Part Six: The Astronomy Tower
Harry and Dumbledore's Mission
The evening before Anant was scheduled to depart for Asia, Dumbledore summoned Harry to his office. The Headmaster looked older than Harry had ever seen him, his injured hand—blackened and withered from the curse on Marvolo Gaunt's ring—hanging at his side like a constant reminder of mortality.
"Harry, I believe I've located another Horcrux," Dumbledore said without preamble. "And I need your help to retrieve it."
"Now?" Harry asked. "But Professor Gupta is leaving today also, and—"
"Which is precisely why we must act tonight." Dumbledore's expression was grave. "Anant's departure will leave Hogwarts vulnerable. Before he goes, we must secure as many advantages as possible. Every Horcrux we destroy brings us closer to making Voldemort mortal again."
Harry understood. "Where is it?"
"In a cave by the sea. A place Voldemort used as a child to terrorize other orphans. He returned there as an adult to hide something precious." Dumbledore stood, wincing slightly. "Before we go, I must ask—do you trust me, Harry?"
"Of course, sir."
"Then no matter what happens tonight, you must obey my orders instantly and without question. Promise me."
"I promise."
Before they left, Dumbledore made one final stop—at Anant's quarters. Harry waited outside as the two professors spoke quietly.
"I wished you could accompany us tonight," Dumbledore said. "Your presence would make this considerably safer."
"I'm needed here to finalize the protective spells," Anant replied. "But Albus, I've strengthened the failsafe on you. Whatever happens in that cave, the spell will activate if your life is threatened. It will heal catastrophic injuries, counter most poisons, and even stabilize you if you're—"
"If I'm dying," Dumbledore finished. "Yes, I understand. Anant, if something goes wrong tonight—"
"Nothing will go wrong. You're Albus Dumbledore." But Anant's voice held uncertainty.
"Even Albus Dumbledore can make mistakes. If I fall tonight, Severus will need you more than ever. He'll be alone, caught between two masters, with no one who truly understands him."
"Severus will be fine. You'll both be fine. And when I return from Asia, we'll all share a drink and laugh about how we worried over nothing."
The two men embraced briefly—an unusual gesture that spoke to the depth of their friendship and the gravity of what was coming.
Then Harry and Dumbledore departed for the cave. Anant also departed with fastest teleportation spell which also take more than a hours to reach India.
The Cave
4 days Later
The cave was everything Dumbledore had promised—dark, treacherous, and saturated with Dark Magic. They crossed the underground lake in a small boat, approaching an island where a stone basin filled with glowing green potion stood waiting.
"The Horcrux is at the bottom of this basin," Dumbledore explained. "But the potion must be drunk in its entirety to reach it. And Harry, it will be unpleasant. Extremely unpleasant. The potion likely causes hallucinations, pain, perhaps brings forth one's worst memories and fears."
"You're going to drink it?" Harry asked, horrified.
"I am. And you must help me—make me continue drinking even if I beg you to stop, even if I become violent or incoherent. Can you do that?"
Harry nodded, though his stomach churned with dread.
What followed was one of the most terrible experiences of Harry's life. Goblet after goblet, he forced the potion down Dumbledore's throat as the Headmaster deteriorated before his eyes. Dumbledore screamed, begged, relived traumas from his long life—his sister Ariana's death, his failure to stop Grindelwald sooner, the faces of students who had died under his care.
"Please," Dumbledore gasped, his face ashen. "Please, no more... the pain... I can't..."
"You have to, Professor," Harry said, tears streaming down his face. "Just a little more. Please."
Finally, the basin was empty. Harry retrieved the locket—Slytherin's locket, a Horcrux. But Dumbledore was barely conscious, mumbling incoherently about water, begging for water.
When Harry tried to summon water, nothing came. In desperation, he dipped a goblet into the lake.
The Inferi attacked immediately.
Dead bodies, reanimated by Dark Magic, surged from the water in horrifying numbers. They grabbed at Harry, pulling him toward the lake, their rotting hands impossibly strong. Harry fought desperately, casting every spell he knew, but there were too many.
Then Dumbledore rose. Weakened, poisoned, barely able to stand, he nevertheless summoned a ring of fire that drove the Inferi back, creating a path to the boat.
They escaped. They Apparated back to Hogsmeade. And they climbed the winding path toward Hogwarts, Dumbledore leaning heavily on Harry, his breathing labored.
"Almost there, Professor," Harry urged. "Just a bit further. Professor Gupta can heal you, and—"
"Harry." Dumbledore stopped, his hand going to his chest. "Something's wrong."
Golden light flickered beneath Dumbledore's robes—Anant's failsafe spell activating. It pulsed once, twice, then began working. Harry could see the color returning to Dumbledore's face, his breathing easing.
"Professor Gupta's spell," Harry said with relief. "It's healing you!"
"Yes," Dumbledore said quietly. "It seems Anant anticipated this possibility. Clever friend."
They continued toward the castle. But as they approached, Dumbledore suddenly froze, staring upward. Above them, in the highest tower of Hogwarts, the Dark Mark blazed green against the night sky.
"No," Dumbledore breathed. "The Astronomy Tower. Harry, give me your Invisibility Cloak, then run to find Severus or Anant. Tell them—"
But it was too late. They heard screams from above, saw flashes of spell-light. The Death Eaters were already inside.
The Astronomy Tower
Harry followed Dumbledore up the tower stairs, both of them moving as quickly as Dumbledore's weakened state allowed. The failsafe spell had stabilized him, but he was far from full strength.
They burst onto the tower to find Draco Malfoy standing alone, wand raised, face tear-stained and terrified.
"Good evening, Draco," Dumbledore said quietly. "Lower your wand, boy. It's not too late—"
"I have to kill you," Draco said, his voice breaking. "The Dark Lord commanded it. If I fail, he'll murder my whole family!"
"Then I'll protect them. Anant will protect them. Draco, you don't have to do this."
"Don't I?" Draco's laugh was bitter. "You don't know what it's like! The pressure, the fear, the Dark Mark burning on my arm! I'm already damned, Headmaster!"
