Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 619 The Grand Finale: Love, Death, and Dementors

"If you're old enough to be smart enough, you'll know that going against me is a very unwise choice."

Helbo stared coldly at Dumbledore, briefly recalling the details about the old man he had gleaned from the memories of the dead.
“Ah… Albus Dumbledore, those young lads say you are the greatest wizard of this age… It seems every age they have to choose a leader to worship—but are these people really worth you going against me for? You know you can’t beat me.”

"We have completely different standards for judging the value of things."

Dumbledore spoke casually, as if they were merely two strangers who had happened to meet.

“I think it’s worth it, and I don’t think it’s impossible to beat you.”

“It’s a pity, there aren’t many wizards who can interest me,” Helbo said regretfully. “I would have been happy to turn you into a skeleton and keep you at home, but now it seems you’re going to rebel until you die…”

As Helbo suddenly raised his hand, several sinister, bright red spells appeared out of thin air, bursting forth from the air behind Dumbledore and striking him directly.

But Dumbledore was very astute enough to detect the magical fluctuations behind him. With a swift wave of his wand, a stone wall rose from the ground behind him in the blink of an eye, only to be shattered by the spells.

Immediately afterward, Dumbledore's hands didn't stop moving. A blazing wall of fire encircled Helbo and instantly shrank towards Helbo's location.

The next second, Helbo transformed into a cloud of dark green smoke, passing through the wall of fire without being affected, and rushed towards Dumbledore.

Dumbledore dodged, and Helbo, transformed into smoke, rushed out of the office, with Dumbledore giving chase.

Outside was the Ministry of Magic's main hall. The statue of Voldemort had just been removed, and many officials who were working on the restoration were still walking around. When they saw Dumbledore chasing after a suspicious cloud of green smoke, they instinctively chose to take the nearest Flying Loop Network as if they had PTSD.

Why are there so many powerful wizards fighting in the department every other day?!
With no one else interfering, Dumbledore seemed to have shed a hindrance, immediately unleashing a firestorm that swept across the entire hall. As the flames approached the smoky Helbo, they suddenly changed, instantly transforming from ordinary crimson flames into icy blue Fiendfyre—

The sudden appearance of Fiendfire achieved the effect Dumbledore wanted, and Helbo revealed his true form from the smoke.

But he didn't seem afraid of Fiendfire. As Helbo raised his hands, the Fiendfire broke free from Dumbledore's control and flowed into Helbo's palms like rivers of flame, condensing into a fireball filled with destructive magical energy.

Then, Helbo hurled the fireball at Dumbledore, and insidiously, it exploded a short distance from Dumbledore, unleashing a terrifying blue wave of flame.

Although Dumbledore reacted quickly and used a protective spell, the edges of his robes were still scorched.

"How long can you keep this up?" Helbo said sarcastically, repeatedly throwing spells at Dumbledore. "I can keep fighting like this forever, and you will eventually die from exhaustion—what's the point of resisting?"

"Resistance means hope."

As Dumbledore dodged, he retaliated against Helbo, their spells causing a violent explosion every time they hit a wall, making the entire building teeter on the brink of collapse.

"Is your hope to die heroically? That's truly moving."

Helbo laughed cruelly, his hand suddenly stopping—then, several beams of green light shot towards Dumbledore from various angles, some of which were just dazzling beams, but only one of them was a deadly killing curse.

"Their hope is me."

Suddenly, an unbelievably wide black cloak descended from the sky, blocking Dumbledore's path. The real and fake Death Curses struck the cloak, but nothing happened.

Looking at the familiar creature, Helbo let out a disgusted snort.

“Annoying little monster,” Halbo said.

“Thanks for the compliment, but I can be even more annoying.” Cohen tilted his faceless head under the hood. “For example…”

Then, Cohen pulled out a bright green serpentine scepter from under his cloak. The serpent's head seemed alive, and the yellow gems in its eyes were dull and lifeless. Helbo clearly remembered that it should have been shining brightly.

