Bristol. The village of Pilton.
The countryside at night was always quiet. Peaceful. Serene.
Crickets whispered in the grass. Trees stood tall in slumber. The stars, unbothered by time, blinked gently in the darkened heavens. All was still.
Then suddenly, a firework burst across the sky.
It wasn't the noisy kind children smuggled into wizarding villages on mischief-filled nights. This one was elegant, almost reverent in the way it unfolded - like a flower blossoming in a dream, a single spark of color tearing through the night and blooming with such breathtaking beauty that even the shadows seemed to pause and admire it.
The silence shattered with a soft gasp from the aurors on the ground.
Mad-Eye Moody stiffened immediately. So did the rest of the Ministry's elite enforcement squad. Their boots stopped crunching on the dirt path. Wands tightened in their fists. No one moved.
Not until they understood what had just happened.
But then, another firework exploded above them.
Then another.
And another.
"Boom. Boom. Boom!"
The sky transformed in a matter of seconds, erupting into a jubilant display of light and sound. Each explosion gave birth to a different shape, a different hue. Crimson like wildfire. Golden like goblin coins. Emerald like new leaves. Azure like a calm sea. The colors danced together, swirling and cascading like an enchanted waterfall in the sky.
The dark canvas of night was replaced by a living tapestry of color, alive with rhythm and joy. Fireworks painted daisy-like bursts that spun in layers, then fell apart into glittering stars, vanishing just as quickly as they appeared—only to be replaced by more.
Even the Death Eaters, crouched in the shadows, couldn't help but look up. They'd come here for battle, for blood. But in this moment, they stood beneath the sky like schoolchildren on holiday, mesmerized.
For just a fleeting breath of time, no one remembered the wand clutched in their hand, nor the enemy nearby. The only thing that mattered was this impossible, fleeting beauty.
Lucius Malfoy's pale face turned upward. He said nothing, but in his eyes, something softened.
For a heartbeat, he saw his family again - his parents, his siblings, even Narcissa and little Draco - gathered in the manor garden beneath a gentle moon. They were laughing.
But it wasn't just Lucius.
Not far from him, Bellatrix Lestrange stared upward, her wand lowered. No one knew what memory surfaced in her mind. But on her usually sharp, venomous face was something pure. Something… happy.
She smiled.
And her eyes, always wild and hungry, looked for once almost gentle.
The fireworks went on, burning brighter than ever. They filled the countryside with color, with music, with something no spell could replicate - hope.
Except for one.
Voldemort.
He alone did not look up. Not in wonder. Not in awe. He knew something was wrong.
He'd felt it the moment his curse failed. This wasn't ordinary magic. It was as if the very rules of the world had shifted.
A domain spell? No, larger. More intricate. Something was twisting the framework of the field. Every curse he cast vanished before reaching its mark. Apparition was impossible. Flight, too. The air itself resisted his will.
He snarled.
Trapped.
"Ha... ha ha ha... Boooones!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the fields, madness thick in his laugh.
Amelia Bones. Not Dumbledore. Not Swinburne. Not even that boy with the phoenix feather wand.
No. It was her. A Ministry official with a sharp eye and tighter regulations. It was she who'd undone him.
And now she would be praised for it.
From a nearby rise, Dumbledore observed calmly. The elder wizard's face twitched with amusement when Voldemort hissed the name "Bones" as if it burned his tongue.
"Another one getting ready for retirement," Dumbledore muttered with a bright-eyed smile.
It wasn't just a joke. After tonight, with the upcoming release of the new magical projector technology and the footage it had captured, Amelia's name would be on everyone's lips.
Already the most respected woman in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she was poised to become a legend. And Cornelius Fudge? Well, he might as well begin writing his farewell speech. When the tree falls, all its rotting roots come tumbling out too.
Yes, the tides were turning.
But truthfully, this had all been set into motion a long time ago.