"You're sixteen years old. You're not damned—you're frightened and manipulated. Let me help you."
Below them, Harry heard footsteps—Death Eaters ascending the tower. Greyback's snarling laugh, Bellatrix's cackle, the heavy tread of multiple attackers.
Dumbledore remained focused on Draco. "Lower your wand, Draco. It takes strength to resist the easy path. Prove you have that strength."
"I... I can't..."
Then the Death Eaters burst onto the tower. Greyback, Bellatrix, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, and several others in masks. They formed a semi-circle around Dumbledore, wands raised.
"Well done, Draco!" Bellatrix crowed. "You've got him cornered! Now finish it! Kill him!"
"I—I can't," Draco whispered, lowering his wand slightly.
"Pathetic," Amycus Carrow sneered. "Step aside, boy. We'll do it ourselves."
"Wait!" Dumbledore's voice was commanding despite his weakness. "Before you act, you should know—this tower is protected by one of Anant Gupta's Kido spells. Attack me, and you'll trigger defenses you can't imagine."
Bellatrix's smile faltered. "Gupta is in Asia. The Dark Lord sent him away." But she know Anant Kido spell automatically activate when something bad happen and due to this London is safe otherwise the situation is fully lean in their side.
"Anant's magic doesn't require his presence. He planted spells throughout Hogwarts before leaving—safeguards that activate automatically. Kill me, and you'll face the consequences."
"He's bluffing," Greyback growled.
"Am I?" Dumbledore gestured to his chest, where golden light still pulsed faintly beneath his robes. "This failsafe already activated once tonight when I was poisoned. It kept me alive. Do you really want to test whether Anant anticipated murder as well?"
The Death Eaters hesitated. All except Bellatrix, who had spent years studying Anant's magic, obsessing over him, learning his techniques.
"Oh, Dumbledore," she said softly. "You're right that Gupta planted a failsafe on you. But failsafes can be disrupted if you know what to look for. And I've spent years learning everything I could about Anant's magic. Every spell has a weakness. Every defense has a flaw."
She raised her wand, speaking in rapid Sanskrit—butchered pronunciation, but the intent was clear. Dark energy lanced out, striking the golden light on Dumbledore's chest. The failsafe flickered, wavered.
"No!" Harry shouted from his hiding spot, but Bellatrix's magic was already working.
"It's still too strong," Bellatrix snarled. "Someone else needs to—"
Footsteps on the stairs. Everyone turned.
Severus Snape appeared on the tower.
"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. "Please."
Snape's face was unreadable—pale, set, his black eyes fixed on Dumbledore. Harry saw something in those eyes, something that made his blood run cold. Not hatred. Not triumph.
Resignation.
"The Unbreakable Vow," Bellatrix said eagerly. "Severus, you swore to protect Draco and complete his task if he couldn't. Well, he can't. The Vow will kill you if you don't act!"
"I know," Snape said quietly. His wand came up, pointing directly at Dumbledore.
"Severus, don't—" Dumbledore began.
But Snape's attention was on the golden failsafe spell, still pulsing weakly after Bellatrix's attack. Harry saw recognition flash across Snape's face as he examined the magical structure. Of course he'd recognize it—Anant was his oldest friend. He'd seen this magic countless times.
"The spell is anchored here," Snape murmured, pointing his wand at a specific point on the protective web. "Bellatrix weakened it, but didn't know where to strike the keystone. I do."
"Severus, please—" Dumbledore's voice held not fear, but sadness. "Don't betray him. Don't betray Anant's trust."
Something flickered in Snape's expression—pain, guilt, anguish. But the Unbreakable Vow was literal—break it and die. He had no choice.
"Forgive me," Snape whispered, though whether to Dumbledore or to his absent friend, Harry couldn't tell.
His wand moved in a precise, complex pattern—movements that mimicked Anant's casting style but inverted, twisted. Dark energy struck the exact center of the failsafe spell.
The golden light shattered.
Dumbledore gasped as the protective magic failed, his strength visibly draining. The poison Anant's spell had been actively fighting surged back, and Dumbledore swayed, gripping the tower wall for support.
"Now finish it!" Bellatrix screamed. "Kill him before the spell repairs itself!"
Snape raised his wand. For a moment—just one moment—his eyes met Dumbledore's. An entire conversation seemed to pass between them in that look. Then Snape spoke, his voice flat and cold:
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
But even as the curse left his wand, even as the green light flew toward Dumbledore, something unexpected happened.
The failsafe spell, though shattered, had one final function. In its death throes, it sent out a pulse—a desperate magical scream that traveled across continents, through wards and barriers, reaching the one person it was keyed to.
The Battle in Asia - Anant's Fury Unleashed
In the mountain ranges of northern India, Anant Gupta stood at the center of a battlefield littered with hundreds of fallen dark wizards. For three days and nights, he had fought without rest—protecting villages, evacuating civilians, healing the wounded, and single-handedly holding back an army of dark wizards that numbered in the thousands.
His robes were torn and bloodstained. His face was pale with exhaustion. But his eyes still burned with determination.
Across from him, the Crimson Serpent laughed—a wizard whose power rivaled Voldemort himself, whose mastery of Eastern Dark Arts was legendary. Around him stood what remained of his forces: nearly two thousand dark wizards, all focused on the one man who had decimated their ranks.
"You're magnificent, Gupta," the Crimson Serpent said, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "But even you have limits. Three days without sleep, hundreds of dark wizards destroyed, countless civilians saved—your vitality must be nearly depleted. Surrender now, and I'll grant you a swift death."
Anant's response was to raise his wand, preparing for another wave of combat.
Then he felt it.
A spike of terror through his chest. A magical connection screaming across continents. Dumbledore's failsafe spell—the one Anant had personally crafted and embedded with his own life force—crying out in desperation.
Albus is dying.
The realization hit Anant like a physical blow. His friend, his mentor,his Guru the man who had welcomed him to Hogwarts all those years ago—someone was killing him. And beneath the terror, beneath the pain, Anant felt another magical signature.
