Voldemort was bound by a thick green chain, the other end of which was attached to a swaying little boat.
He was utterly furious—Dumbledore had actually turned his own invented magic boat against him.
Originally, that boat had only one function: if too much magic power was poured into it, it would sink. But under Dumbledore's spell, Voldemort felt every drop of magic inside his body being sealed away.
"Dumbledore, you'll never finish me!"
Voldemort thrashed with all his might. Even Hodge, Ron, and Hermione—who were hiding in the secret chamber—could feel the freezing, bone-chilling aura that could petrify a man. Ron's teeth chattered uncontrollably as he pointed with a trembling hand toward the location of the diadem, but Hodge shook his head. A Horcrux might grant Voldemort immortality, yet when it fell into enemy hands, it became the one thing that controlled the entire rhythm of the battle.
Under the watchful eyes of Hodge, Ron, Hermione, and Mad-Eye Moody (who was observing the fight through his magical eye), Voldemort finally broke free. He wrapped himself in a writhing black poisonous mist. The curses Harry fired experimentally vanished the moment they touched the fog, swallowed whole. Then, with a sharp whoosh, the green chain shot out of the mist like a spear, streaking straight toward Harry.
Dumbledore had clearly been waiting for it. With a casual flick of his wand, a ribbon of water shoved Harry aside and coiled around the copper-colored chain. More streams of water rose from the lake on both sides, yanking the chain backward. The black mist ruptured like a torn sack, revealing a rather disheveled Voldemort.
Suddenly, his figure flickered. Harry thought he was about to spew poison again, but Voldemort simply… vanished, as though someone were slowly erasing an ink stain from parchment.
Apparition? Impossible. Harry knew the spell well—he'd even managed it once by sheer luck—but the cave was protected by an Anti-Apparition Jinx. Voldemort couldn't possibly manage anything like it… unless he was a house-elf.
"Careful, Harry!" For the first time, Dumbledore's voice carried real alarm.
Bzzz—Harry's fingers jerked. From the corner of his eye he sensed a surge of terrifying magic. Time seemed to slow. He gripped the Elder Wand tightly, fighting the urge to let it strike back on its own. Green light blazed inches from his face. Part of him thought he might still have time to cast a shield, but in the end Harry did nothing—and he stopped the Elder Wand from doing anything either.
The green flash struck.
Harry's expression froze. There was no pain. The strength drained from his body in an instant; consciousness began peeling away. Yet there was still a sliver of time left, enough to feel the Elder Wand's restless fury. He wasn't sure if the sensation was mental or physical. Then, out of nowhere, something appeared in his "vision"—the Resurrection Stone on his finger.
He heard faint noises, so soft they should have been inaudible—the battlefield seemed cut off from him. Two figures stood there, not quite ghosts, not quite living, more like the dragon Boggart Hodge had once conjured from memory and magic, though these two were entirely different creatures.
A man and a woman smiled at him with infinite tenderness. In that moment, Harry understood everything.
"You've been so brave."
Lily tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear and stepped closer, her green eyes—Harry's eyes—drinking in his face as though she could never get enough. Beside her stood James, hair as hopelessly messy as ever, glasses slightly askew.
"Does it hurt?" Lily asked softly.
Harry shook his head. His eyes suddenly stung; he blinked hard so his parents wouldn't notice.
"Harry, you've been braver and better than your mum and I ever dared hope," James said. "We're so proud of you."
"Where are we?" Harry asked, wiping his eyes.
Everything around them was pure white. He wondered if this was the afterlife. He'd once attended Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party—an experience that had left both heart and stomach cold, gloomy, and utterly flavorless. Still, he'd overheard plenty of ghost gossip that night, including the rumor that ghosts might one day pass on to a place of true peace. The idea had always intrigued him.
"You're still on the battlefield," James answered. "This is your world."
As he spoke, the mist parted. Harry's vision cleared instantly, and the sounds of battle reached his ears, muffled as if through glass. He could see everything: his own body lying on the ground—thankfully not twisted in some grotesque death pose, but strangely peaceful, one hand still clutching the Elder Wand, the other wearing the Resurrection Stone ring.
Across from him, Voldemort appeared to be losing. He was trapped inside an enormous sphere of water, unable to break free. He had faltered for a few seconds earlier—killing a piece of one's own soul was never pleasant, but with the other Horcruxes still intact, it wasn't fatal.
Voldemort thrashed like an insect encased in amber, yet remained firmly imprisoned in his watery cage.
Then came an almost comical moment: Voldemort suddenly staggered forward, doubling over as though he'd tripped over something invisible. Harry realized at once—Hodge had made his move.
As the thought crossed his mind, he faintly heard Ron and Hermione's voices. The scene shifted; he was now inside the hidden chamber. Ron was holding Hermione back, stopping her from running out.
"Harry's coming back—he's coming back!" Ron shouted.
Harry looked toward Hodge. A mass of terrifying black fire slowly died away, and from its dying flames fell a twisted, blackened diadem. At that exact moment Hodge looked up—and straight at Harry.
"Don't forget… our promise, Harry. Remember to come back," Hodge murmured.
"They're your friends?" Lily asked softly, instantly accepting the presence of other children on the battlefield.
Harry nodded.
"What promise?" James asked, curious.
Harry suddenly felt a wave of speechless exasperation. What promise? Obviously the one about going to the Ministry of Magic together after everything and reshaping the future of the wizarding world… Yet somehow, the thought actually filled him with anticipation.
"Come to think of it, Sirius and I had a promise too—something about after the war…" James mused.
Lily rolled her eyes.
"It's time for you to go," she said reluctantly. She and James stood side by side, arms linked.
Harry started forward. "But—you—I—where are you going?"
"Where we're supposed to go," James replied. He tried to smooth his unruly hair and gave up with a sheepish grin. "You know we're only shadows from your memory."
He gave Harry a firm push. Harry tumbled backward and downward, the sensation of falling overwhelming. The last thing he saw was his parents waving goodbye.
Abruptly, he woke.
His face and clothes were soaked, as if a brief rain had fallen inside the cave. He struggled to his feet.
Thump.
A body hit the ground. Its head lolled toward Harry, revealing Voldemort's face—frozen in terror and ferocity, filled with despair and refusal to accept defeat in his final moment.