"Final Selections, Final Shadows"
"I'll go. I want to get this over with so I can move on with my plans," said Sofie hurriedly, while the others simply nodded, used to her commanding energy.
Without hesitation, she turned to Harry with a sharp, serious look.
"You've been here since our father arrived, so I'll ask you something important. Did you see anything… going on between him and that girl named Fleur?"
The others simultaneously put a hand to their foreheads, in such perfect sync it looked rehearsed.
"Uh..." Harry blinked, clearly confused by the question's direction, but he answered anyway.
"I'm not sure if anything happened, but… there were rumors at the beginning. They went to the Yule Ball together. And then he saved her during both the Black Lake trial and the maze."
"I see… Hehehe. Well done," Sofie said with a mischievous glint in her eyes before running off without another word.
"Was that an approval or a rejection?" Lars asked, turning to Blaise with a puzzled frown.
"For now, you're on the waiting list," Blaise replied, crossing his arms proudly. "Alright, Avento, your turn."
Avento let out a soft sigh and stepped forward, his expression serious—almost solemn.
"Honestly, I don't have anything specific to ask. So I'll ask you something simple: what does my father mean to you?"
Harry hesitated, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Well… When I met him, I thought he might be like an older friend. But to be honest, even though we're not far apart in age, he's more like the father figure I never had. Everything he does is to protect our futures, even if it gets him into trouble. He's young, but he acts wiser than all the professors combined. And… there's no one I respect more right now than him."
Avento nodded silently at those words. Then he smiled softly.
"Alright. You pass."
"That was too easy," Lars muttered with a teasing tone.
Avento just shrugged. He didn't care to justify it.
"My turn," said Lars with a wide grin. "Tell me an epic, exciting, interesting story. If it's not good enough, I'll reject you without mercy."
"A story of mine?" Harry paused for a few seconds to think.
"Well… In my first year, when I was twelve, I fought a teacher who was being possessed by a dark wizard trying to steal a stone to become immortal. In the end, he turned to ashes just from touching me.
In second year, there was a creature petrifying students. It turned out to be a basilisk, a giant snake that could kill you with its gaze. I entered the Chamber of Secrets without even knowing how to use a sword, but I used a legendary one from one of the founders to kill it. I was poisoned but healed by phoenix tears.
In third year… my godfather escaped from prison. Everyone thought he had betrayed my parents, but it turned out the real traitor was my roommate's pet rat. On top of that, we were attacked by a werewolf and surrounded by Dementors. I had to travel back in time with a time-turner and save myself using a Patronus Charm.
In fourth year… well, your father arrived at Hogwarts and started training us. But someone entered my name into a deadly tournament. I had to fight a dragon, swim through the Black Lake to rescue someone, and go through a maze full of traps. In the end, I was transported to a graveyard where I fought the dark wizard who killed my parents… until Master Einar, in dragon form, fell from the sky and destroyed half the graveyard."
For a moment, there was complete silence.
Lars stared at him… then opened his mouth in exaggerated surprise.
"That's… cool," he said, pointing at Harry and giving him a thumbs-up. "You pass."
"Bah, it's not that impressive. We've faced stuff just as dangerous, remember?" Blaise said, trying to downplay it.
"Yeah, but look at him. All scrawny. And he said he only started training after the Master showed up," Lars replied, clicking his tongue.
"Alright, Sissel, your turn," said Blaise, cutting the conversation short.
"Where's the kitchen? And is there a way to get more delicious food?" Sissel asked with genuine curiosity.
"Just call Dobby, he'll help you," Harry replied. And as if his name had been a summoning spell…
Pop!
The elf appeared in the middle of the room with a huge smile.
"Did Master Harry Potter call Dobby?"
"Oh, hey Dobby. She wants to know where the kitchen is," Harry said, pointing to Sissel.
"Ohh, Dobby will take her! Normally house-elves don't answer to students, but since classes are over and everyone's an invited guest, the elves are delighted to serve."
With that, Dobby and Sissel vanished in the blink of an eye—though not before she gave Harry a thumbs-up, just like Lars had.
"Alright. My turn," announced Alesan with a serious look.
"You said you were in the Black Lake. Tell me, what interesting creatures are there to fish? And are they tasty?"
"Uhh… not sure about tasty, but there are grindylows, mermaids… and a giant squid. Sometimes it shows one of its massive tentacles."
"Giant squid?" Alesan lit up with excitement.
