DADA Classroom...
The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with quiet intrigue as Professor Leo Morningstar paced at the front,
His wand spinning effortlessly between his fingers as he explained the behavioural patterns of werewolves during lunar shifts.
"—and remember, a werewolf doesn't recognise friend or foe under transformation. Your silver is your last resort, never your first—"
The classroom door creaked open.
Every student turned.
Professor McGonagall stepped in, her expression composed yet tense—
Lips pressed into a thin line, eyes sharp behind her square spectacles.
"Professor Morningstar,"
She said crisply, her voice calm but edged with urgency.
"May I borrow you for a moment?"
Leo raised an eyebrow, twirled his wand once, and gently set it on the desk.
"Of course, Minerva."
The moment he stepped out, murmurs erupted among the students.
Sirius leaned toward Lilly with a grin.
"Think he's finally getting scolded?"
Lily elbowed him.
"Shut it, Sirius."
Outside, McGonagall led Leo down the corridor with long, purposeful strides.
They turned into a quieter wing near the moving staircase, away from curious eyes and ears.
"What's happened?"
Leo asked, sensing her magic was coiled like a spring beneath her usual discipline.
McGonagall didn't waste time.
"There's been an attempted coup at the Ministry."
She said, voice low but clipped.
"Minister Jenkins was nearly assassinated—she survived, thanks to the Aurors."
Leo's gaze sharpened.
"Who was behind it?"
"I don't know yet. Dumbledore summoned you to the Headmaster's office. He's waiting. The Ministry is requesting key allies."
"They want Morningstar."
Leo cracked his neck once and gave a short nod.
"Then let's not keep them waiting."
As Leo and Minerva reached the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office,
Minerva leaned in and whispered the password.
"Fizzing Whizzbee."
The gargoyle slid aside silently, revealing the spiralling staircase.
Without a word,
Leo stepped on, Minerva following just behind.
The staircase twisted upward smoothly, bringing them before the ornate wooden door.
Leo opened it.
Creak-
Head master Office...
Inside, the office felt heavier than usual.
The portraits of past headmasters whispered among themselves.
Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, let out a low coo from his perch.
At the centre of the room stood Dumbledore and Grindelwald, both bearing unusually solemn expressions.
And seated across from them were two unfamiliar faces—
A middle-aged man with a slightly awkward posture, a tangle of sandy hair, and a suitcase beside his chair.
Beside him sat a graceful woman with dark curls and soft, observant eyes.
Dumbledore rose with a mild smile.
"Leo, Minerva. Welcome. Please, come in. Allow me to introduce—Newt Scamander… and his wife, Porpentina."
Leo blinked.
"____"
"The Newt Scamander?"
His eyes flicked toward the suitcase with knowing curiosity.
Newt smiled warmly, standing up and shaking Leo's hand.
"You must be the famous Morningstar. I've heard… curious things about you."
Leo chuckled.
Chuckle~
"Only half of them are true. The rest are exaggerated."
Newt grinned.
"That's usually how it goes."
The mood lightened for a brief moment as the two began exchanging excited chatter...
About Runespoors, Kelpie migrations, and the odd behaviours of French Mooncalves.
"You must come to my mansion,"
Leo offered.
"We've opened a cross-dimensional portal system. You'll find creatures and people from far more than one world."
Porpentina looked mildly intrigued.
"Cross-dimensional?"
Before Newt could respond, a dry cough cut through the conversation.
Cough~
Dumbledore.
"As lovely as this is,"
He said with a slight arch of his brow,
"I'm afraid we must return to the matter at hand."
"There's been a coup attempt. Not just one faction, but multiple Wizarding Houses have been implicated. It was coordinated, disguised as isolated attacks. The Ministry only barely repelled it, thanks to last-minute intelligence."
Grindelwald stepped forward, arms crossed.
"These families… they are not acting independently. Someone is manipulating them. Possibly connected to Voldemort, possibly not."
Minerva frowned.
"Any names?"
Dumbledore sighed.
"We suspect… Greengrass. Mulciber. Rosier. And disturbingly, there are whispers even the Selwyns and Nott family may be involved."
Leo's eyes narrowed.
"So it begins."
Grindelwald nodded gravely.
Nod~
"And it must end… fast."
Suddenly, a sharp caw echoed through the room.
All eyes turned toward the open window as a raven, sleek and black as midnight, swept into the office with an elegant dive.
