(General POV)
A shadow had fallen over the Ministry of Magic. The usual hum of bureaucratic activity felt strained, a barely concealed tension buzzing beneath the surface. The investigation into the Malfoy Manor fire had yielded grim results: it was a massacre.
The Aurors, led by Amelia Bones, had uncovered a scene of unimaginable brutality. Over twenty bodies, many burned beyond recognition, had been found huddled in the drawing-room. The evidence pointed to a deliberate attack, a calculated explosion of sorts, followed by a raging inferno that had consumed the Manor. The perpetrator, however, remained a chillingly elusive phantom.
Publicly, the Ministry remained tight-lipped, citing an "ongoing investigation." But whispers of Dark Magic, of vengeance, of a power struggle within the ranks of Voldemort's former followers, spread through the corridors like wildfire.
Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, found himself caught in a maelstrom of anxieties. The deaths at Malfoy Manor, a veritable who's who of prominent pureblood families and Voldemort sympathizers, had created a power vacuum, a gaping hole in the wizarding world's carefully constructed hierarchy.
Fudge saw chaos as a threat, not an opportunity. He was scrambling to control the narrative, to reassure the public, to project an image of strength and stability. He convened press conferences, issued carefully worded statements, and promised swift justice for the perpetrators. But behind the façade of confidence, Fudge was a man drowning in uncertainty.
"We will not rest until those responsible for this heinous act are brought to justice," he declared, his voice trembling slightly as he addressed a throng of reporters.
But his words rang hollow. Even he didn't believe them. The Aurors had found no trace of the attacker, no witnesses, The investigation was stalling, the trail growing colder with each passing day.
Amidst the fear and the whispers, another name began to circulate, a whisper tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension – Vincent Van Doren.
The boy who'd killed Voldemort.
The boy grandparents perished at the hands of Death Eaters.
Could he… Could he possibly be responsible for the Malfoy Manor massacre? He was a suspect but there was no proof or evidence tying him to the scene.
Amelia was sent to "Interrogate" the boy after she had all but demanded she be the one to do it, but she had returned with nothing, he passed her test.
The ministry was hoping that time would make people forget this.
(Vincent's POV)
I leaned back in my chair, and skimmed the article in The Daily Prophet, a wry smirk twisting my lips.
MINISTRY IN TURMOIL: FUDGE AND DUMBLEDORE AT ODDS
Weeks after the devastating fire at Malfoy Manor, the Ministry of Magic is facing a political crisis. Minister Fudge and Albus Dumbledore are reportedly at odds over how to fill the vacant positions left by the tragedy. Sources within the Ministry say Fudge is pushing for loyalists, while Dumbledore is advocating for a more… diverse… approach to appointments.
"It's a power grab, plain and simple," one anonymous source claimed. "Fudge is using the Malfoy Manor tragedy to consolidate his control, to stack the deck with yes-men who'll rubber-stamp his every decree."
Dumbledore, however, remains a vocal advocate for a more nuanced approach. "The wizarding world needs leaders with integrity, with a genuine desire to serve and improve our society, not merely to obey."
The article went on to detail the heated debates within the Wizengamot, the backroom deals, the jockeying for power that had all but consumed the Ministry in the weeks since the fire. The question of who had orchestrated the massacre had faded into the background, a cold case buried beneath the avalanche of political maneuvering.
I took a sip of the bitter coffee. It was all going according to plan.
Fudge was predictable, easily manipulated. Fear was his motivator, controlling his obsession. And the deaths at Malfoy Manor, the sudden vacuum of power, had thrown him off balance. He was scrambling to shore up his defenses, to surround himself with those he deemed loyal, those he could control.
Dumbledore, on the other hand, was a different kind of beast. He was a strategist, a master manipulator in his own right, his moves subtle, his intentions often shrouded in layers of cryptic pronouncements and grandfatherly smiles. He suspected me, I knew that much. But he had no proof. And without proof, he was powerless to act.
I folded the Prophet, and tossed it onto the table. I have been quite busy in the weeks since the "fire." Amelia Bones' "interrogation" had been something I expected. She played the game perfectly, which I appreciated. She accepting my deal that day had been a gamble, a very risky gamble, but it seemed to have paid off.
After that, I allowed myself some time to relax. I met with my lawyer to discuss investments, particularly in the burgeoning technology sector. He'd asked about rebuilding the manor, but that wasn't a priority. The past was gone. My focus was on the future.
