Final combat

Dumbledore! I was told you were dead. Spat Voldemort.

Once again, I fear I must disappoint you, the white mage replied calmly.

On the contrary, I would have been extremely unhappy if you had left before having the chance to witness my triumph and the destruction of everything you hold dear.

Dark-Harry opened his eyes, surprised to still be alive. He pinched himself to verify that he was still there. And regained his senses just quickly enough to see an intense shield of light made up of what seemed to be pure magic dissipate. Dumbledore had just saved his life at the risk of his own. But he didn't have time to let the guilt overwhelm him before an arm emerged from nowhere, pulled him back, and clamped a hand over his mouth to prevent him from screaming. He was then covered with the invisibility cloak and held tightly against his double, who gestured for him to be quiet before leading him away.

Is your pride so excessive that you think you can face us alone, old man, bellowed Voldemort.

The aurors are on their way, Tom, I won't be alone for long. Dumbledore replied calmly.

And when they arrive, you will be dead and I will triumph.

Voldemort then raised the Elder Wand and the trees of the clearing transformed into a cloud of spikes that rushed at full speed in Dumbledore's direction. He feigned surprise when skeletal hands emerged from the ground to grab him and prevent him from dodging the deadly attack. This trap might have worked if, despite his good intentions, Dumbledore had not been able to stop himself from devoting much of his attention to the black stone adorning the Dark Lord's index finger. Thus, when under the influence of the Resurrection Stone the dead returned to life with a nonchalant gesture, he transformed their bodies into a morbid barrier that protected him from the attack, while he subjected three Death Eaters to the Imperius Curse who had dared to try to bypass him in order to attack him from behind.

If Voldemort was disappointed by his failure, he showed nothing and launched a gigantic black lightning bolt that smashed through the skeleton barrier and would have hit Dumbledore if he had not suddenly turned with supernatural agility and in turn launched a red lightning bolt that struck Voldemort's. While Dumbledore's puppets fought their former ally to prevent them from disturbing their new master, Dumbledore and Voldemort engaged in a duel of pure power that Voldemort was sure to win thanks to the Elder Wand. It was therefore with astonishment that he saw Dumbledore suddenly gain the upper hand and had to urgently use a...Complicated invocation to transform the intense magic rushing towards him to devour him into a massive serpent of flame (but not quickly enough to prevent the dark magic from burning part of his arm). Mad with anger, he vowed to make the kid pay for lying to him by giving him a perfectly ordinary wand before sending the serpent to attack Dumbledore, who then summoned a gigantic Phoenix made of water. Under the astonished gaze of the Death Eaters who could only flee hastily to avoid being incinerated, the two creatures clashed violently, dispersing with each of their contacts violent waves of high-temperature steam and plasma that reduced even the strongest rocks to rubble and triggered an uncontrollable fire.

How did you overcome the protection offered by a mother's love? Dumbledore asked hastily, instructing his creature to veer to the left.

After all this time. No, after everything you've done, do you still believe in love? Voldemort corrected himself in the hope of reviving his opponent's wounds. That explains why you didn't bother to explain to that Muggle that her family had nothing to fear from me as long as she remained loyal to her nephew. Unless she didn't believe you. She might not be as stupid as I thought.

Dumbledore was for a few moments shocked by what he understood, and Voldemort took the opportunity to unsuccessfully try to overtake his creature on the right.

You old fool, you should never have bet on love. Especially the love of a Muggle. Their flobberworms are incapable of feeling complex emotions. Voldemort retorted, annoyed by his failure.

After all this time, you still haven't gotten over the inconveniences of your youth.

The inconveniences! THE INCONVENIENCES! Voldemort suddenly shouted, losing his temper.

The attacks of the dark mage intensified. Not only did the flame monster rush fiercely against its watery double as if trying to pass through it without concern for its own safety, but at the same time, Voldemort began to cast minor dark magic spells in Dumbledore's direction, who struggled to provide enough power to his monster to protect it from the heat of the flames while countering his attacks, weak as they might be. For the first time in the battle, he painfully felt the absence of the Elder Wand. Thus, he was only partially annoyed when, in total disobedience of the orders he had given him, he saw Harry Dursley emerge from nowhere to counter a spell he would never have been able to counter in time to avoid a nasty gash.