Severus.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Anant stood on that Asian battlefield, exhausted and bloodied, faced with an impossible choice. Stay and finish the battle here, or abandon everything to save Dumbledore.
But it wasn't really a choice at all.
The air around Anant began to shimmer. His magical pressure—usually carefully controlled—exploded outward like a shockwave. Every wizard on the battlefield, friend and foe alike, felt it: a crushing, overwhelming presence that made it hard to breathe, that made lesser wizards collapse to their knees.
"No," Anant whispered. Then louder: "NO!"
His allies—Indian Aurors, Chinese wizards, local defense forces—all took involuntary steps backward. They had fought alongside Anant for three days. They had seen him perform impossible feats of magic. But this... this was something else entirely.
The very air seemed to warp around Anant. His eyes, usually warm and kind, had gone cold—colder than anyone had ever seen them. The exhaustion that had been visible moments ago was burned away by pure, incandescent fury.
"You," Anant said, his voice carrying across the battlefield despite speaking quietly. "All of you. This entire army of darkness. You were a distraction. A manipulation. Voldemort engineered this crisis to draw me away from Hogwarts, and you..." He pointed at the Crimson Serpent. "You partnered with him. You helped him threaten my friend."
The Crimson Serpent's smile faltered. "Gupta, you're exhausted. You can barely stand. Don't be foolish—"
"I am going to end you," Anant interrupted, his voice still eerily quiet. "All of you. Right now. And then I am going to save my friend. Watch closely, because you're about to understand why Voldemort fears me."
He raised his wand, and his voice rang out with terrible clarity:
"HADO 99: GORYŪTENMETSU!" (Five Swirling Dragons of Destruction)
The effect was beyond anything anyone present had ever witnessed. The sky itself seemed to tear open as five massive shapes materialized—dragons of pure destructive magic, each one three hundred meters long, their scales formed from concentrated Hado energy that blazed with colors that hurt to look at directly.
"Impossible," someone breathed.
The dragons roared—not with sound, but with raw magical force that shattered nearby rocks and flattened trees. They were beautiful and terrifying in equal measure: one blazed with purple lightning, another with crimson fire, a third with golden light that seared the eyes, a fourth with black void-like energy that seemed to consume reality itself, and the fifth with prismatic energy that constantly shifted and changed.
"That's... that's beyond any magic I've ever seen," an Indian Auror whispered in horror and awe.
The dark wizards began to panic, casting defensive spells, trying to flee. It was useless.
Anant's voice was cold as death: "You wanted to see my limits? Let me show you what happens when I stop holding back."
The five dragons descended.
What followed wasn't a battle—it was annihilation. The dragons moved with impossible speed and precision, weaving between each other in a deadly dance. The purple lightning dragon unleashed cascades of electric destruction that vaporized dozens of dark wizards instantly. The fire dragon's breath turned entire contingents to ash. The golden light dragon's power purified and destroyed simultaneously, unmaking dark wizards on a fundamental level. The void dragon consumed everything it touched, leaving nothing behind. The prismatic dragon shifted between attack types, adapting to counter every defense.
The Crimson Serpent tried to fight back. He was powerful—as strong as Voldemort, a master of forbidden techniques. He summoned demonic entities, cast curses that could level buildings, created barriers that should have been impenetrable.
The dragons destroyed everything.
"You think you can match me?" Anant's voice carried across the carnage, and there was something in it that made even his allies afraid. "I am Anant Gupta of the Ancient Gupta Royal lineage. I have practiced Brahmacharya for decades, accumulating power that would destroy lesser wizards. I have mastered Hado, Bakudo, and Kaido—arts you can't begin to comprehend. I have fought Dark Lords and lived. And now, you have made the mistake of threatening someone I love."
The Crimson Serpent fired his most powerful curse—a technique he'd spent twenty years perfecting, capable of killing hundreds at once. The void dragon opened its mouth and simply swallowed the curse, consuming it as if it had never existed.
Then all five dragons converged on the Crimson Serpent.
The dark lord screamed once before he was obliterated—not killed, but unmade, erased so thoroughly that not even his ashes remained.
Without their leader, the remaining dark wizards broke completely. They tried to flee, to Apparate away. The dragons were faster. In less than five minutes, what had been an army of two thousand dark wizards was reduced to nothing. Not a single enemy remained alive.
Anant's allies stood in stunned silence, staring at the devastation. The battlefield was scorched, the ground glass-smooth from the heat, and in the center of it all stood Anant Gupta, his wand still raised, his five dragons circling above him like divine guardians.
"By Brahma," an elderly Indian wizard whispered. "I knew he was powerful, but this... this is beyond anything in the historical records. Not even the great wizards of the Vedic age could..."
But Anant wasn't done. His face was pale—paler than before, drained from channeling such immense power while already exhausted. Blood trickled from his nose. His hands trembled.
"I'm sorry," he said to his allies. "But I have to go. Now."
"Anant, you can't!" the commander of the Indian Aurors shouted. "You've been fighting for three days straight! You just used a spell that should have killed you! You need to rest, to—"
"Dumbledore is dying," Anant interrupted. "I felt it. My failsafe spell is screaming. If I don't go right now, immediately, I will lose one of the only people in this world I consider family."
"But you're thousands of miles away! Even emergency Portkeys take hours to—"
Anant raised his hand, and for the first time, fear crossed the Auror commander's face at what he saw in Anant's eyes. "I'm not taking a Portkey."
He pointed his finger at the empty air in front of him. His voice was hoarse but determined:
"KŪKAN BUNRETSU." (Space Splitting)
What happened next would be talked about in whispered conversations for generations. Reality itself cracked. Not metaphorically—literally cracked, like glass under stress. A line appeared in the air, glowing with silver-white light, and Anant pushed his finger forward.
Space tore.
The rip in reality spread like a wound opening, revealing not the normal void between points but something else—a glimpse into the fundamental fabric of existence. Through the tear, impossibly, they could see Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower as if looking through a window.
