[ Hermione Granger]
Hermione was happy today—happier, in fact, than she could ever remember being. She was so happy that she felt no urge to start her Charms assignment the moment she returned to the common room. Under normal circumstances, such a thing would be impossible, and yet, here she was.
'If my parents ever heard about this, they'd take me to a psychiatrist,' she thought, a wide, uncharacteristically giddy smile spreading across her face as she continued to browse the source of her joy: The Archive.
It was a very apt name, if she said so herself.
It was everything she'd ever wanted. A clear path to excellence. A platform of knowledge. In other words...
"So many books!" she squealed, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound as she scrolled through the Archive's vast digital library.
It contained everything Hogwarts, the Headmaster, and the professors had ever read or known. She couldn't access it all yet, of course. She first had to demonstrate a fundamental understanding of each subject and share her own insights to ascend through the tiered access levels. But... "I think I can do it," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with determination.
While many sections were currently restricted, the message that appeared when she tried to access them was clear: "No knowledge is out of reach; you need only prove yourself worthy of possessing it." She wholeheartedly agreed. Letting a beginner attempt a master-level spell was a recipe for disaster.
Even the Dark Arts were available, freely accessible to anyone who understood the basics of magic in addition to the structure of Dark spells—the how and why of their function.
The intermediate level of the Dark Arts, however, required a comprehensive understanding of all core subjects to the same standard. Curious as to why, she clicked the 'Ask Questions' button.
She yelped in surprise as a keyboard-like interface materialized before her, and she felt a faint, almost imperceptible drain on her magic. She calmed down quickly, however, as her hands hovered over the keys.
"Why does dark magic study have more requirements than any other branch?" she typed before clicking the send button.
"The Dark Arts are an inherently unstable branch of magic that requires the practitioner to have a deep understanding of almost every subject listed in the requirements to navigate safely and avoid pitfalls."
"Why? Is it because dark magic is evil?" she jokingly typed, wondering what, how, and even who was replying to her.
"No, it's because humans are inherently fragile and susceptible to corruption and madness." The reply was short, concise, and somewhat irritating.
'I don't like that,' she thought, a frown marring her face.
She wanted to refute that claim, not because she knew better, but because those words ignited a small spark of defiance within her—a rare display of teenage rebellion. So she wrote: "That's a gross generalization. Humanity has produced countless individuals of immense willpower and moral fortitude."
The screen flickered as her question was sent, then changed. Instead of the Q&A text interface, there was a blank screen. Then, diagrams started to appear, along with different human-shaped models and writings in languages she didn't even understand.
The humanoid models started to perform spells, showing her how different magics interacted with the body, mind, and soul. How emotions affected the mind (psyche) and, by association, the soul.
Ninety-nine percent of what she was seeing went over her head; it all looked like mumbo jumbo to her. But before she could really focus on it, the complex visuals vanished as abruptly as they appeared, leaving only the Q&A page.
Three moving dots appeared, indicating that a reply was being written, so she waited to see what it would be.
"The previous statement was not a generalization. It's the result of more than three thousand years of research. An almost proven and believed-true theory…"
"But an almost proven theory is not a fact…" she insisted, even though she knew she didn't have any ground to stand on.
"Your weekly question tokens are spent. Please level up your access level to gain more tokens."
She blinked owlishly, her mind trying to comprehend what had just happened. She had been preparing to get into a debate she knew nothing about, just because she didn't like what she read. And then this…
Her left eye started to twitch in irritation as she began typing what she wanted to say anyway, but—
"Hermione!" Harriet's voice snapped her out of her rage-filled typing, and she was forced to turn around and hug her friend back.
"This magic is so cool," Harriet said, her own Archive interface out in the open. "Did you know that it teaches you how to cast spells correctly? It tells you what you're doing wrong and what you need to do to master the spell!"
"Really? Where?" Hermione asked, looking at her friend, her frustration momentarily forgotten.
"Here," Harriet said as she showed her own interface. "You click on this wand-looking icon, and then that funny-looking old Dumbledore appears and tells you what to do."
Hermione turned her head towards her own screen and clicked the "X" button to end the conversation, but not before reminding herself that this was not over. 'I just need to study more to prove that theory wrong,' she thought as she clicked the wand icon, and the cartoonish Dumbledore appeared.