If Voldemort had not murdered Amelia's brothers, if he hadn't destroyed her family… perhaps none of this would have happened. Hatred is like a seed. It waits. It grows.
Just like the moment when Ino raised his umbrella.
That, too, sealed a fate.
A slender beam of colored light burst from the tip of the umbrella, arcing gently through the sky - not fast, not violent. Graceful.
Unlike normal spells that vanished on contact, this one left behind a shimmering trail, like a ribbon of light weaving through the air.
A rainbow bridge, delicate and shimmering.
And then it struck.
The beam hit Voldemort square in the chest.
He froze.
Not staggered. Not blasted back. Simply… stilled. As if a statue spell had been cast upon his very soul.
And above, in the sky, one final firework erupted.
It was the largest yet. A massive shield formed in the sky, its borders glowing with golden magic. At its center were four beasts—the red lion, the blue eagle, the yellow badger, and the green serpent.
The crest of Hogwarts.
Below it, glowing words unfurled in bold, shimmering script.
Do Not Wake the Sleeping Dragon.
Voldemort vanished.
Not with a scream. Not in a duel. Not with a curse.
He dissolved into light, into smoke, into color.
He became a firework.
Gone.
The spell's creator, Ino, raised his head and smiled gently.
He had remembered something. A promise, perhaps.
Above his, the Hogwarts crest firework swelled larger and larger until it burst into a thousand tiny stars, each one a streak of color raining gently down.
The meteors changed as they fell.
Not into sparks.
But into sweets.
Real, edible, magical sweets.
Sherbet lemons. Exploding bonbons. Jelly slugs. Sugar quills. Fizzing Whizbees. Bubbly Bumbles. Even a few Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans that had a suspiciously brownish hue.
"Professor," Ino turned to Dumbledore with a cheeky grin. "Happy Halloween. Trick or treat!"
He paused.
"Sorry I didn't conjure a pile of cockroaches. Falling bugs might have ruined the mood."
Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling.
"This is more than enough. Truly."
Whether he meant the sweets or the end of a dark chapter, he did not say.
Meanwhile, the aurors brought by Amelia were struggling with a rather different kind of chaos.
All across the fields, magical furniture had come alive - shouting teacups, wailing armchairs, scampering lamps - and all the while, candy continued to rain from the sky.
"If the Muggles see any of this, it'll be a nightmare," someone muttered.
"Forget the chairs!" Moody barked, rubbing his temple. "Round up the debris first. We don't want this ending up in some Muggle documentary."
Still, his gruff voice wavered.
The furniture was enchanted, yes. But the voices were strange - young, frightened. Pleading for their mums.
Moody wasn't a soft man, but even he wasn't made of stone.
He waited until the others had gone.
Then quietly, he bent down.
And gathered the smallest teacup in his hand.
October 31st, 1996.
As the clock neared eleven, the Halloween Feast at Hogwarts finally came to an end.
Students reluctantly shuffled out of the Great Hall, chattering and laughing. Many were still high on butterbeer and the sugar from pumpkin pasties.
They knew tomorrow was a holiday. No classes. No homework.
Just sleep.
Then, just as the last students were filing out, a strange, distant sound echoed through the hall.
"Peeeeew~"
A soft, musical whistle. Otherworldly.
Suddenly, the enchanted ceiling shimmered.
And it rained.
Candy.
Hundreds of magical sweets tumbled down from the ceiling like confetti. Students froze. No one quite believed it.
Then chaos.
Screams of joy. Laughter. Robes turned into makeshift candy baskets. Gryffindors dove under the tables. Hufflepuffs formed teams. Slytherins tried to levitate whole piles. Ravenclaws debated whether it was real or just a trick.
No one noticed two extra figures sitting in the hall.
Dumbledore, calmly back in his seat at the High Table.
And Ino, seated with the Slytherins, watching the chaos unfold.
With Voldemort gone, Ino finally had something he hadn't known in years.
Freedom.
The story of Voldemort had finally come to an end.
And at last, Ino could begin his own.