"That's... that's not possible," the Chinese wizard delegation leader stammered. "Space-time manipulation is theoretical! No wizard has ever—"
"I'm not a normal wizard," Anant said simply. Blood was now flowing freely from his nose, his eyes had gone bloodshot, and his hands were shaking violently. "This is going to nearly kill me, but I don't care."
"Anant, don't! The magical strain of forcing space itself to bend—you could be torn apart in transit! Even if you survive, the energy cost—"
But Anant was already stepping toward the tear in reality. "Tell my family I'm sorry. Tell them the crisis is over. All the dark wizards are dead. They're safe now."
Then he stepped through the impossible tear, and reality closed behind him with a sound like thunder.
The wizards left behind stood in shocked silence, staring at where Anant had been.
"He just," one Indian Auror said faintly, "killed two thousand dark wizards including a Dark Lord who rivaled You-Know-Who. Used a Hado spell that should have killed him. Then ripped a hole through space and time to teleport across continents. While already exhausted from three days of non-stop combat."
"The legends about him," the Chinese delegation leader whispered. "I always thought they were exaggerated. The Golden Hufflepuff. The wizard who could rival anyone. We thought they were just stories."
"They're not stories," the Auror commander said quietly, still staring at the scorched battlefield littered with the remains of an army that Anant had destroyed single-handedly. "Anant Gupta might be the most powerful wizard alive. And we just watched him nearly kill himself to save a friend."
The Astronomy Tower - Anant's Arrival
Harry crouched behind a fallen statue, watching in horror as Snape raised his wand toward Dumbledore. The Death Eaters surrounded the Headmaster, Bellatrix was laughing, and Draco stood frozen in terror.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The green curse left Snape's wand, flying toward Dumbledore—
—and reality split.
The Killing Curse was mid-flight when a tear appeared in the air between Snape and Dumbledore. Not a portal, not an Apparition—an actual tear in the fabric of space, glowing with silver-white light and radiating such raw magical power that everyone on the tower was knocked backward.
"What the—" Bellatrix began.
The tear exploded outward, and Anant Gupta stepped through.
Harry's mind struggled to process what he was seeing. Professor Gupta—always composed, always in control—looked like he'd been through a war. His robes were shredded and burned. His face was deathly pale, covered in blood, sweat, and ash. His eyes were bloodshot, veins standing out on his temples. Blood flowed freely from his nose and the corners of his eyes.
But the most striking thing was his expression. Harry had never seen such fury on his professor's face—cold, terrible rage that made Voldemort's anger seem like childish petulance.
The Killing Curse hit Anant's chest. For a split second, Harry's heart stopped.
Then golden light erupted from Anant's body—so bright that everyone had to shield their eyes. When it faded, Anant stood completely unharmed, the curse having been absorbed and neutralized by his own magical pressure.
"Severus," Anant said quietly, and his voice carried such weight that several Death Eaters actually stepped backward. "What have you done?"
Snape had gone white as a sheet. "Anant, I—"
"SAVE IT!" The shout was so loud, so infused with raw power, that the tower stones cracked. "You broke my failsafe spell. You cast a Killing Curse at Albus. You—"
He saw Dumbledore, still standing but swaying, the curse having missed its mark when Anant's arrival disrupted space. But Anant could see the damage Bellatrix had done to the failsafe earlier, see how close Dumbledore was to collapse from the cave's poison.
Anant turned to the Death Eaters, and several of them actually fled on the spot, Disapparating in terror.
"All of you," Anant said, his voice deadly quiet again. "Leave. Now. Before I decide that what I just did to two thousand dark wizards in Asia should be repeated here."
"Two thousand?" Bellatrix whispered. "You're bluffing."
"Am I?" Anant's hand rose, and the air above the tower shimmered. For just a moment, an image appeared—five massive dragons of pure destructive magic circling above a scorched battlefield. "I just destroyed an entire army. I killed the Crimson Serpent—a wizard who rivaled your precious Dark Lord in power. Then I tore a hole through space itself to get here. Do you really want to test whether I have enough strength left to kill you but right now my priority is to save Dumbledore, you decide?"
The Death Eaters fled. All of them, even Bellatrix, Disapparated in a panic. Even Snape hesitated only a moment before Disapparating, his face twisted with guilt and anguish.
Only Draco remained, paralyzed with fear. Anant glanced at him. "Go. Tell your mother I saved you when I should have killed you. Tell her she owes me a debt."
Draco ran, not even bothering to Disapparate, just running down the tower stairs in blind panic.
Then Anant collapsed.
Harry rushed forward as his professor's knees gave out. Up close, Harry could see just how badly damaged Anant was. His entire body was trembling. His skin had taken on an ashen quality. The blood from his nose and eyes wasn't stopping.
"Professor!" Harry caught him, struggling under his weight. "What happened to you?"
"Three days," Anant gasped, his voice barely a whisper now that the Death Eaters were gone. "Fighting non-stop. Thousands of dark wizards. Had to protect everyone. Then... then I felt Albus dying. Used Hado 99. Killed them all. Then split space to get here. Should have waited. Should have recovered first. But couldn't... couldn't let him die..."
"You split space?" Harry stared at the professor in awe and horror. "That's not possible!"
"Wasn't... sure it would work," Anant admitted. His eyes were losing focus. "Theoretical technique. Never tried it before. Thought it might... might tear me apart. But Albus needed me. Worth the risk."
Dumbledore, having heard the commotion, approached weakly. "Anant, you fool. What have you done to yourself?"
"Saved you," Anant managed a weak smile. "Both of us... too stubborn to die. Right now... I need to heal you. Before I pass out."
"You can barely move!"
"Don't care." Anant forced himself to his knees, placed his trembling hands on Dumbledore's chest. Golden light began to glow, but it was flickering, unstable. "KAIDO: SOVEREIGN RESTORATION."
The healing magic that poured from Anant was the most powerful Harry had ever seen, even more intense than before. But he could see what it was costing—Anant's face went from pale to grey, his entire body shaking with the effort. The blood from his nose increased to a steady stream.
"The poison," Anant gasped. "From the cave. And Severus's damage to the failsafe. I can fix both. Just need to... need to..."