"Hello, Miss Granger. What can this spell-casting assistance help you with today?" he asked.
She didn't reply. She just turned her head towards her friend, who was looking at her expectantly.
"It's great, isn't it? It helped me master the Tickling Charm on my way here," Harriet said with a wide smile. "I think Cassius is still laughing somewhere on the third floor," she added with a grin.
Hermione chuckled slightly. "How did you find this?" she asked.
"Oh, Professor Flitwick recommended we try it," Harriet replied offhandedly.
"What? When?" She raised her voice, inwardly wondering if she had made a mistake by leaving the classroom as soon as class ended.
"Well, after you left," Harriet said. "Why did you leave so quickly? You were skipping and smiling widely like a loon, too."
"I did no such thing!" she denied, feeling her face heat up with embarrassment. But who could fault her? She had new magic.
"Did too," her friend grinned. "Even the Professor laughed at how excited you were, skipping steps while browsing your Archive."
"Nooo!" Her eyes widened in horror at that. "Really? What did he say?" she asked, but looking at the mischievous look on her friend's face, she stopped and then swatted her arm. "Harriet, that's mean. For a second there, I thought my life was over."
"Don't exaggerate…" Harriet rolled her eyes before taking her hand and starting to drag her. "Come on, let's see how many spells we can master today."
She too rolled her eyes at the unpredictability of her friend before allowing herself to be dragged away. She was going to do her best to get access to the next level of knowledge, and practice was one of the conditions.
'I wonder if Professor Dumbledore can see our progress.'
X_
[Albus Dumbledore]
Sitting in my lounge chair by the fireplace, legs stretched across the ottoman and a glass bowl full of chocolates hovering within arm's reach, I continued to navigate through the Archive's settings while waiting for the virtual intelligence to complete itself.
It would have been better if I had a Voldemort AI in charge of all this, while completely tied to me, but a copy of me was not any less impressive either.
'Still, turning my own living portrait into a V.I. is a genius idea,' I thought as I entered the memory section. 'It wasn't even that hard; I just had to cast the spell, let the Archive change it into data, and then set up the core functions and restrictions. It was literally a five-minute job.'
That's how I found myself searching for another movie to watch while the V.I. completely loaded itself into the Archive. I had already watched "Avengers: Age of Ultron" just now, which scared me enough to make me link my Bright Lord essence with the Archive just to avoid the whole outside influence and corruption thing.
'I mean, to beat the essence, one needs to be at least as powerful as that lazy ROB, and if someone like that was gunning for me, I am toast either way, so…' I thought with a shrug.
Still, it's good to have more inbuilt security, so I will have to try and think of more security measures later. But for now, this is enough. I wasn't even procrastinating this time; it's just how things are.
Right now, both I and Hogwarts provide the Archive with the magic necessary to keep it scanning, growing, and functioning 24/7, which is all good since I have a supernatural reactor and this was helping me build up more magic over time.
This energy cost, though, will be slowly distributed among new users, so the more users there are, the less energy I spend. Which brings me to my next idea.
Kamar-Taj magic—or, more accurately, turning Squibs into sorcerers, just like the Marvel ones—who will then borrow magic from me.
'But to do that, I have to become a god, no? Or is it a dimensional lord?' I asked myself. 'And didn't I need to have the power to make contracts for this idea to work?'
Still, I liked the idea; it was good, but I didn't have any grounds or theory for how it would function. I couldn't just magic away a new system of magic because I want to, even with my Archmage essence, not yet at least.
'So how do I solve this problem?' I wondered, hand on my chin in a detective pose, my index finger tapping my left cheek rhythmically.
The answer came to me quickly, and I articulated it into three points:
1. I need to get a feel for how a god's divine energy feels. This, I believe, is going to be easy; I just need to know where to look.
2. I need to create a system that gathers up whatever belief I could receive from the wizarding world populace. Isn't that how gods work?
3. I need to figure out how to make contracts and how to go about achieving the first two points.
…
I stood up, stretching a little as I did so, before heading towards my lab on the floor below.
The lab wasn't big or fancy. It was an old room with wooden shelves all over the walls, books stacked in an unorganized manner.
Different potion kits, alchemy sets, and research papers were thrown around on the table. A telescope sat by the window, with various vials on the shelves and between the books.
It was messy, dusty, and screamed just how long it had been since I was last here, and how negligent I have been.
