• Hogwarts, 2nd Floor, South Wing, New Combat Training Room •
[Harriet Potter]
"How is this easy mode?…" Harriet complained, taking a step to the right as her breath grew labored. She flicked her wand and jabbed it sharply forward, releasing a Knockback Jinx at her opponent.
The opponent—of course—simply sidestepped to the left, avoiding the spell, and sent one of her own in return.
"I really hate myself right now…" Harriet muttered, watching her duplicate's face twist in provocation, the slight freckles across her nose and cheekbones seeming to grow more prominent.
Harriet didn't like that. So she sent several Stinging Hexes toward her duplicate—five spells in quick succession. She wanted to see her duplicate jump around to avoid them. Maybe that would wipe the smugness painted all over her face.
It didn't work. The duplicate just conjured a shield and raised a single eyebrow, as if to say, Is that all?
"…This is getting frustrating."
And truly, it was. She had been here for half an hour, lost four times in succession across various difficulty levels, and even now, on the easy setting, she still didn't feel like she could win easily.
Her feelings about the whole situation were complicated. On one hand, she'd lost to herself. On the other, she'd also gotten to see how powerful she could become.
"Maybe that's why there were all those warnings in the beginning…" she guessed.
"Well, let's just get this over with," she sighed in resignation and called out, "End simulation!"
She watched as her duplicate began to glow, dissolving into specks of light. The various metal and leather accessories on her hands and fingers, the black nail polish, the high-knee boots, her uniform—almost all her features melted away into light as it happened. It was unsettling.
She shook her head and opened the Archive screen. Soon she initiated the first-time analysis, where her battles would be reviewed and analyzed to give her feedback and advice on what to work on. It didn't take long before a list appeared, making her blink and widen her eyes in surprise.
"This is a lot…" she muttered, scanning the points.
· Physical Conditioning: While you are physically healthy and more powerful than your peers, you are also stiff and don't know how to use your strength in combat. (Click here for more.)
· Acrobatic and Dodging Exercises: You need to train in some of the following (click here) along with your physical conditioning.
· Magic Control: Why are you fighting if you don't know how to control your spells and magic properly?
· …
It went on and on, covering everything and nothing. The comments were either educational or just snarky enough that she felt she might have written them herself. It gave her so many things to do—from learning new spells, to perfecting and mastering those she already knew, to physical training and close-quarters combat drills.
"It's like the Archive is preparing us for war…" she commented as she scrolled through the list. "This looks more like army training drills I've seen than witchcraft and wizardry."
She didn't mention how excited she was getting, though. These pointers were going to be her ticket to beating the shit out of her duplicate.
Suddenly, she stopped and jumped back. She started looking everywhere but couldn't see anything. She blinked as her wand and hand moved on their own—a reflex, maybe—but she didn't think further.
Something had happened. She didn't know what, but she knew that something had. Something changed.
She called up her Archive and went directly to the scanning reports. She scrolled up, and there it was: gibberish written in numbers, letters, runes, and symbols. For one second, even the Archive hadn't known what happened or what changed—though she noticed the data after that indicated the world's energy activity beginning to rise.
"Not my problem…" she decided, closing the tab.
Sighing, she sat down on the ground and returned to planning her training. If she could feel it, then everyone else could too, meaning Professor Dumbledore would take care of it. There was no reason to worry or dwell on it further.
Harriet blinked once as a small golden flicker appeared at the edge of her peripheral vision. She focused, and a new screen unfolded in front of her.
---
📣 Official Announcement to All Archive Users
Issued by: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Date: October 3rd
Subject: On the Current Status of Gellert Grindelwald and the Stance of the Global Magical Community
To all witches, wizards, and magical beings connected to the Archive,
It has come to my attention that the recent reappearance of Gellert Grindelwald has caused considerable alarm across the global magical community. In the hours since his new magic and rank evaluation became public, I have been inundated with urgent correspondence—strongly worded missives, ministerial memos, and public petitions—all urging immediate and decisive action.
I understand this fear. Many among us remember the turbulent era of Grindelwald's rise, the shadows he cast, and the wounds left in the wake of his ambitions. I, too, recall those years with clarity and gravity. However, I must also observe that our collective response now speaks less of vigilance and more of a paralysis I do not recognize in the wizarding spirit I have long known.
