Chapter 326: Chapter 326: "Fighting for Family"
The rest of November passed in a whirlwind of calculated strikes and rapid recoveries. Arcturus's newly established network operated like clockwork, pinpointing threats almost daily—a family under pressure, a magical community targeted by intimidation, or a wavering ally courted by the Dark Alliance. And each time, three black-masked figures would appear, dismantling plans, defeating Death Eaters, and leaving chaos in their wake.
Back at Black Castle, the toll of their skirmishes became increasingly evident.
"Hold still," Emma scolded Sirius one evening, examining a jagged hex burn stretching across his shoulder. "This is the second time this week I've had to patch you up."
"You should see the other guys," Sirius quipped with a grin, only to wince when Emma applied a healing salve that burned on contact.
"Should I?" she shot back dryly. "Because at this rate, you're going to end up like the other guys Harry fights."
From a nearby chair, Fleur sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "You are too reckless, Sirius. 'Arry tells me you charged straight at zeir shield wall yesterday."
"It worked, didn't it?" Sirius countered with a smirk.
Fleur's expression darkened, her accent thickening with exasperation. "Only because Mira 'ad ze clone tackle you out of ze way of a Killing Curse! You could 'ave died!"
In the corner of the room, Mira was meticulously repairing the damaged clone. The magical construct had seen heavy action over the past few weeks. Sword nicks marred its frame, scorch marks from spells streaked its surface, and a particularly nasty cutting curse had nearly severed its left arm. Mira's small hands glowed with magic as she carefully rewove its structure, her focus unwavering.
"Mira is sorry ze clone got damaged, Master 'Arry," the house-elf murmured, her ears drooping slightly.
Harry, leaning against a nearby wall, offered her a reassuring smile. "You've been brilliant, Mira. The damage doesn't matter, as long as you and the clone keeps Sirius alive."
"Oi!" Sirius exclaimed indignantly from the healing table, though his grin gave away his amusement.
Emma snorted as she wrapped a fresh bandage around his shoulder. "You're lucky Mira's magic is stronger than her patience. Otherwise, she might've let that clone trip you instead of saving you."
"An excellent idea for next time," Fleur added, her tone icy enough to make Sirius glance warily at her.
Across the room, Harry watched the exchange with a faint smirk. Despite the constant danger, there was comfort in these moments of camaraderie.
---
Meanwhile, in a fortress far to the east, the Dark Alliance seethed with frustrated rage.
"Another recruitment party ambushed," Magnus growled, his pale face drawn with frustration as he delivered the report. "Seven of our best warriors overwhelmed. Always the same group. Always the same pattern."
Voldemort's crimson eyes burned with barely restrained fury. "Three masks. The same tactics. They strike with precision and disappear before reinforcements arrive. A ghost on the battlefield would leave more evidence."
By the fire, Grindelwald shifted in his chair, his sharp eyes gleaming with amusement beneath his calm exterior. "Systematic, methodical," he murmured. "Whoever they are, they have intelligence far better than I'd expect of your Ministry spies. Someone is feeding them information."
Magnus turned his gaze to Vladimir, his voice edged with suspicion. "Could it be your Knight, Vladimir? The fighting style is familiar. The precision, the speed—it sounds like him."
Vladimir's expression darkened. "Perhaps. The reports of a sword-wielding figure do suggest the Knight, but his attacking style or strength is not the same as the Knight I faced. Either he's holding back, or someone new has appeared. If he has allies, it's a complication we didn't anticipate."
Voldemort paced the room, his movements as precise as they were menacing. "Increase the size of our recruitment parties," he ordered coldly. "Twenty wizards at minimum. And add vampires to the groups."
"My lord," Vladimir interjected carefully, his tone measured. "The covenant is still recovering from our last losses. I cannot spare many for such missions without compromising other operations."
Voldemort turned sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Then make do. I want those three brought to me. Alive. They have been a thorn in my side long enough."
