On the other side of the lake, Harry and Dumbledore sat in the small boat.
It wasn't long before they reached the island at the center. The island had originally been about the size of Dumbledore's office—a flat, artificially leveled slab of black stone, empty except for the source of that eerie green glow.
Now, though, it was easily half the size of the Great Hall.
This was the appointed battlefield.
Harry glanced at the stone basin that stood abruptly in the middle of the open space. It was the same glistening emerald-green as the first time he'd seen it, glowing just as before. Only last time he had been crouched on a pillar near the exit while Inferi clawed at the stone beneath his feet. He was absolutely certain Dumbledore had studied the potion in that basin closely; after all, Dumbledore had removed the fake locket himself and personally returned it to Sirius, which was how Sirius had ended up reading Regulus's note to Voldemort aloud at the funeral. Afterward, Sirius had "gifted" the locket to Kreacher and kept the note.
What on earth was that potion for? It couldn't actually be poison, could it? Harry thought of the silvery-white substance in the Pensieve in Dumbledore's office…
At that moment, Dumbledore reached into his robe pocket and drew out a wand.
"Take this, Harry."
Harry accepted it with faint surprise, quickly noting the little bumps along its length—like tiny buds—and recognizing it instantly as Dumbledore's own wand. He opened his mouth to ask, but before he could speak, Dumbledore produced a second wand, as though performing a conjuring trick.
Dumbledore winked at him.
"Professor Dumbledore, this—this—"
"It's for you," Dumbledore said calmly. "You remember what I told you? Your wand and Voldemort's share a twin core from the same phoenix. They cannot fight each other properly."
"But—" Harry began urgently; they were moments away from the final duel, and Dumbledore suddenly abandoning the wand he'd used for decades was bound to cause problems—"I can use someonevoting someone else's wand—Ron's, Hermione's, or your spare one." He deliberately didn't mention Hodge; of the three of them, only Hodge could Apparate, and though the chances were slim, they still needed him to destroy the last remaining Horcrux.
Dumbledore smiled and lifted the wand in his hand, gazing at it with a wistful look in his deep blue eyes.
"A spare wand? No. This is my original wand."
"Your original wand?" Harry echoed in astonishment, looking down at the one in his own hand. "Then this one—"
"I won it in a duel," Dumbledore said softly. "Do you remember me telling you about a boy I once believed in completely… until our paths diverged forever?"
Harry's heart lurched. Of all the stories he'd heard lately, that one had left the deepest mark.
"Grindelwald! The Elder Wand!" The words burst out of him, and he immediately tried to shove the wand back into Dumbledore's hands. "Professor, this is the Elder Wand—you can't lose with it—"
His voice faltered and grew quieter.
"You've realized the same thing I did, Harry," Dumbledore said. "If the Elder Wand truly made its master invincible, how did I come to possess it? Keep it, Harry. It does amplify a wizard's power considerably. Otherwise I would have to destroy it."
The words seemed to work. The wand in Harry's hand gave a slight tremor. He looked at Dumbledore, who nodded once. Harry poured his magic into the Elder Wand.
"This is—" Harry breathed, incredulous. An immense surge of power thrummed between the wand and his body. Suddenly he felt capable of casting spells as powerful as Hodge's… He was seized with the urge to try it right then and there.
"Don't let its power master you, Harry," Dumbledore warned gravely. "The Elder Wand's gifts are not limitless."
Harry came back to himself at once. Right—even Grindelwald had lost.
He looked at Dumbledore gratefully, only to see the smile vanish from the old man's face. Dumbledore's gaze had fixed on something in the distance. Harry followed it at once, squinting. In the darkness he could just make out a figure that seemed almost one with the shadows.
Voldemort.
Harry tightened his grip on the Elder Wand.
"Dumbledore! So it was you after all!" Voldemort's furious roar boomed out, amplified a thousandfold, making the entire cavern quake.
"Tom," Dumbledore replied calmly. "It has been a while."
Harry nearly gasped aloud—he thought he must be seeing things—because Voldemort rose into the air, floating like a black kite on an invisible string, drifting weightlessly across the vast lake until he touched down lightly on the smooth black stone.
Voldemort flicked a contemptuous glance at Harry, then turned to Dumbledore. The moment he did, rage flared in his red eyes. He was staring at the Horcrux ring on Dumbledore's finger. He had sensed its presence the instant he arrived at the entrance, clinging to a shred of hope…
"You old fool," he snarled through clenched teeth. "You found out."
"Do you mean the Horcruxes, or the secrets of the Gaunt family?" Dumbledore asked, raising the hand that wore the ring. "Tom, I made mistakes. The first time you went astray, I should have guided you firmly instead of merely frightening you with magic. That only pushed you further away."
"Don't flatter yourself, Dumbledore. You think you can control me?" Voldemort spat. The lake exploded upward in a shining spray as the little boat rocked violently. "Give me back my Horcrux, old man, or you die!"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Tom, there are things far worse than death."
"Nothing is worse than death, Dumbledore! And I have conquered death!" Voldemort roared. His wand spat a jet of green light. Harry felt death rushing toward him—then Dumbledore flicked his own wand almost lazily. A stone pillar shot up from the ground and took the curse full in the chest, shattering into fragments.
Harry threw himself aside to avoid the flying chunks of rock. The next thing he heard was Voldemort's twisted, venomous voice screaming, "Dumbledore!"
He looked up. Flames were erupting from the broken pillar. A huge crimson bird burst from the fire—Fawkes—crying triumphantly. In one golden talon he clutched something black.
A Horcrux?
Suddenly the phoenix was wreathed in brilliant, multicolored flames; the searing heat turned the icy cavern blisteringly hot.
Voldemort went berserk. He hurled curse after curse—not at Dumbledore, but at the phoenix soaring overhead. Dumbledore blocked every one. Seconds later, thick black smoke poured from Fawkes's claw. Harry thought he heard a distant, agonized scream. The fragment of soul inside Marvolo Gaunt's ring had been destroyed.
Fawkes flew straight to Harry and dropped the blackened ring at his feet. Harry's eyes flashed with understanding. Remembering Dumbledore's earlier words, he snatched the ring from the ground and slipped it onto his own finger. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward onto the battlefield.
At that exact moment, the forces that had been waiting on all sides sprang into action.
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