Harry Potter: Toji Potter

The Room of Requirement shimmered into existence as Harry walked past its entrance, his thoughts focused on his goal. The door appeared, smooth and unassuming, but the magic behind it buzzed faintly against his senses. Without hesitation, Harry pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room was vast, dimly lit, and filled with shadows that danced along the walls. At its center, resting on a simple stone pedestal, were the two final Horcruxes: Helga Hufflepuff's Cup and Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem.

Harry approached them with calm confidence, his steps echoing softly against the cold floor. His senses prickled as he neared the artifacts, dark magic radiating from them in oppressive waves. He reached out, and his fingers brushed the smooth surface of the cup. Instantly, a chill shot through his arm, but Harry's will was ironclad. The curse embedded in the artifact unraveled in the face of his mastery over death magic, disintegrating like smoke in a breeze.

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned the Sword of Gryffindor from thin air. The blade gleamed with an ethereal light, reflecting his resolute expression as he brought it down onto the cup. A high-pitched screech echoed through the room, and a jet of black mist shot out before vanishing into nothingness.

One down.

Harry turned his attention to the diadem. He lifted it carefully, feeling its ancient weight in his hands. The dark magic here was different—more cunning, more insidious. As he held it, he felt a faint tug in his mind, and Voldemort's voice slithered through his thoughts.

"Harry Potter," the voice rasped, low and mocking. "So eager to play the hero, yet so blind to the futility of it all."

Harry smirked, gripping the diadem tightly. "You're a little late to the party, Tom. I've already destroyed all the others. Your Horcruxes are finished."

A furious hiss echoed in his mind, followed by a cold laugh. "You think you've won because you've destroyed a few trinkets? The war is far from over. My forces are already at your doorstep. Soon, Hogwarts will fall, and you with it."

The connection snapped as abruptly as it had formed. Harry's expression hardened as he felt the growing unease among the students and staff within the castle. Voldemort's telepathic taunt had reached them too.

Harry exited the Room of Requirement, the diadem still in hand. As he made his way through the corridors, the anxiety among the castle's occupants was palpable. Students whispered in panicked tones, and teachers exchanged worried glances. Harry paused in the middle of the Great Hall, drawing all eyes to him.

"Listen up!" he called, his voice steady and commanding. The room fell silent. "I know you've heard him. I know he's trying to scare you. But I'm telling you right now—there's nothing to fear. Voldemort is desperate. He knows he's losing. I'll handle this. You're safe."

The students' fear ebbed slightly, replaced by cautious hope. Professor McGonagall approached Harry, her eyes sharp with concern. "Mr. Potter, what exactly are you planning?"

Harry's lips curved into a small smile. "Trust me, Professor. Just keep everyone inside the castle."

Without waiting for a response, Harry turned and strode toward the castle entrance, his companions following close behind. As he reached the main doors, he stopped and turned to face them.

"Stay here," he said firmly. "This is my fight."

Hermione frowned. "Harry, we're not just going to let you—"

"I'll be fine," he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This isn't a battle—it's a lesson. For him."

Reluctantly, they nodded, and Harry stepped outside alone.

The air was cold and heavy as Harry walked toward the edge of the cliff overlooking Voldemort's forces. Below him stretched an army of black-clad Death Eaters, giants, acromantulas, and werewolves, their ranks stretching far into the horizon. Voldemort himself stood at the forefront, his serpentine features twisted into a cruel smile.

Harry stood tall, his black-and-silver robes billowing in the wind. The diadem rested lightly in his hand, a silent declaration of his victory over Voldemort's Horcruxes. He surveyed the gathered forces with a calm, almost bored expression.

"Is this it?" Harry's voice carried across the valley, amplified by his magic. His tone was sharp, almost mocking. "Is this the best you can do, Voldemort? This...ragtag group of rejects?"

Murmurs rippled through the Death Eaters' ranks as Voldemort's smile faltered. Harry continued, his voice dripping with contempt. "You've been planning this for decades, and this is what you bring to the table? Pathetic."

Voldemort stepped forward, his red eyes narrowing dangerously. "You underestimate me, Potter."

Harry laughed, the sound cold and menacing. "Underestimate you? I'm mocking you, Tom. I'll kill them all in twenty-five seconds flat. Care to time me?"

The Death Eaters shifted uneasily, their confidence waning under Harry's unshakable presence. Voldemort's fury was palpable, his hands curling into fists as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Harry raised the diadem for all to see, his voice echoing like a thunderclap. "This little war of yours? It ends here."

With that, he tossed the diadem into the air and clenched his fist, shattering it with a burst of deathly energy. The resulting explosion sent a shockwave across the valley, rattling the Death Eaters and sending a clear message:

Harry Potter was done playing games.

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was tense with anticipation, the students and teachers gathered closely, murmuring in hushed tones. Harry's absence outside the castle weighed on them like a storm cloud, and the faint echoes of Voldemort's forces outside were a grim reminder of the danger they faced.