His hands were glowing so brightly now that they appeared to be on fire. Dumbledore's color was returning, his breathing steadying. But Anant was literally draining his own life force to heal his friend as vitality is draining which make Anant look more older.
"That's enough," Dumbledore said firmly. "Anant, stop. You'll kill yourself!"
"Almost done," Anant gritted out. "Just a bit more. Need to make sure you survive. Can't lose you. Can't..."
The healing magic pulsed one final time, and Dumbledore gasped as his body was flooded with life-giving energy. The poison was purged completely. The damage from the damaged failsafe was repaired. He was weak, but he would live.
Anant's hands dropped, the golden light fading. "There. You'll... you'll be okay now. Albus, I..."
He collapsed completely, falling sideways. Harry barely caught him before his head hit the stone floor.
"Professor Gupta! Anant!" Harry shook him, but there was no response. Anant's eyes had rolled back, his breathing shallow and irregular.
Dumbledore knelt beside them, his own hand trembling as he checked Anant's vital signs. "He's alive. Barely. Harry, he's pushed himself beyond any reasonable limit. Three days of combat, destroying thousands of dark wizards, using a spell that should have killed him, then performing space-time manipulation that no wizard has achieved in recorded history, followed by one of the most powerful healing spells known to magic—all while already critically exhausted."
"Will he be okay?"
"His body has shut down to protect itself," Dumbledore said gravely. "Self-induced coma, allowing his systems to recover without his conscious mind pushing him further. He'll live, but..." He looked at the unconscious professor with deep concern. "He may be comatose for weeks. Possibly months. The toll he paid tonight—it's beyond anything I've ever seen."
Footsteps pounded up the stairs. McGonagall, Flitwick, and several Order members burst onto the tower, wands raised. They stopped dead, taking in the scene: Dumbledore alive but weak, Harry supporting an unconscious Anant who looked like death itself, and no Death Eaters in sight.
"What happened?" McGonagall demanded.
"Anant saved us," Dumbledore said simply. "At a cost that may have been too high."
The Hospital Wing - The Aftermath
The next hours were chaos. Madam Pomfrey worked frantically to stabilize Anant while simultaneously checking Dumbledore. Order members secured Hogwarts. Students were accounted for. And slowly, the full story began to emerge.
Communication mirrors brought reports from Asia: Anant Gupta had single-handedly destroyed an army of dark wizards. The Crimson Serpent—a Dark Lord whose power rivaled Voldemort—was dead, completely obliterated. Sacrey Valley Villages that had been under siege were now safe. The entire dark wizard network in India and China had been decimated in one night of terrible violence.
"He used Hado 99," one of the Indian Aurors reported through the mirror, his face still pale with shock. "I've read about it in ancient texts which modified by Anant to make it more powerful. A forbidden technique that summons five dragons of pure destruction, each one three hundred meters long. The magical cost is supposed to be so high that attempting it would kill most wizards instantly. But Anant... he cast it while already exhausted from three days of non-stop combat."
"And then he tore a hole through space," the Chinese delegation leader added, his voice awed. "We witnessed it. He literally split reality itself to travel from India to Scotland instantly. The magical theory says it's impossible—the energy requirements alone should have torn him apart at the molecular level. But he did it anyway."
McGonagall sat down heavily, staring at Anant's comatose form in the hospital bed. "Two thousand dark wizards. A Dark Lord. Space-time manipulation. Then a Sovereign Restoration healing on top of everything else. How is he still alive?"
"Brahmacharya( Celibacy) and Inhuman Will," Dumbledore said quietly from his own bed. "Decades of celibate discipline, building up magical reserves and vitality and powerful derermination that would kill a normal wizard to contain. That's the only reason he survived tonight. Any other wizard would be dead ten times over."
Hermione, Ron, and several other students had gathered outside the hospital wing, desperate for news. When McGonagall finally let Harry tell them what happened, Hermione burst into tears.
"He nearly killed himself," she sobbed. "He destroyed an entire army, traveled across the world, and nearly died saving Professor Dumbledore. Why does he always push himself so far?"
"Because he's a Hufflepuff," Ron said quietly. "Loyalty and protecting others—that's what they do. And Professor Gupta does it better than anyone."
In his bed, Anant remained unconscious, his body working desperately to repair the catastrophic damage. His skin was still ashen, his breathing shallow, look more older. Diagnostic spells showed his magical reserves were completely depleted—lower than should be survivable. His physical vitality was similarly drained. He had quite literally given everything to save Dumbledore and destroy the threat to Asia.
"The self-induced coma is a defense mechanism," Madam Pomfrey explained, her voice heavy with concern. "His body knows that if he regains consciousness before he's recovered, he'll push himself again and die. So it's forcing rest, preventing him from waking until his vitality has regenerated to safe levels."
"How long?" Harry asked.
"Weeks at minimum. Possibly months. He depleted reserves that take years to build. His Celibacy practice will help—the vitality he's accumulated will accelerate healing—but there's no rushing this. What Professor Gupta did tonight..." She shook her head. "It was suicidal. Glorious and heroic, but suicidal."
Word of what happened spread rapidly through the wizarding world. The Daily Prophet's headline the next day read: "GOLDEN HUFFLEPUFF DESTROYS DARK ARMY—SAVED DUMBLEDORE AT TERRIBLE COST."
The article detailed everything: the three-day battle, the destruction of the Crimson Serpent, the use of Hado 99, the impossible space-splitting technique, and finally the healing that left Britain's most powerful defensive wizard comatose.
Public reaction was overwhelming. Witches and wizards from around the world sent messages of support. The Indian Ministry of Magic awarded Anant their highest honor for saving countless civilian lives. The Chinese magical government did the same. Even the British Ministry—still corrupt and under Voldemort's influence—couldn't publicly ignore what he'd done.
But in the hospital wing, surrounded by get-well cards and gifts, Anant remained unconscious. His body slowly, agonizingly slowly, began to heal. His color improved from grey to merely pale. His breathing steadied. But he did not wake.
"He's fighting even in sleep," Dumbledore observed from his own bed. "His magic is working to restore him, but at a pace that suggests even his incredible vitality has limits."
