The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 577, page 586: The Deep Space Echoes Continue

Chapter 577, page 586: The Deep Space Echoes Continue (6)

Night fell, and the clouds over Azkaban were so thick they seemed to weigh down the sea. Suddenly, a silver-blue light tore through the darkness, streaking across the sky like a meteor and plummeting towards the black island. Immediately following was a dark red flame, carrying an aura of destruction.

Two completely different magical forces collided in mid-air, instantly triggering a violent explosion. The shockwave churned, whipping up waves tens of meters high in the surrounding sea. The guards of Azkaban looked up in horror to see two figures facing off in mid-air, their powerful aura causing the entire fortress to tremble.

"Albus, so you finally want to kill me, huh?" Grindelwald's voice, amplified by a megaphone spell, echoed across the entire island, carrying a tone both mocking and melancholic. "Is it to complete your unfinished mission? Or to bid farewell to our ridiculous past?"

"Gellert!"

Dumbledore's voice was calm and firm, yet contained the power of thunder: "Your madness must end. Today, I will end your legend here."

Before the words were even finished, the two attacked simultaneously. Golden phoenix flames and dark red hellfire intertwined in the air, forming roaring fire dragons that tore at and devoured each other. The magical energy fluctuations spread outwards like tangible ripples, shattering rocks and evaporating seawater wherever they passed.

But this is just the beginning.

Azkaban's defenses have been triggered.

As the two divine magical forces collided violently, the darkness deep within Azkaban seemed to be enraged. Countless black cloaks surged from every corner, converging like a black ocean. Those were Dementors, tens of thousands of Dementors. They sensed an unprecedentedly powerful soul energy.

That was the feast they had been dreaming of.

For an ordinary wizard, a single Dementor is enough to plunge them into eternal despair.

For Dumbledore and Grindelwald at this moment, these monsters were merely embellishments on the background, indispensable spectators in this grand drama.

"Hiss—" The piercing gasps coalesced into a terrifying sonic wave, shrouding the entire sky in black shadows. They emerged from the cracks in the towers, rose from the silt at the bottom of the sea, and even tore through the void. Their target was clear: the two beings radiating dazzling light.

"It seems our performance has attracted quite a few spectators." Grindelwald sneered, and with a light flick of his elder wand, a blood-red lightning bolt struck the oncoming horde of Dementors.

"Then let them see more clearly," Dumbledore said softly, his wand drawing a perfect arc in the air. The silver Patronus Charm did not transform into a specific animal form as usual, but instead became a dazzling sun, hovering above his head, radiating a pure and blazing light.

However, the Dementors seemed unusually frenzied today. Perhaps spurred by the power of the two Dark Lords, they no longer feared the light, but instead charged relentlessly towards the center of the battlefield. They craved to devour that power, yearning to find ultimate pleasure in those two great souls.

The black tide instantly engulfed the platform where the two stood. Countless cold, withered hands reached out to them, trying to touch their skin and drain their joy and hope.

The surrounding temperature plummeted to freezing.

Even the air seemed to freeze.

Just as the Dementors were about to touch the two, a sudden change occurred.

Dumbledore and Grindelwald exchanged a glance, and in that instant, it felt as if a century had passed between them. No words were needed, no gestures required; a tacit understanding transcending the mundane was established between them. They simultaneously increased their magical output, not to attack each other, but to jointly construct an absolute domain.

"boom!"

A violent storm of magical energy suddenly erupted around the two of them.

This storm was unlike any magical duel before; it combined the ultimate purification of white magic with the ultimate destruction of black magic, forming a chaotic yet sacred vortex of power.

Those Dementors, who were originally so aggressive and tried to devour everything, appeared so small and ridiculous in the face of this storm.

The first few hundred Dementors to approach were torn to shreds the instant they touched the edge of the storm, before they even had a chance to scream.