"Approved!" he shouted, grabbing his fishing rod and running off like nothing else mattered in the world.
"This is so stupid," Samuel said with a yawn. "Just give him my vote." And he walked away without another word.
"Hey! Wait!" Blaise called out. "Hroar and I are still left!" He drew his sword with a carnivorous smile.
"Not interested. I'm going to hunt the giant hiding in the forest," said Hroar as he left without hesitation.
"Tch… then I'm the last one," Blaise muttered.
"You'll have to defeat me if you want to be accepted."
"Actually, that won't be necessary. He already has the majority vote," Avento said, stepping forward just in time. Then he turned to Harry.
"Hey, you. You know that spell called Expecto Patronum? Can you explain how it works?"
And without waiting for a reply, he pulled Harry away with him. Lucia, who had been silently petting Viir throughout the scene, stood up and followed them without a word.
"Hey, traitors! Come back!" Blaise shouted, clearly annoyed.
"Tsk…" He huffed and lowered his sword when he realized no one was paying attention.
"Well… maybe I went a bit overboard."
…
Meanwhile, on an old street shrouded in thick fog and a silence that chilled to the bone, rows of blackened houses stood like specters over a damp, swampy ground. The walls were cracked, the windows shattered, and rot seeped into every corner.
It wasn't a neighborhood… it was a graveyard of homes.
The Order of the Phoenix arrived swiftly, but the moment their feet touched the ground, the truth became impossible to ignore.
There was no one.
No signs of a fight.
Only blood.
And one house, completely destroyed, collapsed inward as if an invisible claw had torn it from its foundations.
"We're too late…" growled Moody, slamming his staff into the ground with restrained fury. The echo rattled against the empty walls.
"So… what do we do now?" Sirius asked, his brow furrowed, eyes scanning the area sharply.
"The only one who might know how many there really are… is that man: Horace Slughorn," Moody said, his voice deeper than ever.
"We need to find him. And confirm if this really is… the final piece. Only then can we prepare for the last battle."
The others understood without him needing to explain further.
The Death Eaters were moving.
Their master… was about to return.
And if there was still one Horcrux left, Voldemort would come for it first. Only then would the real attack begin.
But if Einar got there first—if they destroyed that last fragment—then there would be no war.
Only a swift execution.
A definitive victory.
"We should've done this a long time ago," said Sirius, clenching his jaw and shaking his head. "Slughorn was our professor, yeah. But if he has that information… we can't ignore him any longer."
"If we need to use Veritaserum, so be it," Moody added without hesitation. "This is bigger than his reputation. Bigger than his fear. As long as we don't endanger his life, we'll honor the respect Dumbledore asked for his old friend…"
Moody raised one hand. The signal was clear.
In a breath, they vanished—dispersing into the fog like shadows born for war.
…..
At the same time, in a forgotten corner of the world, hidden by cursed woods and powerful dissuasion wards, stood an ancient mansion of dark stone. The trees surrounding it seemed to bend toward it, as if they worshipped it… or feared it.
Inside, a cauldron of green fire crashed to the floor, spilling its steaming contents. The room trembled.
And from the shadows, a figure emerged, dragging itself forward.
Voldemort.
But this was not the same as his first resurrection.
This time, he was wounded.
Fragmented.
His soul shattered.
Every movement was an agonizing effort, every step a silent scream.
Beside him stood a figure with arms crossed. The man with the scars. A mocking grin still played across his face, though it quickly softened into something almost friendly when Voldemort turned his way.
"Looks like things didn't go so well," he said in a calm, almost amused voice.
"I need… to recover… my other fragment," Voldemort rasped, his voice like rusted metal. He staggered and turned fully around.
All around them, the corpses strewn across the floor began to move.
Empty eyes opened.
Trembling arms rose.
Zombies. Hundreds.
A mass of reanimated flesh that had waited centuries for a command. And now, their master spoke.
"Well done… truly magnificent… I'm proud of you," Voldemort said with a malicious grin, though his face looked more like a ghost's than a man's.
"Gather everything you can. We're going to Hogwarts. The last thing that belongs to me… is there."
"Of course," replied the scarred man, as calm as ever. Then he let out a high-pitched laugh.
"Finally… a war. I was starting to get bored…"
The fire in the cauldron died out.
And with it, the world's last moment of peace.
Because all the pieces were in place.
All the players were ready.
And the board…
Was set for the final battle.