Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, sat stiffly in his office, his mood as sour as spoiled milk.
Whether it was tonight's debacle that had made him miss a lavish French dinner or the inflammatory article in the latest issue of The Quibbler, every detail gnawed at his composure.
His tone turned sharp as he addressed Dumbledore, who stood calmly before him.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, is all this just to admit an Obscurial to Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore's expression remained serene. "Indeed. His name has appeared in the Book of Admittance. By tradition, that means his enrollment is inevitable."
A cold chuckle broke the silence. Lucius Malfoy, seated nearby, leaned back, his polished cane resting against the arm of his chair.
"An Obscurial," he drawled, his tone laced with disdain, "who recently caused a major magical incident. Headmaster, are you suggesting Hogwarts should harbor such a risk?"
"As a member of the Hogwarts School Board," Lucius continued, his steely gaze fixed on Dumbledore, "it is my duty to remind you that Hogwarts is not your personal little garden."
Dumbledore met Lucius's sneering expression with a calm smile.
"I understand your concerns, Lucius. However, I am confident that this child's extraordinary talent can be nurtured safely. To stifle it would be a tragedy for the magical world."
Lucius raised a skeptical eyebrow. "A tragedy, you say? How touching. But tell me, Headmaster, what price will you pay if your judgment fails?"
Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, his tone unwavering. "If any harm is caused by this child, I will gladly submit to a full investigation by the Ministry of Magic."
Lucius leaned forward, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss.
"How noble. And yet, this is hardly the first time you've taken in dangerous individuals, is it? That half-giant oaf expelled for murder — how long have you hidden him at Hogwarts? Tell me, Dumbledore, do you care for the safety of the other students, or do you merely collect misfits for your own ends?"
The tension in the room thickened, but Dumbledore's calm demeanor remained unshaken.
"If you feel strongly, Lucius, perhaps the Board should vote again on my removal. What reason will you conjure this time? Another fairy tale?"
Lucius's lips thinned, and his pale face grew colder, his retort stifled by Dumbledore's unwavering poise.
Cornelius Fudge, caught between the two powerful wizards, dabbed at the sweat forming on his brow. He felt like a muggle at a wizard's duel — helpless and out of his depth.
"Enough," Fudge interjected, his voice strained. "Dumbledore, while I understand your belief in this child, you must acknowledge the challenges here. Integrating a tortured Obscurial into wizarding society is no small matter."
Fudge straightened in his chair, his earlier hesitation replaced by a newfound resolve.
"The Ministry will conduct an evaluation before the school term begins. If the child can prove they are capable of integrating into a wizarding family, we will approve their admission to Hogwarts."
"An entirely reasonable precaution," Dumbledore agreed with a nod. "I have every confidence in Vizet and will be glad to facilitate the process —"
"Facilitate?" Lucius interrupted, his voice icy. "Surely you don't think you should be the one making these arrangements, Headmaster? Shouldn't this matter be overseen by the Ministry? Or has your ego grown so large that you fancy yourself the uncrowned king of the wizarding world?"
Lucius's sneer deepened as he gestured toward the desk, where a copy of The Quibbler lay open to an article critical of Dumbledore.
"Perhaps this rag has a point. Are you the invisible Minister of Magic, Dumbledore? Or are you simply unwilling to respect the authority of the actual Minister sitting before you?"
Fudge's face flushed as he glanced at the article, his growing frustration feeding a burgeoning sense of defiance. It was time to assert himself — time to remind the magical world that Cornelius Fudge was no puppet.
He cleared his throat, his voice firm.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, the Ministry will take full responsibility for finding a suitable wizarding family. This is no longer your concern."
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After sending both Dumbledore and Lucius on their way, Cornelius Fudge sank back into his chair, the room finally quiet. He reached for a bag of gummies, popping a few into his mouth in an attempt to stave off the gnawing hunger that had been plaguing him all evening.
"One year as Minister for Magic," he muttered to himself, chewing aimlessly. "When will puppet Minister Fudge finally become the real Minister Fudge?"
The words felt bitter, even in private. His gaze drifted toward the open copy of The Quibbler on his desk, its headline screaming a critique he had been trying to ignore. Suddenly, the gummies in his mouth tasted like erasers.
In his early days as Minister, Fudge had leaned heavily on Dumbledore's advice, often owling the Hogwarts headmaster for guidance. It was the safest route — ensuring his decisions were well-reasoned and unlikely to backfire. But such deference, while practical, wasn't something he wanted paraded in public.
Some things were better left unsaid.
And now The Quibbler had dragged those unsaid things into the glaring light of public discourse, airing them like dirty laundry for all to see.
"The nerve," Fudge muttered, picking at a gummy and glaring at the article as if the printed words themselves were mocking him. "I don't have the ability? The owls I sent to Hogwarts could circle Britain twice if you lined up their bodies!"