Let me be unequivocally clear: the current situation is far from desirable. In an already unstable global climate, marked by unexplained magical phenomena and inter-dimensional tensions, Grindelwald's reemergence is an added complication none of us welcomed.
Yet after careful consideration and consultation with several international bodies, I have arrived at a decision that I believe serves the greater safety of all.
By the authority vested in me, and in light of present magical and humanitarian considerations, I hereby declare:
1. No Direct Confrontation – I will not seek out, nor engage in, any form of duel or direct magical combat with Gellert Grindelwald unless he actively returns to his former path of violent domination and poses a direct, immediate threat to global magical and non-magical populations.
2. Reason for Restraint – A duel between individuals of our power, as we currently stand, would not be contained to a simple exchange of spells. It would endanger every living being within the vicinity—likely devastating entire cities and risking millions of lives. Such collateral damage is unacceptable.
3. Conditional Intervention – Should Grindelwald break the peace, resume hostile actions, or violate international wizarding law, I will intervene with the full measure of my ability. Until such a time, he is to be monitored, not provoked.
4. A Call for Composure – I urge all ministries, governments, and citizens to refrain from rash action, uncontrolled speculation, or vigilante pursuits. The Archives now provide us with tools for transparency, cooperation, and preparedness. Let us use them to strengthen our communities, not fracture them further.
This is not a sign of weakness, nor of secret allegiance. It is a practical and moral stance taken to preserve life on a scale we have never before had to consider. Our world is changing, and our responses must change with it.
Remain vigilant. Continue to prepare. Trust in the magical community's resilience.
In solidarity,
Albus Dumbledore
Addendum – For International Media & Ministries:
A full confidential briefing on threat assessment and contingency planning has been issued to all heads of magical government via secured Archive channels. Please refer to your designated ministerial portal.
--- --- ---
Harriet stared at the announcement, the formal tone and dense paragraphs making her blink. It didn't sound like Dumbledore's usual warm, twinkling-eyed speech—it sounded like a decree.
She skimmed it once more, the words "collateral damage," "conditional intervention," and "preserve life" sticking in her mind.
"Well," she murmured to herself, "I guess that's that."
She closed the screen, the golden glow fading from the edge of her vision. Training suddenly felt a lot more urgent.
X_
[Albus Dumbledore]
"The media will have a field day with that," I chuckled, knowing my announcement would probably make the day for every reporter from here to Berlin. They would fan the flames, spin tales, and spark a chain reaction no one would anticipate—exactly as I intended.
I rather liked the current climate of unrest. That slight, simmering fear would make people more inclined to seek ways to guarantee their safety. The fact that my Archive happened to be the easiest and most guaranteed path to power was merely a happy coincidence.
Perhaps this would be enough to shake off the rust clinging to magical society. Perhaps not. But I preferred to believe it would prove helpful either way.
Now, back to the more immediate problem. Muggle governments and agencies were encroaching on magical potential—identifying newly invited children and snatching them before they could reply. That could not stand.
It was time to make my position clear to them.
I stood and walked out of the lab. The wards, enchantments, and barriers surrounding the room melted back into the walls, floor, and ceiling, disappearing as though they had never been there.
I headed upstairs, directly to my private quarters. A shower and a change of clothes were in order—one does not meet with royalty looking as though one has just crawled out of a ritual chamber. It was the least I could do.
Twenty minutes later, I stood before the mirror, dressed carefully in a black dress shirt, trousers, tie, and shoes, layered under an almond-colored waistcoat and a matching coat as well as a long jacket. A touch of cologne, a black fedora placed just so, and a final nod to my reflection.
"Now I am ready."
I turned around and started to head out, only to stop midway down the stairs as I saw Fawkes resting on his perch, giving me a suspicious stare. I could almost hear him asking, Going somewhere?
I smiled softly at my quirky companion and continued my descent, walking directly to him. "Hey, Fawkes. Want to go on a trip with me?"
~ Squawk! ~
"Well then, let's go." I took a few steps back as he took off, flying in slow circles above me. "To Buckingham Palace, please, Fawkes."
