As Cercy sat back in her chair, still visibly recovering but maintaining her regal composure, she gestured toward the door, which opened with a quiet hiss. "Before you leave, I'd like to introduce you to three of my most trusted friends," she said, her tone steady but filled with importance. "They'll accompany you outside and ensure Hecate's safety. Should anything threaten her, they will intervene without hesitation. You needn't worry—they will follow your guidance as long as Hecate remains unharmed."
Dumbledore nodded respectfully. "That's very generous of you, Lady Cercy. We'll make good use of their talents."
At her signal, three figures strode into the room. Their personalities seemed to fill the space instantly, each distinct from the other yet exuding an air of power and reliability.
The first was a tall, cheerful-looking man with the affable charm of a neighborhood dad. His appearance was reminiscent of Phil Dunphy from Modern Family, complete with a slightly awkward but endearing grin. Dressed in a sharp but practical tunic, he waved enthusiastically at the group. "Hello, everyone! It's so lovely to meet you all!" he said, his voice bright and brimming with energy. Despite his lighthearted demeanor, there was a quiet strength in his stance that hinted at his capability. "I'm Phil Dunphey, former Duke of the Southern Territories. My ability? Summoning a sword that can cut through anything—like, anything! But don't worry, I only use it responsibly!" His cheerful wink caused McGonagall to raise a curious brow.
Next was an older woman with a no-nonsense aura. She wore a floral-patterned dress paired with sturdy boots, giving off the impression of someone who could bake a pie and wrestle a bear all in the same afternoon. She adjusted the glasses perched on her nose and looked over the group with a stern expression. Her voice was commanding as she said, "Haller. I'm Madea Storm, former Duchess of the Northern Highlands. My power? Creating icy storms that'll freeze anything—or anyone—who crosses me." She placed a hand on her hip and smirked. "Y'all better remember my name, 'cause I ain't repeating myself." Her words carried a weight that made Dumbledore glance at her with both respect and caution.
Finally, the last figure stepped forward with an air of elegance and sass that instantly drew attention. A woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Betty White, she wore a dazzling, bedazzled jumpsuit that sparkled under the room's light. Her expression was warm yet mischievous, her eyes twinkling with humor. "Oh, hello there, handsome boy," she said, shooting a playful wink at Dumbledore, whose cheeks flushed slightly. "The name's Betty Green. Former Duchess of the Emerald Isles. My ability? Plant manipulation. From flowers to forests, I can grow 'em, control 'em, and, if necessary, use 'em to whoop some sense into folks." She chuckled, her voice soft yet confident. Despite her playfulness, it was clear she was sharp and not to be underestimated.
One thing tied the three of them together beyond their unique personalities: each of them wore a sleek pair of gloves with a faint blue glow. The gloves pulsed gently, giving off an almost magical hum. Cercy explained, "Those gloves are designed to monitor Hecate's health. Hecate herself will also need to wear a matching glove. If anything happens to her—anything—these three will instantly teleport to her location. The gloves also allow them to maintain a protective link with her at all times."
The three bowed slightly, each in their unique way, before standing ready for further instructions.
-----------
The following week, after Dumbledore, his companions, and the three "additions" left Celestial Dominion kingdom, they were thrust into the spotlight almost immediately. The magical press was abuzz with curiosity, given the mysterious appearance of three new, supposedly skilled wandless wizards under the direct endorsement of the Targaryen family.
Reporters swarmed Dumbledore and his party as they made their way to a secure meeting room within the Ministry of Magic. Phil, Madea, and Betty—Hecate's disguised clones using her Faceless Skill—stood confidently behind him, each radiating an aura of strength and competence.
Dumbledore, ever the charismatic figure, took the lead, speaking warmly to the press:
"These talented individuals have been entrusted to us by the Targaryen family, who recognized the growing need for skilled wizards to assist in the protection of our world. Their abilities are exceptional, and their dedication to the preservation of peace is unwavering."
The reporters scribbled furiously, crafting sensational headlines. The following day, the wizarding world awoke to these articles in prominent publications:
1. The Daily Prophet:
"A New Era of Magical Defense: Targaryen-Endorsed Wandless Wizards Join Dumbledore's Efforts!"