Its wings beat once—
Twice—
And it landed on the desk before Leo, clutching a sealed parchment in its beak.
The seal glimmered silver and emerald—
Gringotts.
Leo's brow furrowed.
Frown~
"____"
He took the letter and the raven, mission complete, vanished in a puff of black mist.
Clearly enchanted.
"Interesting,"
Leo muttered, breaking the seal.
Minerva leaned slightly over his shoulder.
Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Newt watched quietly as Leo unfolded the parchment.
His golden eyes skimmed the contents.
Then, without a word, he handed it over to Dumbledore,
Who took it with cautious fingers.
The parchment bore a list—
Written in clean, jagged strokes:
Rosier
Selwyn
Mulciber
Yaxley
Nott
Rowle
At the bottom, the letter bore the mark of the Gringotts High Council—
Signed and stamped, officially sealed.
"These… are the names?"
Dumbledore murmured, his voice heavy with disbelief.
He looked up, brows furrowed, a hint of reluctance in his eyes.
Frown~
"Leo… while this is deeply troubling, we must be cautious. Goblins do not always align with wizard affairs—"
Leo cut him off gently, but firmly.
"These goblins do."
He stepped forward, voice quiet but iron-willed.
"The Morningstar vaults were entrusted to Gringotts centuries ago. My family's relationship with them predates the Ministry itself. The High Council of Gringotts is bound by ancient magical oaths—to us."
His gaze locked with Dumbledore's.
"They will never betray the Morningstar name. If they've risked sending this—then the information is absolute."
Grindelwald nodded, already believing him.
Nod~
"It matches our suspicions. But this… solidifies it."
Dumbledore slowly lowered the parchment, his expression grim.
"Then the rot runs deeper than we feared."
Minerva's lips tightened.
"If those houses are involved… they hold seats in the Wizengamot."
Leo's jaw clenched slightly.
"Then it's time we reminded them… this isn't the old world anymore."
Leo, Minerva, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald stepped into the headmaster's floo network.
The green flames swallowed them one by one.
As Leo emerged from the other end, he was immediately struck by the atmosphere.
The Ministry...
The Ministry was on edge.
Aurors moved with tight shoulders and brisk steps.
The air buzzed with panic-laced tension, the corridors echoing with barks of orders and the hurried shuffle of parchment and feet.
The scent of blood and burnt robes still lingered faintly.
And there, seated on a conjured stretcher in the lobby, was Alastor Moody.
He looked like a man who had crawled out of a dragon's gullet.
His face was bandaged.
One sleeve was soaked in blood.
And most noticeably—
His eye was missing, replaced with a pulsing patch of raw flesh.
"Bloody bastards,"
He muttered under his breath, teeth clenched.
"Took me by surprise. Next time I see Yaxley, I'll shove a Blasting Curse so far up his—"
His good eye landed on Leo.
"'Bout time you showed up, Morningstar,"
Moody shouted his helplessness.
"Took your sweet time."
Leo gave him a respectful nod, his expression unreadable.
Nod~
"You're still alive. That's what matters."
Moody scoffed.
"Barely. But I'm not dyin' till I've kicked in a few more traitor skulls."
Minerva gently touched his shoulder as they passed.
The old Auror grunted his thanks.
Minister's Room...
Inside the Minister's Room, a heavy discussion was underway.
The grand oval table was surrounded by key figures—
Battle-worn Aurors, department heads, intelligence officers, and in the centre.
Minister Jenkins, sleeves rolled up, eyes dark with exhaustion, voice sharp with authority.
She paused mid-sentence as Leo, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Minerva entered.
A flicker of relief crossed her face.
"Thank Merlin,"
She breathed.
"We need clarity."
Leo took his seat beside her, placing the Gringotts letter on the table with a dull thud.
Thud.
"We have it."
The room hushed as Jenkins picked up the parchment.
Her eyes scanned the names.
Her expression turned glacial.
"The Greengrasses? The Rosiers?"
She muttered.
"All of them…?"
Leo nodded grimly.
Nod~
"They made their move. We now know who's behind the coup attempt."
Grindelwald leaned forward.
"It's time to clean house, Minister. No more shadows."
Jenkins exhaled slowly, placing both hands on the table.
"Then prepare yourselves. We're taking this to the Wizengamot."
She turned to one of the Aurors.
