good chance it will succeed on the first attempt."
Dumbledore felt a chill just listening to this.
And if it doesn't succeed the first time, are you planning to have Harry try a second or third time?
"What about the second method?" Dumbledore skipped over this approach entirely.
"That is to have Voldemort 'kill' Harry," Wayne said.
"I've considered that as well," Dumbledore raised his head. "Before you arrived, Voldemort's Killing Curse evolved further. He has nearly mastered death. With his magical power and skill, he would need to use the Killing Curse at its weakest intensity to attack Harry, but how is that possible?"
"Simple." Wayne slowly opened his palm. "I'll beat him to within an inch of his life, and when he's on his last breath, have him use the Killing Curse."
"Can you do it?" Dumbledore stared intently at the young man.
Wayne smiled faintly. "Easily."