In a surprise move, the Targaryen family has lent its support to the wizarding world, sending three highly skilled wandless wizards to aid Albus Dumbledore. Introduced as Phil Dunphey, Madea Storm, and Betty Green, these individuals boast unique abilities that promise to revolutionize magical defense. With Dumbledore's backing, they are expected to play a pivotal role in bolstering the Auror teams and addressing growing threats to our safety.
2. The Quibbler:
"Who Are the Targaryen Wizards? The Secrets Behind Their Wandless Magic!"
Rumors swirl around the mysterious origins of Phil, Madea, and Betty, the three wandless wizards introduced by Albus Dumbledore. Their flamboyant personalities and impressive powers have captivated the magical community. Could their skills signal a hidden lineage of magical prodigies, or are there deeper secrets the Ministry isn't sharing?
3. Witch Weekly:
"Betty Green Winks at Danger—And Dumbledore!"
Betty Green, one of the new wandless wizards, charmed everyone during the recent press conference. Her playful demeanor and mastery of plant-based magic have made her an instant favorite. But what does this mean for the future of magical combat? Stay tuned as Witch Weekly uncovers everything about her.
----
With Dumbledore's support, the three "wandless wizards" were swiftly integrated into different Auror teams to bolster their ranks and assist in combating dark magic. Each was assigned to a team based on their unique abilities and skill sets:
Phil Dunphey:
Phil was assigned to a high-profile Auror task force specializing in magical artifact recovery and rogue wizard tracking. His affable nature and his ability to summon an unbreakable sword made him a valuable asset. Phil quickly became popular among the Aurors for his enthusiasm and optimism. Despite his laid-back personality, he displayed strategic brilliance, often surprising his peers with innovative solutions during missions.
Madea Storm:
Madea's icy demeanor and storm-based abilities earned her a place in an elite Auror strike team focusing on large-scale magical threats. Her commanding presence and unyielding attitude made her the backbone of the team, often leading the charge in dangerous situations. Her icy storms proved invaluable in immobilizing enemies, and her stern personality kept her team disciplined and focused.
Betty Green:
Betty was assigned to a covert Auror unit tasked with surveillance and infiltration. Her mastery of plant manipulation allowed her to create hidden shelters, grow vines for stealth attacks, and even eavesdrop on targets through magically enhanced flowers. Her playful personality added a sense of levity to her team, though her sharp wit ensured she was always taken seriously during missions.
---
Unbeknownst to anyone, Phil, Madea, and Betty were not real people but clones of Hecate Targaryen, created using a combination of her Faceless Skill and the X-PlayingCardskill . Through this advanced magic, Hecate crafted three distinct personas, each with unique abilities, personalities, and appearances.
with her Advanced acting memories and title as the princesse of Lies and Deception, staying in character all the time was not that hard .
These clones shared her memories and skills, allowing her to gather firsthand experience as an Auror while maintaining her presence at Hogwarts.
As her clones undertook dangerous missions, Hecate gained valuable insight into combat, strategy, and teamwork. The experience accumulated by her clones was seamlessly integrated into her own knowledge, enhancing her magical prowess.
The clones allowed Hecate to push the limits of her powers in real-world scenarios. By disguising her clones as Phil, Madea, and Betty, she could test the extent of her Faceless Skill and refine her control over her other abilities.
At Hogwarts, the original Hecate maintained her role as a student, keeping a low profile while secretly orchestrating these operations. The arrangement was perfect: her clones gained practical experience while she honed her magical skills and maintained her reputation as a diligent, bright student.
The integration of "Phil," "Madea," and "Betty" into the Auror teams marked a new chapter in magical defense. To the wizarding world, they were symbols of innovation and strength, a gift from the Targaryen family. To Hecate, they were tools of growth and discovery, allowing her to prepare for the challenges ahead while ensuring her identity remained hidden. Little did the world know, the Targaryen heir was far more cunning and resourceful than anyone could imagine.
------
The tattered dark wizard stumbled through the hidden passage, gasping for breath. His robes were torn, his body marked with fresh wounds from the chase. Behind him, the werewolves snarled, their matted fur damp with sweat, eyes darting around in panic. He didn't waste time climbing up the rickety stairs of the abandoned building. Instead, he threw himself to the ground, fingers clawing at the dust-caked floor until they found the old, rotting armchair.