A tense silence followed, broken by Grindelwald's soft voice. "Patience, Voldemort. Let them think they're winning. Every small victory only fuels their overconfidence. While they waste time on these skirmishes, we prepare our larger moves—Azkaban, perhaps?"
His words hung in the air, a soothing balm to Voldemort's simmering rage. The younger Dark Lord's posture relaxed slightly, though the red fire in his eyes did not diminish. Grindelwald had become accustomed to playing the voice of reason, tempering Voldemort's volatile moods when failure threatened to unravel their plans. He knew the cost of such outbursts—new recruits were unnerved by Voldemort's flashes of wrath, and potential allies grew hesitant. He couldn't allow that.
Grindelwald leaned back, his tone turning almost fatherly. "We must be strategic. Let them focus on shadows while we prepare to shift the world beneath their feet."
Magnus nodded, his sharp features relaxing as he processed Grindelwald's wisdom. Vladimir, though still skeptical, refrained from arguing further. Voldemort resumed his pacing, his fury simmering just beneath the surface.
For now, Grindelwald's calming presence kept the alliance from fracturing under the weight of its setbacks. But even Grindelwald knew patience would only hold for so long. They needed a decisive victory to stabilize their ranks—and soon.
---
Back at Black Castle, Harry stood over a map covered with magical markers showing the locations of their recent operations. Nearly ten successful interventions in less than three weeks. Each one had saved lives and denied Voldemort new allies, but Harry knew they couldn't keep up this pace forever.
"They're adapting," he said to Arcturus. "They've started sending larger groups and varying their patterns. We'll have to be more selective with our targets going forward."
Arcturus nodded thoughtfully. "Their recruitment efforts have slowed, at least. Many families are using your interference as an excuse to delay committing to the Dark Alliance. They claim they need more time to 'consider their options' now that they know someone is resisting."
"And Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "Still no sign of him?"
"None," Arcturus said, his expression grim. "He should have made some sort of public move by now. Normally, he'd be calling for the arrest of you vigilantes while rallying others to his cause. His continued silence is... unsettling."
Harry's thoughts drifted to Dumbledore. The old wizard's prolonged absence hinted at something more than the curse slowing him down. He'd seen Dumbledore's name pop up on the Marauder's Map a few times in his office, but whatever the man was doing, it was too secretive to decipher. While Harry was curious, he knew better than to try prying into Dumbledore's plans. The man was a master of secrecy, and meddling would likely lead nowhere.
Later that evening, Harry found Fleur waiting for him in his study. Her face showed traces of worry, though she masked it with a warm smile.
"Another successful night?" she asked, helping him remove his mask and cloak.
"Two families protected," Harry confirmed. "Though Sirius almost got himself killed again."
"'E tries too hard to prove himself," Fleur said with a sigh. "To show zat 'e belongs by your side."
"I know," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "That's what worries me."
She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, her presence soothing the tension in his shoulders. "You cannot protect everyone, mon amour. Not even Sirius."
"I can try," Harry murmured into her hair. "I have to keep my family safe."
On the desk, reports from Arcturus's network hinted at larger movements within the Dark Alliance. The small recruitment drives were just the beginning—Voldemort was clearly planning something bigger. But what?
Emma poked her head into the study. "Sorry to interrupt, but Sirius is asking about tomorrow's operation. He's still favoring that shoulder, Harry. I really think he needs a night off."
Harry nodded in agreement. "You're right. Though convincing him won't be easy."
"Leave zat to me," Fleur said, a determined gleam in her eye. "I will ask Amelia to 'help' convince 'im."
Harry couldn't help but smile, grateful for the strange but loyal family they had become. Between Emma's healing, Fleur's steady support, Mira's unwavering dedication, Arcturus's wisdom, and Sirius's reckless bravery, they had formed an unusual but highly effective resistance to Voldemort's plans.
