FIGHT

FIGHT

At first, I thought about making this chapter more intense, even a little bloody. But as I wrote it, something changed. I told myself:

"No, maybe it's too much. Let's calm things down."

So I toned it down a bit from my original idea. I hope that, even with this adjustment, you still enjoy it.

"

Every time Einar tried to approach, Dumbledore's staff acted on its own, raising powerful energy shields or summoning massive stone walls that blocked his advance, as if the very world were siding with the old man.

Frustration built up inside Einar, his gaze grew fiercer, and his steps made the ground tremble under the weight of his restrained fury.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!" he roared with the voice of a dragon.

A devastating stream of fire burst from his throat like an infernal torrent, scorching everything in its path, charring trees and warping the very air with its searing heat.

But Dumbledore didn't flinch. He spun his staff with nearly impossible speed and, in response, the water within every plant, leaf, and root of the nearby forest rose all at once.

In an instant, a massive sphere of water formed and collided head-on with the flames.

The impact was brutal. The clash of fire and water caused an explosion of steam that blanketed the battlefield in a dense, burning fog.

But Einar didn't stop.

"VEN GAAR NOS!" his voice thundered, and the steam was sucked up by a cyclone that erupted from his mouth like a living storm.

The vortex grew rapidly, drawing in air and energy with overwhelming force. Trees bent violently, stones lifted off the ground, and even Dumbledore had to anchor himself with magic to avoid being swept away.

With a quick gesture, the old wizard created a magical rift at the cyclone's center. A small glowing hole appeared in the air and began absorbing the storm like a vacuum from another world.

The wind collapsed inward and vanished, devoured by the spell.

But Dumbledore didn't rest. He struck the ground with his staff, and the trees around him twisted to life. Branches lengthened, turning into sharp spears, and shot toward Einar as if the forest itself was trying to kill him.

Einar raised his shield with a shout:

"ZUN HAAL VIIK!"

A runic energy barrier appeared around him, repelling the attacks with dry booms. Branches bounced off and shattered against his defense, as if striking an enchanted wall of steel.

Suddenly, a disarming spell flew through the air. Einar dodged it with a sidestep, unfazed.

He responded instantly:

"SU GRAH DUN!"

A storm of ice burst from his hands, blanketing the forest in frost. The ground cracked, trees froze from root to crown, and a fine layer of snow fell from the sky as if winter had descended in seconds.

Dumbledore was caught in the freezing wave, his body encased in a coffin of ice.

But a cracking sound shattered the silence.

PAAAM!

The ice exploded from within, and the old man emerged wrapped in a glowing blue aura, panting, his face serious.

Einar didn't waste a second. He summoned his two-handed axe, black as night, and shot toward Dumbledore like a lightning bolt. He was going to cleave him in two.

The elder barely managed to dodge, sliding to the side with an agility that defied his age. He struck the ground with his staff, and a stone hand erupted from the earth, grabbing the axe at the last moment.

The hand crumbled under the impact, but it was enough for Dumbledore to cast another spell and retreat. He knew one hit from Einar could be the end.

With a roar that shook the forest, Einar changed his weapon to a massive two-handed warhammer. The air itself seemed to quake as he swung it in a horizontal arc and smashed it into the ground with superhuman force.

"RAAHHH!!" he bellowed as an entire section of earth rose up, torn as if ripped away by a wrathful god.

The ground cracked and a massive slab of rock and roots was torn free and hurled like a blazing meteor straight at Dumbledore.

The old wizard's eyes widened a fraction of a second before he raised his staff. A glowing force field emerged just in time, wrapping around him like a shimmering bubble.

The mass of earth collided with the shield, causing a deafening explosion.

The rock disintegrated on impact, turned to dust by the magical defense. The dust cloud covered the area, blocking the view of both fighters.

Dumbledore coughed lightly, barely affected, but never lowered his guard.

"Ventus Repulso!" he exclaimed firmly.

A supernatural gust of wind swept away the dust, and with it, he tried to repel the young warrior, who was already charging again. But Einar wasn't so easily stopped.

He plunged two short swords into the ground, one in each hand, using them as anchors as the gale pushed him with brutal force.

His muscles tensed, his boots screeched against the ground, but he didn't yield a single step.

His gaze burned like living fire, fangs clenched as he resisted.

"YOU WON'T STOP ME!" he roared like an untamed beast.

With a fluid and fierce motion, he ripped the swords from the ground and launched himself forward again, almost gliding over the dirt.

In a move of lethal precision, Einar spun and hurled one of the swords with such speed it whistled through the air like a black arrow.

Dumbledore barely managed to dodge, but the blade slashed through his robe and sank partially into his left shoulder.

Blood trickled in a crimson line that stained the fabric, and the old man took a step back for the first time.

Not because of the pain"though he felt it"but because of the realization: this young man wasn't just strong.

He was a storm in human form"unstoppable, furious… and getting closer.

The worst part: he could feel Einar was holding back.

As he had once said, if he used his full power in this world, everything would break like paper.

.

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts Castle, students, professors, and guests had stepped outside, drawn by the magical tremors.

A massive earthen golem was battling a skeletal figure clad in arcane robes, whose screams shook the skies.

"It sounds just like Einar's roars!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes wide open.

Harry recognized him instantly. The screams, the elemental magic… it was him.

Although what he was witnessing didn't look like a simple spell.

The skeletal mage was freezing parts of the golem with concentrated blasts of ice, shattering them into pieces. But the golem regenerated with the earth around it, as if the very planet was feeding it.

