Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, stormed back into his office in a thoroughly foul mood.
It was hard to say what irked him more: missing out on a sumptuous French banquet because of tonight's fiasco, or the latest outrageous issue of The Quibbler glaring up at him from his desk.
Facing Dumbledore, his tone was none too friendly. "Headmaster Dumbledore, after all your speeches, what you really want is to let an Obscurial enroll at Hogwarts, isn't that so?"
Dumbledore remained serenely unruffled. "That's correct. His name appeared in the Book of Admittance. By tradition, that means he must be allowed to attend."
A low, derisive snort came from the shadows. Lucius Malfoy drawled, his voice heavy with disdain, "That's an Obscurial who just caused a major incident, Headmaster."
"As a member of the Board of Governors, I feel obliged to remind you—Hogwarts is not your private garden."
"I'm well aware," Dumbledore replied, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "But I will guarantee the boy's safety. He's remarkably gifted, and it would be a crime to stifle such talent simply because he's an Obscurial."
"Remarkable indeed," Lucius sneered, his tone icy. "How very merciful of you—not to snuff out a child's potential."
"Sugar with your tea?" Fudge cut in hastily, trying to smooth the tension. "The Ministry handling this may well face protests from parents."
"I can help issue a statement," said Dumbledore. "I'll take full responsibility for the child's safety."
"That's it?" Lucius's eyebrow arched. "Adults who fail to keep their promises ought to pay a price, don't you think?"
Dumbledore's smile didn't falter. "If anything happens to the boy, I'll submit to a full Ministry investigation."
"Ah, always so compassionate…" Lucius's sarcasm was razor-sharp. "Just like that oaf you harbored at Hogwarts after he was expelled for murder…"
"Tell me, Dumbledore, do you always take in the dangerous ones and hide them in the school? Do you really care about the other students? Are you even fit to remain as headmaster?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Perhaps you'd like to call another vote—see if you can have me sacked this time? Last time your excuse was fairy tales. What'll it be now?"
At this, Lucius pressed his lips together, his expression growing even frostier.
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Fudge mopped his brow, caught between the Ministry's financial muscle and the most respected headmaster in Britain. He had no wish to offend either side.
He cleared his throat. "Headmaster Dumbledore, for an Obscurial who's suffered so much, can he really adapt to life in the wizarding world? That's a question we must consider."
"How about this: before term starts, the Ministry will conduct an assessment. If he can integrate into a wizarding family, then we'll approve his enrollment."
"Absolutely," Dumbledore agreed without hesitation. "That's a reasonable precaution, and I have every confidence in this child. I can arrange—"
"Shouldn't the Ministry handle this?" Lucius cut him off, his voice harsh. "Or do you imagine the entire wizarding world is your personal garden?"
"Perhaps The Quibbler was right after all," he sneered. "Are you the uncrowned king? The shadow minister behind the Ministry of Magic? Won't even listen to Minister Fudge's decisions now?"
The jab made Fudge flush with embarrassment. His gaze slid to the copy of The Quibbler on his desk, the memory of its ludicrous headlines stinging afresh.
He was tired of consulting Dumbledore for every decision. After a year in office, it was time to show some backbone—to prove he wasn't just a puppet.
His mind made up, he said, "Headmaster Dumbledore, the matter of finding a suitable wizarding family—leave it to the Ministry."
…
Once Lucius and Dumbledore had left, Fudge slumped back in his chair, chewing on a sweet in a vain attempt to soothe his hunger.
"One Year In Office: When Will Puppet Minister Fudge Seize Real Power?" screamed the latest issue of The Quibbler.
The candy in his mouth tasted suddenly like rubber.
He remembered his early days as minister—timid, always writing to Dumbledore for advice, desperate not to make a mistake.
But that was hardly something you could admit out loud.
Everyone knew, but no one was supposed to say it.
Now The Quibbler had splashed it across the front page for all to see—public humiliation.
"I'm incompetent, am I? The owls delivering letters to Hogwarts have died of exhaustion—enough corpses to circle Britain twice, is that it?"
"Well, if you want to make trouble for me, don't blame me for returning the favor! That Obscurial's going straight to your house. Let's see if you still have the energy to slander me!"
Fudge chomped his candy with a vengeance, as if he were biting into the editor's flesh.
He grabbed a piece of parchment and, with a flourish, penned an official appointment, naming Xenophilius Lovegood as the Obscurial's guardian.
He watched the letter fold itself into a paper airplane and soar from his office window before collapsing back into his chair, rubbing his stomach.
"I wonder when Lucius will invite me to dinner again… That French bouillabaisse really was divine…"
Wyzett opened his eyes to find himself in a sunlit hospital room.
Candles floated along the ceiling, each encased in a crystal bubble, drifting up and down in gentle rhythm.
He pushed himself upright, bracing on the bed frame, and tried to piece together everything that had happened.
He'd transmigrated. He possessed the power of an Obscurus.
That dangerous magic had nearly gotten him destroyed by the wizarding world.
With the help of the notebook's meditation, he'd managed to contain the Obscurus—and received an invitation from Dumbledore to attend Hogwarts.
But what was the true nature of that mysterious notebook?
He was about to delve into his mind for answers when a soft rustling caught his attention.
A girl sat by the window.
Her profile was delicate, a wisp of pale gold hair brushing her ear. Sunlight poured through the glass, painting her face with a warm, glowing halo.
For reasons he couldn't explain, the world seemed to fall utterly silent the moment he saw her.
She raised her hands into the sun, fingers interlaced to cast playful shadows—a rabbit, its ears twitching in the light. She watched her hand-shadow with a gentle smile.
Wyzett didn't know how long he watched. He only remembered the parade of animals she conjured—rabbits, puppies, ducklings, swans, doves…
Long enough that she finally noticed him, rising to his bedside and speaking softly, "You're awake!"
Her voice was strange—ethereal and dreamy, as if she were sleep-talking, yet every word rang crystal clear.
Her eyes sparkled as she introduced herself. "Hello, I'm Luna. Luna Lovegood."
She had fair skin and a mane of fluffy, pale gold hair cascading to her waist. Her eyebrows were faint, her eyes a unique silvery-white, and tiny carrot-shaped earrings dangled playfully from her ears.
"Hello, I'm Wyzett." He glanced around. There were two other beds, but heavy curtains hid whether anyone else was inside.
He spoke quietly. "Which hospital is this?"
"St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries." Luna blinked, as if searching her memory. "The Healers have already checked you over. Once you're awake, you can go home."
"Go home? But I… I don't really have a home. Or a family…"
Wyzett thought of his past and present lives, the realization settling in—he'd always been an orphan.
In his last life, he'd grown up in an orphanage, his only ambition to be a good student.
Now, his goal felt much the same: get into Hogwarts, whatever it took.
"Of course you have a home!" Luna's lips curved in a radiant smile. "I am your family!"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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