I thought I told you to stay hidden until the reinforcements arrived, the old man reproached him nevertheless.

And I thought you understood that you had to stop wanting to do everything by yourselves, replied the young insolent one.

It is precisely because I have learned to trust you that I intended to let you take up my torch.

Harry wanted to protest once more, but he had to focus on a duel that began with Nagini. Voldemort's snake was used to dodging the slow jets of light coming from the sticks of the two legs, so Harry Dursley could barely keep it at bay. And it wasn't his only concern.concerns. In the background of their respective battle, the fire was growing more and more to the point that he was starting to sweat profusely despite the powerful protection spells that Dumbledore and Voldemort had scattered around the place to avoid being swept away by the consequences of their confrontation. At least when the reinforcements that Dumbledore had requested by sending a Patronus before rushing to the rescue of Dark-Harry arrived, they wouldn't have to search for hours in the vast forest to find them. Speaking of Dark-Harry, he hoped it had been a good idea to leave him alone under the invisibility cloak. His double was even more adept than him at getting into trouble.

The fight seemed to drag on for a while, but in fact, only a minute or two passed before a small group of wizards dressed in tattered robes joined them. Harry first thought they were the long-awaited reinforcements, but as they approached, he noticed their heads were covered with the sinister white masks of the Death Eaters.

I believe you are right. We are going to die. Commented Harry Dursley with a serenity that surprised even himself.

But I was wrong about everything else. I understand that now. I hope your double will find the strength to forgive me.

Dumbledore then began an extremely complex wand movement and 3 immense white flashes filled the forest. It lasted only a few seconds, but the air was so charged with magic that it seemed to solidify and Harry had to stop breathing. He had to muster all his energy not to faint under the intense pressure he felt. Then everything stopped as abruptly as it had started. When he reopened his eyes, an unsettling calm reigned over the forest. Apart from the now distant sound of the fire, nothing disturbed the silence that had fallen over what was now an immense charred clearing where the flames had faded due to lack of oxygen.

Wow! exclaimed Harry Dursley.

However, he quickly recovered. Around him, the silhouettes of about twenty Death Eaters lying on the ground began to move. But they were not what worried him. He frantically searched around for where Voldemort had gone. When he found him instinctively, he let out a scream.

Noooooon!

A few meters away, there was now a crater where what had been the greatest white mage of all time was agonizing on the ground, his face ravaged by flames. Without thinking about his enemies or the many grudges he had accumulated against the old sorcerer, Harry rushed to his side and began to recite the healing routine in a desperate tone. When the director finally opened his eyes, a wave of hope overwhelmed him, which immediately shattered when he heard the muffled whisper that was now the old man's voice.

Humps. That's what happens when you rush headlong into a fight.

Do not die, I beg you.

Why? Despite the sorrows and pains, I have had a long and beautiful life. And thanks to you, I now know that if I fall, others will take my place.

No, I was wrong. Without you, we won't make it.

I had planned to betray him, you know. My unbreakable vow. If I waited until the morning to destroy the Horcruxes, it's because afterward, I thought I would have to go to the Weasleys to retrieve your protégé and use him to lure Voldemort into a trap from which neither would escape.

Then, after this revelation, he seemed to have a final flash of lucidity and declared in an alarmed tone:

In my pocket. Hook of basil. Use it on the stone. Quick!

Then he used his last reserves of energy to point to a pile of ash next to him from which a curious green light seemed to emanate, before suddenly going out. Definitely this time.

Without wasting a moment regretting the headmaster's death or questioning his conflicting feelings towards his mentor's double, Harry begins to search the many pockets of the headmaster's robe. Next to him, the green light had turned into a malevolent black aura.

Go faster. Fucking shit. He swore as he tossed yet another chocolate frog card and a box of lemon candy far away.

Why does he have so many pockets?

Then he stopped his hand just before getting stung when he finally came across a long, hard object. He then remarked that it was not very wise to search for a poisoned hook with bare hands. But all his scruples were swept away when the ashes flew up and began to take human form. Without any precaution, he tore the hook from Dumbledore's pocket and lunged at the ring now floating in the air at the center of the phenomenon and deeply embedded the hook into it.