"Could it be one of Professor Einar's summons?" Harry asked, remembering what he had once told them about dragon priests.

"You want to interfere with that?" Ron said, his voice trembling at the sight of the chaos.

"What do we do?" Hermione asked, biting her nail, distressed.

Then, with a sleepy yawn, a tiny creature emerged from Harry's chest: VIIR, the small summoned dragon.

Annoyed by the noise disturbing his sleep, he let out a childish shriek:

"DIIL QOTH ZAAM!"

And with that high-pitched command, the ground cracked open, and skeletal hands wreathed in fire and shadow began to emerge.

An army of the undead crawled out of the abyss: armed skeletons, warriors cloaked in flames, misty shadows screaming in forgotten tongues.

The battlefield was overrun in seconds by these infernal creatures, who joined the attack against the golem without hesitation.

The students watched, jaws dropped.

"What… what is this?" one of them whispered.

"This looks like the end of the world!" another shouted, as the sky darkened with fire and lightning erupting from the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione and Harry looked at little VIIR, who, after summoning the apocalypse, yawned again, nestled back into Harry's clothes… and went back to sleep.

As if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, the sky above the forest roared.

A vortex of fire rose into the clouds, followed by a hellish lightning storm spiraling down to the earth.

...

Amid the unleashed hell, where flames danced like wild beasts under a sky blackened by chaos, Einar stood motionless. His dark, imposing figure looked carved from stone as the fire lit the edges of his black armor. His eyes, full of fury and disappointment, were fixed on the old man before him.

Dumbledore, his face marked by wrinkles of exhaustion and despair, raised his wand.

"Expelliarmus!" he roared.

A crimson bolt, far more powerful than usual, tore through the air like lightning, heading straight for the warrior's chest.

Einar reacted instantly. He lifted the Spell Nullifier, using his last reserve of magical protection, and with one swift motion switched weapons"now wielding the legendary ebony shield, covered in anti-magic runes that glowed faintly, as if even light feared their power.

The shield fit perfectly with his black armor, wrapping him in the image of a god of war. Unstoppable. Unbreakable.

But then, Dumbledore spoke. His voice, normally firm, was now a broken whisper, choked by guilt.

"Just let me… I just want to return it… I can feel it corrupting me, little by little… I just want to give it back… Please, let me…"

The words fell apart before leaving his lips. The Staff of Sheogorath, still in his hand, trembled as if it pulsed with a mind of its own.

And for a moment"just one"Einar hesitated.

He looked him in the eye. And something"perhaps pity, perhaps a flicker of respect"crossed his gaze. A spark of regret pierced him. Deep down, he felt it was his fault. That if he hadn't brought that mad relic into this world, Dumbledore would never have fallen so low.

But before he could say anything, Dumbledore cast again:

"Expelliarmus!"

Einar saw it coming. He could have dodged it. He could have blocked it. But he didn't. He remembered how Dumbledore had given him a chance. How, thanks to him, he had met Harry, Hermione, all those young ones he now trained and protected.

So, he lowered the shield.

The bolt struck him square in the chest, and his sword flew through the air. The flames around them extinguished, as if the world had held its breath.

Dumbledore dropped to his knees, gasping, his hands trembling as he let the Staff of Sheogorath fall to the ground.

"Thank you…" he murmured faintly. "Let's make a truce… until Voldemort falls… I swear it on my life… No more strategies. No more putting students at risk. I swear it…"

He looked older than ever. Not in body, but in soul. He had lost more than a battle. He had lost part of himself.

Einar looked at him in silence. Then let out a huff, almost in contempt at his own weakness.

"Tsk… Seems I've gone soft since coming to this place," he said, frustrated.

He walked toward him with firm steps, picked up the Staff from the ground, and the moment he touched it, a voice echoed in his mind:

"It was fun, wasn't it…? See you next time…"

Einar clenched his teeth. Dumbledore watched from the ground, defeated.

"I know it was foolish… I'm sorry. I was… too manipulative. Even I, an old fox, fell to its whisper…"

"You're an idiot, Dumbledore," Einar said coldly, without a trace of compassion in his voice. "I owe you nothing. If you ever become my enemy again, there won't be a second chance. You won't manipulate Harry or any other student again. If the adults still want to believe your games, let them. But the children are my line. Understood?"

"Yes…" Dumbledore replied"and in that word, he broke. Not just from physical pain, but from the weight of his mistakes. His shoulder was still bleeding, but Einar did nothing to help. He simply looked at him one last time… and turned away.

The fire had gone out. The castle no longer burned. And in the skies, the battle was over.

High above, the Dragon Priest floated upright, his imposing silhouette silently watching the professors and students who gazed back at him in fear.

He didn't attack. He said nothing. He just stared… like a god waiting to be worshipped.

"You may return," Einar ordered, without turning around.

The Priest gave him one last look, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed with solemn reverence. Then, a portal opened behind him, and he vanished into it without a word.

The skeletons summoned by VIIR burst into violet flames, turning to ash. As if they had never existed.

Only silence remained. The echo of a war… that almost no one truly understood.

"-------

I wanted Dumbledore to get what he deserved, no doubt. But then I realized: if it weren't for his manipulations, Einar would've never become a professor or met the kids.

So what's the point of holding a grudge? In the end, the good that came out of all this weighs more than Dumbledore's strategic games…

Let's forgive him. Just this once.