His fingers tightened around the candy bag, crumpling it as a fresh wave of indignation surged through him. "Fine! Since you want to stir up trouble for me, don't blame me when it lands on your doorstep. Let's see if you still have time to slander me then!"
The idea sparked a cruel satisfaction. Fudge rummaged for parchment, his irritation guiding his quill as he began drafting an appointment letter.
To Xenophilius Lovegood:
Effective immediately, you are hereby appointed as the legal guardian of the young Obscurial under evaluation for Hogwarts admission. Your unique perspective and role in the magical community make you a most suitable candidate for this position.
Ministry of Magic
He paused, smirking to himself as he reread the words. It was perfect. The editor of The Quibbler would now have his hands too full to meddle further in ministerial affairs.
With a flick of his wand, the letter folded itself neatly into a paper airplane and zipped out of the room, leaving Fudge alone once more. He slumped back into his chair, a smug smile lingering on his face as he patted his stomach.
"I wonder when Lucius will invite me to another banquet," he mused aloud, his thoughts drifting to the memory of that exquisite French fish soup. "Now that was a proper evening... unlike tonight."
For now, at least, he felt a small measure of control restored. Let the editor of The Quibbler deal with the chaos he had so eagerly stirred up.
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Vizet blinked his eyes open, the soft glow of sunlight streaming through a nearby window warming the room. He found himself in what appeared to be a sunny ward.
Above him, candles encased in delicate crystal bubbles floated gently, casting a soft, comforting light as they hovered against the ceiling.
Slowly sitting up, he gripped the edge of the bed frame for support. Memories from the past day came rushing back.
Travelling across worlds. Suppressing the dangerous power of the Obscurus. Meeting the most powerful wizard in Britain.
Haaaa...
Even after waking up, he still felt tired.
Taming the Obscurus, was no mere feat. There is a reason why most Obscurials don't live beyond 10 years of age. But through sheer determination — and the aid of the notebook's meditation method — he had managed to suppress the chaotic force within him. Now, against all odds, Dumbledore himself had invited him to Hogwarts.
The notebook...
Vizet's brow furrowed as he instinctively reached for his mind, trying to locate the mental tether to his lifeline in this strange, magical world.
Before he could delve deeper, a faint rustling noise caught his attention.
He turned his head and froze.
By the window sat a girl, her profile bathed in the golden hues of morning light. A cascade of long, pale golden hair brushed her shoulders as she moved, a strand catching the sunlight like spun silk.
She stretched her hand toward the window, fingers curling into shapes that danced in the sunlight.
The shadow of a rabbit appeared on the wall.
She smiled softly at her creation, as if it were a secret shared only with herself.
For reasons he couldn't explain, Vizet felt his world grow still.
The girl's presence was mesmerizing, a quiet beauty woven from light and serenity.
She continued her display, shifting the hand shadows into new shapes—a dog, a duck, a swan, and finally a fluttering pigeon. Each transformation was accompanied by an innocent, almost childlike smile.
Vizet had no idea how long he had been watching when, suddenly, the girl turned and noticed him.
She rose from her chair and approached his bedside, her steps as light as her voice.
"You're awake!" she said, her tone dreamlike yet unmistakably clear.
Her words carried an airy quality, like a song half-whispered in a quiet room.
The girl's smile widened as she introduced herself. "Hello. My name is Luna. Luna Lovegood."
Vizet studied her, taking in her peculiar yet enchanting features. Her skin was pale and radiant, her light eyebrows nearly translucent. But it was her silver eyes, shining like twin moons, that drew him in.
Dangling from her ears were carrot-shaped earrings that swayed slightly as she moved, adding a touch of whimsy to her ethereal appearance.
"Hello... I'm Vizet," he said at last, his voice hoarse. He glanced around the room. Two other beds stood nearby, shrouded by curtains, their occupants — if any — hidden from view.
"Where am I?" he asked.
"This is St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries," Luna said, her tone bright but faraway, as if she were only half-present in the conversation. "The healers checked on you earlier. They said you're fine now. You can leave as soon as you wake up."
"Leave?" Vizet murmured. His gaze dropped to his hands. "But... I don't have anywhere to go. I don't have a home. Or a family."
The weight of his words sank deep into his chest.
His memories, both of this life and the one before it, echoed the same reality: he was alone.
In his previous life, he had been an orphan, a quiet student in a cold, impersonal institution. He had lived by a singular goal — fulfill his role, become a cog within society, until he gets worn out and replaced, nothing more.
And now, in this strange new world, his path seemed eerily familiar: study at Hogwarts, suppress the Obscurus, survive.
He swallowed hard, the silence growing heavy.
But Luna, undeterred, broke it with a radiant smile.
"Of course you have a family!" she declared, her voice as gentle as the sunlight streaming through the window.
Vizet looked up at her, startled by the conviction in her words.
Her smile softened, and her light silver eyes shimmered with sincerity.
"I am your family," she said simply, as if it were the most natural truth in the world.