Dumbledore turns up the Volume (pt. 3)

The air itself seemed to rebel under the weight of the magic being wielded. Pulses of energy radiated outward, knocking over trees and sending waves through the ground like an earthquake. The once-pristine grounds of Hogwarts were now a war-torn battlefield, scorched and shattered.

Voldemort hovered in mid-air, a sinister aura swirling around him like a living thing. His wand glowed an eerie crimson, pulsing with raw, malevolent power. "You cling to your ideals, Dumbledore. But ideals cannot withstand true power."

Dumbledore stood firm, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made him seem larger than life. His robes shimmered, enchanted to withstand even the most destructive spells, and his wand glowed with an ethereal, golden light.

"Power without restraint, without purpose, is destruction," Dumbledore said calmly, raising his wand. "Let me teach you what true mastery looks like."

Dumbledore raised his free hand, and the clouds above responded, swirling into a vortex. Lightning crackled as rain began to pour in torrents, but the drops froze midair. Dumbledore gestured again, and the frozen rain transformed into thousands of needle-sharp icicles, hurtling toward Voldemort.

With a wave of his wand, Voldemort conjured a black flame that consumed the ice, turning it into vapor. But before he could counterattack, the vapor solidified into a wall of crystal-clear ice, encasing him.

Dumbledore didn't stop. With a sharp motion, he transfigured the ice into chains of silver light, binding Voldemort in place. The chains pulsed with anti-magic properties, designed to suppress any spell Voldemort might try to cast.

But the Dark Lord merely laughed, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "Is that all, Albus?"

With a flick of his wand, Voldemort shattered the chains, the pieces dissolving into nothingness. He retaliated with a wave of corrosive green mist, the kind that ate through stone and flesh alike.

Dumbledore responded by conjuring a dome of pure, shimmering light that purified the mist before it could touch him. "You'll need more than poison, Tom."

The ground beneath Voldemort rippled as he warped the very fabric of reality. The battlefield distorted, gravity shifting wildly in pockets, making it impossible to tell up from down.

Dumbledore didn't falter. With a booming incantation, he slammed his wand into the ground, creating an anchor of pure magic that stabilized the area around him. The distorted field collapsed, leaving Voldemort momentarily exposed.

Dumbledore seized the opportunity. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a wave of fire cascading toward Voldemort. But this was no ordinary fire—it burned with an iridescent hue, consuming even magical protections.

Voldemort conjured a massive shield of black stone, reinforced with his magic. The fire struck the shield and melted through it with ease, forcing Voldemort to teleport away to avoid being engulfed.

Voldemort reappeared behind Dumbledore, slashing with his wand like a blade. Dumbledore blocked with his own wand, sparks flying as the two clashed in close quarters.

Then, to everyone's shock, Dumbledore ducked low and drove his shoulder into Voldemort's midsection, sending the Dark Lord sprawling. Before Voldemort could recover, Dumbledore followed up with a sweeping kick that knocked Voldemort's wand from his hand.

The Dark Lord snarled, summoning his wand back with a silent command. He retaliated with a flurry of cutting curses, which Dumbledore deflected with a shield of blue light.

"Impressive, Tom," Dumbledore said, his tone almost conversational. "But you lack discipline."

Dumbledore raised his wand high, chanting in a language so ancient that even Voldemort hesitated. The ground split open, and golden tendrils of magic surged upward, forming an enormous phoenix made entirely of fire.

The phoenix screeched, its cry resonating with raw power, and dove at Voldemort with tis sharp talons extended, ready to tear him to pieces.

Voldemort conjured a monstrous serpent of black smoke, its fanged maw opening wide to meet the phoenix head-on. The two constructs collided in a blinding explosion, the resulting shockwave flattening everything within a hundred yards.

From the chaos, Dumbledore emerged unscathed, his eyes blazing with determination. Voldemort, though still standing, looked noticeably strained.

Dumbledore didn't let up. He conjured an array of shimmering runes in the air, each one glowing with a different color. The runes began to spin, forming a vortex that unleashed a barrage of elemental attacks—fire, ice, wind, and lightning—all aimed at Voldemort.

Voldemort countered with a dome of pure darkness, absorbing the attacks, but even he struggled to maintain it under the relentless assault.

"You've grown complacent, Tom," Dumbledore said, his voice cutting through the chaos. "You've relied too long on fear and brute strength. Against true mastery, you are but a child playing with fire."

Voldemort roared in fury, his magic surging outward in a desperate attempt to regain the upper hand. But Dumbledore was relentless, his attacks precise and unyielding.

From the sidelines, the onlookers watched in stunned silence. Even Harry, who had seen Dumbledore's power firsthand, raised a brow, clearly impressed by the skill shown in this Battle.

"Merlin's beard," Professor McGonagall whispered, her hand clutching her chest. "I didn't know Albus had this in him."

"Neither did Voldemort," Harry muttered, a small grin tugging at his lips.

The battlefield was a maelstrom of destruction, yet Dumbledore remained in control, his every move calculated and deliberate. Voldemort, for the first time, looked uncertain, his confidence faltering under the relentless onslaught.

But the Dark Lord wasn't defeated yet. With a defiant roar, he unleashed a spell so dark that even the light around him seemed to dim. The ground shook violently, and a massive chasm opened beneath Dumbledore.

Dumbledore floated above the abyss, his expression calm. With a single word, he sealed the chasm, the ground knitting itself back together as though nothing had happened.

"You've exhausted your tricks, Tom," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying an edge of finality. "It's time to end this."

Voldemort grinned, his eyes gleaming with malevolent glee. "End it, then, old man. Let's see if you truly have what it takes."

The two wizards prepared for the next exchange, their magic coiling around them like living entities. The air crackled with anticipation, the fate of the wizarding world hanging in the balance.

To Be Continued...