As autumn deepened toward winter, their shadow war continued. Every other night brought new challenges, new threats to counter. But Harry knew they were making a difference. Every family they saved, every ally they denied Voldemort, was a small victory in a much larger conflict.
What puzzled Harry most was the eerie silence from the wizarding ministries across Europe. Despite this shadow war unfolding under their noses, no ministry had publicly acknowledged the growing danger. It was as if they were following the same strategy as the British Ministry: stay silent and hope the threat disappears on its own.
Harry felt a flicker of bitterness toward the ministries. For a moment, he even considered letting them fall to ruin if they refused to act. But he pushed the thought aside.
"I'm not fighting for the wizarding world," he reminded himself quietly. "I'm fighting for my family. Saving the world is just a side effect."
"Come," Fleur said, tugging his arm gently. "You need rest too. Ze dark lords can wait until morning."
Looking at her determined expression, Harry knew better than to argue. Sometimes, he realized, the greatest strength was knowing when to let those who cared for you take charge. Smiling softly, he allowed her to lead him out of the study, leaving the weight of maps and plans behind—at least for tonight.
Chapter 327: Chapter 327: "The Headmistress Who Wasn’t"
By the second week of December, an uneasy calm had settled over Hogwarts and Harry's shadow war. The Dark Alliance's recruitment drives had slowed, hinting that they were preparing for something bigger. With fewer attacks to intercept, Harry found himself with more time to focus on school life, though he knew the peace wouldn't last.
The day everything changed at Hogwarts began like any other. Students packed the Great Hall, chatting about end-of-term exams and their holiday plans. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout sat at the staff table, speaking in low, tense voices. Snape, as perpetually sour as ever, read a potions journal, and the empty chair in the center of the table served as a stark reminder of Dumbledore's extended absence.
Harry was halfway through his porridge when the sharp sound of heels clicking against the stone floor silenced the Hall. All heads turned toward the entrance as Dolores Umbridge appeared, flanked by three Aurors. Her pink cardigan was as garish as ever, and the smug grin on her face immediately set Harry on edge.
"Hem hem," she cleared her throat, her voice ringing out unnecessarily loud in the now silent Hall. The atmosphere shifted, students and staff alike bracing for trouble. "I have an important announcement from the Ministry of Magic."
She pulled out a fancy scroll with a flourish, letting the suspense hang before speaking. "It is my duty to inform you all that, due to Headmaster Dumbledore's prolonged absence and neglect of his responsibilities, he is—effective immediately—removed from his position. As per Ministry orders, I will be assuming the role of Acting Headmistress of Hogwarts."
The Hall fell into stunned silence.
"Professor," McGonagall began, her tone sharp but controlled, "this is highly irregular—"
"Irregular or not," Umbridge interrupted with a syrupy yet firm tone, "it is the Ministry's decision. Therefore, it is final. I will be moving into the Headmaster's office at once. Please have all of Dumbledore's personal belongings sent to me without delay."
She scanned the staff table, her eyes daring anyone to challenge her authority. When no one spoke, she turned sharply to the Aurors. "Follow me. We'll secure the Headmaster's office immediately."
Her heels clicked decisively as she strode out of the Hall, the Aurors close behind her. The spectacle was impossible to ignore, and dozens of students rose from their seats, whispering in shock and disbelief as they followed.
Harry's expression hardened as he stood, blending into the crowd. Where is Dumbledore? The unanswered question gnawed at him. If Umbridge was allowed to take control of Hogwarts, it would spell disaster for everyone. Harry couldn't let her turn the school into a prison while he was out fighting the real war. If the Ministry thought they could hand Hogwarts to her, they were sorely mistaken.
This would have to be her last night here.
---
The crowd surged toward the spiral staircase leading to the Headmaster's office. At the foot of the stairs, the stone gargoyle stood unmoving as Umbridge barked out a string of passwords, her face growing redder with each failed attempt.
