The news spread like wildfire. The Ministry had officially acknowledged the return of the Dark Lord, urging citizens to remain vigilant in the face of the troubling times ahead. This announcement reignited debates across the wizarding world. While many had already believed Dumbledore's claims about Voldemort's return, just as many had been convinced by the Ministry's prior dismissal. Now, there was no denying it—the Dark Lord was back.
That same night, as Hogwarts lay shrouded in silence, a silvery phoenix patronus glided into Dante's office. The message was brief but urgent. Dumbledore was summoning him.
Dante sighed and rose from his chair, stretching slightly before making his way to the headmaster's office. He wondered what could be so important that it couldn't wait until morning. As he arrived and pushed open the door, he found Dumbledore seated at his desk, his usually serene expression replaced with one of fatigue. His face was pale, and there was an undeniable weariness in his eyes. Nearby, Snape stood with his arms crossed, his face even darker than usual.
Dante raised an eyebrow. "What's so urgent that it couldn't wait?"
Snape didn't hesitate. "Come and take a look at our Gryffindor headmaster's hand." His voice dripped with disdain, the emphasis on 'Gryffindor' clearly intended as an insult.
Dante stepped closer, glancing down at Dumbledore's right hand. The tips of his fingers were blackened, spreading decay creeping toward his palm. A powerful curse was at work, and from the looks of it, it won't take long before it claims his life.
"What did you do?" Dante asked, his voice calm but firm.
Dumbledore offered a weak smile. "I believed I had found the Resurrection Stone. I was mistaken. I thought Voldemort had turned it into a Horcrux and cast a rather… unpleasant spell upon it. But, despite knowing better, I could not resist the temptation to use it."
Dante's eyes narrowed. "Was it the ring in the broken shack near Little Hangleton?"
Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise. "You knew about it?"
Dante gave a slight nod. "Yes. I visited it before my fourth year. Just like the Elder Wand, it's just a normal stone now. I left the Horcrux there because I didn't know or care who was foolish enough to make it. Later, I suspected it was Voldemort, but even then, I still didn't care."
Dumbledore, despite his pain, felt an overwhelming urge to strangle the young professor. This boy had found the Resurrection Stone, destroyed it, and simply left the Horcrux sitting in an abandoned shack? Just… why? He wanted to understand how Dante's mind worked, but even legilimency would not help against Dante.
Snape, however, was not in the mood for distractions. "It's nice that you two are catching up, but the more pressing matter is that the headmaster is dying. The best I can do is prolong his life for another year at most. If you have some miraculous solution, now would be the time."
Dante observed the curse once more, his mind piecing together the puzzle. Finally, he spoke. "I have an idea."
Dumbledore gave a tired nod. "Do whatever you deem fit, as long as the curse is removed."
Without another word, Dante raised his wand. To Snape's shock, he whispered, "Imperio."
Snape watched in stunned silence as Dumbledore's body stiffened under Dante's control. With precise movements, Dante guided him to stand, then, without hesitation, he conjured a spell to sever the cursed arm. Snape's eyes widened, though he remained still, watching as Dante immediately formed a layer of ice over the stump to stop the bleeding. Then, Dante summoned red and black lightning, directing it over the wound and the severed limb alike.
The process took time, but eventually, Dante dispelled the ice. To Snape's further astonishment, Dumbledore's arm was whole once more, as if nothing had ever happened.
Dumbledore slowly regained control of his body, flexing his fingers experimentally. His voice, though weak, carried a hint of amusement. "That was not a pleasant experience."
Dante merely shrugged. "The curse is gone. Try not to go around wearing cursed artifacts next time. I, for one, have a class in the morning."
With that, he turned and strode out of the office, leaving both men staring after him.
Snape, after a moment, smirked mockingly. "He's right, you know. You wasted our precious time acting like a true Gryffindor. You should reflect on that, Headmaster." With that, he too turned and left.
Dumbledore simply sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Gryffindor isn't that bad," he murmured to himself. "You two are just heartless, it won't kill you to act nice to an old man."
___________
The rest of the school year continued in relative peace, but on the last day, Dante received an unexpected visit in his office. Standing before him were Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, their expressions serious. Harry took a deep breath before speaking.
"Professor Malfoy, I've been having dreams—visions of what Voldemort is doing. He's gathering an army, preparing for war. Things are going to become more dangerous for everyone, and I heard that you refused to join the fight against him... Why?"
