The Killing Curse hit the fire and disappeared — swallowed like it had never existed.
Marvolo stared.
Dumbledore stepped through the flame. Eyes glowing. Wand steady.
"This ends now."
"You can't stop the bloodline," Marvolo snarled.
"No," Dumbledore said quietly.
"But I can stop you."
He flicked his wand once.
Chains of pure light burst from the sky, wrapped around Marvolo's limbs, his chest, his throat — glowing, humming, final.
The last Gaunt fell to his knees.
The wind stopped.
And the castle — after everything — finally sighed.
Flames smoldered at the edges of the courtyard. The last spell had been cast.
Marvolo was chained. Defeated.
Dumbledore stood still, wand lowered, robes torn, silver eyes unwavering.
Minerva approached, out of breath, eyes locked on him.
"Albus... is it over?"
He didn't answer right away.
His gaze shifted — not to Marvolo, but to the towering castle behind them.
Then softly:
"Not yet."
The professors circled in. Flitwick, Burbage, Vector — battered, anxious.
"Where are the students?" Flitwick asked.
Dumbledore's voice was low, certain.
"Five of them are missing. Tom. Lily. James. Sirius. Lucius."
Minerva stiffened. "How do you know?"
"Because the castle told me," he said. "They were pulled into a sealed passage.
A defensive reflex. Hogwarts chose them."
"They're in the dungeons. Alive. But they've been through more than any child should."
Vector gasped. "Only five? Lucius? James? Lily Evans?"
Minerva gripped her wand tighter. "We'll find them."
Dumbledore gave a small nod.
"And when you do, tell them..."
"They were more than brave."
"They were the light in a chapter full of shadows."
Days past now it was the final day of the school year,
The enchanted ceiling above the Great Hall glowed with the soft gold of a setting sun.
Candles floated peacefully, untouched by the wildness of the year now ending.
The four long tables bustled with students — whispering, laughing, stealing glances at the head table where the professors sat.
But all eyes turned forward when Albus Dumbledore rose.
He did not raise his hands.
He didn't need to.
The silence fell like velvet.
He stood with his usual calm, robes silver-trimmed, eyes tired but still burning with that same starlight.
"Another year ends," he said softly.
"And what a year it has been."
Some students straightened. Others whispered. A few flinched at the memories.
"We began this year with expectations. Rules. Traditions. House rivalries.
We end it... with something much more powerful."
He paused, letting the silence breathe.
"Understanding."
"This castle — ancient as it is — remembers things we cannot. And sometimes, it awakens those memories through us."
"Many of you witnessed fear this year. Darkness. Names spoken that had been buried. And yes... bloodlines that stretched deeper than we imagined."
His eyes flicked briefly toward the Slytherin table.
"But let it be known — your blood does not define you."
"You are not the heir of your name.
You are the author of your choices."
The Hall was still. Even the candles seemed to still themselves.
"In the face of old magic... five students stood tall."
"Not because they were powerful.
But because they were willing."
A beat passed.
He smiled softly now.
"And because of them — we are all here today."
He took a scroll from his robes and unrolled it.
"Now — as tradition demands — the House Cup."
Murmurs rose. Some grinned. Others groaned in advance.
"In fourth place, with 415 points... Hufflepuff."
A round of polite applause.
"Third place — Slytherin, with 472 points."
Mixed reactions. Some heads lowered. Some clapped anyway.
"Second — Ravenclaw, with 486 points."
Their table cheered, nodding proudly.
"And first place... Gryffindor, with 543 points."
The Gryffindor table exploded in cheers.
But Dumbledore raised a single hand — and the noise stopped mid-cheer.
"However," he said, eyes twinkling,
"There are moments when courage earns more than applause.
It earns recognition."
He looked toward the far end of the hall — where Tom Riddle, Lily Evans, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Lucius Malfoy sat.
"For bravery...
For strategy...
For knowledge applied...
For protection offered...
And for magic few adults could manage..."
"I award 50 points to James Potter."
"50 points to Sirius Black."
"50 points to Lily Evans."
"50 points to Lucius Malfoy."
"And 50 points to Tom Riddle."
The Hall erupted.
Shock. Cheers. Some disbelief.
The hourglasses at the sides of the hall lit up — the rubies in Gryffindor's glass surged upward.
The emeralds in Slytherin's jar did the same.
Gryffindor: 593
Slytherin: 593
Gasps rang out.
"For the first time in Hogwarts history," Dumbledore said with a small smile,
"Two houses shall share the House Cup."
"Let this tie not be a conflict..."
"But a beginning."
The hall erupted into applause. Some clapped politely. Others shouted across tables. But no one could deny it:
This year had changed everything.
At the head table, Professor McGonagall wiped something from her eye.
And at the Slytherin table, Tom Riddle sat still... but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Not because he won.
But because, for the first time — he hadn't lost alone.
Later that night...
While the castle slept and the banners dimmed,
Tom Riddle sat alone by the window in the Slytherin common room.
Moonlight spilled across his bed. His trunk was half-packed.
But in his lap, opened gently... was his diary.
Its pages were full now.
Messy ink. Angry slashes. Half-finished thoughts.
Moments no one else had seen.
He flipped to the last page.
And began to read.
As his voice whispered softly into the empty room...
scenes flickered in his mind like a living memory.
He saw himself on the train —
Quiet, guarded, staring out the window at a world he didn't know.
He saw the first time he walked into the Great Hall —
Awestruck... and utterly alone.
He saw Severus, cornered in the hallway.
Lily's kindness.
James's fire.
Lucius's sneer.
He saw the serpent in the shadows —
The visions that clawed into his sleep.
The fear. The fury.
The first time someone called him heir.
The moment he almost believed them.
He turned the page.
He saw the fight —
Wands out. Spells flying. Lily's sealing curse.
James beside him. Sirius laughing in the dark.
He saw Morrigan's face bound in chains.
Dumbledore's fire swallowing green light.
He saw himself —
Not a weapon.
Not a legacy.
Just a boy who refused to let the world decide who he would be.
Tom blinked.
Then, slowly, he picked up his quill...
and beneath all the pages, all the scars, all the chaos —
he wrote just one final line.
"The first chapter is closed."
He smiled.
Not cold. Not cruel.
Just... calm.
Then he whispered, to the empty common room:
"I will be back."
"Wiser. Stronger."
"And no one will write my story but me."
He closed the diary.
The candle went out.
THE END
NESSGEEORIGINAL