With a desperate grunt, he shoved it aside, revealing a small hole in the floorboards, barely large enough for an arm. Without hesitation, he plunged his hand inside.
A powerful force yanked him downward, as if the earth itself had swallowed him whole.
In an instant, he was gone.
---
Beneath the abandoned building lay a sprawling underground chamber, dimly lit by eerie green flames flickering in iron sconces. It was a haven for Voldemort's most desperate supporters—an underground stronghold teeming with dark wizards, werewolves, and even a few house-elves who had long since abandoned their traditional servitude.
The wizards gathered there were not all bound by blood purity ideals. Some had joined Voldemort's cause out of hatred for the Ministry, others out of sheer desperation for survival in a world that had cast them aside. Their motivations varied, but tonight, none of that mattered.
Because tonight, they were about to be hunted.
The chamber buzzed with frantic whispers as the tattered man crashed into the gathering, gasping for air.
"Prepare for an attack!" he cried, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "The Aurors have tailed us!"
Murmurs of panic spread like wildfire. Wands were drawn, curses whispered. A few of the werewolves let out guttural growls, their claws twitching in anticipation of battle.
Then, another voice cut through the chaos like a knife.
"The Storm Bringer is with them."
The room went silent.
Eyes widened in fear. A few men exchanged nervous glances, while one particularly jumpy wizard muttered, "Damn it all... it's her."
The name carried weight. The Storm Bringer. A title feared and respected.
It wasn't just the destruction she brought—it was how she brought it. The tales of her wrath were told in hushed voices among the Dark Lord's followers. They spoke of how entire hideouts had been reduced to icy wastelands, how men twice her size had been frozen solid before they could even lift their wands.
And now, she was here.
---
The air grew thick with tension. Everyone braced themselves, wands aimed at the entrance. Their ears strained to catch any sound of movement.
Then, they heard it.
Footsteps.
Slow. Unhurried. Deliberate.
Not the careful, silent approach of an Auror team hoping to gain the element of surprise. No—this was different. These footsteps belonged to someone who wasn't worried about being heard.
Someone who wanted them to know she was coming.
A shadow stretched across the entrance as the flickering green light finally revealed their hunter.
There she stood—an elderly black woman with grey hair, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, and a small purse tucked firmly under her armpit. She wasn't in battle robes. She wasn't even holding her wand.
Behind her, a team of Aurors stood ready, wands raised. But they weren't leading the charge. They were following her.
She adjusted her glasses, tilted her head, and let out a slow, unimpressed sigh.
"Well, well, well."
Her voice, deep and filled with authority, carried across the room.
"You boys and girls are in a lot of trouble."
She took a step forward. The dark wizards instinctively took a step back.
"Now, lemme get this straight. You got magic. You got hands. You got feet. And instead of using all that to do somethin' useful, you out here cursin' people?"
She smacked her lips, shaking her head in disappointment.
"I know not every one of you is doin' this for fun, so I'm gon' be nice. I'mma count to three. If I don't see y'all on the floor by then, I'mma put you on the floor myself."
Her grip on her purse tightened.
"One."
A few of the house-elves immediately dropped to their knees, hands raised. One dark wizard hesitated, then followed suit.
"Two."
The werewolves snarled, their hackles raised. The remaining wizards exchanged nervous glances, gripping their wands tighter.
"Three."
"EVERYONE, CHARGE!"
The dark wizards fired the first curses.
Madea sighed.
"Oh, y'all just had to do it, huh?"
---
The temperature plummeted in an instant. The very air seemed to crackle as frost crept along the stone floor, spreading like veins of ice across the underground stronghold.
With a casual flick of her wrist, Madea sent a freezing gust of wind blasting through the chamber. Wizards were thrown off their feet, their robes stiffening as ice crystals formed over their bodies.
A werewolf lunged at her, its claws swiping for her throat.
Madea didn't flinch.
She simply raised her purse.
WHAM!
The werewolf yelped as the purse collided with its face, sending it crashing into a frozen table. A second werewolf charged—but before it could reach her, jagged ice spikes erupted from the ground, forcing it to leap back with a snarl.
The dark wizards scrambled to counter her assault. One aimed a Blasting Curse at her.
Madea rolled her eyes.