"I want those families watched, but not arrested yet. No warning. No mistakes."
The wizarding world had not known such chaos since the last great war.
Within an hour of the orders being issued, the Ministry of Magic turned into a war machine.
No arrests.
No court dates.
Only swift, decisive action.
🛑 Operation: Purge the Shadows
Across Britain, Aurors apparated en masse, launching coordinated strikes against ancestral pure-blood estates named in the Gringotts letter:
The Greengrass Manor in the Scottish Highlands burned under the night sky, screams echoing as resistance was met with lethal force.
The Rosier estate fought back with cursed familiars and blood wards, but their defences fell before the overwhelming might of Ministry-enchanted siege spells.
The Selwyns tried to flee to the continent—
They were incinerated mid-apparition, their bodies scattered across the Channel.
The wizarding wireless channels fell silent.
The Daily Prophet's headlines read only one word in thick black ink:
PURGE.
Families not named, but long associated with shadowy dealings, retreated into fear and silence.
Knockturn Alley...
But while the Aurors cleansed the countryside…
Leo Morningstar was in the serpent's nest.
At the mouth of Knockturn Alley,
Cloaked in enchantments and corruption,
Leo stood tall in his black combat robes—
His wand was already humming in his hand.
Flanking him were some of the toughest enforcers the Auror Department had.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, silent as a panther.
Marlene McKinnon, wand drawn and face set like steel.
A goblin warrior from Gringotts, armoured and snarling—
Sent as a symbol of the bank's loyalty.
And Valac, walking in the shadows, her grin unnerving.
Leo surveyed the alley.
The low hum of dark energy oozed from the cobblestones.
A dozen shopfronts flickered with enchantments and curses.
"No survivors if they resist,"
Leo said coldly.
"This place either bends… or burns."
He raised his hand.
"Move."
They advanced through the winding street—
Dark wizards sensing their approach.
The first curse flew out of a shuttered window.
Leo didn't flinch.
With a wave of his wand, the curse reversed—
Ripping the wand arm off its caster from afar.
Then the street exploded into chaos.
Shacklebolt duelled three at once, his shields a blur of blue light.
Marlene kicked open Borgin & Burkes, laying waste to the smugglers inside.
The goblin cleaved through cursed mannequins that had come alive, roaring battle cries in Gobbledygook.
Valac vanished from sight—her victims' screams came seconds later.
Leo?
"____"
He walked forward like a force of nature.
Every spell cast at him was turned to dust.
Every strike he made was final.
Dark wizards fell before him like wheat beneath a scythe.
One dark warlock screamed.
"IT'S MORNINGSTAR! RUN!"
But the alley was sealed.
By the end of the hour, Knockturn Alley was purged.
Smoke rose from crumbling shops.
Bodies lay scattered.
The last survivors begged for mercy—
And they were spared only if they swore loyalty to the Ministry's new order.
As Leo stood in the centre of the wreckage, a cold wind swept through.
In Southern England...
Estate of House Mulciber...
A chilling wind whispered through the ancient trees as the dark manor stood still—
Its windows glowing faintly with warding runes.
Inside, the air was thick with arrogance and old magic.
But outside, the air shimmered.
A moment later,
Gellert Grindelwald stepped into the shadowed courtyard,
His boots echoed ominously on the stone.
He wore no mask, no disguise—
Only the confidence of a man who had once toppled governments and tamed armies.
Behind him walked a few silent allies—
Followers he trusted from his own circle.
But it was clear:
This battle was his.
As the guards of House Mulciber spotted him, wands raised with fury,
Grindelwald let out a soft chuckle.
Chuckle~
"Ah… zeal without wisdom. How tiresome."
He waved his wand once.
A ring of silver flames burst outward from his feet, encasing the entire manor's outer grounds in a wall of enchanted fire—
Cutting off all escape.
One of the Mulciber sons charged him.
"You don't belong here, Blood traitor!"
Grindelwald smirked, flicking his wand with lazy grace.
Smirk~
"____"
The young man stopped mid-run—
Frozen into a statue of black crystal.
"You should read history, boy. I've been cleaning up fanatics since before your bloodline was anything more than pig farmers."
The manor turned into a war zone—
But Grindelwald didn't duel like a common wizard.
His spells were elegant, silent, and devastating.
He moved like a dancer through chaos.
