The castle's windowsills were crammed with students, all staring toward the owlery tower with bated breath.
When Theodore shot in on his broom like a sword plunging straight into the inferno, a wave of screams and shouts rolled through Hogwarts.
Some of the students—especially from Slytherin—recognized the flames instantly.
"Fiendfyre…"
Slytherin girl prefect Gemma Farley had gone significantly pale.
She had, in secret, also tried to study this kind of Dark magic.
Summoning Fiendfyre wasn't the hard part. The nightmare was controlling it.
Even when she'd conjured only a tiny wisp to experiment with, it had nearly turned back on her and burned her alive.
And that had been just a tiny spell. The blaze swallowing the owlery now was practically clawing at the sky. Gemma could clearly see shapes writhing inside it.
Those were Fiendfyre beasts.
At this point, the curse had completely slipped its leash, boiling with pure, insane destruction.
"Theodore Ashbourne!"
Gemma's instinct was to run toward the tower. With what little she knew about Fiendfyre, maybe she could help Theodore somehow.
But someone moved faster than her—black robes snapped as a tall figure swept past.
Gemma blinked in shock.
"Professor Snape?"
Severus Snape was almost flying down the corridor.
He had finally seen a sliver of hope for bringing Lily back. He absolutely refused to let Theodore die in Fiendfyre.
He shot Gemma a vicious glare.
"Get back. Keep those idiots under control. And don't make this worse."
Over at Gryffindor Tower, Hermione was ignoring Professor McGonagall's sharp scolding and stubbornly chasing after her.
McGonagall's face was the picture of severity.
"Miss Granger, I do not have time to argue with you. If you take one more step, I will deduct fifty points from Gryffindor!"
Hermione didn't even flinch.
"Then deduct them, Professor. Even if you expel me, I'm going to help Theodore."
McGonagall sighed through her teeth, but there was no time to argue. She bolted up the stairs.
Just then, a tall, white-bearded figure appeared out of thin air ahead of them, blocking the way.
"Professor Dumbledore?"
The shocked cry came from both McGonagall and Snape.
Dumbledore's blue eyes also reflected the raging firelight, his brow creased, but his voice remained calm as he turned to them.
"I don't think you need to be quite so hasty."
"Trust Theodore. He has the means to deal with Fiendfyre."
McGonagall's eyes were almost red.
"Dumbledore, that is Fiendfyre. How can you possibly entrust it to a first-year?"
In an uncharacteristic move, Snape drew his wand, voice low and vicious.
"Dumbledore, did the flames bring back fond memories of your old friend?"
"If Theodore dies, that… project you asked of me? You can do it yourself."
Dumbledore held Snape's gaze for a long beat.
"Severus, put your wand away."
"I am quite certain Theodore's strength cannot be measured by first-year standards. He will not die here."
"And, Minerva… sometimes disaster arrives without warning. One day, I myself may vanish without so much as a farewell."
"The storm is coming. The dangers ahead will be far worse than this Fiendfyre. We cannot wait for that to happen before tempering them—that would be the true irresponsibility."
He lifted his head, looking toward the blazing tower, an odd gleam in his eyes.
"Theodore's ability may surpass anything you imagine."
"Tom—that includes your imagination."
…
Inside the owlery, Theodore had already plunged into the heart of the inferno.
The text on the system light-screen was red to the point of almost black.
[Duobao Daoist's cultivation approaches creation itself. The demonic flames he commands possess the power to burn the heavens and boil the seas. Even as the work of a mere avatar, this Fiendfyre is enough to make any Golden Immortal of the Chan Sect blanch in terror.]
[By entering these flames, the host has stepped into certain death.]
[The system recommends immediate self-dissolution: abandon this body and flee with your primordial spirit. In your next life, perhaps Perfected Taiyi will even craft you a lotus body.]
[Please self-dissolve at once. Should the demonic fire ignite your soul, it will be too late.]