With a snap of her fingers, an ice wall materialized in front of her. The curse struck the wall and fizzled out harmlessly.
Madea adjusted her glasses.
"You better come at me with somethin' stronger than that, sweetie."
With a wave of her hand, icicles rained from the ceiling like spears, impaling the ground around the enemy wizards. One narrowly missed a man's foot, causing him to shriek and drop his wand.
The Aurors took advantage of the chaos, moving in swiftly. Stunning spells flashed through the air, taking down panicked dark wizards who had already been slowed by the ice creeping up their legs.
One particularly bold wizard managed to break free from the ice and raised his wand toward Madea.
"Avada Kedav—"
He didn't finish.
Before the Killing Curse could leave his lips, a thick vine of ice wrapped around his wand, twisting it from his grasp. His scream was cut off as the frost slithered up his arms, encasing him in a block of shimmering ice.
Madea dusted off her hands.
"Now, see? This is what happens when y'all don't listen."
Within minutes, the battle was over. The few remaining dark wizards surrendered, their wands clattering to the frozen floor.
Madea surveyed the scene, adjusting her glasses once more.
"Well, that was fun. Now, who's gon' help me get all this ice cleaned up?"
The Aurors chuckled.
Dumbledore, watching from the back, stroked his beard with a thoughtful smile.
The Storm Bringer had certainly lived up to her name.
----
The grand gates of the Pure-blood manor creaked open, revealing a cobblestone pathway lined with trimmed hedges and elaborate statues. The estate itself was a masterpiece of old magic—ancient stone walls, towering pillars, and windows so polished they gleamed like mirrors under the soft light of the enchanted lanterns floating nearby.
Standing at the entrance, a pale, well-groomed man awaited their arrival, his hands neatly folded in front of him. At his side stood a house-elf, its wrinkled hands nervously clutching a rag.
From the opposite end of the path, six Aurors approached. Betty, with her soft, knowing smile, led her team with an air of grandmotherly charm. Phil, walking beside her, practically radiated enthusiasm, his eyes scanning the manor with open admiration.
The moment he spotted Betty, his face lit up.
"Hi, Betty! Lovely seeing you!" he said, beaming like they had just run into each other at a farmers' market instead of arriving for an investigation.
Betty, ever the sweetheart, gave a gentle smile.
"Hi there, dear," she said, adjusting the strap of her purse.
The nobleman straightened his back, clearing his throat.
"Welcome to my home," he said, his voice smooth but slightly rigid. "Please, follow me to the treasury."
Despite his composed demeanor, his pale complexion and the slight twitch of his fingers betrayed his nerves.
Phil gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You've got a beautiful place here, buddy. Real classy! You ever think of opening it up for tours? I know a guy who does estate tours—huge business! Let me know if you're interested."
The noble gave him an awkward nod, not entirely sure how to respond.
The team followed their host through high-arched hallways and lavish rooms adorned with portraits of severe-looking ancestors. The treasury was no exception to the estate's grandeur—tall bookshelves lined the walls, and countless glass cases displayed rare heirlooms, enchanted jewelry, and artifacts of historical significance.
The Aurors moved methodically, scanning each object for dark magic. They tested for enchantments, checked for cursed items, and examined hidden compartments.
Nothing.
After a thorough search, one of the Aurors approached Betty and Phil.
"All clear, ma'am. We found no unregistered artifacts or banned materials."
Phil clapped his hands together, his voice bright.
"Is that so? Well, that's just great! Glad to hear that, buddy!" He grinned and gave the nobleman another hearty pat on the back. "And to think you were worried. See? You've got nothing to hide!"
Relief flooded the noble's face. His shoulders relaxed, and he even managed a small smile.
That is, until Betty spoke.
"Wait."
The room fell silent.
The nobleman froze, his fingers twitching ever so slightly.
Betty reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of small, dry seeds. With a flick of her wrist, she scattered them across the marble floor.
The moment they touched the ground, the seeds sprouted, rapidly growing into thin, winding vines that slithered across the room like living tendrils. They crawled up bookshelves, stretched along the ceiling, and probed at the corners of the room.
Betty closed her eyes for a moment, as if listening. Then, she pointed towards an empty corridor.
"One of you, walk in there."