He let out a thrilling cry as flames engulfed us both.
---
We arrived at Buckingham Palace a moment later, our appearance barely noticed by the ordinary people and guards around. I stood for a moment, my eyes scanning the frankly impressive wards surrounding the place.
A blood ward, hmm, I nodded in appreciation at how crafty and well-hidden they were. Most magicals wouldn't even notice them. They were old, and very well-maintained.
I willed my magic forward and performed the equivalent of knocking on the door—except I knocked on the wards themselves. I did not envy those connected to them at that moment; it would feel like someone rapping sharply against the inside of their skull. Not a pleasant sensation.
I stepped back and waited. Not even thirty seconds later, a squad of twelve people, dressed head-to-toe in black, apparated into formation before me. They were poised for assault—clearly a kill first, ask questions later sort of unit—but they froze in place, rooted by paralyzing fear.
I didn't have time to play around. I really needed to get back and unravel the intricacies of chakra, but this matter was more pressing. I would solve it as quickly as possible.
"Gentlemen," I said calmly, "you are neither the Queen nor those in power, so let's not do anything unwise. Go back and inform Her Majesty that Albus Dumbledore is here to meet her. I'm sure she would not mind clearing a few minutes of her busy schedule for me."
As soon as I spoke, it was as if the spell holding them broke. They didn't move, but took a few steps back, holding their weapons in one hand and wands in the other, eyes locked on me.
I didn't say another word, meeting their gazes with a soft smile—which they did not seem to appreciate. Then the man in the middle made a subtle signal, and the two agents beside him nodded and disapparated.
"It's nice weather today, isn't it?" I remarked.
They continued to stare, expressions blank.
Whistle~
Fawkes answered with a pleasant trill. I glanced up at him, still circling above, and smiled. I tapped my right shoulder twice, and he dove down to perch there comfortably.
I didn't so much as tilt. Sure, he was heavy, but I was a young man with a supernatural body. A little extra weight on my shoulder hardly registered if I didn't want it to.
Pop. Pop.
The sound of apparition pulled my attention back. The returning agents didn't waste time; they went straight to the red-haired man—one who could be mistaken for a Weasley if he ever walked through Diagon Alley—who had given the signal, and whispered to him.
He nodded slightly and gestured to the others. They all parted, forming a guarded path along either side.
"This way," the lead agent said, turning without another word.
I raised an eyebrow but followed without comment. Frankly, I was enjoying the situation. It felt like something out of those secret agent films I'd watched as a child in my past life.
After a rather long and winding walk through corridors—both enchanted and otherwise—we arrived before a large, ornate door, far grander and more elegantly decorated than even the Great Hall's entrance. It swung open silently, revealing a lavishly appointed room: golden ornaments, portraits, tapestries, and elegant chandeliers filled the space.
In the center stood a modestly sized wooden table. It looked new, but I knew better—I could feel the centuries-old magic emanating from it.
I raised an eyebrow and walked toward the table, ignoring how every agent in the room, hidden or visible, tensed as I moved.
Do they really think they can hide from me? I mused, my eyes tracing their positions and readiness. A faint smirk touched my lips as I reached the intended seat and took it.
Then I refocused on the most important person in the room.
The Queen.
There she sat, in a high-backed chair on the opposite side of the table, watching me with a look of intrigue and a touch of amusement.
"Welcome to my castle, Mr. Dumbledore," she said, her voice calm and measured. "Not as magical as yours, of course, but it does its job." Her tone was quite playful.
"Well, we can't all have our own Hogwarts, can we?" I replied, equally playful. There was no need to make the atmosphere tense and dramatic.
"That's true," she nodded. "So, what can I help you with? You made quite the impression with your sudden visit."
"Well, when you discover that people are taking your young students from their homes and into secret agencies, one tends to be quite urgent about such a thing."
"Oh, do tell. Who are those involved, and how did you come by such information?"
"Hmm, the students, you mean? Well, I do have a list with their names here," I said, and conjured a stack of papers with their pictures and names beneath.
"Oh, magic," she said with fascination. "No matter how many times I see it, it never ceases to amaze me." She took the papers and started looking through them.