Immediately, a terrifying cry of pain escaped from the ring, and the storm of dark magic transformed into a magical explosion that propelled Harry Dursley far away.

With difficulty, Harry got up and saw with satisfaction that the pile of ash had become inert again. He then sighed with relief and began to look for a way to find Dark-Harry, who had better have stayed hidden away from the fights under his invisibility cloak as he had asked him. However, he realized that his hope was in vain when a cry of pain, all too familiar to his ears, emerged from the void between him and the remains of the one whose name he no longer wanted to pronounce.

He then had to watch helplessly as a shadow emerged from the pile of ashes at the center of the crater that had been Voldemort. As soon as the shadow reached the source of the noise, the invisibility cloak slipped off and revealed his double who was screaming while holding his head as his scar glowed like a piece of metal heated to a red-hot.

Aaaah! Help, help me. Shouted Dark-Harry between screams.

Harry Dursley was paralyzed by fear and indecision. But the situation was all too familiar to him and the urgency far too pressing for him to continue hesitating.

Harry, forgive me. Pestis Incendium! Dark-Harry exclaimed in a pleading voice.

Immediately, a tongue of magical flame burst from his wand and engulfed Dark-Harry, whose screams intensified. Too absorbed by guilt, he did not notice that the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand now lay at the feet of the smoldering body that had been Dark-Harry, right next to the Invisibility Cloak. As a result, he did not even notice when, in its frantic search for new victims to satisfy its insatiable hunger, the Fiendfyre completely consumed the three Hallows.

Immediately, Harry Dursley collapsed to the ground as if drained of all energy. Even dragging himself on the ground to get away from the out-of-control fire demon required a superhuman effort of will. So it was with resignation and calm that he watched Lucius Malfoy, whose white mask had been split, approach him accompanied by ten other Death Eaters.

Avada Kedavra. Pronounced the cold, emotionless voice of the aristocrat.

The last thought that crossed the foggy mind of Harry Dursley was that the image of that green streak rushing towards him vaguely reminded him of something. Like an old childhood memory.

oOoOoOo

That evening, as he passed through the doors of his manor, Lucius Malfoy was jubilant. It was 4 a.m. and he hadn't slept for over 24 hours, yet even if he had wanted to sleep, he would have been unable to. In the distance, he saw the first rays of the sun beginning to rise over his vast estate. The first light of a new day for him and the wizarding world, which Lucius would use every minute of to take control.

Dobby, bring me a Jeroboam bottle of Château Mouton-Rothschild 1945.

To clearly mark his order, he accompanied it with a painful burning spell. But the elf, accustomed to mistreatment from his family, barely flinched.

Yes master.

Then the elf disappeared with a slight pop before reappearing with the precious bottle, which he hurriedly poured a glass from for his master, trembling slightly with fear.

Lucius watched him silently, then raised his glass, thinking that soon everyone would fear his name.

My beloved. Is it not too early for such epicurean pleasures? Narcissa whispered in his ear, who, worried about her husband, had immediately come to meet him still dressed in her dressing gown with gold-edged trimmings, when the manor's protections had alerted her to his return.

On the contrary, my sweet flower, the hour is indeed late, but there could not be better moments to savor this nectar. 1945, the beginning of an era as exceptional as it was execrable. An era that is now over. And I foresee that you will be the queen of the next one.

Lucius then excitedly explained the events of the previous day, and his wife soon caught his enthusiasm. To the point that he wondered what Narcissa really knew about the state of their finances. Lucius had made sure she knew nothing of their dire financial situation. Money matters did not concern the weaker sex, and he had not fallen low enough to need her help. Nevertheless, it was true that his wife was particularly intelligent, and she must have suspected they were in a delicate situation when a few days earlier, the bailiffs accompanied by Dumbledore had come knocking early in the morning at their door and found that cursed notebook surrounded by the darkest relics of the Malfoy house. The fines were so high that even by mortgaging the manor, he didn't know how he could have paid them. Of course, this wouldn't have been a problem if, over the years, he hadn't had to spend so much money outbidding the generous bribes Dumbledore offered to the most influential members of the Wizengamot. However, he could not bring himself to leave the leadership of the wizarding world to that Muggle-loving man.

