The war had become routine.A curse in the night, an explosion in a London street, whispers of the Phoenix cult haunting the Prophet's front page. Every headline I fed to the public painted Dumbledore's Order as the ones behind the chaos.
Each time my phoenix, Solara, appeared in the aftermath, the story spread further. A symbol once pure now burned as proof of the Order's guilt. It wasn't perfect—Dumbledore's name still held weight—but doubt had taken root, and doubt was all I needed.
The Ministry began tightening its grip. Aurors prowled the streets, hunting my Death Eaters. Each arrest only proved the Ministry's desperation. In response, I struck back harder, balancing every loss with a new ritual, a new strike, a new piece of the world drawn into my control.
Through binding rites older than Hogwarts itself, my inner circle performed the Veil of Dominion, a dark ritual that reached beyond magic into politics. With the Queen and Prime Minister bound beneath subtle enchantments, the Muggle government itself became my silent servant. England—the heart of both worlds—was now mine in everything but name.
But power never stays still.
New names rose among my ranks—Lucius Malfoy, ambitious and calculating; Bellatrix Lestrange, delighting in the chaos; young Barty Crouch Jr., eager to prove himself; and the most complicated of them all, Severus Snape, whose loyalty even I found difficult to read.
Across the field, Dumbledore gathered his own.The next generation had arrived—Lily Evans, brilliant and compassionate; James Potter, reckless but loyal; Sirius Black, fierce and unyielding; Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew completing their number. They were fresh from Hogwarts, full of ideals, drawn to the light like moths to fire.
They didn't yet understand that the fire would burn everything.
I watched the reports cross my desk, Aurors falling, towns burning, families fleeing. My war had evolved from whispers into thunder. The Muggle world called it a surge of terrorism; the wizarding world called it an age of darkness.
I called it progress.
Because only through the storm could a new order be born.