I even went on a bit of a shopping spree. New clothes were a necessity, not only because I'd lost most of my wardrobe in the fire, but because I was growing at an alarming rate. As a subtle act of rebellion – against whom, I wasn't entirely sure, perhaps just the ghosts of my former life – I got an earring. I'd had one before. It felt… familiar.
I'd sent an owl to Daphne after our encounter at the apartment, but she hadn't responded. Perhaps the truth had scared her off. Or maybe, with her father now entangled in the Ministry's power struggle, any association with me was too risky. I supposed I'd find out soon enough. We'd be back at Hogwarts in a matter of weeks.
Blaise and Theo, thankfully, hadn't abandoned me. They sent me letters after my grandparents death saying their condolences and respects, later I'd received another letter from Theo, requesting a private meeting at Hogwarts. He didn't elaborate, but I could already guess what it was about. His father… Nott Senior. I imagined the boy had some…complicated… feelings.
I needed them both, their strengths, their insights, for the next phase of my plan.
What I would do next… It was something that would take years to come to fruition. A long game, played on a grand scale. A reshaping of the wizarding wor…no the whole world.
(Vincent's POV)
King's Cross was its usual chaotic mess. Kids dragging trunks, owls hooting, parents freaking out. I leaned against a pillar near the platform entrance, watching the show with a detached amusement.
Blaise and Theo found me, their faces splitting into grins when they saw me.
"Nice earring, mate," Blaise said, chuckling. "Going for the bad boy look?"
I was wearing some very casual clothes. Dark blue jeans, black t-shirt, dark blue flannel shirt open over it. My silver collar gleamed against the black fabric.
"Trying to blend in", my sarcasm is hard to miss.
We found an empty compartment, and the moment the train started moving, Blaise started in with his usual teasing. "So, I'm just making sure this will be a calm year right?."
I ignored him, staring out the window.
"Where's Daphne?" Blaise asked, his voice dropping a notch.
I shrugged. "No idea."
The compartment door slid open. Two Ravenclaw girls stood there, giggling.
"Mind if we join you? Everywhere else is packed," one of them said.
Blaise, of course, was all smiles and charm, inviting them in. I watched them as they settled in, their chatter filling the compartment.
I caught one of the girls, Cho Chang, I think her name was, looking at me. Her eyes were dark, intense, a flicker of something… interesting… in their depths. I met her gaze, a slight smile playing on my lips. Maybe this year won't be so boring after all.
My plans wouldn't bare fruits for a couple more years, and since daphne had basically dumped me I might as well enjoy this last years of hogwarts,
(Hogwarts.)
The sight of the castle usually filled me with a sense of anticipation, But tonight, a different kind of tension gripped me. A sense of… being watched.
I didn't have the gun this time. Dumbledore had made that clear, his blue eyes cold, his voice a soft but unwavering command. No Muggle weapons on Hogwarts grounds. Said it was "for my own good."
Blaise and Theo stuck close as we walked into the Great Hall, We reached the Slytherin table, and I saw them then. The whispers, the stares, the fear that clung to those who'd lost family at Malfoy Manor. Their eyes followed me, accusing, haunted and fearful.
I met their gaze, my expression unchanging. They'd chosen their side. And they'd paid the price.
I saw Daphne. She was sitting with Astoria and Tracey Davis, Our eyes met for a moment. She looked away quickly, a flicker of… something… in her eyes before she turned back to her friends, her expression carefully neutral.
A hush fell over the hall as Dumbledore rose from his seat at the High Table. He began his welcome speech, his voice a gentle rumble that echoed through the room.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled students, his blue eyes twinkling with a warmth that felt… forced.
My gaze shifted to Snape. He was watching me, his black eyes like chips of obsidian, his expression unreadable.
Dumbledore droned on about the importance of unity, of resilience, of facing the future with hope. All the usual inspirational crap. He actually said, "This year, unlike the last, promises to be a time of peace, a chance for healing."
Then he did something that almost made me choke on my own spit.
"Before we begin the feast," he said, his voice softening, "I would ask that we observe a moment of silence for young Mr. Draco Malfoy, who perished in the fire at Malfoy Manor."
I glanced across the Slytherin table. Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's younger sister, was dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, her face pale with grief. Crabbe and Goyle were also putting on a show of mourning. The rest of us just sat there, a silent, expectant audience.
I caught Potter looking at me. His green eyes were narrowed, his expression a mix of suspicion and something… else… accusation, maybe?
And the look on his face… that righteous anger… It was getting old.
The minute of silence dragged on, Then, Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the Great Hall erupted in the usual cacophony of dinnertime chatter.