One of the Aurors stepped forward, confidently striding down the corridor—until he slammed face-first into an invisible barrier. He staggered back, clutching his nose.
"Ow—yep. There's definitely something here."
The team fired a few Bombarda spells at the spot, but the protective enchantments held firm.
Phil, who had been watching with an almost childlike fascination, suddenly stepped forward. His grin widened.
"Alright, folks, stand back! Time for some classic Phil magic."
With dramatic flair, he unsheathed an enormous sword—easily as tall as he was—from nowhere.
Betty, ever amused, chuckled. "Oh, honey, be careful with that thing. We don't want you cutting off anything important."
Phil winked. "Betty, when have I ever been anything but a master with my blade?"
One of the Aurors snorted, but Betty just smiled sweetly.
With a flourish, Phil swung the sword. The blade cut through the air effortlessly, despite its size. As it connected with the barrier, a crack split across the invisible surface.
A moment later, the illusion shattered, revealing what lay beyond—a heavy black door, now split open down the middle. The splintered remains of its dark wood groaned as the protective enchantments failed.
Phil let out an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction, dramatically sheathing his sword. "Ladies and gentlemen, you're welcome."
Betty patted his arm. "Oh, you're just a delight."
Beyond the ruined door lay a secret chamber, its shelves lined with items that had no place in a respectable household.
Dark artifacts, their auras pulsating with malevolent energy, rested on velvet cushions. Cursed dolls, voodoo relics, and ancient bloodstained tomes lined the walls. There were even a few artifacts so dangerous that they had been banned outright by the Ministry.
The nobleman went pale again—this time, almost ghostly white.
Before he could bolt, Betty gently took his wrist, her grip deceptively firm.
"Now, sweetheart, where do you think you're going?"
The noble swallowed hard.
Phil, ever the good cop, grinned. "Wow. You know, buddy, you really should've just come clean in the first place. Would've saved us all the trouble! But, hey, no hard feelings—except for the really hard time you're gonna have explaining this to the Wizengamot."
The house-elf, who had been silently watching, suddenly lunged at the artifacts, attempting to destroy them.
Betty flicked her wrist, and thick vines shot out, wrapping around the elf and hoisting it into the air. "Oh no, no, no. We don't break evidence, dear."
A few of the remaining household members attempted to fight, but by now, the Aurors had their wands trained and ready.
A brief scuffle broke out—one wizard fired a Stupefy at Phil, who dodged with an awkward but surprisingly effective roll. Another aimed a Confringo at Betty, but she simply raised a hand, and a thick vine sprouted from the floor, absorbing the blast.
The battle didn't last long. With Phil's boundless enthusiasm and Betty's no-nonsense efficiency, they quickly subdued the culprits.
Within minutes, the nobleman, his household, and even the rebellious house-elf were secured and disarmed.
Betty dusted off her hands. "Well! That was fun. Now, let's get this mess cleaned up before dinner, shall we?"
Phil, still grinning, turned to one of the Aurors. "So, how much you think one of these cursed dolls goes for? Asking for a friend."
The Aurors groaned. Betty just patted his arm again. "Oh, Phil, you're just a hoot."
----
The Rise of the Targaryen Wizards: Ministry Holds a Press Conference to Address Public Concerns
Publication: The Daily Prophet
---
London, Ministry of Magic – Amid rising public intrigue and concerns regarding the emergence of the Targaryen wizards, the Ministry of Magic held a highly anticipated press conference today. The aim? To reassure the wizarding community that while these powerful newcomers continue to make headlines, the Ministry remains firmly in control.
The conference was led by key Aurors from the Targaryen-affiliated faction—Madea storm, Betty Green, and Phil Dunphy—who have been at the forefront of high-profile operations against dark wizards.
Seated before a packed room of reporters, the trio exuded confidence, though each carried a unique aura. Madea, with her sharp gaze and no-nonsense demeanor, sat back in her chair, adjusting her glasses. Betty, ever the warm presence, smiled pleasantly, while Phil appeared utterly delighted to be the center of attention.
The Ministry spokesperson, Edgar Pickens, stepped forward, clearing his throat before addressing the gathered press.
"Madam Madea, how have the past few months been for you out in the field?" asked a reporter from The Wizarding Times.
