"Killing Curse!"
The Aurors froze in shock as the green light tore downward from the dragon's back. Even Scrimgeour, hardened by years of hunting Dark wizards, seemed unable to react in time. For one sharp instant, death rushed straight toward him, cold, bright, and impossible to dodge.
Dumbledore moved first. He raised the Elder Wand, and a piece of broken stone on the ground twisted upward under Transfiguration, reshaping itself into a copper shield that appeared in front of Scrimgeour just before the curse struck.
The Killing Curse smashed into the shield and vanished with a flash of sickly green light. Though the curse was called unblockable by ordinary means, it could still be stopped if something solid took the hit in place of a living body. Dumbledore's timing had saved Scrimgeour's life.
"Oh," Scrimgeour breathed, his face pale. "Thank you, Dumbledore."
If Dumbledore had been even a moment slower, Scrimgeour would have been dead on the cobblestones. The Head of the Auror Office knew it, and so did every Auror standing nearby.
"Well, look who it is," Tyler said from the dragon's back, his hoarse voice rolling over Diagon Alley. "Dumbledore, the greatest white wizard in the world. No wonder the Ministry's useless Aurors suddenly found the courage to stand here."
His black robes snapped in the wind as the dragon hovered above Gringotts. Below him, the street had become a battlefield of frightened civilians, tense Aurors, and shattered stone. "Dumbledore, you're already old. Why bother with this? Aren't you afraid those old bones of yours might die here today?"
"I am old," Dumbledore said calmly. His voice was not loud, but it carried through the chaos with steady clarity. "And like many old men, I would very much enjoy a quiet life. Unfortunately, there are still things I must do."
He looked up at the hooded figure on the dragon's back. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes were sharp and searching, as if trying to see through the disguise. "So, who are you? Why rob Gringotts? If you are short of money, I might be able to offer assistance."
For a moment, Tyler stared down at him in silence. Then he laughed, low and cold, the sound made rough by his altered voice.
"Hahahaha. Dumbledore, after living so long, how are you still this naïve?"
He lifted both hands slightly, as if addressing the whole street. "In the wizarding world, magic is power. Only power stands above power. Great power stands above everything."
His hidden gaze swept over the Ministry officials below. "The Minister for Magic? In the face of true power, he's nothing."
Cornelius Fudge's face flushed red with anger and humiliation. He opened his mouth, but no words came out, and he did not dare step forward.
"That way of thinking is very dangerous," Dumbledore said solemnly. "Magic is not the strongest force in this world. Love is."
"Love?" Tyler's laugh turned sharper. "Dumbledore, I am not Voldemort. Don't preach love to me. Can love give me great power? Can love make me immortal? Can love bring back the dead?"
He leaned forward slightly on the dragon's back. "Spare me the lecture. Do you think I don't know what you are? You are a failure, Dumbledore."
The words struck the street like another curse. Dumbledore's expression did not change at once, but the air around him seemed to still.
"As an older brother, you failed your own family," Tyler said coldly. "Your sister died, and your brother broke with you because of it."
A flicker of pain crossed Dumbledore's eyes. Tyler did not stop.
"As an educator, you were the one who set Tom Riddle's wardrobe on fire in front of him. You were the one who showed him, from the very beginning, that with enough power, a wizard could do whatever he pleased."
Several Aurors shifted uneasily. Some of the older wizards in the crowd exchanged confused glances, but none dared interrupt.
"When Tom was at school, you watched him, guarded against him, and treated him like a danger waiting to happen," Tyler continued. "And perhaps he was. But your suspicion did not stop Voldemort from being born. It only helped shape the road beneath his feet."
Dumbledore's wand lowered slightly.
"As a leader, during Voldemort's rise, you believed you could protect everything and everyone," Tyler said. "But look at the Potters. Look at the Prewett brothers. Look at the Longbottoms."
His voice grew colder with every name. "Some died. Some were broken. Some were left mad or orphaned. You could not protect them all."
The entire street had gone silent. Even the dragon's heavy wingbeats seemed distant beneath the weight of Tyler's words.
"Your life is a failure, Dumbledore. The person you loved parted ways with you. Your own family turned away from you. Your students and followers died for your mistakes."
Each sentence was like a blade driven into an old wound. Dumbledore did not refute him, because too much of it was true. The strongest wizard of the age stood there with the Elder Wand lowered, and for a moment, the pain in his eyes made him look terribly old.
Somewhere among the shadows of Diagon Alley, Quirrell hid with his turban pulled low. Inside him, Voldemort's laughter rang with cruel satisfaction.
"Well said," Voldemort hissed in Quirrell's mind. "Very well said. I saw Dumbledore clearly long ago. A failure. A hypocrite."
"You evil Dark wizard!" Hagrid's roar broke through the silence.
His huge figure pushed forward from the crowd, Harry held protectively at his side. Hagrid glared up at Tyler with fury burning in his black eyes. "Stop spouting rubbish! Without Professor Dumbledore, Voldemort would've killed a lot more people."
"It was Dumbledore who protected us from the Death Eaters!" Hagrid shouted.
His words seemed to wake others from their stunned silence. One by one, witches and wizards stepped forward, not attacking, but silently standing behind Dumbledore. Fear still clung to them, but so did loyalty.
Professor McGonagall walked to Dumbledore's side. Her face was pale with anger, but her voice was steady.
"Albus, no one who understands what happened will blame you," she said. "All this time, you have done everything you could to protect us. The Potters, the Prewett brothers, and those who died fighting would not blame you either."
She lifted her chin, eyes bright and fierce behind her square spectacles. "They fought for justice until the final moment of their lives."
"Hmph." Tyler gave a cold laugh. "Dumbledore, look at the Ministry trash you keep trying to protect. Look at what they did just now."
His gaze swept over Fudge, Scrimgeour, and the Aurors who had stayed silent while others defended Dumbledore. "You risk your life for them, and once they finish using you, they kick you aside. Is it worth it?"
Several Ministry officials flushed with shame. None of them answered. They had not stood up for Dumbledore, and everyone there had seen it.
"This rotten wizarding world needs to be washed clean," Tyler said.
The moment his words fell, a stream of black, smoke-like energy burst from his body. It rose into the air, swelling rapidly as it spread, and the magic inside it grew more violent with every passing second.
"An Obscurus," Dumbledore said, his voice suddenly sharp with shock.
The dark energy twisted like a living storm. It carried no stable form, only rage, pressure, and a destructive force that made every instinct scream danger.
"Go," Tyler said softly. "Destroy this old magical world and forge a new one."
At his command, the enormous Obscurus surged forward, racing toward Diagon Alley with terrifying speed.
"We must stop it!" Dumbledore shouted. "If that Obscurus is allowed to run wild, it could destroy all of London."
He knew how terrible such power could be. An Obscurus was not merely a spell. It was a violent, unstable force of suppressed magic, and if left unchecked, it could tear through streets, buildings, and people alike.
Crack, crack, crack!
A chain of sharp explosions rang through Diagon Alley. The glass windows of the shops shattered all at once.
.....
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