HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

“Look at me—”

This is neither a request nor an exhortation, but an unquestionable command.

A malevolent spell, a blend of curse and Imperius, was forged into a poisonous thorn, which, guided by the Parseltongue, plunged deep into Dumbledore's tormented mental world.

Dumbledore's unfocused eyes suddenly trembled, and a final struggle erupted from the depths of his eyes—the instinctive resistance of his remaining will.

But the wildly spreading black patterns on his body seemed like conduits that drained his life force, rendering all his resistance futile.

The light in his eyes quickly dimmed, eventually being replaced by an unfathomable darkness.

Finally, he slowly raised his head.

Those deep eyes had lost all their luster, like two cold mirrors reflecting Voldemort's burning crimson eyes.

Voldemort's lips curled into an incredibly sinister smile.

He extended his pale, slender fingers and gently beckoned, and the old magic wand that had rolled to the ground obediently flew into his palm.

He toyed with the renowned wand, feeling its surging magic, and let out a satisfied sigh.

He then pointed his wand at Dumbledore and gave the command in a cold tone.

“Stand up,” he commanded in a Parsleyan voice, “get to the edge. Make sure everyone can see.”

Dumbledore's body rose unnaturally, like a rusty marionette, and he staggered toward the edge of the Astronomy Tower.

The purple robe embroidered with silver stars fluttered wildly in the biting night wind, but now it only looked incredibly desolate.

Below, inside and outside the castle, the fierce fighting seemed to have been paused.

A chilling silence spread like a plague, blurring even the sounds of the wind and distant explosions.

Everyone seemed to sense the ominous aura, involuntarily holding their breath and turning their gazes to the top of the towering building.

Hermione had just knocked a Death Eater away with a Stunning Charm. Panting, she looked up and her heart sank.

"No..." she whispered unconsciously, a sense of foreboding gripping her heart.

Her wand trembled slightly, and she covered her mouth tightly with her other hand, as if to stifle the scream that was about to burst out.

Voldemort stood in the shadows behind Dumbledore, his wand pointing steadily at his back.

Under the watchful eyes of countless people, some filled with fear and others with anticipation, the controlled Dumbledore spoke.

It was still that slightly aged, gentle voice, but now it had lost all warmth and emotional fluctuation, becoming flat and hollow, as if squeezed out of an empty shell:

“I am… Albus Dumbledore…”

The sound, amplified by magic, echoed clearly in every brick and every inch of the battlefield of Hogwarts.

“I command you… to put down your wands.”

Professor McGonagall, who was struggling to direct the stone knights, suddenly turned her head, her face drained of color.

She felt dizzy and her stomach churned; she had to hold onto the broken wall beside her to keep her balance.

"I command you... to give up... resistance." The hollow voice continued, each word piercing the listener's heart.

The world lost its color and its sound, leaving only the blank figure on the tower and the repeated echoes of "Give up resistance."

Harry felt as if he'd been punched in the face, staggering back half a step, shaking his head frantically, muttering, "No...this isn't him...this isn't...really..."

Hermione covered her mouth in despair, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face; her worst fears had come true.

That voice, the voice of the person they trusted most, said the things they least wanted to believe:

"Hogwarts... surrenders."

At that moment, a silent thunderclap exploded in everyone's minds.

Snape seemed to have lost his soul. He stared blankly at his empty palms, then looked up at the tower before quickly looking away.

The entire battlefield fell into an eerie silence.

The wind seemed to have stopped, and the crackling sound of the burning torches became unusually jarring.

Many students' wands hung limply in their hands, and the light in their eyes went out.

The professors closed their eyes in anguish, and the stone statue seemed to lose its imposing aura.

The members of the Order of the Phoenix were filled with rage. They wanted to shout, but found that their throats were being choked, and they could not make a sound.

Everyone could only watch helplessly as that familiar figure appeared on the tower, feeling as if the entire world was crumbling beneath their feet.

People's determination to fight shattered like glass, instantly replaced by immense bewilderment and utter despair.