The feast was… fine.
Back in the Slytherin common room, Blaise, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, finally broke the silence.
"So," he said, leaning closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, "What happened between you and Daphne? She's been avoiding you like you've got dragon pox."
I shrugged, "I guess we want different things.", My tone indicating that I wouldn't be answering more questions about this.
September
Hogwarts felt… different this year. Quieter. More subdued.
Snape as the DADA professor was… interesting. He was even more of a bastard than usual, but I could tell he was holding back. Still, I managed to impress him with my knowledge of obscure curses and hexes. Slughorn, the new Potions master, was another story. The old man took a liking to me, always calling me "Mr. Van Doren" and praising my "natural talent." He even hinted at some sort of "Slug Club" for exceptional students.
But the biggest thing this month was my meeting with Theo. We met in the Room of Requirement, the space transforming into a dimly lit study with a crackling fireplace. Before I could even say a word, Theo looked at me, his dark eyes intense, and said, "Thank you, Vincent."
He didn't need to elaborate. I knew what he was thanking me for. His father, Nott Senior, was gone. And Theo… he was finally free. He didn't say much else, but the relief, the lightness in his demeanor, spoke volumes.
I also restarted the training sessions with Blaise and Theo. We met in the Room, pushing ourselves harder than ever. They'd both seen firsthand what real magic could do, what was at stake. No more messing around.
October
My birthday. Sixteen. I woke up to a mountain of owls, their feathers clogging the dorm windows, their talons clutching everything from expensive chocolates to handwritten notes smelling of flowery perfume.
The whispers followed me through the corridors, the stares a mix of awe and a healthy dose of fear. Witches, mostly older ones, were throwing themselves at me. I'd indulged a few, a smirk playing on my lips as I accepted their invitations, their breathless kisses. It was…a way to pass the time.
Daphne… She avoided me. I guess I was a fool for telling her the truth that day she wasn't ready. I saw her in classes, of course. Transfiguration, Charms, even a few times in the library. But her gaze would always slide away, her expression carefully neutral.
(Middle of October- Vincent POV)
Hogwarts students were enjoying a rare sunny weekend. I was sitting beneath an ancient oak near the Black Lake.
Blaise sat beside me. He was surprisingly talking with luna lovegood of all people, she was explaining something to him, I thought she was funny she can see magic in different way.
A group of younger Slytherins were tossing a Quaffle back and forth a short distance away, their shouts punctuating the otherwise peaceful atmosphere.
My gaze drifted towards near the Quidditch pitch, where a lone Slytherin fourth-year, was surrounded by a group of Gryffindors. I recognized Potter, his back to me, his voice raised in what sounded like a heated debate.
I didn't pay much attention at first. Quidditch rivalries were a Hogwarts staple. But then, I saw the younger guy shoulders slump, his gaze dropping to the ground.
I sighed. It wasn't about Quidditch. It was about power. People in slytherin house looked up to me, those that didn't fear or outright hated of course but those were in the minority right now. The younger years sometimes came to me asking about certain topics and other stuff. I looked at Potter again, I guessed that with the changes I made they would of course also change potter, with his godfather around and voldemort's lingering shadow no longer around he was getting more "loose", the james potter in him was coming out.
I stood up, and walked towards the pitch. Blaise looked up, a question mark in his eyes.
"Just stretching my legs," I said.
The group of Gryffindors parted slightly as I approached. Potter turned, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face as he saw me.
"Van Doren," he said, his voice clipped.
"Potter," I replied, my gaze sweeping over the faces of the Gryffindors, noting the way they shifted uncomfortably under my scrutiny.
I looked at the younger slytherin. "Everything alright here?" I asked.
"Just… discussing… tactics," Potter said, his green eyes narrowed, a flicker of defiance in their depths.
I stepped closer to Potter, ignoring the way the other Gryffindors shifted back, giving us space. I leaned in, my gaze unwavering.
"He looked a bit… uncomfortable," I said.
"He's fine," Potter countered, his voice a touch defensive.
"Right," I said, my lips curving into a smile that didn't reach my eyes.
I turned. "If you need anything, just let me know," I said, my voice loud enough for everyone to hear. Then, without waiting for a reply, I walked back to Blaise and Lovegood, leaving a silence in my wake.
I glanced back over my shoulder. Potter was staring at me, his jaw clenched.
November
Slughorn finally extended his invitation to his "Slug Club." Blaise, of course, was ecstatic. Me, I didn't really care. But it was a good opportunity to observe, to gather information, to subtly influence those who might prove useful in the future.