A scream rang out as one of the guards was disassembled mid-air, their limbs pulled apart into vapour.
A warded door exploded into shards of time-frozen wood, knocking back everyone in the hallway.
Dark curses hurled at him were absorbed by his shield and redirected with twice the force.
He stepped into the main hall,
Where the elder Mulciber stood with a glowing dark staff.
"Grindelwald,"
The patriarch hissed.
"The world will never bow to your idealistic nonsense."
Grindelwald raised a brow and shrugged.
"You're not wrong… but I'm not here for dreams. I'm here for an order."
Their duel lit up the manor in bursts of colour and sound—
But it ended as swiftly as it began.
A swirl of black mist, a sudden flash—
And the elder Mulciber crumbled to dust, erased from existence.
As silence returned, Grindelwald stepped over the fallen.
He wiped a smear of blood off his coat and glanced at one of his men.
"I never thought,"
He said dryly,
"That I would one day be fighting on the same side as Albus Dumbledore."
A pause.
"But war makes strange bedfellows, doesn't it?"
He looked up as thunder rumbled overhead.
"And Morningstar… he's the strangest of them all."
The Nott Family Estate...
Moonlight bathed the towering mansion in pale silver, but it couldn't hide the ominous atmosphere.
The wards had been broken.
The protective enchantments around the Nott estate shimmered with flickering instability, like a candle in the wind.
With a snap,
Snap~
Albus Dumbledore apparated silently at the gates—
His long, regal cloak swept behind him.
His blue eyes shimmered with quiet resolve.
Behind him, several Aurors were on standby.
"Stay outside."
He instructed calmly.
"This one… is mine."
Terrace Above...
Standing atop the cracked terrace of the estate, surrounded by dead ivy and shattered gargoyles,
Lord Voldemort watched Dumbledore arrive.
His snake-like face curled into a grotesque grin.
"Ahh… finally, not a Morningstar or his weird pets,"
He hissed, his voice echoing.
"But you, Albus. The old man with too many secrets."
Dumbledore looked up, unmoved.
"Tom,"
He replied softly,
"You've lost your way completely."
Voldemort barked a bitter laugh—
But the floor beneath him crumbled.
With a yelp, he plummeted.
CRASH!
A cloud of dust burst from the collapsed terrace.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—
A cough.
Cough~
"____"
Voldemort rose from the wreckage, his robes torn, face smeared with ash.
His lip twitched from pain… but he forced a smirk anyway.
"Even the house agrees with me, Dumbledore,"
He spat.
"You're a fraud, fooling everyone—even yourself."
Dumbledore calmly walked forward, wand in hand.
"I only ever hoped you'd see the truth, Tom. But now… I see it clearly. There's no saving what's already rotted."
Without another word, the air exploded as spells flew.
Voldemort launched Confringo —
Dumbledore raised a mirror charm, reflecting it back into the east wing, which exploded.
Red lightning crackled from Voldemort's wand—
Fiendfyre, twisting like a dragon—
But Dumbledore countered with Glacius Tempesta, unleashing a storm of ice and wind.
Dark fog rolled in as Voldemort conjured illusions—
But Dumbledore, undeterred, walked through it, golden light from his wand cutting through the mist.
The entire mansion shook as walls collapsed, chandeliers fell, and portraits screamed.
Outside, even the Aurors flinched at the magical shockwaves.
Inside, the battle continued.
Voldemort tried to trap Dumbledore in a Sphere of Silence,
But Dumbledore shattered it with a spoken counter-curse and conjured a whip of light, striking Voldemort and forcing him backwards.
"You've grown crueller, Tom. But not wiser."
Voldemort bared his fangs.
"And you've grown older, Albus."
With a final pair of detonating spells—
Voldemort's Blight Curse and Dumbledore's Solarus Tempest—
The Nott estate crumbled. One wing collapsed entirely.
Flames and smoke billowed into the air.
When the dust settled…
Both men stood across the rubble, breathing hard.
"You can't stop it."
Voldemort snarled, clutching his side.
"You and Morningstar… think you're gods. But war is coming—and I will have the last laugh."
He disappeared, leaving behind a cursed echo that cracked the ground.
Dumbledore stood still, silent.
How can he say Tom's every move is done by Leo? Typically, he is a puppet whose purpose is to gather the rosters to be slaughtered.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review and power stone!!! It will Motivate Me.