Snape, surprisingly, sent a message through secure channels—delivered by his Patronus to Dumbledore when no one else was present. Harry, using his Invisibility Cloak, overheard it.
"I never meant for this," Snape's voice spoke through the doe Patronus, full of anguish. "I knew breaking the failsafe would force Anant to act, but I didn't know he was already in Asia fighting. I didn't know he'd been battling for three days straight. I didn't know he'd destroy himself to save you. Albus, I've killed my only real friend. Even if his body survives, he'll never forgive me for this. I don't deserve forgiveness."
The Patronus faded, leaving only guilty silence.
Harry clenched his fists, torn between anger at Snape and pity for the broken man who'd lost everything tonight.
As days turned into weeks, Anant remained comatose. Dumbledore recovered fully, able to resume his duties. Hogwarts was secured. The Asian dark wizard threat was eliminated. But the price had been the one wizard powerful enough to stand against Voldemort when the final battle came.
"He'll wake eventually," Dumbledore told Harry one evening as they sat vigil beside Anant's bed. "His vitality is regenerating. Slowly, but steadily. When he wakes, he'll be weak for some time, but he will wake."
"What if he doesn't?" Harry asked quietly.
"Then the wizarding world will have lost one of its greatest protectors," Dumbledore said heavily. "And I will have lost one of my dearest friends. But Harry, have faith. Anant Gupta has survived impossible odds before. He'll survive this too."
Harry nodded, but looking at his professor's still, pale face, he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if Voldemort attacked while their greatest defender lay helpless in a hospital bed.
Professors Worry
Harry sat beside Anant's hospital bed, having overheard part of a conversation between McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt through the door.
"Voldemort is moving faster than ever," Kingsley was saying grimly. "He knows Gupta is out of commission. He's accelerating all his plans while we're vulnerable."
"Can we protect Harry without Anant?" McGonagall asked, her voice strained.
"I don't know," Kingsley admitted. "Anant was our ace in the hole—the one wizard Voldemort genuinely wary and feared. Without him..."
Their voices faded as they moved away, but Harry had heard enough. He looked at his professor's pale, still face.
"You saved Professor Dumbledore," Harry whispered. "You saved all those people in Asia. But Professor Gupta... we need you to wake up. Because Voldemort is winning, and I don't know if we can stop him without you."
No response. Just the steady, shallow breathing of a man who had given literally everything to protect others and now lay helpless while the enemy celebrated his absence.
In the hallway, Hermione wiped away tears. She'd been listening too, and the cruel irony wasn't lost on her: Anant's greatest heroic act had been exactly what Voldemort wanted. The Dark Lord had played them all perfectly.
"It's not fair," she whispered to Ron. "He saved everyone. He's the best person I know. And Voldemort is celebrating because he's too hurt to fight."
"Yeah," Ron said quietly, his hand finding hers. "But Hermione? When he wakes up—and he will wake up—Voldemort is going to realize he made one critical mistake."
"What's that?"
"He made it personal. Professor Gupta might be kind and patient with students, might believe in second chances and redemption. But when he wakes up and realizes what Voldemort did—how he was manipulated, how his desire to protect was used against him, how many people died while he was unconscious?" Ron's expression was grim.
"Voldemort won't be laughing anymore. Because an angry Anant Gupta is the most terrifying thing in the wizarding world."
Hermione nodded, holding onto that hope. Somewhere, in his healing coma, Anant Gupta was slowly recovering. And when he woke, there would be a reckoning.
But that was weeks or months away. For now, the Dark Lord celebrated, the Death Eaters prepared for conquest, and Harry Potter stood alone against the gathering darkness.
Part Seven: Revelations and Resolution
The Locket Discovery
In the chaos following the attack, the fake locket—the one Harry and Dumbledore had retrieved from the cave—was almost forgotten. It wasn't until three days later, sitting beside Anant's unconscious form in the Hospital Wing, that Harry finally examined it closely. He pulled the crumpled parchment from inside and read it aloud to Ron and Hermione:
To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.
"R.A.B.," Hermione whispered. "Who is that?"
"Regulus Arcturus Black," a raspy voice said from the neighboring bed.
Harry turned. Dumbledore was sitting up, leaning heavily against his pillows. He looked frail, the Sovereign Restoration spell having saved his life but leaving him deeply exhausted.
"Sirius's younger brother," Dumbledore continued softly. "He joined the Death Eaters but had a crisis of conscience. It seems he tried to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes. It likely killed him."
"So the real locket is still out there," Ron said grimly. "Along with the others."
"Four more," Dumbledore confirmed, his eyes resting sadly on Anant's still face. "I believed Voldemort split his soul into seven pieces. We've destroyed two: the diary and the ring. Four remain, plus Voldemort himself. Finding them will be a monumental task."
Harry looked from the fake locket in his hand to Anant's pale, comatose form. "I'm not coming back to Hogwarts," he said suddenly. "Ron, Hermione, and I. We're going to hunt the Horcruxes."
Dumbledore studied him for a long moment. Before that terrible night, he might have tried to convince Harry to stay, relying on his own strength and Anant's protection. But now, with his own body failing and their greatest defender incapacitated, the reality of the war had shifted.
"I suspected you would make that choice," Dumbledore said heavily. "And I will not stop you. But you will not go entirely unprepared. I will share everything I know, every memory, every theory I have about where Voldemort might have hidden them."
"What about Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling slightly. "With Professor Gupta in a coma... is the school safe?"
"Minerva will take over as Headmistress," Dumbledore replied. "She is already fortifying the castle. But I will not lie to you—Voldemort will try to control the school through the Ministry. Without Anant's presence, the political pressure will be immense."
The Vigil and the Pendant
The school year ended not with a funeral, but with a somber vigil. The Hospital Wing became the quiet heart of the castle, with students and staff constantly checking in on the Golden Hufflepuff who had sacrificed everything to save them.
On the last night before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to leave, Harry sat alone in the Hospital Wing. The silence was broken only by the steady, shallow rhythm of Anant's breathing.