The first meeting was… underwhelming. A bunch of pompous purebloods, a few sycophantic Ravenclaws eager to impress the old man, and, to my surprise, Hermione Granger. She looked out of place among the preening peacocks, her bushy hair a wild rebellion against the carefully coiffed heads around her. She caught my eye, a flicker of something… complicated… in her gaze, before she quickly looked away.
(Mid November)
(Dumbledore's POV)
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my weary face. Fudge. The man was like a gnat buzzing around my head – persistent, annoying, and utterly incapable of grasping the bigger picture.
But challenging him directly was pointless. It would only fuel his paranoia, solidify his belief that I was plotting against him. A delicate game, this. One that required patience, strategy, and a touch of… well, let's just say, creative maneuvering.
A sharp rap on my office door startled me.
"Come in," I called out, setting aside the stack of Ministry memos that had been fueling my headache.
Minerva McGonagall bustled in, her expression a mix of disapproval and annoyance "Albus," she said, her voice brisk, "Vincent Van Doren is here. He asked to see you."
My eyebrows shot up. Vincent. He hadn't darkened my doorstep since the night he'd… well, since the night everything changed.
"Did he say what he wanted?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
Minerva shook her head. "He just said it was… important."
Important. That could mean anything, coming from Vincent. A shiver of apprehension ran down my spine. What was the boy planning?
"Send him in, Minerva," I said.
A moment later, the door opened, and Vincent walked in. He looked… different. Older, His hair was longer.
"Headmaster," Vincent said, his voice a low rumble. "Thank you for seeing me."
"Of course, Vincent," I replied, gesturing to a chair. "Please, sit down."
He did, but his gaze never left mine, a silent challenge in those blue eyes. Minerva, after a lingering look that conveyed both curiosity and concern, closed the door, leaving us alone.
"Headmaster," Vincent said, his voice dropping a notch, "I'm afraid I wasn't completely honest with you."
My heart skipped a beat. "So you lied to me, Vincent? About what?"
"Not so much a lie, sir," he corrected, a flicker of something… amusement? … playing on his lips. "More like… omitted some information."
"What information?" I asked.
"There weren't six Horcruxes, sir."
A cold dread washed over me. "What are you saying, Vincent?"
"There was another one," he said, his voice a low, chilling whisper. "But I couldn't say anything at the time. Too many people in the room. It wouldn't have helped anyone."
He paused, letting the silence stretch, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air.
"The seventh Horcrux… is Harry Potter, sir."
My breath hitched. Harry? A Horcrux? The very thought sent a shiver down my spine, a coldness that spread through my limbs like a creeping frost.
"Harry? How… how is that even possible?"
Vincent shrugged. "The diary didn't say. It just… mentioned him. As one of the… anchors… for Voldemort's soul. If I had to guess… it was an accident. A… byproduct… of the spell that rebounded on Voldemort the night he tried to kill Harry."
I sank back in my chair, the weight of this revelation crushing.
"This changes… everything," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper.
Vincent leaned forward, his gaze intense. "It doesn't have to, sir. We don't have to kill or "destroy" Harry. I believe…that you can find a way to… to remove the Horcrux without killing him. To extract that piece of Voldemort's soul and destroy it."
"You should have told me sooner, Vincent," I said, my voice a mix of reproach and weary resignation.
"Perhaps, Headmaster," he countered, a chilling calmness in his eyes. "Voldemort was dead. And the other Horcruxes were destroyed."
He rose from his chair, his gaze lingering on Fawkes, who watched him with an unnerving intensity.
"I trust you'll find a way, Headmaster," he said, his voice a quiet statement, not a question. And then, with a curt nod, he turned and left the office, his footsteps echoing in the sudden silence.
I slumped back in my chair, the weight of this new knowledge pressing down on me like an invisible shroud.
Harry. A Horcrux.
December
The holidays were approaching. The castle buzzed with the usual pre-Christmas excitement.
I needed to talk to Blaise and Theo. It was time for the next phase.
We met in the Room of Requirement, They looked at me, expectant, a mix of excitement and apprehension in their eyes. I took a deep breath, the weight of my secrets pressing down on me.
"We need to talk," I said, my voice a low rumble.
Blaise and Theo stood before me, their faces a mix of anticipation and a nervous energy I hadn't seen in them before. I let the silence stretch, the weight of the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air.
"Before we begin," I said, "I need you to make me a promise."