Dante, sitting in a chain, looked boredly at Harry before answering. "Voldemort is hiding somewhere, biding his time. But the one thing he doesn't have is time. Why should I go searching for someone who has already stepped onto the path of no return and will be dead in a few years at most?"
Hermione frowned. "What do you mean? Are you saying... You-Know-Who is dying?"
Dante nodded. "I call him an idiot and a fool for a reason. He created multiple Horcruxes. A Horcrux is an object where a wizard stores part of their soul after splitting it. It acts as an anchor to keep them tethered to life after death, a way to cheat death itself."
Ron swallowed hard. "So he's got those, yeah? That means he can't die, right?"
Dante smirked. "That's what he thinks. But the truth is, Voldemort's greed has doomed him. A Horcrux should only be created once if someone is foolish enough to attempt it at all. By making multiple, his soul is now too fragmented, leaving him emotionally unstable and more susceptible to breaking apart. Eventually, his soul will collapse entirely, and he will be gone for good."
Hermione's eyes widened in realization. "And he made more than one..."
"Six or even seven times," Dante confirmed. "As far as I know, three of his Horcruxes have already been destroyed. The fourth one is in you, Harry." He gestured toward Harry's scar. "It's weak and dying already. That makes four Horcruxes gone. Even if he retrieves the others, it won't save him. It's far too late. A fool who couldn't understand why splitting the soul should be done only once in a lifetime won't figure out how to mend it in the short time he has left."
Harry's mouth was dry. "So... I've got a piece of his soul in me?"
Dante nodded, then drew his wand. "Stand still. I'll just remove it."
Harry hesitated but then nodded, steeling himself. Dante placed the tip of his wand against Harry's scar, and a faint red glow appeared before flickering out. Harry felt a strange weight lift from him.
"It's done," Dante said simply. "You're free of his dreams, and he won't be able to see what you see or hear what you hear anymore. Regardless of what that idiot does, his fate is sealed. And if he chooses to come to Hogwarts or after any student, I will make his end come even faster."
The trio stood in stunned silence for a moment before nodding. Without another word, they turned and left the office, still reeling from what they had just learned.
Outside, Ron let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I want to know how he knows more about the Dark Arts than the Dark Lord himself. you-know-who spent his whole life studying them."
Hermione bit her lip before answering. "I think... I think he really has lived this life before. That's how he knows things no one else does. It's the only explanation."
Harry and Ron exchanged glances, unsure of what to believe, but one thing was certain—Dante Malfoy was truly the greatest dark lord.
___________
Voldemort sat in his dark chamber, his crimson eyes narrowed in deep thought. His skeletal fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest as he mulled over the implications of what he had just witnessed. His connection to Harry Potter had granted him a valuable tool—a means to manipulate and strike fear into the boy's heart. He had used it today, once again planting a vision of his ever-growing army, the legions that would soon crush the defiant fools who stood against him.
Yet in doing so, he had inadvertently glimpsed something else. A conversation between Potter and Dante Malfoy.
At first, he had dismissed it as a trick, a ruse meant to sow doubt in his mind. But the more he considered the words, the more a chilling realization settled upon him. Dante Malfoy had spoken of his Horcruxes, of the consequences of splitting his soul beyond what was natural. Of how, with each fragment lost, he was edging closer to a fate even worse than death—true annihilation.
For years, he had dismissed the idea that his soul had suffered from the process. True, he had changed, but such was the cost of power. He had believed himself invincible, unkillable. But now... he hesitated.
His emotions. He had noticed it himself—his growing impatience, the way his anger surged more violently than before, his inability to remain as composed as he once was. Could it truly be that his soul had weakened? That he had doomed himself not to eternal life, but to a fate far worse than mere mortality?
And then, the most damning revelation of all—four Horcruxes were already gone.
Four.
The diary had been destroyed by Potter years ago and he knew about it. But that there are two more destroyed? He must find out if that was true. But then there was the fourth...
Potter.
A sickening realization dawned upon him, the mysterious connection between him and the boy, he wondered what it was for a while now. But to think, the boy himself was a Horcrux, a part of his soul bound within the very person he had sought to destroy. And, according to Dante, it was already fading, already dying and probably destroyed by him.
His breath hitched as fear coiled around his blackened heart. He had never once felt death closer, for he had crafted his own immortality. But now, the foundation of that immortality was crumbling before him. If Dante spoke the truth—and something deep within him whispered that he did—then he had made an unforgivable mistake.
For the first time in his wretched existence, Voldemort felt regret.