I took out my wand and just flicked it towards the small room, watching as everything started to get sorted, cleaned, dusted, and restored to pristine condition.
The dust gathered itself into a ball before jumping out of the window; bubbles appeared as everything started to get cleaned; and the books, papers, and glass vials hovered around, moving from one place to another.
'I love magic,' I thought with a smile.
Watching the now-clean lab, I stepped inside, ready to start experimenting with a few ideas and crafting an actual outline for a plan instead of just thinking about them.
'And that starts by upgrading my mindscape.'
X_
[Alastor Moody]
Alastor walked through the Ministry corridor, eyes scanning everything, ready for an ambush. His footsteps were loud thanks to his fake leg, but he didn't really mind that. Not anymore.
He took his wand out of its holster and sent a stinging hex towards one of the junior Aurors standing by the door of the DMLE head office.
"Ouch!" the junior yelped as he looked around, his eyes landing on Alastor's walking figure.
"Constant vigilance!" he barked. "What are you daydreaming about?"
"Ugh, it's you, Moody," the junior huffed in irritation. "What do you want?"
"I have a meeting with the lass that chose you to guard the door," Alastor replied gruffly. "And didn't I just remind you…" He cast another stinging hex, which was dodged this time. "Good. Constant vigilance!"
Moody went inside, not sparing the junior another glance, though very aware of his movements in case he tried something funny—especially when the lad started mumbling about him being crazy.
He closed the office door as soon as he entered. "So, lass, what do you want to talk about?" he asked, not minding that she was busy signing papers or that she gave him the stink eye.
"Sit down, Alastor," the lass—Amelia—said as she gestured for him to take a seat.
He started casting a few scanning spells on the chair, just to be safe, before grunting and sitting down, not missing how Amelia rolled her eyes at him.
"So? Get on with it, lass. What happened? What do you want?"
"Alastor, I want to talk to you about a few things," Amelia began, reaching for her wand. She tapped her table three times, turned her chair around and tapped the wall behind her another three times, before completing her 360° turn and tapping the table once more.
His magic eye caught the activation of the privacy wards as soon as Amelia completed the sequence. He twirled his wand around and cast another anti-spying ward, just to be safe, before turning his attention back to her.
"So? What happened? You're acting more vigilant than usual," Moody couldn't help but ask.
"I received three letters today, more precisely, fifty minutes ago," the lass started. "In one letter, the news of Gellert Grindelwald's escape was conveyed," she said as she handed him the letter.
Moody wasn't a novice, though. He cast a few scanning and authentication spells, just to be safe, before touching the letter. He chose to ignore the exasperated sigh he heard, too. It wasn't important.
"What are the other two?" he asked, wishing to know all the information before doing anything else.
"The other two are from MACUSA and our representative in the ICW," she said with a slightly knitted eyebrow and a solemn expression. "Our representative just informed me that different parties inside the ICW are trying to use Grindelwald's escape as a new angle to get Dumbledore to 'voluntarily' give up his Supreme Mugwump seat."
Moody's fake eye rolled around on its own, but the rest of his face stayed blank as he heard the lass continue. "MACUSA, on the other hand, is just informing us that our preparation to go into a war state is causing unrest in the magical community and advising us to vote out Dumbledore's decision; otherwise, all trade and business ventures between us will be stopped indefinitely."
"And what do you want me to do about it, lass? I am just a retired Auror, remember," Alastor gruffed. "And tell the Yankees to talk to Dumbledore or the Minister if they really want something."
"They did slip a note hinting that I would be receiving a very generous donation in case I wanted to be the new Minister," Amelia said as she handed the note and the rest of the letter to him.
He started reading the letters before shaking his head and burning them. "You can't trust this. The official letter only has the MACUSA signature on it, and the note is anonymous. This kind of crap is not something you should mix with." He shook his head. "If you want to be Minister, you can use your own money to run a campaign, but don't mix things with foreigners," he advised, making her roll her eyes and shake her head again.
"You think I don't know that?" she huffed in annoyance.
"Of course you do. I taught you," he said. "But you still didn't tell me what you want. Those politics are muddling your head. Just give me orders and let me go."