They exchanged a look, a flicker of apprehension in their eyes.
"An Unbreakable Vow," I said, my gaze unwavering. "What I'm about to tell you… it stays between us. You don't repeat it, you don't hint at it, you don't even think about it outside of this room. Unless I give you permission."
Blaise, ever the impulsive one, looked ready to argue. But Theo, his gaze steady, his jaw set, placed a hand on his friend's arm, silencing him.
"We understand, Vincent," Theo said, his voice quiet but firm.
We clasped hands, the ancient magic of the vow taking hold, binding us together. A tingling sensation spread through my arm, a warmth that felt… reassuring. They were with me.
"Good," I said, releasing their hands. "Now, tell me… how did I kill Voldemort?"
Blaise grinned, "Easy, mate. You shot him. Three times. Right in the…" He mimed a gun with his fingers, his grin widening.
"Wrong," I said, my voice flat.
They stared at me, their grins fading, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty.
"If I'd only had the gun," I continued, my voice hardening, "Voldemort would have crushed me. He was fast, powerful and more experienced. He wouldn't have hesitated. He would have killed me without a second thought."
I paused, letting the words sink in.
"It was the combination, boys. The gun, yes. But also the magic. The runes. The training. The years of pushing myself."
I met their gazes, my eyes burning with a conviction that I hoped they understood.
"The Muggle world and the magical world," I said, my voice low. "They're not separate entities. They're two sides of the same coin. And the power… the true power… lies in understanding how to use them both. How to make them work together."
Blaise shifted uncomfortably, a crease forming between his brows. Theo, however, was watching me intently.
"What are you saying, Vincent?" he asked.
I took a deep breath. "I'm saying that the Statute of Secrecy… will fall."
I saw shock flicker across their faces, fear tightening their expressions.
"Don't be naive, boys," I continued "I am a Muggle, remember? I know how their world works, how fast their technology is advancing. They've put a man on the moon! They have satellites orbiting the Earth. They have weapons that can wipe out entire cities in a blink of an eye."
I paused, letting the weight of my words settle over them.
"The Statute will fall. It's inevitable. Thirty years, maybe more. And when it does, there will be chaos. Fear. Misunderstanding. And chaos breeds war."
Blaise's face was pale. Theo, his jaw clenched, looked ready to argue.
"Wizards can't win a war against the Muggles, boys," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Not in the long run. They have the numbers.The technology. And their numbers will only grow, while ours dwindle."
"Think about it, boys. Dumbledore, Voldemort… they're powerful, yeah. But could they fight off an army? A whole country?"
Their faces were grim.
"Don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying this to scare you. I'm saying this because I need you to understand. The world is changing, whether we like it or not. And we… we have a choice to make."
I met their gazes, my eyes burning with a conviction that I hoped they saw, that I hoped they understood.
"We can let the Statute crumble, let the Muggles discover us on their own terms, let fear and ignorance dictate their actions. Or… we can control the narrative. We can be the ones to break the statute ourselves bit by bit. On our terms."
A flicker of something that might have been hope sparked in their eyes.
"There will be those who oppose us, of course. Those who cling to the old ways, those who fear change, we will crush this opposition. But I believe… I believe we can do this. We can build a better future, a world where magic and technology coexist, where Muggles and wizards stand together, not as enemies, but as allies.
"We can be the guards that keep the peace between the two, bringing a new era of prosperity with us leading it, our own organization, we start in the shadows first."
I paused, drawing them in.
"I call it Cerberus, boys."
"Cerberus?" Blaise echoed, his brow furrowed. "Sounds a bit… ominous, don't you think?"
"Three heads, guarding the gates of hell," Theo added, his voice a low rumble. "Appropriate, I suppose, given the task ahead."
I grinned.
Blaise still looked skeptical. "Okay, but how exactly do we do that? And who else is in this… Cerberus?"
"For now, it's just us," I said, my gaze unwavering. "The three heads."
"But Vincent," Blaise said, his voice hesitant, "How do we even start? The Statute of Secrecy… it's… well, it's a big deal. We can't just… break it."
"Not all at once," I agreed. "It's a long game, a subtle one. But the cracks are already there. The Ministry's in chaos. Fudge is desperate. Dumbledore's… distracted. We exploit the gaps, manipulate the players, and slowly… carefully… we start to build our own power base. Our own influence. Our own… control."
They stared at me, and after sometime they nodded at each other and said at the same time.
"We're in."
I smiled, "Welcome to Cerberus Boys."