Voldemort stood behind Dumbledore, enjoying the deathly despair below and the countless faces distorted by the collapse of their beliefs.

He not only defeated the strongest white wizard, but also personally extinguished the flames of resistance and crushed the beacon of hope.

This was a perfect victory.

"never!"

In the dead silence, Harry staggered out.

The scar on his forehead burned painfully, but his green eyes burned with a mad flame.

Despite his tattered robes, soot-covered face, and trembling hand gripping his wand, he repeated each word clearly:

"Never! I will never surrender!"

Voldemort slowly shifted his gaze from the "masterpiece" below and placed it on Harry.

His scarlet pupils contracted slightly, revealing not surprise, but a cold sarcasm, as if he were looking at an insect that had finally crawled out from a corner.

"Harry Potter."

He tilted his head slightly, as if admiring something interesting.

“My ‘boy who survived’… is always so… unpredictable…”

He paused, the cruel smile on his lips deepening. "So... brave."

His hand holding the Elder Wand hung casually at his side, his gaze fixed intently on Harry.

"You're saying you won't surrender?"

Voldemort's voice suddenly became softer, yet even more chilling, "How brave you are, just like your parents."

He leaned forward slightly, and even from a great distance, his gaze seemed to pierce directly into Harry's soul.

“But you don’t seem to understand the situation, Potter.”

He said slowly and deliberately, "Surrender? That's for those who still have a choice."

He stretched out his pale finger and slowly pointed at Harry, or perhaps at everyone.

“From the moment you were born, you were destined not to have the option of ‘surrender’. Lily Potter’s tragic sacrifice gave you more than a decade of time that shouldn’t have been yours, but it only changed the way and time of your death, not the ending.”

He paused, his crimson eyes sweeping over the pale faces below, relishing the renewed fear in their eyes.

"As for them?"

Voldemort's voice carried a hint of mockery, "Perhaps some people choose to kneel down and kiss the hem of my robes, swear allegiance, and thus prolong their lives for a while... as servants, or... playthings."

His gaze returned to Harry, becoming incredibly cruel.

“But you, Harry… even if you kneel down right now, licking the soles of my shoes in the most humble way, begging for my forgiveness—”

His voice suddenly rose, becoming resolute:

"—You will never live to see tomorrow's sun!"

Chapter 451 Giving Up Resistance

Voldemort's voice echoed from every brick and stone of Hogwarts, reaching the ears of everyone present:

"Give up resistance—and you will be rewarded."

His pale fingers slowly traced the air, as if displaying an invisible blessing.

"Give up resistance—and you will avoid death."

His scarlet eyes swept over the pale faces below, as if he were counting lambs.

“Give up resistance—” his voice suddenly turned somber, “unless you want your family and friends to suffer because of your foolish ‘courage’.”

The blunt threat made some students tremble, their eyes flashing with struggle and fear, especially those whose parents might be implicated or in danger.

Voldemort saw the ripples of fear spreading through the crowd, and with satisfaction, he shifted his gaze from Harry to slowly survey the entire battlefield.

His voice returned to its high-pitched and indifferent tone:

"Now, who would be willing to face death with this child who has been spoiled by prophecy?"

He paused for two seconds, as if giving everyone time to make a choice.

"Or perhaps, someone is willing to make the wise choice, put down their wand, and come to me to grant them new life?"

A suffocating silence ensued.

Harry gripped his wand tightly, his knuckles turning white, and he could feel countless gazes pressing heavily on him from behind.

Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff... the students were held together by invisible ropes; no one retreated, and no one put down their wands.

Even though many people were trembling and crying.

A slight commotion broke out in the area where Slytherins were gathered.

Several students from Death Eater families avoided eye contact, not daring to look at the tower, nor at Harry, nor at their companions.

Their bodies swayed slightly, as if they were under an invisible pressure.

One of the younger boys started to sob quietly, and a girl with a complicated expression grabbed his arm.

The wavering was evident, the fear was real, but...

No one moved.

No one put down their wand.

No one went toward the "new life" indicated by Voldemort.