Hello, Mr. Dark Lord

As Alex stepped through the shimmering portal, he emerged into the dimly lit depths of Gringotts' lowest vaults. The air was thick with the scent of ancient metal, interwoven with enchantments forged centuries ago.

Towering golden doors lined the cavernous hall, each adorned with intricate goblin craftsmanship and defensive runes. At the far end, bound by cursed chains and powerful wards, lay his target, the Lestrange Family vault.

A guttural growl echoed through the chamber as a massive dragon stirred from its forced slumber. Its dull, time-worn scales bore the weight of prolonged captivity, and its milky eyes betrayed blindness.

Despite this, the beast sniffed the air, detecting the presence of an intruder. Alex regarded it with mild amusement, easily discerning the oppressive enchantments compelling its servitude.

"Poor thing," he murmured, extending his hand. With a mere thought, the binding spells unraveled, dissolving into golden motes. A pulse of magic surged from his palm, mending the creature's wounds and restoring its vitality.

The dragon tensed, uncertain, before slowly stretching its wings. A low rumble resonated through the cavern, its posture shifting from wariness to cautious gratitude.

"Go. You're free now," Alex said softly.

The dragon hesitated only a moment before turning away. Each step shook the ground as it retreated into the vast tunnel system, seeking the surface and the freedom long denied to it.

With the guardian removed, Alex turned his attention to the vault door. Layers of powerful enchantments shimmered across its surface, curses designed to incinerate, maim, and repel intruders. Impressive, at least by goblin standards. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

A pulse of energy surged outward, dispelling the protective spells with casual ease. The ancient mechanism groaned as the door creaked open, revealing a mountain of hoarded wealth, gold, enchanted artifacts, and relics collected over the years. But Alex's gaze fixated on a single object resting atop an ornate pedestal, a golden cup emblazoned with Hufflepuff's crest.

Stepping forward, he reached out and grasped the cup. Instantly, the chamber darkened as a shrill scream reverberated through the air. Shadows writhed, twisting into grotesque figures, whispering curses in a futile attempt to resist.

"Predictable," Alex muttered.

With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a crystal vial. The Horcrux lashed out, its tendrils of dark magic lashed at Alex, but Alex's grasp remained firm. He exerted his will, effortlessly extracting the soul fragment. The darkness shrieked as it coalesced into the vial, swirling violently before settling into a writhing mass of black sludge.

With the final Horcrux secured, he pocketed the vial and surveyed the vault one last time. Leaving empty-handed would be wasteful. He flicked his wrist, selecting an ornate goblin-forged sword and a collection of chained tomes, sealing them within his Universe Ring. Satisfied, he stepped back through the portal, returning to Dumbledore's office where the others awaited him.

The moment Alex reappeared, the room tensed. Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout all fixed their eyes on the newly acquired vial, now placed alongside the others. The containers pulsed ominously, the fractured remnants of Voldemort's soul writhing within.

"That's all of them," Alex declared. "The Dark Lord's anchors are gone. Once his primary soul is destroyed, he will be nothing more than a memory."

He turned to Professor Sprout, holding out the golden cup. "This rightfully belongs to your house. You should have it."

Professor Sprout hesitated, glancing at Dumbledore. "Can we keep it?"

"Of course," Alex assured her. "It was Helga Hufflepuff's, after all."

Dumbledore nodded in quiet approval, offering no objections to the arrangement.

"Now, shall we?" Alex continued. "We should put an end to this sooner rather than later. I have other matters to attend to."

"You know where he is?" Flitwick asked, his sharp eyes narrowing.

Alex chuckled. "Why, Professor, how ever did you guess?"

He glanced around the room before adding, "Also, I assume we want this documented? Let's invite a journalist to record the process. History deserves accuracy, don't you think?"

With a wave of his hand, a portal shimmered into existence. Before anyone could react, two figures tumbled through, Rita Skeeter and her cameraman. They had been mid-interview when the portal abruptly swallowed them, depositing them unceremoniously in the office.

"Hello, Ms. Skeeter," Alex greeted with a grin.

"Who are you?" Rita snapped, looking around in outrage. The moment she spotted Dumbledore, her eyes narrowed. "This is kidnapping! I'll make sure to write about this! You old fool, I'll ruin you!"

Dumbledore simply chewed on a lemon drop, his expression unreadable. Alex chuckled.

"Shut up and stay put," he said, flicking his fingers. Instantly, her lips sealed shut, and her body stiffened, rendering her temporarily immobile.

McGonagall scoffed at the rude woman. Rita's cameraman opened his mouth to protest but promptly reconsidered when Alex's gaze met his.

With everything in order, Alex opened another portal, transporting the group to a secluded forest in Albania. Towering trees loomed overhead, their branches swaying ominously in the wind.

The sounds of distant howls and rustling leaves filled the air as they approached a massive, half-dead tree. At its base, a dark opening opened into a large space expanded with magic.

Inside, a massive snake coiled protectively around a gaunt, hairless figure, barely more than a shadow of a man.

"Hello, Mr. Dark Lord," Alex called out, illuminating the cavern with a burst of light magic. "Are you awake?"

The serpent hissed, coiling tighter, its gaze locked onto Alex. The figure stirred, lifting its head weakly.

"Ahhh... I know you," Voldemort rasped, his crimson eyes narrowing. "I know that smell… The one who fouled my plans before."

"Don't be angry," Alex said mockingly. "I even brought your favorite teacher."

Voldemort's gaze flickered past him, widening in recognition. "Dumbledore…" he growled.

"Hello, Tom," Dumbledore greeted, stepping into the light. His blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "As expected… you look terrible."

Behind him, the four Heads of the houses appeareed, their expressions a mix of fear and determination as they prepared for the final confrontation.