"Open this instant!" she demanded, pointing her wand at the statue. The gargoyle remained stubbornly still.
"Perhaps," McGonagall interjected coolly as she arrived, "the castle recognizes its rightful Headmaster."
Umbridge whirled around to glare at her, her expression souring further. "Force it open," she barked at the Aurors.
The Aurors exchanged uncertain glances. "Ma'am," one ventured hesitantly, "the wards on this office might be... complex."
"I said break it down!" Umbridge snapped, her shrill voice cutting through the tension. The hesitation in the air was palpable, but the Aurors reluctantly raised their wands, preparing a powerful Reductor Curse.
Before they could cast, the gargoyle suddenly shifted to the side on its own.
All eyes turned as Albus Dumbledore descended the spiral staircase. He was dressed in elegant midnight blue robes, his presence as commanding as ever. Harry, however, noticed the slight strain around his eyes, the carefully measured movements that suggested hidden weakness.
---
The past few weeks had been incredibly taxing for the old wizard, though few knew the full extent of it. After Snape managed to contain the curse from the ring, Dumbledore awoke to two troubling revelations.
The first was the disappearance of the Resurrection Stone—the very object that had lured him into his reckless mistake. The stone was gone without a trace. Snape claimed to know nothing of its whereabouts, and even Dumbledore's most advanced detection spells failed to locate it. The loss stung deeply, not only because of the stone's immense power but because it symbolized the price of his arrogance. Now, he couldn't even use the artifact that had cost him so much.
His suspicions naturally turned to the wizard who had robbed the Elder Wand from him, but again, he found no trail to follow. It was as if both Hallows had simply vanished into thin air. This unknown player with access to two Deathly Hallows troubled him deeply, but before he could unravel this mystery, a second shock blindsided him.
His agents, tasked with monitoring Gellert Grindelwald in Nurmengard, brought alarming news: Grindelwald had been freed. The implications were immense. Not only did this mean Voldemort had likely gained a dangerous ally, but he also now had access to Grindelwald's deep knowledge of European dark magic and his vast, though dormant, network of supporters. The balance of power had shifted dramatically, and all of it happened while Dumbledore lay unconscious from his own folly.
Moreover, there was a greater personal risk. If word spread that Dumbledore had left Grindelwald alive, he would face a wave of outrage from powerful witches and wizards across Europe. Many had lost loved ones to Grindelwald's terror, and their wrath would be swift and unforgiving.
These grim discoveries, combined with the curse slowly draining his life force, forced Dumbledore to reorganize his priorities. Snape's potions might extend his life by a year—no more. The intricate plans he had crafted over decades needed to be accelerated. Charles had to be prepared, the Horcruxes located and destroyed, and the prophecy fulfilled—all before the curse claimed him.
In the weeks since his recovery, Dumbledore had dedicated himself to organizing his vast collection of memories and intelligence about Voldemort. Every detail, from Tom Riddle's childhood to the creation of the Horcruxes, had to be preserved and shared with Charles. The boy needed to understand the weight of the prophecy and the full scope of his task: to vanquish Voldemort.
At least the ring's destruction proved two Horcruxes were gone, though Dumbledore remained puzzled by the ring's damaged state when he'd found it.
His research into Voldemort's possible Horcrux locations had continued as well, though the cursed arm made certain magical investigations more difficult. He'd also been carefully monitoring the growing shadow war between Voldemort's forces and the mysterious masked vigilantes. While he disapproved of their methods,he couldn't deny the value of their efforts. Their interference had bought him precious time.
---
Back in the present, Umbridge's face turned pale but quickly twisted into a forced smile. She thrust the official parchment forward, her hand trembling slightly. "Dumbledore, I was informed you had abandoned your post. This document clearly states—"
"I fear there has been a misunderstanding, Dolores," Dumbledore interrupted pleasantly, his calm voice cutting through her words. "I have been quite present, simply occupied with matters of great importance. Perhaps we should discuss this directly with Cornelius?"