"He knew, you know."
Harry jumped. Dumbledore was standing in the doorway, dressed in traveling robes, looking older than ever.
"Knew what, sir?"
"That Voldemort would eventually force him off the board." Dumbledore walked slowly to the edge of Anant's bed. "Anant is brilliant, but he carries a fatal flaw—his heart. He cannot abide the suffering of innocents. He knew that eventually, Voldemort would orchestrate a scenario where he had to choose between his strategic positioning and saving lives."
Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out a small crystal pendant on a silver chain. It glowed with a faint, warm golden light.
"He gave this to me three days ago, right before he left for Asia," Dumbledore explained, handing it to Harry. "He said, 'If things go wrong, if I am delayed or incapacitated, give this to Harry before he does something foolish.'"
Harry took the pendant, feeling the thrum of Anant's unique magical signature within the crystal. "What does it do?"
"It is a distress beacon, keyed directly to his life force," Dumbledore said. "If you are in mortal danger—if you are truly about to die—break it. Wherever he is, whatever state he is in, his magic will respond to it. However..." Dumbledore's expression grew stern. "Given his current condition, you must only use it in the absolute direst of circumstances. Forcing his magic to respond now could kill him."
Harry closed his hand tightly around the crystal. "I won't use it unless I have to. I promise."
"See that you don't." Dumbledore placed a frail hand on Anant's shoulder. "He has paid a heavy enough price for my life. We must ensure he has a world worth waking up to."
The Summer Begins
As students departed on the Hogwarts Express the next morning, plans were already being made. Harry would spend minimal time at the Dursleys before joining the Weasleys. Ron and Hermione would prepare for the Horcrux hunt.
On the train, Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, watching Hogwarts disappear in the distance. The castle looked different now—vulnerable, yet standing in defiance.
"So," Ron said, breaking the heavy silence. "We're really doing this? Dropping out of school to hunt Dark Magic artifacts without Dumbledore or Gupta to bail us out?"
"We're really doing this," Harry confirmed, his hand resting over his shirt, where the crystal pendant lay against his chest.
"Mental," Ron muttered. "Absolutely mental. My mum is going to kill me."
"If she doesn't, Voldemort probably will," Hermione said, a slight tremor in her voice despite her brave face.
They fell silent. The war had truly begun. Dumbledore was weakened and stepping down. Snape had betrayed them. The Death Eaters were mobilizing. And their strongest protector, the wizard who could tear through space and time, lay silent in a hospital bed.
Find the Horcruxes. Destroy them. Kill Voldemort.
Simple in concept. Terrifying in execution.
But as Harry felt the faint warmth of the crystal pendant against his skin, he felt a small, stubborn spark of hope. Anant Gupta was out of the fight, but he wasn't gone. His magic, his preparations, and his profound loyalty were still with them.
They just had to survive long enough for the Golden Hufflepuff to wake up.
Part Eight: The Dark Lord's Triumph
Malfoy Manor - Death Eater Meeting
Three days after the Astronomy Tower incident, Lord Voldemort sat upon his throne in Malfoy Manor's grand hall, surrounded by his most loyal Death Eaters. The atmosphere was tense—they had failed to kill Dumbledore, lost several followers to Anant's fury, and Draco Malfoy had fled in terror.
But Voldemort was smiling.
"My Lord," Bellatrix said nervously, kneeling before him. "I apologize for our failure. Dumbledore still lives, and Gupta—"
"Silence, Bella." Voldemort's voice was soft, almost pleasant. "You have given me the greatest gift imaginable, and you don't even realize it."
The Death Eaters exchanged confused glances.
Voldemort stood, his red eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "Tell me, what have we learned in the past three days?"
Snape, standing apart from the others, spoke carefully. "Anant Gupta destroyed the entire Asian dark wizard network. Over two thousand dark wizards, including the Crimson Serpent. He used Hado 99—a spell that should have killed him. Then he performed dimensional travel across half the world. Then he healed Dumbledore with Sovereign Restoration while already critically depleted."
"And what is his current condition?" Voldemort prompted, his smile widening.
"He's in a self-induced coma," Yaxley reported. "According to our spies at St. Mungo's and Hogwarts, his magical reserves are completely depleted. His vitality is dangerously low. The healers estimate he won't wake for weeks, possibly months. And when he does wake, he'll be weak—too weak to fight for some time after."
"Precisely!" Voldemort's laugh was high and cold, echoing through the hall. "Do you understand what this means? Anant Gupta—the Golden Hufflepuff, the wizard I have wary and even slightly feared more than any other, the one obstacle that truly threatened my plans—is gone. Not dead, which would make him a martyr and potentially trigger unforeseen magical consequences from his Brahmacharya vows. But incapacitated. Helpless. Unable to interfere!"
He began to pace, his excitement growing. "For years, I have planned around Gupta. Every strategy, every scheme, I had to account for the possibility that he would appear and disrupt everything. Do you know how limiting that was? How frustrating?"
Bellatrix was beginning to understand, her expression shifting from concern to matching glee. "My Lord, you planned this. The Asian crisis—"
"Was engineered specifically to exhaust him," Voldemort confirmed. "I knew Gupta's weakness: his insufferable need to protect everyone. I partnered with the Crimson Serpent—a useful fool who actually believed we were equals, he maybe equal to my power but in terms of cunningness he is a dumb which i exploited—and arranged for attacks on civilian populations. Indian Sacred valley villages. Chinese magical communities. Children, even. I knew Gupta couldn't ignore such suffering."
"And he fought for three days straight," Lucius Malfoy said slowly, understanding dawning. "Protecting everyone, healing everyone, never stopping to rest."
"Exactly! I calculated precisely how much it would drain him. The Crimson Serpent's forces were meant to be numerous enough and persistent enough to push Gupta to his absolute limits." Voldemort's smile was cruel. "Of course, I didn't actually expect the fool to survive such a prolonged assault, which is why I had contingency plans. But he did survive—barely—exactly as I needed him to."
"Then the attack on Dumbledore," Snape said quietly, "was timed for when Gupta was at his weakest."
