Dark Lord Dumbledore

While everyone was on the edge of their seats, keen to see what magical marvel Dumbledore had conjured, Chad stepped close to Rita and Sirius. At the slightest hint at danger to their lives, he was ready to activate an illegal Portkey to take them to safety.

He had already warned Hermione and Neville of the dangers and had a house-elf watching them in case they got into trouble. Dumbledore was feared for a reason.

Even though he was spouted bullsh*t about love and peace, the man was incredibly talented and dangerous. It was merely a cover after all.

As everyone looked down at the arena to see why the ground was rumbling, Tom launched into the air with his self-created flight spell. The appropriate oohs and ahhs at his skill only made them inch more and more off of their seats for a better look.

Sitting on the edge of your seat was a weird phenomenon. An unconscious movement that literally had no effect on your eyesight, yet was nearly universally done by all people.

Just as Riddle cleared ten metres, the earth opened up, and a jet of lava shot into the air. Dumbledore had created a mini volcano, and it seemed to somehow aim itself at its selected target.

The surprise of the spell took Tom a second to adjust his flight, but it was enough time to cover one of his feet in fiery goo. With a determination that seemed to shrug off any pain, Tom cut off the affected limb and continued to fly through the air dodging Dumbledores hail of spells.

It was a good thing that Chad had thoroughly modified his minion's body, or the pain from having your foot melted off would have ended the fight as surely as if he was hit by the Killing Curse. Dumbledore, a veteran fighter, would not have missed such an opportunity to finish him off.

The programming of minion Voldemort kicked in, and just like Dumbledore, his offensive was stepped up a level. He fired off a volley of offensive spells that forced the old man to take cover under a dome of protective magic.

It was much harder to defend from air-to-surface attacks than vice versa, especially when liquid hot magma was flooding the arena. However, while Tom was quickly giving himself a new silvery appendage, the master of transfiguration created more allies to help him attack.

Creatures capable of flight launched out of the growing pool of fiery death and locked onto their target with unerring accuracy. The now recovered Riddle knew he had to pull out the big guns and resort to a spell that was as far Dark as he was allowed to go.

The protective 'Dark' charm Protego Diabolica was remarkably similar in its effects to Fiendfyre, but not actually illegal. It allowed the user to create a protective ring of black fire around them that completely incinerated the enemies of the caster that came into contact with it while leaving their allies unharmed.

Even other creations of fire.

As Dumbledore's magma critters returned to their base form, they had the unintended consequence of falling back towards their creator thanks to gravity. A rudimentary air spell hastening its descent towards Dumbledore.

Halfway through another spell, because he thought Voldemort would take a few seconds longer to defeat them, Dumbledore slightly panicked and cast a spell with an element his brain automatically told him subdued fire.

A jet of water thanks to the Aguamenti Charm.

Unfortunately, the byproduct of fire and water was steam, and due to the close proximity of the molten earth, Dumbledore received a faceful of it. The old man screamed as the skin blistered worse than if he was hit with boiling water.

Luckily, although the steam caused immense pain to Dark Lord Dumbledore, it also saved him by creating a massive fog of war, obstructing the battlefield.

Tom was forced to waste valuable time by casting spells to clear his view in between firing random potshots at Dumbledore's last position. However, in his eagerness to capitalise on his advantage, Tom had made himself a clear target for retaliation.

Just as the cloud of steam cleared, it revealed his own position and a severely burned Dumbledore benefited from the mistake. A barrage of sword-beaked birds followed by all manner of quickly fired lethal spells exploded against Riddle's hastily erected shield.

Though he didn't receive any life-threatening damage, it was enough to disrupt his flight and make him fall from the sky, his concentration on the spell lost. Dumbledore let out a shout of triumph, the pain of moving his blistered face momentarily forgotten in his joy at gaining the upper hand in a life or death fight.

But there was one thing Albus Dumbledore didn't count on.

The Tom Riddle he knew was a self-serving egomaniac that valued his own life above all else, even going so far as to make an anagram of his name to mean 'flight from death' in french.

So when Dumbledore expected to quickly finish the injured man falling from above as he tried to save himself, it took him by complete surprise when 'Voldemort' accelerated his fall and was coming right for him!

The spells had not stopped flying while Tom fell or Dumbles celebrated, such was the skill and determination of the combatants. But the slight miscalculation on Dumbledore's part of his enemy's motivations cost him another injury.

Even as the man believed to be Tom Riddle was impaled, burnt, and then exploded into meaty chunks, his willingness to sacrifice his life to take Dumbledore with him cost the old man his wand arm.

For once, the crowd baying in excitement was quiet. The savage fury of the duel making even the most veteran fighters amazed at the skill displayed in the fight, and the resolution of the sudden outcome.

Tom Riddle was dead, and Albus Dumbledore left severely burned and missing an arm.

The Aurors surrounding the arena and keeping the spells from impacting the crowd started to do away with the lava still flooding it, the mini volcano still slowly trickling out fiery death.

Like a wounded animal, Dumbledore was extremely cautious and kept a keen eye on them for treachery. He wanted nothing more than to Apparate back to his hideout and tend to his wounds.

But this was the only chance he would ever get to plead his case!

Luckily for Dumbledore, as much as Fudge wanted to finish the old bastard off, the damage his reputation would take was simply not worth it, and the Aurors were strictly instructed not to make a move on him.

Seeing a gaggle of red-heads hurrying over through the mostly cleared battlefield also helped to put Dumbledore's mind at ease. If ever there was a family entirely devoted to him, it was the Weasleys.

Though why Molly decided to bring her children along with her was a bit baffling. This was a fight to the death, and a mutilated body was not far from where he stood!

"Albus! Thank Merlin you are ok!" Molly cried out as she started to fuss over him and help with his wounds as much as she could.

"Thank you, Molly, it was a bit touch and go for a bit, but thankfully, justice prevailed!" He managed to say through the pain, the adrenaline starting to wear off.

"Will you still be able to speak for Arthur and the others at the trial? To clear their names?" She asked fearfully, afraid her last hope might abandon her.

"Of course, I will do my best. Unfortunately, I have lost a lot of my influence lately, let's hope this duel provides us with some more clout."

"But they're innocent, they were just acting on your orders. Right?" Ron obliviously blurted out, unaware such a statement could add to Dumbledore's crimes.

"There, there, my boy. Have no fear, we will straighten this misunderstanding out." Dumbledore responded, trying to placate the idiot.

"But they want to give dad the Dementor's Kiss! You have to save him!" Ron continued.

As much of a git as Ron was, he did still care for his family.

A flash of annoyance lit Dumbledore's features that could have been mistaken for a twinge of pain as he turned his back on the annoying child. But Ron was already at boiling point and took it personally. This was the man that caused his family every problem they were currently facing.

While Molly started screeching at Ron to show respect to the great Albus Dumbledore, Ron's mind was flashing through all the sh*t he had to deal with since Dumbledore had come into his life.

The rejection from Harry Potter, even though Dumbledore assured him that they would be friends.

All of the hate him and his family received for sticking up for Dumbledore after his fall from grace.

That his father was about to be killed for following Dumbledore's orders.

The hate he felt for this crispy old cripple was more than he had ever felt for anything in his entire short life. Almost as if something was amplifying it...

Before Ron could think things through or soothe his anger, he lashed out, almost automatically.

"Avada Kedavra!"