The town of Little Hangleton lay silent in the evening light, its quiet streets and darkened houses unaware of the terrible events about to unfold nearby. A soft pop of apparition broke the silence, but no one was around to hear it. Even if there had been, they would have seen nothing. Harry Potter, dressed for battle and under the cover of invisibility, moved silently through the tall grass on the edge of town, heading towards his destination.
A moment later, Harry allowed himself to become visible again, his form solidifying like smoke turning into a solid shape. He stood tall, ready for the fight ahead. He was wearing layers of dark robes and black dragon-hide armor, with a gleaming layer of basilisk-scale armor beneath. The Sword of Gryffindor was strapped to his back, its ruby-encrusted hilt catching the fading light of the setting sun.
Harry had planned for this moment with meticulous care, thinking through every possible detail. Right after leaving the maze, he had used the chaos to sneak away to a hidden spot where he had stored his battle gear. He had changed into his armor in record time. Then, transforming into his thunderbird Animagus form, he had taken off, flying away from Hogwarts and beyond its protective wards. Once he was far enough from the school, he had reappeared in Little Hangleton, arriving as silently as a shadow.
The ability to fade from sight at will was the most recent addition to Harry's arsenal, the result of binding the Death's Invisibility Cloak to himself. He had bound the cloak to himself through the ancient ritual only two days earlier, wanting to be as prepared as possible for this night.
Now, with just a thought, Harry could disappear from sight. Though it was perfect for sneaking around, the magic had its limits. The moment he engaged in combat or made physical contact with another being, the invisibility would shatter - making it perfect for stealth but less useful in direct confrontation.
Despite its shortcomings, Harry couldn't help but be thrilled with the cloak's other unexpected advantage. Standing still in the darkness, Harry shifted smoothly into his Animagus form—a majestic thunderbird.
In the dim light of Little Hangleton, a mighty bird with powerful wings appeared, spreading them wide against the night sky. And with a silent thought, the thunderbird vanished from sight again, invisible even in this formidable form. The ability to extend the cloak's power to his Animagus form was something the original, unbound cloak could never have achieved. This new potential filled Harry with a sense of freedom and possibility, making his heart soar along with his wings.
With strong beats of his wings, Harry rose higher above the town, gliding silently towards the graveyard where Voldemort's resurrection was about to take place. He needed to get there quickly; every moment counted.
As Harry reached the cemetery, relief washed over him—he was still on time. Charles was there, tied to the headstone of Tom Riddle Sr., his eyes wide with fear as he struggled against the ropes binding him. Wormtail was crouched next to a large cauldron, making the final preparations for Voldemort's dark ritual. And there, covered in heavy robes and held by Wormtail, was Babymort—the small, twisted form that contained Voldemort's essence.
But Harry's focus at the moment wasn't on Wormtail or even Voldemort. His real target was Nagini, Voldemort's loyal snake, and the last Horcrux—the final object keeping Voldemort tied to the mortal world. Harry had already destroyed every other Horcrux over the years and enjoyed every moment of it. Tonight, he planned to rid the world of this last evil thing, and by doing so, strip Voldemort of his false immortality.
The timing was perfect; during the chaos of the resurrection ritual, any disturbance in the soul-bond between Voldemort and his snake would likely be attributed to the intense magic of his rebirth.
From his aerial vantage point, Harry spotted the massive serpent weaving between the tombstones, her scales gleaming in the dim light. She was too exposed for the moment, too close to Wormtail and her master. Harry had to be careful. Interrupting the ritual too early by attacking Nagini could lead to terrible consequences—and that was a risk Harry wasn't willing to take.
Below, the ritual began in earnest. Wormtail lowered the homunculus form of Voldemort into the cauldron, his hands shaking visibly even from Harry's height. The watcher in the sky observed as the ceremony proceeded exactly as he remembered from the books.
The bone of Voldemort's father was added first—dusty fragments dropping into the cauldron—then Wormtail chanted the next part of the spell, lifting a silver knife with shaking hands. He gritted his teeth, cutting off his own hand as an offering, the bright spray of blood briefly visible before Wormtail pressed a magical silver hand against the wound.
Finally, the ritual reached its last stage. Wormtail approached Charles, the silver dagger glinting in the moonlight. With a quick motion, he cut Charles's arm, letting the blood flow into a vial. Charles's scream of pain cut through the stillness of the night, a sound filled with fear and desperation.
Then, movement caught Harry's eye. Nagini had slithered away from the main group, seeking shelter behind a cluster of particularly large tombstones. She was alone, isolated, vulnerable. This was his chance.
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Harry didn't hesitate. The thunderbird plummeted from the sky, silent and invisible. Mere feet from the ground, he transformed back into his human form, the motion fluid and practiced. The Sword of Gryffindor, strapped to his back, came free with a whisper of steel against leather. One continuous motion brought the blade through a deadly arc, enhanced by the momentum of his dive.
In that split second, before the blade met scales, Nagini's yellow eyes widened with an almost human expression of shock and recognition. The enchanted steel, imbued with basilisk venom, met no resistance as it cleaved through scales, muscle, and bone.
Anticipating what would follow, Harry's free hand whipped out his wand, establishing a privacy ward around them with practiced ease. The shimmering barrier snapped into place just as Nagini's body began to thrash in its death throes.
The great snake's body writhed and twisted violently, her severed head letting out a terrible scream—an unnatural sound that was both the hiss of the dying snake and the anguished cry of the dark piece of Voldemort's soul. Thick, dark smoke poured from the wound, twisting and writhing as if trying to escape. It rose in a spiral, its keening sound filling the space inside Harry's ward, echoing in his ears.
The sound made Harry's teeth ache, and he could feel his magic pulsing in response to the dark energy. Then, with a sudden burst, the smoke imploded, the terrible sound disappearing as quickly as it had come. Nagini's body went limp, her severed head rolling lifelessly on the ground, her golden eyes dull and empty.
The great snake Nagini, last of Voldemort's Horcruxes, was no more. And with her death, Lord Voldemort's claim to immortality finally ended. Now he was just a man - a powerful, dangerous man, but mortal nonetheless.