"I agree. Magic truly is fascinating."
"Mr. Dumbledore, I don't believe these children are of age to join Hogwarts yet…"
"That was before the new admission rule adjustment," I clarified. "From now moving forward, admissions start at the age of eleven."
"I will see to it that my best men are on the job of finding those children—"
"Ahem, Your Majesty," I cleared my throat, interrupting her. "You may have misunderstood something. I didn't come here to ask for a favor. I came to inform you that if the children are not home by the end of the day, safe and sound, those agencies will not be around tomorrow morning…"
I smiled as I felt the hostility of everyone around us rise. Some even pointed their weapons and wands toward me, fully intending to shoot or curse me—but they soon noticed they could not move.
The reason for that was simple. As soon as I sat down, I blessed the room with a temporary blessing. I made the room a no-fighting zone. Meaning unless there's a god to undo my blessing, no one can defy it.
The Queen, for her part, seemed nonplussed. She just looked down, no doubt checking why the magic on the table hadn't blasted me to pieces yet.
"That's a very strong statement, Mr. Dumbledore… I thought wizards and witches had laws against revealing magic to non-magicals, as well as fighting them, et cetera…"
"Oh, we do. But there's also a little something you seem to ignore: you are the ones who made the first move."
She didn't reply, and just blankly stared at me for a few seconds before sighing. "Alright, I will issue the order…" she muttered, and leaned back in her chair.
"Well then, now that that's out of the way," I said with an exaggerated phew, my expression turning jovial and friendly, "let me ask you something: Who enchanted this table? I must say, it's a very good enchantment."
"Oh, this is a royal family heirloom," the Queen replied. "One that is said to date back to the time of Arthur Pendragon. So if I had to guess, it must have been Merlin."
"Oh, that's interesting," I mused aloud as I inspected the table. "I can believe that. The enchantments are superbly crafted. If this is true, then his title as the Prince of Enchantment is not an exaggeration. If he can craft such tightly-netted, long-lasting enchantments, then the title was well-deserved."
"Well, I don't know much about that, but I will take your word for it," the Queen shrugged, not nearly as interested as I was.
"Oh, where are my manners?" I said with a sigh as I stood up. "I'm sure you are busy, and seeing as I came by unannounced, I should not overstep my welcome."
"Oh, there's no need for such a thing," the Queen said. "You are welcome to stay if you like."
"How generous of you, Your Majesty, but I do have other things to do today, and seeing as our discussion for today is finished, I will be going back."
"Well, do as you like, then."
"Thank you," I nodded at her. "We will meet again soon, hopefully under better circumstances."
"Hopefully."
"Then goodbye, Your Majesty," I said, turned around, and walked out.
I was still acting oblivious to the tense state of everyone else in the room, ignoring the fearful and suspicious looks I got as I walked out. Just like I ignored how the Queen's gaze kept drifting to Fawkes every now and then.
And now, let's head back home…
X_
[Queen Elizabeth II]
She watched as the man known as Dumbledore walked out of the room, having achieved his goal and completely ignoring everything else. She couldn't help but envy him. She wanted that kind of power too—the power to come to a royal palace, state your terms, and leave.
That would be wonderful, she thought. It would have helped me ignore most of the annoyances that politics ruins my day with.
"Robert," she called, and the red-haired man walked to her side.
"Your Majesty," the man said respectfully.
"Get this done before nightfall," she said, gesturing to the stack of papers. "I don't want to wake up tomorrow with a crippled country to run."
The man nodded, took the papers, and walked out. He didn't ask anything else, nor did he need her to clarify. That's why she liked him.
If only everyone else was like him, she lamented with a sigh.
"Now then, let's call a meeting with those involved in this operation," she muttered. "I want to know why they thought that was a good idea…"
She stood up and walked out of the room. She needed to go and ask what other stupidity her various departments had committed. Because that's what this was. Stupidity.
They knew they were only allowed to recruit willing graduates. That was the rule. But it seemed some people were trying to overreach their positions again.
I still need to sit down with Robert later and have him explain everything that happened in that room from the beginning, she reminded herself. She could tell there was more than met the eye happening back there, but that was an issue for later.
For now, she had overreaching hands to sever.