Harry Potter and the Silent Guardian

As the battle dragged on, Dumbledore began to show signs of fatigue. His breathing grew heavier, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow.

Harry noticed and smirked beneath his helmet. "As you can see, you can't defeat me. I don't want to hurt you, old man. Can I leave now?"

Dumbledore steadied himself, his voice still firm. "You are powerful. Were you the one who saved Charles from Voldemort's grasp that night?"

"Are you talking about the rumor of a mysterious wizard rescuing Charles?" Harry asked casually. "Unfortunately, no. I wasn't even on the continent at the time. I only came here when I was notified that the forest needed my pest control services. Still, I'd like to meet that person—he has the qualities of a knight. It would be an honor to make his acquaintance."

Dumbledore's piercing gaze didn't waver. "I feel you're hiding something. Tell me the truth."

Harry chuckled darkly. "Says the man who thrives on secrets. Can I leave, or are you eager to lose?"

Dumbledore's eyes flashed with renewed determination. "You leave me no choice, then."

With a sweep of his wand, Dumbledore summoned a massive whirlwind, a vortex of wind and debris encircling Harry. The violent storm threatened to tear him apart.

"Enough," Harry muttered.

Planting his feet firmly, he channeled his magic into his sword once more. With a powerful slash, the whirlwind parted like water, the winds dissipating into nothingness.

Before Dumbledore could recover, Harry closed the gap between them. In a swift, controlled motion, he struck the Headmaster with the flat of his blade, sending him flying backward.

Leveling his sword at Dumbledore, Harry held his ground but made no move to strike further. "It's over."

Dumbledore lay where he had fallen, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Very well," he said wearily. "Do what you must."

Harry sheathed his sword with a sigh. "I have no intention of harming you."

From within his cloak, he pulled out a spare wand—unremarkable and impossible to trace back to him. Pointing it at Dumbledore, he said calmly, "Stupefy."

A jet of red light hit Dumbledore squarely, and he collapsed gently to the ground, unconscious.

Turning to leave, Harry felt a faint mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. "That should keep you out of trouble for a bit," he muttered under his breath.

As he began to walk away, a sudden surge of magic pulsed behind him. Harry spun around, his sword at the ready, to see Dumbledore stirring. The old man rose slowly, his eyes gleaming with determination.

"You're resilient. I'll give you that," Harry remarked, shaking his head.

Dumbledore straightened, standing tall despite his obvious fatigue. "I cannot allow you to leave without understanding who you are and what your intentions are."

"Stubbornness must come with age," Harry quipped. "Or perhaps it's just your trademark."

Without warning, Dumbledore unleashed a barrage of spells, each one more relentless than the last. Harry deflected them with ease, his movements fluid and precise, but the onslaught was relentless.

"You're only delaying the inevitable," Harry called out, his voice tinged with exasperation.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore replied, his tone resolute. "But I won't allow an unknown wizard to roam freely in this country during such troubled times."

Harry sighed, raising his spare wand. "Very well."

He fired a series of powerful stunning spells, each one forcing Dumbledore back a step. Though the Headmaster fought valiantly to maintain his defense, the signs of exhaustion were evident. His movements slowed, his shield spells faltered, and his energy waned with every passing moment.

Finally, with a well-aimed Expelliarmus, Harry disarmed Dumbledore. He expected the wand to fly into the bushes, giving him the opportunity to depart. But something entirely unexpected happened.

Dumbledore's wand, which should have been flung aside, instead changed direction mid-air and soared straight into Harry's free hand.

The moment his fingers closed around it, a surge of warmth coursed through him. The connection was instant, powerful, and ancient. Realization dawned: the Elder Wand had chosen him as its new master.

"Well, that was unexpected," Harry muttered under his breath. Though the Elder Wand had always been in his plans, he hadn't been in any hurry to claim it. This was unintentional, yet fortuitous.

Now, Harry held mastery over two of the Deathly Hallows. The Resurrection Stone, still cursed, remained hidden in the Gaunt home, well within his reach if he ever decided to retrieve it. But Harry had no immediate desire to become the Master of Death. The ring's curse was something he intended to avoid, though part of him was curious to see if Dumbledore's hubris would lead him to the same fate in this world. Harry didn't wish harm on Dumbledore, but if the man's arrogance ensnared him, Harry wouldn't intervene either.

Dumbledore stared in shock. "The wand... it has accepted you…"

Harry slipped the Elder Wand into his cloak, his tone casual. "Seems that way. It is special, isn't it? I've been interested in it ever since I read The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Never thought it actually existed. Thank you, Headmaster; I'll treasure it."

Dumbledore's face was a mix of confusion and resignation. "Who are you?"

"Just a knight, doing his duty," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Wait," Dumbledore called, his voice faint but urgent. "What will you do now?"

Harry paused and glanced back. "I'm a knight always looking for thrilling battles. I'll be around—I get the sense that this country is heading for exciting times in the coming year. Oh, and do me a favor. Collect the other Deathly Hallows for me, will you? I know the Cloak is with the Potters, and I'll claim it in time. As for the ring, I've no idea where it is, but I'll be back for it. Until then, goodbye."

Without waiting for a reply, Harry disappeared into the forest, leaving Dumbledore alone in the clearing.

He moved swiftly through the trees, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the scene of the battle.

As he reached the forest's edge, Harry cast a final glance toward Hogwarts. The castle stood proudly against the golden hues of dawn, oblivious to the duel that had just transpired in the nearby woods.

"Until next time," he whispered.

With that, he took to the skies. He avoided Apparating immediately—Dumbledore was known to have ways of tracking Apparition signatures, and Harry couldn't risk leading him to Black Castle. That would reveal far too much.

After flying a considerable distance, Harry found a secluded spot where he finally Apparated back to Black Castle. As he stepped into the familiar halls, the weariness of the night began to catch up with him. But despite his exhaustion, he couldn't help but smile.

"What a night," he murmured to himself as he prepared for some much-needed rest.