And now Dumbledore was dead and his wife was soon going to inherit the combined fortunes of the Blacks, the Lestranges, and the Potters. Indeed, the family trees were clear. Thanks to the marriage of Charlus Potter and DoreaBlack, his wife was now the closest relative of the late Harry Potter. And as surreal as it might seem before he finished him off, the kid had repeated the feat of defeating his master. Even though he hadn't really understood what had happened in the Forbidden Forest that night, the disappearance of his Dark Mark told him the only thing he needed to know: he was free, and this time, it was final.

With the disappearance of his two monsters, Lucius just had to ensure that no one connected him to the events in Diagon Alley, and soon, he could take control of the wizarding world.

This is how, barely a few minutes after Gringotts opened, Diagon Alley was shaken by a cry of rage coming from the depths of the bank. Lucius had just learned that by virtue of a law he had written himself to claim part of the Prince's inheritance, his wife had no rights to the Potter's estate. At the time, he hadn't understood why Dumbledore had agreed to negotiate his approval of a law denying gender equality in matters of inheritance.

That kind of bastard. He really got me. Even after death, he can't help but ruin my life, that old lemon. To think I accepted the nomination of that loser Elphias Doge to the Wizengamot in exchange for his support. For all I know, it's that son of a bitch who suggested the idea of that damn law to me.

Lucius. Such vulgarity is unworthy of you. Narcissa Malfoy admonished.

But Lucius ignored him and shouted at the goblin:

Who!? Who is the heir in this case?

Before answering, the goblin slowly arranged the scattered papers on his desk and tried to compose a neutral expression before responding with a small smile:

Although this does not concern you in any way, by virtue of several decades of fruitful relationship, I exceptionally agree to reveal to you that if your information were to be confirmed regarding the regrettable disappearance of Mr. Potter, the legitimate heir to all his titles, estates, and properties would be: Mr. Arthur Weasley.

The legend says that his cry of rage was heard even at the other end of the country.

This is how peace returned to the wizarding world and the Weasleys suddenly became the greatest fortune in England. A fortune they generously distributed around them, allowing for the recreation of a strong associative network and media independent of the ministry. This is how, after the death of Cornelius Fudge, Percy ran for the position of Minister of Magic and was the first candidate to win the election without resorting to corruption or blackmail. However, every medal has its reverse, and he was forced by the strong social movement that had brought him to the height of power to use his mandate to bring the wizarding world into an era of freedom, equality, and progress. All those years of study and work to implement the reforms wanted by bumpkins who didn't even get 3 OWLs, it's vexing, it's as if he was their representative and not their leader.

Okay, I'll stop the populist diatribe and end the story with a traditional: they lived happily ever after and had many cisgender heterosexual children. Statistically, they also had a few homosexuals and one trans, but the wizarding world was not yet ready for May 68.

oOoOoOo

Author's note: Jeroboam of Château Mouton-Rothschild 1945 is a wine that truly exists and is one of the most expensive in the world. From what I have read on specialized sites, you can consume it in some luxury restaurants for the modest sum of $9,000 per glass.

Personally, I hate all forms of alcohol and the celebration of this drug makes me want to vomit. Alcohol is one of the worst drugs in the world. It is more addictive than cocaine, and its effects on health and behavior have almost no equivalent.

If you insist on using drugs, from my point of view, it is preferable to take up cannabis, cigarettes, or anxiolytics rather than alcohol. But let's be clear, drug use, in my eyes, is something to avoid. Unless you want to become the pawns of unscrupulous multinationals or mafias that knowingly sell this crap (I apologize to sex workers for this comparison, any sex slave trafficked from Eastern Europe by a human trafficking network has more autonomy and dignity than a person dependent on alcohol, cannabis, anxiolytics, or tobacco).

However, when by chance I heard about his bottles created specifically to celebrate the end of the Second World War, I thought it was a detail that I absolutely had to include in my story.

Author's Note 2: To be honest, I hesitated to stop there, but I promised myself to make a multiverse story and so far, we've only seen one alternate universe. And then the goal is also to have a happy ending for Harry and this one is even worse than the previous one. We don't have one dead Harry, but two. No matter how satisfying this conclusion is, I can't stop there.