Tom Riddle's POV
The echo of shattering glass and splintering stone still lingered in the Great Hall, but I was already moving. Dumbledore had recovered from the last onslaught, his robes scorched, hair slightly singed, yet his eyes burned with unwavering determination. The floor beneath us cracked and buckled, fissures racing outward like veins through the ancient stones.
I didn't hesitate. With a swift flick, I apparated a wall of black fire between us, forcing Dumbledore back. His phoenix screeched, diving through the flames to intercept, but I let the fire twist around it, shaping into whiplike tendrils that lashed at his shields. The heat was suffocating, the flames hungry, yet his water manipulation surged in counter, extinguishing some, shaping torrents into serpentine constructs that danced through the firestorm.
I grinned faintly. Even with all my knowledge and power, I could see he had learned to anticipate me, to adapt. But I was young, immortal, and limitless. I could sustain the battle far longer than he could.
"You've grown far too dangerous, Tom," Dumbledore said, voice echoing off the broken walls. "Do you even understand what you're risking?"
"I risk nothing," I replied, voice cold, precise. "Everything I do is calculated. Every spell, every movement. You taught me that, didn't you?"
He didn't respond, simply gathering his phoenix above, concentrating as I gathered mine. The energy of our combined powers warped the air between us, bending it into shimmering waves. I let my fingers trace the air, sending a volley of black lightning crackling forward. Dumbledore countered with fire infused with wind magic, splitting my attack midair, yet forcing me to expend part of my Phoenix reserves to maintain control.
I decided it was time to escalate. The battle could not remain static. With a low chant, I transfigured the Great Hall itself. Massive pillars of stone twisted and grew, reshaping into jagged, obsidian spikes aimed at him. He responded instantly, weaving streams of water and fire to shield himself, but I pushed further, forcing the floor to writhe beneath him. Stones erupted like geysers, attempting to pierce his defenses.
Dumbledore leapt backward with incredible agility, phoenix teleporting by his side. He raised his wand, sending shards of ice and stone to counter the erupting pillars. Yet the sheer scale of my attack made even him stagger. This was no longer a duel—it was a siege within Hogwarts.
I struck next, combining my necromantic knowledge with transfiguration in a single complex spell. Black tendrils erupted from the floor, each tipped with jagged spikes, attempting to bind his legs and trap him in place. He countered with a swirling vortex of water and air, yet one tendril grazed his robes, shredding the edge and sending sparks of residual magic scattering.
"You push the limits, Tom," Dumbledore said, voice steady but strained. "But every step you take here, you risk everything."
"I understand perfectly," I said. "I risk nothing I cannot control. And you… you are simply the final obstacle."
The hall groaned as I summoned a Fiendfyre storm, this time forming it into serpentine dragons with jagged obsidian scales. They lunged, snapping at his defenses. He responded with firestorm, shaping it into a counter-dragon, weaving flames to intercept mine midair. Sparks, smoke, and ash filled the hall, burning the ceiling, igniting shattered tapestries, and sending debris raining down.
I seized a moment of distraction. With a flick, I sent a volley of black lightning spears, splitting midair into three deadly arcs each, aimed at him from multiple angles. He raised shields, yet I saw the strain in his posture—every spell required precise timing, every defense draining his energy.
We moved together, circling through the broken hall, spells colliding midair. I sent tables, chandeliers, and stone fragments hurled by telekinesis. He countered by transfiguring the stone into shields, the chandeliers into phoenix constructs, but some shards grazed him, cutting his arm slightly. I smirked. Even Dumbledore was not untouchable.
"You fight well, Tom," he said, eyes flashing. "But raw power without restraint is dangerous. One misstep… one lapse, and Hogwarts itself will burn around us."
I tilted my head, sending a spray of black flames and icicles converging into a single arc. "Then perhaps it's time Hogwarts learns who truly controls it."
He raised his wand just in time to block the convergence, sparks flying as the combined magic exploded outward. Windows shattered, walls cracked further, and the Great Hall itself seemed to tremble under the force. My Phoenix screeched, diving to intercept residual magic, while he concentrated, summoning a vortex to contain the damage.
"You've surpassed every student I've ever taught," he said quietly, almost mournfully. "Even Grindelwald would be astonished… but power is not everything, Tom. Not if it consumes you completely."
I let my eyes flare. "Then let me show you what consuming power can accomplish."
With a sharp gesture, I created dozens of shadowy duplicates of myself, each moving independently, launching volleys of spells from every direction. Dumbledore responded by summoning elemental constructs—water, air, fire, and stone—forming a swirling, moving fortress around him. Each spell collided midair, explosive and chaotic.
I focused, feeling the surge of Dragon Magic Core, the Phoenix energy, the power flowing through every limb. I unleashed a torrent of cutting curses, black lightning, and Fiendfyre, all layered with transfigured stone spikes and ice shards. Dumbledore countered, raising shields, transfiguring flying objects into defensive creatures, yet even he struggled to keep up with the sheer complexity.
I struck next with a combination I had perfected: necromantic tendrils wrapped around transfigured stone constructs, turning them into moving, jagged arms aimed directly at him. He deflected some, but one struck his side, sending him staggering slightly. I pressed forward, sending more volleys, keeping him on the defensive.
Our spells collided in midair, the energy forming blinding arcs of light. The hall was unrecognizable—scorched, broken, ablaze. Dust, ash, and shattered stone swirled around us like a storm.
I glanced briefly at his phoenix, circling and watching, and realized something crucial: even if I outmatched him in raw destructive power, he was still calculating, still adaptive. The fight would continue for hours, perhaps days. Exhaustion would be a factor, even for me.
I took a step back, raising my wand. "Enough for now," I muttered, voice low, yet echoing with authority. "We will see who truly triumphs… but know this, Albus… I will not lose."
Dumbledore nodded slightly, breathing heavily. "Nor I, Tom… nor I. Hogwarts… and everything else… will not fall without a fight."
We separated slightly, both surveying the damage. The Great Hall lay in ruins, but neither of us had yielded an inch. The duel had escalated beyond control, each spell, each transfiguration, each destructive force pushing us closer to our limits.
And this was only the beginning.