That wasn't a physical tearing apart, but a complete annihilation of the soul. Dementors are spirits without physical form; their essence is a collection of negative emotions. But in the face of this pure magic that transcends the boundaries of life and death, their very existence is negated.

"Look, Albus!"

Grindelwald laughed, his long hair whipping wildly in the storm, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism. "This is the true meaning of power! Before absolute power, fear is nothing but a joke!"

Dumbledore remained silent, his expression solemn and compassionate. He watched the black figures vanish in the storm, as if he were seeing countless tormented souls finding release.

The silvery sunlight surged, merging with Grindelwald's crimson lightning to form a red and silver aurora that swept across the entire Azkaban.

More Dementors surged in from all directions, rushing towards the death zone like moths to a flame. They came one after another, endlessly, but their fate was to vanish in an instant.

Some Dementors had their cloaks bursting into flames and turning to black ash as soon as they approached the outer edge of the storm.

Some exploded the moment they came into contact with the magical ripples, turning into wisps of black smoke, which were then swept away by the storm and disappeared without a trace.

The Guardians of Azkaban, who once struck fear into the hearts of countless prisoners and rendered the Aurors helpless, were as fragile as paper before these two godlike beings. Their shrieks were completely drowned out by the roar of the storm, and their black figures appeared so dim in the interwoven red and silver light.

This was a one-sided massacre, but also a magnificent display. Dumbledore and Grindelwald were telling the world, and each other, that nothing and no one in this world could stop them except each other. Not even death itself.

They are nothing compared to them.

of course.

There was an element of acting involved.

But aren't there other metaphors for reality as well?

It's reasonable to take this opportunity to vent the grudges that have been building up over the years. In short, as the battle continues, the ground of Azkaban has begun to crumble.

Huge rocks were lifted up by magic and then turned to dust in the storm. Seawater evaporated into steam, enveloping the entire island in a hazy white mist.

At the heart of this chaos, Dumbledore and Grindelwald are still locked in a fierce battle.

Each clinking of their wands triggered a small magical explosion. But in reality, every movement they made was executed with exquisite control.

Those seemingly deadly spells always miss the mark at the last moment; those seemingly devastating shockwaves always cleverly avoid the opponent's fatal points.

They were putting on a show, for the Dementors who might survive, for the monitoring crystal ball in the Ministry of Magic, and for future historians.

"You're getting old, Albus," Grindelwald said softly, casting a curse powerful enough to destroy half of London, his voice gentle enough only Dumbledore could understand. "You're a beat too slow."

"You've been too hasty, Gellert," Dumbledore replied with a binding spell, a hint of sadness flashing in his eyes. "You still don't understand that true power lies not in destruction, but in protection."

"Protect? Ha!" Grindelwald laughed maniacally, his laughter echoing through the storm. "I protect the future, that new world without Muggle oppression, where wizards reign supreme! And you, you protect an old, rotten order!"

"Perhaps," Dumbledore sighed, "but in any case, after today, all of this will be over."

Their conversation was hidden beneath the intense exchange of spells; to outsiders it sounded like two mortal enemies taunting each other, but only they knew it was their final farewell.

The Dementors around were nearly gone. The once endless black army was now reduced to a few scattered creatures trembling in a distant corner. They instinctively felt fear, the primal instinct of creatures facing their natural enemy. These two men were practically walking calamities.

They are gods who transcend the laws of life and death.

The magical storm unleashed by Dumbledore and Grindelwald, while annihilating most of the Dementors, left a terrifying aftershock that slammed into the island's fragile ecological balance like a giant hammer. Those remaining Dementors that managed to escape being torn apart...

The quantity is less than one-tenth of the original.

But they are in a more terrifying state now than in their heyday.

Fear, an emotion originally belonging only to humans and animals, was now spreading among these intangible dark creatures.

They instinctively wanted to escape this land that had been trampled by the power of the gods.

I want to escape to the sea, to the ends of the earth.