My Horcrux has been destroyed—but... why don't I feel anything?

"How dare you touch my treasure!" Helbo roared, his eyes wide with rage.

"I bet you can't believe I found something you couldn't find yourself, right?"

To prevent Helpo from escaping, Cohen decided to provoke him severely, and said provocatively,

"Oh, right, there's this little thing that, although it's not of much help to me, I promised it I'd bring it to you—"

Then, from beneath his own bottomless cloak, Cohen summoned something else that Helpo was familiar with.

"Master! I've found your Horcrux with your precious son!"

The moment Metis the Skeleton appeared, he saw Helbo and, in his excitement, completely failed to notice the strange expression on Helbo's face.

"You really came back—you'll reward me, won't you? I want a complete one—"

"I'll give you a damn!"

Helbo roared, his eyes blazing with fury. A fierce curse shot towards the skull, blasting it into a pile of fragments.

"Is this how you treat your loyal servant?" A regretful voice came from under Cohen's hood. "He calls me 'little master' all the time, I almost really considered joining you as a partner..."

"I will trap your soul in a curse, so that you will suffer eternal torment!"

“I’ve been soaking in the liquid curse for seventeen years, didn’t you know? Didn’t I give you my old body?” Cohen said. “Come on, let’s end this—if you beat me, you can wreak havoc on this world; if I beat you, you can peacefully be digested into a Dementor for your thesis defense…”

Almost simultaneously, Cohen's wand and Helbo's fingertips both fired a spell at each other—

Helbo's spell was dark green, and Cohen guessed it might be some kind of destructive ancient magic, though he would probably never know what it was.

The spell he had cast was a death curse, and for some reason that even Cohen, the caster, didn't understand, the light of this death curse was somewhat white, as if it had been bleached.

The two spells collided, but instead of bouncing off each other, they continued to strike each other's source without interfering with each other.

Cohen's death curse struck Helbo, while Helbo's spell struck the wand in Cohen's hand.

Cohen's wand exploded—but fortunately, Cohen released it quickly enough that it didn't hit his hand.

After being struck by Cohen's death curse, Herpo's expression froze instantly.

Then he realized that he was still conscious.

“You can’t kill me.” After a brief moment of confusion, Helbo revealed a gleeful, maniacal smile. “You can’t kill me, and you’ve lost your wand—you weaklings who need wands to cast spells—”

"Forget it, you're talking to me about strength. In terms of strength, you're just a little girl among the Dementors." Cohen tilted his head and looked behind Helbo. "I didn't kill your soul... but someone else did it for me."

Helbo noticed that Cohen seemed to be looking behind him—even though Cohen didn't seem to have eyes now.

For a moment, Helbo wondered if this was a despicable scheme to distract him, but the next second he couldn't think about it anymore.

A sharp, hooking pain swept through his entire body.

“That solves the problem, Cohen Norton.”

The aged voice of Death echoed behind Helpo's soul.

With his remaining consciousness, Helbo looked down and saw that his own body had fallen to the ground.

They are no different from those who were killed by themselves.

"Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me yet." Cohen raised his hand to refuse the old man's thanks. "I solved your big problem, shouldn't you give me some reward?"

"Hmm?" Death was somewhat confused.

“Those people who were killed by Herpo,” Cohen said, “let them live out their lives properly—like that Zenon from Greece, and other guys whose names I don’t know.”

Death stared at Cohen for a while, neither saying yes nor no.

He disappeared from the spot with Helbo's soul.

However, Cohen clearly understood the meaning behind Death's final look.

It means it's possible, but it's not appropriate to say it outright.

“Cohen…?” Dumbledore asked.

"Don't ask me 'Why are you talking to thin air?' I just ran such a long way—right now I just want to get my new body made as soon as possible and then get a good night's sleep."

Cohen said wearily,

Where are my parents?

"I heard Cohen's voice!"

Edward's voice came from the minister's office.

"Is Helbo dead? Is nobody going to untie me? Is anyone there?"

(End of text)

(End of this chapter)