Theodore's expression tightened. He snapped coldly:
"Shut up."
The moment the words left his lips, a Fiendfyre beast formed from the flames fastened onto him and lunged.
Theodore flicked his fingers.
Sword-qi hummed, wrapped around a thin thread of killing intent, piercing straight through the beast.
In an instant, the Fiendfyre monster collapsed. The black flame composing it scattered, as if it had slammed into its natural nemesis.
The other Fiendfyre beasts froze.
Then the black fire in their "eyes" flared hotter, their twisted faces warping in fury, as if they had been challenged.
The blaze surged higher, and a tide of Fiendfyre beasts crashed toward Theodore like a living tsunami.
Theodore just gave a cold chuckle.
"Fiendfyre? That's all?"
He raised his hand.
Dazzling golden light erupted from his palm.
The power of his sanctified body—even heaven and earth's tribulations could not touch him.
If divine tribulations couldn't harm him, how could a spell—no matter how vicious—do better?
On top of that, Theodore bore the Free Control of Fire gift. Anywhere under heaven, as long as it was fire, it fell under his dominion.
After the Primordial Age, that principle had never changed.
In this wizarding world, these "little flames" were even less likely to be exceptions.
With a single thrust of his hand, the golden radiance carved open a clear path, utterly unmoved no matter how the Fiendfyre raged.
Free Control of Fire asserted its dominance; every tongue of flame in the owlery felt that pressure bearing down on it.
The Fiendfyre beasts all around were forcibly driven to their knees, pressed down by that authority.
Even so, Fiendfyre's nature remained vicious. Unlike ordinary fire, its "eyes" burned with rage and malice, ready to tear free and riposte at any moment.
Theodore snorted and formed a new hand seal—one he had obtained from the refining method of the Nine-Dragon Divine Fire Shield, specifically used to suppress flames.
Instantly, his control rose another level.
The blaze churned and howled, yet Theodore stood in the heart of it like an Emperor of Flame, his will branded into every flicker.
Then, in a low, resonant voice, he spoke:
"Since you see me—why aren't you bowing?"
A heartbeat later, every Fiendfyre beast froze—
And then, like courtiers before their monarch, they dropped to their knees one by one, bowing toward him.
The owls that had been driven almost to the brink—along with Filch and Mrs Norris, who were shivering in a corner—watched, stunned, as Theodore strode through the blaze, carving a path of safety.
Hermes gave a joyous cry and swooped to land on Theodore's shoulder.
Theodore stroked his head and slipped another Flying Tiger Pill into his beak to make up for what he'd spent on the restriction.
"Go."
Hermes took wing again.
Owl Roberts was right behind him. One owl after another launched into the air. As they flew past Theodore, each hooted a note of gratitude before bursting out of the owlery and into the night, beating their wings hard to shake off the heat.
The students anxiously watching from the castle windows finally exhaled as one; cheers erupted like a tidal wave.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Theodore's mouth.
On the system light-screen, new messages began to scroll.
[The demonic flame commanded by Duobao Daoist is vicious and spiteful, specializing in burning away the Dao-heart. Any immortal whose heart holds even the slightest crack is instantly reduced to ash.]
[The host tempered his heart within the blaze. Though your body was seared and burned, your invincible Dao-heart has not faltered in the slightest—instead, you have subdued the demonic fire.]
Another message followed, making his eyes brighten.
[Your relationship with Owl Roberts has reached Life-and-Death Confidant.]
[You have received the gift — Sun and Moon Essence.]
The Sun and Moon Essence talent wasn't the highest tier Theodore had ever seen, but it was exactly the missing piece among his spiritual-energy gifts.
With it, his chances of fusing those talents into one extremely high-level qi ability shot up dramatically.
He couldn't help the pleased expression that crossed his face.
He turned to Filch and Mrs Norris, then reached out and pulled both of them more securely onto the Nimbus Two Thousand.