There was something in his tone—gentle yet unyielding—that made Umbridge falter.
She hesitated, her mouth opening and closing as if searching for a retort. Finally, she clicked her heels together and straightened. "Very well," she said, her tone brittle. "I shall verify this with the Minister personally. My Aurors and I will leave—for now." She shot McGonagall a venomous glare before storming off, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor. The Aurors trailed behind her, looking more than a little relieved.
The students, who had crowded the corridor, parted like water to let them pass, their hushed whispers filling the air as soon as she was out of earshot.
Dumbledore turned to McGonagall, his eyes twinkling with quiet amusement. "Minerva, would you be so kind as to see that the students return to their meals? I believe there is still some porridge left to be enjoyed."
McGonagall inclined her head, her stern expression softening into the faintest hint of a smile. "Of course, Headmaster."
Dumbledore ascended the spiral staircase again with the same unhurried grace as when he had appeared. The gargoyle shifted back into place with a heavy grinding noise, sealing the staircase. In his wake, the castle buzzed with speculation, students and staff alike murmuring about what had just transpired.
---
What happened next was a mystery to most students, but within days, Umbridge was gone—replaced by a young Auror trainee as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The student body celebrated, relieved to be free of her oppressive rule, though Harry couldn't help analyzing Dumbledore's swift action with a growing sense of suspicion.
The old wizard's tactics were changing. Gone were the days of subtlety and political maneuvering. With the curse shortening his time, Dumbledore was eliminating obstacles with decisive action. Harry's theory was confirmed when he noticed Charles being summoned to the Headmaster's office for regular evening meetings.
Later that week, in the study at Black Castle, Sirius shared news from the latest Order meeting. He had heard it through a trusted Order friend. "Dumbledore's finally starting to talk," Sirius reported. "He told everyone about Grindelwald's escape, the Dark Alliance, and the shadow war spreading across Europe. Though, as expected, he's not happy about the 'vigilantes' or their 'excessive force.'"
Harry kept his face carefully neutral, but Sirius wasn't done. He exchanged a glance with Amelia and Emma, who stepped closer with concern. By the window, Fleur stood silently, her gaze fixed on the snowy grounds outside. She already knew what was coming.
Sirius turned back to Harry, speaking slowly. "There's something else. We learned that before all this kicked off, the Dark Alliance faced a powerful wizard—a Knight who almost wiped out their vampire forces. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
The unspoken accusation hung in the air. Harry met his godfather's eyes, seeing the mix of hurt and worry there. There was no point denying it.
"Yes," Harry admitted quietly. "That was me. Remember when I went after Macnair for information and ended up killing a few vampires? Well, the vampires traced their attacker back to me. They came to my home, and I didn't have a choice. I had to defend myself."
"Bloody hell, Harry!" Sirius exploded, standing so abruptly that his chair scraped against the floor. "You fought their entire force of vampires and werewolves alone and didn't think to tell me? I'm supposed to protect you, not the other way around!"
"I'm sorry," Harry said earnestly. "I didn't want to worry you. And when it was over, it just seemed easier not to mention it."
"Easier?" Emma snapped, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Harry, you could've been killed! What if you'd been hurt—"
"I had it under control," Harry said firmly. "Really. And, ironically, it helped me make huge strides in my knight training."
"That's not the point," Amelia interjected, her tone measured but firm. "We're family. We're supposed to face things like this together."
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "Just... no more secrets like this, alright? I know how powerful you are, pup, but you don't have to carry everything on your own."
Harry nodded, his gaze earnest. "I promise. Next time, I'll tell you."
But as the conversation wound down, a flicker of doubt lingered in Harry's mind. He had a tendency to face challenges alone—it was a habit born of necessity. Still, perhaps sharing some of the weight wouldn't hurt. If anything, it might make the burden on his shoulders just a little easier to bear.
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