"Sigh, what I want is advice on how to handle this," she said as she waved the three letters in front of him. "This is clearly a sign that people don't want us supporting Dumbledore. I would have agreed with them before, if it was the old and senile Dumbledore. He wouldn't have really bothered trying to stop us either. But he's not that old now, is he? He is younger, more powerful, and trying to change the world. I don't want to be his enemy, let alone be the reason he decides to leave Britain to its own devices."
Moody mulled over her rant. He knew Albus, probably more than anyone in the younger generation did. He knew the man had secrets, liked to play games, but always, always prioritized the life and stability of their magical community over everything else. He hadn't found the chance to sit with him yet, especially after his changes, but he supposed even if he was young now, he would still be the same.
No, what concerned Moody more was the news of Gellert Grindelwald's escape, along with the note Amelia discreetly passed him. The first was concerning because Grindelwald was not someone they could fight. The second because it was too suspicious.
"Okay, Amelia, here's what you need to do. Start getting whatever it is that Albus wants while I go and meet with him. I will ask him about his plans and such, and then I will inform you. You can decide what to do after that," Moody said as he stood up and started walking towards the exit. "A word of advice, lass, start thinking about how to get the Minister's seat too."
Moody left Amelia's office with a lot of things to think about. Especially the things he read on that note. 'The Unspeakables are listening in.' That's what the note the lass passed to him said.
Now why would the magic nerds be spying on Ministry affairs? He didn't know, but he was Alastor Moody and he would find out.
He cast a muffling charm on his legs before casting a Disillusionment Charm, and started heading towards the Floo network. He took a handful of the green Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace.
He soon arrived at the Leaky Cauldron and sat down for a few seconds, his eye scanning the fireplace for any followers.
"Give me a glass of water, please, Tom," he ordered, not taking his eye from the fireplace. Seeing as no one was following him yet, he cast a discreet scanning spell on the water, before chugging it and leaving.
Still, he couldn't be sure that there was no one following him, so he headed towards Ollivander's shop. As soon as he entered, he gestured for the old man to keep silent for a second. Thankfully Ollivander understood him, as this was not the first time something like this had happened.
"You know this will cost you, right?" Ollivander said as he accompanied him to the back of the store.
"Yeah, yeah. I can get you the dragon heart the Ministry confiscated last week," Moody muttered as he made his way towards the Floo.
"Hogwarts Headmaster's Office," Moody said, ignoring the surprised look that marred Ollivander's old face.
"Albus!" Alastor yelled, " open your floo channel, I need to talk to you…"
X_
[Albus Dumbledore]
"Albus!" I heard someone yell from upstairs. "Open your floo channel, I need to talk to you…"
I knew that voice. It was Alastor Moody's voice. I stopped my current experiment—a theory of how faith and worship works—and started heading upstairs.
"It's open!" I yelled back as soon as I opened the Floo channel and then went to sit down at my desk.
"Albus," Alastor's gruff voice came through the green fire display. "What was the last thing I told you last time we met?" he asked as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace.
"Really?" I deadpanned at him. "You said 'constant vigilance' and tried to hex me," I replied with a sarcastic tone.
He really did do that too.
He stared at me and then asked, "What was the date of our first meeting?"
"You know, I could just tell you the story of what happened in Albania and be done with all of this right?" I smirked as I saw his eyes still. Even the prosthetic one.
"Okay, you are Albus." He admitted. "And we swore to never talk about that again."
"Right," I nodded. "So what brings you to me, old friend?"
"I want to know what happened? And what threat are we facing?" he went directly to the topic.
"That, my friend, is the question, isn't it?" I muttered as I rested my head on my hand.
"Here, connect to this if you want to know what happened," I said as I brought the Archive interface out.
Moody, though, was nothing if not consistent. He took out his wand and started casting some of the most complicated and esoteric scanning spells I have ever seen. Spells that reveal the true nature and spells to test for traps…
I just gave him a half-lidded stare and let him continue his fruitless endeavor.
"How do I connect to this?" He finally asked, after spending a few minutes casting spells, and I am pretty sure the only reason he stopped is because he was getting tired.
"Just tap your wand on it," I said with a sigh.
"Okay, now what?"
"Now you summon it out and start watching what happened, or you can sit down and let me tell you what I think we are up against."
…
"Alright, just tell me what we are up against?"
"Gods, devils, dragons, Angels, Fallen angels, etc…" I replied.
…
"And the truth?" He asked, though his voice didn't have his usual grumpy and gruff qualities to it. In fact, he almost sounded hopeful.