However, Azkaban is more than just a prison; it is a vast magical cage. Ancient defensive spells have long isolated the entire island from the outside world, especially the binding arrays targeting these negative energy creatures, which, far from being ineffective after the earth-shattering magical impact just now.

Instead, the chaos of magic made it even more violent and twisted.

When the first Dementor that tried to break out of the island’s boundary crashed into an invisible, transparent barrier, a piercing scream instantly shattered everyone’s eardrums.

The voice was no longer the soothing whisper of the past, but a roar filled with pain, anger, and madness.

Then, a second, a third—countless surviving Dementors crashed into an invisible wall on their escape route. They were bounced back.

It crashed heavily onto the broken rocks and the evaporating seabed.

The Dementors, bounced back, let out a piercing shriek, like fingernails scraping glass! They continued to ram the barrier madly!

Once, twice, three times—with each impact, the pale blue light would flash, and a wisp of green smoke would rise from the Dementor's body!

It felt like I was being burned!

Dozens of Dementors simultaneously crashed into the barrier, causing the pale blue light to tremble violently, as if it might shatter at any moment! The Aurors watched in horror as the light grew dimmer, their minds blank—if the barrier broke, these Dementors would escape, fleeing into the Muggle world, fleeing into all of Britain!

That would be an unimaginable disaster!

"Stop them!" Gleeson roared, his voice trembling with fear. "Everyone, stop them!"

The Aurors, as if waking from a dream, raised their wands and attacked the Dementors who were ramming against the barrier.

"Protect the Gods!"

Dozens of silvery-white rays shot out from the tip of the wand, transforming into guardians of various forms—wolves, eagles, snakes, and stags—rushing towards the Dementors, attempting to drive them away from the barrier.

But this time, the Dementors did not scatter and flee as usual.

They turned around, their rotting, featureless faces facing the guardian spirits, and let out even more mournful shrieks!

The shrieks converged into an invisible wave of sound, shaking the guardian spirits so badly they staggered!

Several weak guardian spirits shattered instantly, turning into countless silver specks of light that vanished into nothingness! The Aurors who had unleashed those guardian spirits screamed in agony, clutching their chests as they collapsed to the ground, their faces ashen!

"How is this possible?!" an older Auror roared in disbelief. "How could a Dementor attack a Patronus?!"

No one could answer him.

These Dementors have gone completely insane.

This desperate situation, where they could neither die nor survive, ignited the long-suppressed madness of the Dementors. They were no longer orderly guardians, but a pack of beasts trapped in a cage. Their black cloaks billowed wildly, their withered arms flailing erratically as they indiscriminately attacked any living thing within their sight.

They no longer fear the guardian spirit, no longer fear anything—they only want to escape, to escape the cage that has imprisoned them for hundreds of years!

More Dementors joined the fray, crashing against the barrier. The pale blue light grew dimmer, and cracks began to appear, tiny, spiderweb-like fissures spreading across the barrier's surface!

"Damn it! Have they gone mad?" a young Auror cried out in terror, his wand trembling violently. He had just recovered from the shock of Dumbledore's duel with Grindelwald and hadn't even had time to feel thankful to be alive when he was terrified by this sudden turn of events.

"Quick! Stop them!"

Gleeson roared madly, casting Patronus spells repeatedly, but his Patronus was just a tiny field mouse, which was shattered by the Dementor's shriek as soon as it rushed out.

The Aurors fought with all their might, but their Patronus, like moths to a flame, shattered and vanished before the crazed Dementors. People fell continuously, clutching their heads and screaming in agony, their faces filled with terror and despair.

A giant Dementor, seemingly the leader of the group, slammed into the deepest crack in the barrier!

"Snap!"

The crack widened further! The pale blue light flickered violently, like a candle in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment!

Gleason slumped to the ground, his face ashen.

He watched the cracks widen, watched the Dementors pounding wildly against the barrier, watched the fallen figures around him...

Groaning, desperate colleagues—

"It's over—" he murmured, "It's all over—"