"Yes! Dumbledore was dying from that cursed cave's poison—I knew he would attempt to retrieve that particular fake Horcrux. I knew he would be weakened. And I knew that when my failsafe spell triggered, Gupta would sense it halfway around the world." Voldemort's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure. "I gambled that even exhausted, even depleted, even after three days of non-stop combat, Gupta's loyalty to Dumbledore would override his survival instincts. That he would come anyway."
"The space-splitting technique," Greyback said with dawning horror. "You knew he'd have to do something that extreme to arrive in time."
"I hoped he would! Dimensional travel of that magnitude, across such distance, requires energy that would kill most wizards. I didn't know Gupta had developed such a technique, but I knew he'd find some impossible way to cross continents instantly and that's why I deeply wary of Anant countless spell which he develop but don't show his forbidden spell to anyone but now he used it. And I knew it would cost him dearly."
Voldemort returned to his throne, settling into it with immense satisfaction. "Then, the final piece: the healing. I knew that even if Gupta arrived, even if he survived the journey, he wouldn't stop there. He would heal Dumbledore—not with basic medicine, but with Sovereign Restoration, the most powerful and costly healing spell in existence which also shocked him. He would pour out the last of his vitality to save his friend, his teacher."
The Death Eaters were silent, awed by the complexity of the plan.
"My Lord," Bellatrix breathed, "it's brilliant. You removed your greatest enemy without killing him, without making him a martyr, without triggering whatever magical failsafes he might have left in place. You manipulated him into destroying himself."
"Indeed." Voldemort's laugh was soft and terrible. "Anant Gupta's greatest strength—his loyalty, his need to protect, his refusal to abandon anyone—was also his greatest weakness. I simply had to create a situation where his strength became his downfall."
"But my Lord," Lucius ventured carefully, "what if he wakes sooner than expected? What if his Brahmacharya vitality allows him to recover faster?"
"Let him wake!" Voldemort's voice was dismissive. "By the time he's recovered enough to be a threat, I will have already conquered the Ministry, controlled Hogwarts, and hunted down the remaining Horcruxes that Potter is so desperately seeking. By the time Gupta can stand on his own feet again, the war will already be over."
He leaned forward, his red eyes blazing. "Don't you see? The next few months are critical. Potter is hunting Horcruxes without Gupta's protection. Dumbledore, while alive, is weakened and distracted caring for his fallen friend. The Order of the Phoenix has lost its most powerful fighter. This is the window I've been waiting for—the narrow period where I can act without fear of the Golden Hufflepuff appearing to disrupt my plans."
"What are your orders, my Lord?" Snape asked.
"We move on all fronts simultaneously," Voldemort declared. "Pius Thicknesse will be placed under the Imperius Curse and made Minister of Magic. We will pass legislation targeting Muggle-borns, consolidating power, eliminating resistance. Hogwarts will be taken over—Severus, you will become Headmaster with the Carrows as deputies."
Snape nodded stiffly.
"The Order of the Phoenix will be hunted. Their safe houses will be compromised. Harry Potter will be isolated, frightened, and vulnerable. And when he finally finds the Horcruxes I've left for him to discover, we will spring the trap." Voldemort's smile was terrifying. "All of this will happen while Gupta lies helpless in a hospital bed, unable to do anything but dream."
"My Lord," Bellatrix asked eagerly, "what about when he does wake? What if he comes after you directly?"
"Then I will face him," Voldemort said confidently. "But by that time, I will have collected the Elder Wand—the most powerful wand in existence. I will have hunted down and destroyed anyone who might help him. I will have corrupted or killed his students, his allies, his friends. When Anant Gupta wakes, he will wake to a world already conquered, with no one left to fight beside him."
He stood again, arms spread wide. "This is my moment! Years of planning, of patience, of careful manipulation—all culminating in this. The removal of Anant Gupta from the board. Some of you thought I was obsessed with the prophecy about Potter, obsessed with a teenage boy. But Potter was never my greatest threat. Gupta was. And now he's gone."
The Death Eaters began to understand, their faces lighting up with cruel excitement.
"The boy who lived is nothing without his protectors," Voldemort continued. "Dumbledore is distracted and guilt-ridden. Gupta is comatose. The Ministry will soon be mine. Hogwarts will fall. And young Potter, brave foolish Potter, will walk directly into my hands thinking he's the hero of this story."
He laughed again, louder this time, and his Death Eaters joined in—a chorus of dark amusement filling Malfoy Manor.
"Three days of combat in Asia," Voldemort mused. "Two thousand dark wizards destroyed. The Crimson Serpent obliterated. Hado 99 unleashed. Space itself torn open. Dumbledore healed from certain death. All of it costing Gupta everything—his strength, his vitality, his consciousness. Tell me, is there any price more perfect? He saved everyone in Asia. He saved Dumbledore. And in doing so, he doomed the entire wizarding world to my rule."
"A toast!" Bellatrix cried, raising a goblet. "To the Dark Lord's brilliance!"
"To the Dark Lord!" the Death Eaters chorused.
Voldemort accepted their praise with cold satisfaction. Only Snape remained silent, his face carefully blank, but his mind racing.
Anant, you fool, Snape thought. You've played directly into his hands. And worse—I helped him do it by breaking your failsafe spell. When you wake, if you wake, you'll have every right to kill me for what I've enabled.
But those thoughts stayed buried behind Occlumency shields. On the surface, Snape raised his goblet with the others, toasting the Dark Lord's victory over his best friend.
"The war is all but won," Voldemort declared. "With Gupta removed, nothing stands in my way. Potter will fall. The Ministry will kneel. The wizarding world will finally recognize Lord Voldemort as its rightful master. And it's all thanks to one simple truth: even the greatest heroes can be destroyed if you understand what they love most and force them to choose."
The Death Eaters cheered, their dark celebration echoing through the manor.
And in a hospital bed at Hogwarts, miles away, Anant Gupta lay unconscious, unable to hear the enemy's triumph or know that his greatest act of heroism had given the Dark Lord exactly what he wanted—a clear path to conquest.
End of Year Six