The beginning of the end

For about an hour, Harry and Dumbledore had been walking side by side in the dark forest bordering the Riddle Manor, each entrenched in their thoughts to avoid having to express what they really thought.

For the youngest, it was the hope of putting an end to all this and finally being able to resume a normal life. To see his family again, no longer live in constant fear, and lead a well-ordered and peaceful life. The only adventure he truly aspired to was taking over the management of his adoptive parents' drill factory and taking care of them so that wherever he was, his brother at heart would forgive him for stealing his life.

The thoughts of the eldest were terribly darker. For the greater good, he would soon have to kill an innocent. Another one! He knew he should have remained vigilant, but half of his mind was dedicated to finding a way to avoid this outcome and the other half to finding the strength to do what was necessary rather than what was right.

In order to make things easier for himself, he had spent a large part of the evening trying to hate the child. Listing all his faults and mistakes. He was selfish, cowardly, sarcastic, a fan of dark magic, and above all, very different from what he had expected (Dumbledore did not like being wrong). But thanks to him, a hope he had never considered was about to happen: The greatest dark wizard of all time was going to be destroyed without the slightest bloodshed. And the only reward he desired in return was the right to a normal life. However, the only thing he could offer him was a quick death.

They finally came into view of the cabin. Automatically, the kid got behind him, his wand clenched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles turned white. But it was necessary to keep his wand from slipping away, he was trembling so much. He was terrified, ready to abandon him at the slightest danger and did not try to hide it.

This behavior should have exasperated the former Gryffindor that he was. But despite all his efforts, he could not deny that what he had before his eyes was a frightened child who had already sacrificed far too much for the greater good. For yes, he was above all a child. Not one of those fearless and faultless heroes that abound in literature. How could he blame him for being cowardly and selfish? By comparison, he himself had shown far less courage and altruism at the same age.

While continuing the thread of his thoughts, he began to move forward and naturally, the child followed him. No doubt motivated by the desire to finally be done with it and not remain alone in this place so laden with dark magic that it was almost palpable.

His thoughts turned to his youth and inevitably to the greatest mistake of his life: Gellert. During that summer, the handsome stranger had been his world. For him and his grand plans, he was ready to sacrifice everything, including his responsibilities. But it was Ariana who had paid the price. At the memory of his younger sister, a wave of sadness gripped him. Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed that he had entered the dilapidated cabin without encountering the slightest obstacle. With a single glance, he saw that the tiny dwelling did notcontained nothing interesting. Yet they were in the right place. The hand that his young acolyte brought to his scar confirmed it to him.

He began to chant spells, each more complicated than the last, in order to discover the location of the Horcrux. Without understanding why, in the middle of his litany, the thought of Ariana imposed itself on him again. He tried to push it away and focus on his task, but he kept seeing her accusatory face. After a while, he felt such guilt that he stopped mid-incantation, Albus could no longer remember what came next.

It was then that he saw it, there in the middle of the room, simply placed on the only piece of furniture still standing in the house: the Gaunt ring, set with the object of all his fantasies since his encounter with Gellert. How could the Resurrection Stone be here? How had he not noticed it earlier? He should have asked himself these questions, but the only thing that came to his mind was an irresistible need to put on the ring. He was obsessed with the desire to end more than a century of guilt by bringing back his first victim and finally obtaining forgiveness.

As quickly as his old body allowed, he moved towards the ring. His hand was only a few centimeters away. A doubt arose in him, but he quickly dismissed it.

He then felt a terrible pain and an explosion of dark magic of unprecedented violence made him stagger and he fell to one knee. In front of him, young Harry had taken advantage of his few seconds of doubt to put on the ring. He was screaming in pain as if to tear his vocal cords. After long and intense seconds (which Dumbledore used to regain his senses), the screams turned into an evil laugh and the chosen one's eyes turned red:

Ha ha ha! Finally, I'm back.

Voldemort raised his wand and cast a spell in his direction. Still too weakened to attack or dodge, Dumbledore reflexively summoned a silver shield capable of withstanding the most powerful spells. Alas, to his great displeasure, it was a simple Wingardium Leviosa that came his way.

He had invented this shield spell himself and had never disclosed its secret to anyone. It allowed him to counter all of Voldemort's spells, including the Avada Kedavra, at the cost of a great expenditure of energy. If he kept such a secret and only used it against Voldemort, it was because, in addition to the magical power it required, this spell had a huge weakness: it was completely ineffective against white magic. Usually, Tom's love for dark magic and his disdain for weak spells rendered this weakness unimportant. But today it caused his downfall.

His wand, struck directly, slipped from his hands and landed in Voldemort's hand. But the moment the wand touched his fingers, another flash of magic set the room ablaze. The stone, the wand, and the invisibility cloak (which was in Harry's pocket) began to glow with a supernatural color that evoked death. Voldemort panicked at this phenomenon and abandoned his old enemy, who took the opportunity to call his phoenix and flee the scene.

The last thing Dumbledore saw was a rat coming out of the invisibility cloak and transforming into Peter Pettigrew.