"Hold on tight. We're leaving."
Just then, he sharply sensed a venomous, twisted gaze lock onto him.
On the screen, the text glowed so red it was nearly black.
[Your survival in the demonic flames means yet another ruined scheme for Duobao Daoist's avatar. With his temperament, how could he possibly let this go?]
[Even though this uproar has alarmed the Golden Immortals of the Chan Sect, the soul Duobao has attached still swears to kill you.]
[Host, flee at once!]
Theodore snapped his head up, looking out through flame and stone.
On a neighboring tower roof, shrouded in shadow, a hooded figure with a thick scarf wrapped around the back of his head was staring back at him.
Quirrell clutched his left shoulder, hatred boiling in his eyes.
He had never imagined that Fiendfyre of this scale would still fail to kill Theodore.
At that moment, the fragment of Voldemort's soul attached to him jolted fully awake, seizing control of his body.
"Quirrell, for once you've done something halfway useful."
"But your Fiendfyre is pathetic."
"Here. Feel this properly. Take it as a reward."
He raised Quirrell's wand.
No longer needing to hide, the Dark Lord shed all restraint. His warped soul, steeped in darkness, revealed the full terror of his magic.
Dark magic is distortion.
The more twisted and deranged the caster, the greater its power.
Even in this half-alive state, Voldemort's casually summoned magic crushed Quirrell at his most hateful.
Feeling that strength surge through him, Quirrell's doubts and resentment vanished.
This was the power of the Dark Lord—utterly unmatched.
He had chosen correctly.
As Voldemort flicked his wand, the Fiendfyre Theodore had forced down flared back to life as if it had swallowed a potent tonic. It roared up, its ferocity ten times what it had been.
Within the blaze, new Fiendfyre monsters formed—more twisted, more rabid than before.
Voldemort cast again; a dark variant of Transfiguration wrapped itself around the fire.
He had endured Dumbledore's Firestorm more than once. With his talent, how could he not adapt the concept to Fiendfyre?
In moments, the Fiendfyre beasts fused together.
A colossal serpent of black flame coiled itself around Hogwarts' highest turret, letting out a long, echoing hiss at Theodore.
All around them, Fiendfyre surged again, hemming Theodore and the others in.
The abrupt reversal hit the castle like a hammer blow.
The cheers from moments earlier vanished. Silence fell, thick and suffocating.
The Hogwarts professors—especially those who had seen Voldemort fight before—could not hide the fear in their eyes.
McGonagall sucked in a sharp breath as the Fiendfyre serpent reflected in her pupils.
"Such Fiendfyre…"
"Such Dark Transfiguration…"
All color drained from Snape's face.
"It's him."
"He really is alive."
"And right now… he's inside Hogwarts."
Hermione, not far away, understood exactly who they meant.
Her legs gave out, and she collapsed.
"You-Know-Who…?"
"Is Theodore really facing You-Know-Who's magic right now?!"
McGonagall, Snape, and Hermione all turned toward Dumbledore.
Even Dumbledore's expression had grown unusually grave. His fingers tightened around the Elder Wand.
The look on his face said it all—a suspicion he had harbored for a long time had just been confirmed.
He raised his wand.
A silver phoenix erupted from the tip, circling upward and scattering radiant feathers. The soft glow washed over the castle, scrubbing away the madness and despair stirred up by the Fiendfyre.
At the end of the Elder Wand, golden-red Gubraithian Fire flickered to life.
But after a moment, Dumbledore hesitated.
He looked up toward the owlery again, surprise—and pride—flashing through his eyes.
Slowly, he lowered the wand.
"Dumbledore?" McGonagall and Snape stared at him in disbelief.
Dumbledore smiled faintly, eyes warm.
"My Patronus tells me that within those flames, it senses a will more sacred and more powerful than its own."
"In that case, even Fiendfyre cast by Voldemort will not shake it."
"I don't believe I'm needed this time."
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