"Do you think I have time to make a joke about such a thing?"
…
"Alright, I might have tried to trick you before, multiple times, but those were good-hearted humor or good-natured pranks." I conceded. "But not this time. I am afraid I am not joking."
"So you mean to tell me that we are up against gods?" He asked, his face knitted together in a deep frown. "Albus, we are not equipped to fight against gods. We barely survived fighting a madman in the last war…"
I gave him the mother of all deadpanned stares.
Sighing, I replied, "Alastor, I know that. I was there. Why do you think I started distributing magic that could help everyone rise in power? Why do you think I bypassed my authority as Chief Warlock and ordered the British Isles under a war-state lockdown?"
"Then you should at least know that Amelia received news about people trying to get you out of your positions, as well as a warning from MACUSA…"
"Don't worry about them," I waved my hand dismissively. "These people are still deluding themselves; they'll wake up soon enough."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Gellert is out," I stated with a shrug. "And if I know anything about Gellert, it's that he will be freeing his subordinates soon enough…"
"You do know that Gellert will be a problem for us all, right?" Moody asked, as if checking to see if I had lost my marbles.
"Yes, Moody, but his escape is also an opportunity. It will allow us to use people's fear to motivate them into putting in some actual effort."
"That's not a good plan…" Moody muttered.
"I know, but sadly, I can't be everywhere at once. Hopefully, with me providing a clear path to power, fewer will join him this time."
"Anyway, before we continue talking about this," I said, shifting the subject, "I need to ask for your help with something." I then outlined what I needed him to do.
"Two weeks," he gruffly replied. "We will meet again after two weeks." He stood up and started walking towards the Floo network.
With a flash of green fire, Moody was gone, leaving me alone in my office once again.
'Now' I thought, summoning my Archive interface, 'let's check up on Gellert and see how he's doing'.
[Gellert Grindelwald]
Gellert sat in profound silence, his mind a whirlwind of calculation. He had exhausted every spell, every esoteric ritual, every scrap of magical knowledge he possessed to scan himself for any trace of external influence. The result was always the same: nothing. Yet, his instinct, honed by decades of dueling and deception, screamed that this "gift" from Albus was too convenient, too perfectly timed.
With a groan, he shifted on the bed and pushed himself upright. 'If I can find nothing now, I must simply be more vigilant in the future,' he concluded, his resolve hardening as he summoned the Archive interface.
He had already synchronized a lifetime of memories and knowledge into it the moment his final diagnostic ritual proved clear. Now, he sifted through Albus's theories on the world merger and the tantalizing, half-formed concepts of magics yet to be invented.
He hadn't progressed far—a few hours of freedom offered little time for deep study—but one idea captivated him. If Albus's ascension was truly born from creating new magic, then the path to restoring his own youth was also clear.
'I don't believe that's the whole truth, though,' Gellert thought, a skeptical sneer twisting his lips as he navigated away from the theories and opened the file on the Deathly Hallows. 'I still believe his rejuvenation to be tied to this'
He browsed the files until a particular icon caught his eye—a square containing a swirling, pensive-like image. He selected it, and the memory played out before him: Albus using the Resurrection Stone, accompanied by cold, analytical data that laid bare its true, cruel function. A function that rendered his deepest hope a hollow fantasy.
The evidence was irrefutable, yet his heart violently rejected the conclusion. He needed to hold the stone himself, to test its magic with his own hands. He could not, would not, accept Albus's findings as absolute truth, even if he trusted the man not to lie—not about this at least.
"Mark my words," he whispered into the stillness, his voice a low, grave vow. "I will find a way to bring her back."
He rose slowly, his body still aching with the echoes of long imprisonment, and moved toward the basement. One final purification ritual was necessary before he could begin his true work—rebuilding his power.
Stopping before a blank section of wall beneath the stairs, he raised his wand. With a precise, practiced motion, he traced the symbol that had once rallied nations: the Deathly Hallows. As he completed the triangle and stepped back, the stone wall shimmered, then crumbled inward upon itself, revealing a dark staircase descending into the earth.
——-
A/N: I think this will be the only update this week, If I couldn't stockpile more chapters in P@treon on time… Still, I might update another chapter on Thursday depending on how many stones I got 😂😂😂😂. Is this considered blackmail? 😂😂