Madea barely blinked, adjusting her glasses with a sigh.
"Boring."
A few murmurs spread through the audience at her bluntness.
The reporter hesitated before continuing, "Do you find Auror work to be difficult?"
Madea's expression didn't change.
"Only apply if you're confident you can handle it. If not, then don't."
Her words, though curt, carried weight. She was one of the most feared yet respected Aurors in recent years—earning the nickname The Stormbringer due to her devastating control over ice magic.
Betty White, ever the soothing presence, chuckled lightly. "Oh, honey, she's just saying the truth. Auror work ain't for the weak of heart. If you ain't built for it, you best be finding another job."
Phil, always eager to engage, leaned forward with a wide grin. "Oh, but don't let that scare you! It's a great job! You just have to—what's the word—thrive in high-pressure environments, you know? And maybe be ready to face off against werewolves and dark wizards at any given moment. No big deal!"
---
Another journalist, quill poised over a notepad, directed a question at Madea's fellow Auror, Miss Green.
"Miss Green, why do you and your comrades seem to use the same spell or ability in combat, rather than a variety of spells?"
Green, who had remained composed thus far, finally spoke up, her voice even but firm.
"Orders from the main house. We are to rely on a singular ability."
This statement intrigued the reporters, prompting a flurry of whispered conversations.
She continued, "Spells like mine, Madea's, and Phil's aren't easy to master. But when wielded correctly, they're more than enough to control a situation."
It was true—Madea's ice magic had shut down entire strongholds, Phil's enchanted sword had cleaved through powerful magical barriers, and Green's vine magic was capable of detecting hidden threats. Each was a master of their craft.
A particularly excited young journalist from Teen Witch Weekly raised her hand.
"Phil! You're so cool!" she squealed.
Phil beamed. "Well, I try to be. But, you know, Betty's the real star here. Have you seen her in action? Absolutely legendary."
Another reporter quickly followed up with a pressing question.
"Mr. Dunphy, if you and your comrades are part of the Targaryen house, why do you all have different last names?"
Phil's smile widened as he nodded. "Oh, great question! So, the Targaryen house isn't just a family—it's more of a clan. The main bloodline carries the name Targaryen, but branches of the bloodline have different surnames. It's a way of distinguishing different family lines, but don't worry—there's no discrimination. We're all treated equally."
His explanation seemed to put some concerns to rest.
But then came the question that everyone had been waiting for.
"Does that mean the Animagus genius, Hecate Targaryen, is from the main bloodline?"
Betty leaned in with a warm smile.
"Yes, dear. Hecate Targaryen is the sole heir of the Targaryen lineage."
The room buzzed with murmurs. This confirmation only fueled further speculation about the true power of the Targaryens and what the future might hold for the magical world.
---
Related Articles
"Hecate Targaryen: The Rising Star of Animagus Magic"
By Jonathan Bleaker, Special Correspondent
Hecate Targaryen's name has been whispered across the wizarding world for months. A prodigy in Animagus transformation and rumored to possess incredible magical talents, she has already garnered significant recognition despite her young age.
Experts speculate that her abilities might rival even some of the greatest transfiguration masters in history. Could she be the key to unlocking new frontiers in magic?
---
"The Targaryen Legacy: Bloodline of Power or a Threat?"
By Sylvia Hornsbee, Investigative Journalist
With more Targaryens stepping into the limelight, the wizarding world is left questioning—should we be wary? While many hail them as heroes, others fear that a family with such potent magic could one day become a threat. The Ministry reassures the public that all is under control, but is that truly the case?
---
"Phil Dunphy: The Most Charming Auror in Britain?"
By Marla Pettigrew, Lifestyle Columnist
Let's talk about Phil Dunphy—the Auror with the heart of gold and the sword skills to match. Whether he's taking down dark wizards or flashing that winning smile, he's quickly becoming a favorite among witches and wizards alike. But does his charm hide a deeper strategic mind?
---
Conclusion: The Future of the Targaryens
As the press conference wrapped up, one thing was clear—the Targaryens were here to stay, and the wizarding world would be watching their every move.
While the Ministry assures the public that they are keeping a close eye on the Targaryens' rise, the future remains uncertain. Will they be the guardians of peace or an unstoppable force of power?
Only time will tell.