Suddenly, a shimmering projection materialized at the front of the hall. Gasps filled the room as Harry's figure stood tall and commanding in the ethereal image. His black-and-silver robes gleamed, and his face was calm, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made everyone in the hall sit up straighter.

"Everyone," Harry's voice rang out, clear and steady, "I want you to see this. I want you to know that you are safe because I'm here. Watch closely."

His projection turned, and the image shifted to show the massive army gathered outside the castle gates. Voldemort's forces stood like a dark tide, stretching across the landscape. The gasps grew louder as the enormity of the enemy was revealed.

Outside, Harry stood on the cliff's edge, surveying the battlefield below. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he began to walk toward the throng of dark forces. The projection in the Great Hall followed his every move, giving the students and teachers a perfect view of the unfolding confrontation.

Harry's pace quickened, his walk becoming a fast stride, then a jog. His aura flared, black and electric, radiating power that made the very air shimmer. The ground beneath his feet cracked and splintered as he pushed harder, breaking into a run. With each step, his presence grew more imposing, and by the time he was sprinting, his eyes blazed like twin infernos, filled with the raw anticipation of battle.

The Death Eaters shifted uneasily as they saw him approach. The giants roared, shaking the earth, but even their thunderous bellows couldn't mask the fear spreading through the ranks. Harry didn't stop. He crashed into the enemy like a tidal wave.

Harry's fists moved faster than the eye could follow, each punch sending enemies flying in arcs through the air. His strikes were brutal yet precise, bones breaking and spells shattering as he tore through the ranks of Death Eaters with nothing but his body.

A masked man lunged at him, wand raised, but Harry's hand shot out like lightning, grabbing the man's face and slamming him into the ground. Another tried to curse him from behind, but Harry spun, his leg sweeping out in a devastating kick that crumpled the attacker like paper.

The projection in the Great Hall shifted to focus on Harry's movements, and the students watched in awe and horror. Hermione, Daphne, Tracey, and Fleur exchanged glances, knowing well the strength he wielded, but even they couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly he dominated the battlefield.

Harry leaped high into the air, somersaulting over a group of giants. As he landed, the impact sent a shockwave that toppled them like dominos. He ducked under a massive fist, driving his own hand upward into the giant's jaw with enough force to send it crashing backward.

Blood and chaos surrounded him, yet Harry's movements were as fluid as a dance. He was a blur of destruction, and the Death Eaters couldn't lay a finger on him.

As he landed a final devastating blow, Harry paused, glancing at the battlefield. Most of Voldemort's army lay defeated, their bodies strewn across the field. The few remaining fighters hesitated, trembling as they faced the seemingly unstoppable force before them.

Harry smirked and raised a hand, crackling with magic. "Almost forgot about the timer," he muttered. "Time to wrap this up."

He thrust his hand skyward, chanting a thunderous spell in a deep, commanding tone. The sky darkened in an instant, storm clouds swirling violently above. Lightning crackled, illuminating the battlefield with blinding flashes.

"Perun's Wrath!" Harry roared, and the heavens answered. Bolts of lightning rained down, striking with pinpoint accuracy. The remaining Death Eaters screamed as the electrified fury obliterated them in mere moments.

Silence followed, broken only by the hum of dissipating magic. Harry lowered his hand and glanced at the projection, his voice carrying across the castle and the battlefield.

"Twenty-five," he said, his tone casual, almost mocking. "Just as I promised."

The projection zoomed in on Harry's face as he turned toward Voldemort, who stood at the far end of the battlefield, his red eyes burning with fury. Harry's smirk widened, and he called out, his voice a thunderclap that carried across the field and into the Great Hall.

"How about we get to the main course, my dear punching bag?"

Laughter erupted in the Great Hall, a release of the tension that had been building for hours. Harry's girls exchanged knowing smiles, their pride in him shining through. The students, who had been on the brink of despair moments before, now looked on with hope and admiration.

The projection shifted back to the battlefield as Harry walked calmly toward Voldemort. The dark lord's forces were gone, annihilated in mere seconds, and now only he remained.

In the Great Hall, the students whispered among themselves, their eyes glued to the image of Harry. For many, this was the first time they truly understood the extent of his power. The teachers, too, were stunned, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief.

As Harry drew closer to Voldemort, the projection shimmered and vanished, leaving the hall in silence. All eyes turned toward the castle entrance, where the faint echoes of the impending confrontation could still be heard.

Hermione leaned closer to the others, her voice quiet but firm. "This isn't just Harry's fight anymore. He's showing us what's possible. He's showing us that we have a future."

Fleur nodded, her silver hair catching the light. "And that future begins with Voldemort's end."

They turned their attention back to the doors, waiting for the moment when Harry would return victorious, just as he always did.