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Chapter 80: Vengence
🕑 Added 2025-04-21 15:07:25 +0000 UTCAlbus Dumbledore sat in his office, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. His face was pale, his blue eyes clouded with regret and dread. He held the latest edition of The Quibbler in his hands, the image of Dante Malfoy staring back at him from the cover. The headline—"Message From The Ancient Evil"—felt like a death knell.
Dumbledore’s mind drifted to his last conversation with Luna Lovegood. She had asked him, “What if this is a self-fulfilling prophecy?” He had dismissed her, confident in his interpretation of the prophecy. He had expelled her, believing it would keep her safe. Instead, it had led to her death. The guilt gnawed at him, but it was overshadowed by a deeper, more pressing fear—Dante’s eventual return.
The article laid bare Dante’s grievances with the world. It spoke of his countless contributions, his sacrifices, and how his work had been twisted and vilified. He had given the world so much, only to be labeled as evil. And now, after the death of an innocent child who had called him a friend, Dante had finally snapped. Dumbledore felt a dread unlike anything he had ever known. If Dante had been terrifying before, when he was merely defending himself, what would he be like now that he had let go of all restraint?
Dumbledore knew they had made a grave mistake. They had acted out of fear, attacking Dante without understanding his intentions. Now, they would pay the price. The one week Dante had given them to prepare was not just for them—it was also for him. What could an ancient wizard like Dante be preparing? The thought sent a chill down Dumbledore’s spine.
In front of Dumbledore stood the Hogwarts staff, their faces pale and grim. Professor Flitwick broke the silence, his voice heavy with sorrow. “Luna was right all along. We should have talked to Dante. We should have never expelled her. Now, Dante is going to fulfill the prophecy intentionally. We made it true.”
Professor McGonagall lowered her head, her voice trembling. “Despite everything he had done, the moment we learned about his long life, we moved against him ignoring all the good that we saw from him. We were in the wrong.”
Snape’s voice was cold but resigned. “Perhaps during the ambush, we didn’t die not because we were lucky, but because Dante held back. He killed everyone he hit that day—except us. Now, reading this, I refuse to believe our survival was due to luck.”
Dumbledore nodded slowly, his expression grave. “We never understood him. We let fear guide our actions, and now we face the consequences. We have one week to prepare, but I fear it will not be enough.”
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In the Gryffindor common room, Hermione Granger read the article aloud to a group of students. The room was silent, the weight of Dante’s words sinking in. When she finished, Ron broke the silence, his voice laced with bitterness. “What does this mean? Is he trying to paint himself in a good light? to make himself the victim?”
Hermione shook her head, her face pale. “No, Ron. This is a promise of retribution. For all the wrongs he’s endured, and for Luna’s death. It means that so far, he’s been retaliating or defending himself. Now, he’s coming after everyone.” She paused, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is not going to be a fight stop him anymore. We will be fighting to survive his wrath.”
The room fell silent, the gravity of Hermione’s words settling over them. They were filled with fear, the realization that they were no longer the heroes of this story but the targets of an ancient, enraged force.
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In Malfoy Manor, Lucius Malfoy sat with the latest edition of The Quibbler, his expression grim. “Dante was always disappointed in this era,” he said quietly. “He thought we were a disgrace. Now, he’s snapped, and the prophecy they have been warning about is going to come true.”
Draco and Narcissa sat nearby, their faces pale. The end of the world was nigh, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. The fear in the room was suffocating, the realization that even their family’s connection to Dante would not save them.
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The old Selwyn manor was shrouded in darkness, its once-grand halls now filled with an oppressive silence. Ronald Selwyn lay trembling on the ground, his face pale and his body shaking with fear. In front of him stood Dante Malfoy and Xenophilius Lovegood. Xenophilius’s eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted with hatred and grief. Dante, on the other hand, stood calmly, his silver eyes cold and emotionless as he stared down at Ronald.
Ronald begged, his voice trembling. “I didn’t want to kill her! It was an accident! I just wanted her to stop!”
Dante’s voice was icy. “Stop what? Saying she was my friend?”
Ronald’s face contorted with fear as he crawled backward, his hands scraping against the floor. “I wasn’t thinking straight after my brother’s death! Please, you have to understand!”
Dante didn’t acknowledge his pleas. Instead, he turned to Xenophilius, his tone calm but firm. “Do you want to do it, or should I?”
Xenophilius’s voice was filled with venom. “I will avenge my daughter with my own hand.”
Without hesitation, Xenophilius raised his wand and cast Crucio. Ronald’s screams echoed through the manor, his body writhing in agony. Xenophilius’s own screams joined his, his voice raw with grief and rage. “You put my daughter through this! You deserve worse!”
The torture seemed to last an eternity. When Xenophilius finally lowered his wand, he was crying and exhausted, his face still etched with pain. He took a deep, shuddering breath and raised his wand again, this time aiming to end Ronald’s life. But before he could cast the spell, Dante raised a hand to stop him.
Xenophilius looked at Dante, confused. “Why?”
Dante’s voice was calm but filled with a chilling finality. “He doesn’t deserve it.”
As he spoke, the temperature in the room dropped sharply, and the air grew heavy. A dementor floated through the wall, its presence suffocating. Dante continued, his tone devoid of emotion. “His soul will be sucked and imprisoned. Death is a mercy he will never receive.”
The dementor glided toward Ronald, who lay helpless on the ground. With a final, chilling motion, it gave him the Dementor’s Kiss. Ronald’s body went still, his soul ripped from him, leaving behind an empty shell.
Dante turned to leave, and Xenophilius followed, still crying but with a sense of grim satisfaction. The two disapparated, reappearing at Luna’s grave. The moonlight bathed the quiet cemetery, casting a soft glow over the headstone.
Xenophilius knelt by the grave, his voice trembling. “We finally avenged her.”
Dante stood silently for a moment before speaking. “It’s not over. Those who implicitly agreed to her death shall pay.”
Xenophilius looked up at Dante, his tears still flowing but his expression calmer now. “Are you really going to destroy the world?”
Dante shook his head. “I wanted them to be terrified of what’s coming, but I won’t destroy everything. However, for the child they denied life, they will know pain and regret. They will live in fear, and this will become their example.”
Xenophilius nodded slowly, his grief still raw but tempered by a sense of closure. Dante sighed, his silver eyes reflecting a deep, ancient sorrow. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Despite my long life, I didn’t think I would implicate Luna. And I feel a deep disappointment in this world.”
Without another word, Dante disapparated, leaving Xenophilius alone by Luna’s grave. The night was still, the only sound was the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. Xenophilius sat there for a long time, his heart heavy.
The storm was coming, and the world would soon learn the cost of its actions. Dante Malfoy’s vengeance had only just begun.
