(Enchanting Melodies) Chapter 175: Winter Charm (Patreon)
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Chapter 175: Winter Charm
5 January 1993, Hogwarts
Albus Dumbledore fell on his seat with a loud sigh. Finally, after nine hours, the Wizengamot finally decided about that standardized cauldron’s thickness for their regulation to pass their bills. Sometime, the elderly headmaster wondered why he didn’t just grab power after he defeated Grindelwald, all those years ago. People’s time wouldn’t have been wasted on such trivial matters.
It was very sad how quickly the Wizengamot turned back to the inefficient council it used to be. If there was any positive to Azkaban’s destruction, it would be that it made people finally realize that their issues were just so small and stop being purposely petty. The issue with cauldron’s thickness was the fact that many of the members of the Wizengamot had invested a lot of gold in Potion’s shops. Cauldron were generally expensive since it often required a lot of magically inert materials, which was crafted in a way that wouldn’t absorb any ambient magic to affect the potion.
Well, some idiot in Knockturn alley decided to make thinner cauldrons and sell them for less. People who didn’t think twice about the price just bought them, and the material just didn’t provide enough isolation and caused a lot of accidents. Hence why the headmaster of Hogwarts, the champion of light, the defeater of Grindelwald, ended up spending hours listening to idiots arguing on an issue as boring as Cauldron’s Thickness.
Ministry regulators wanted to dramatically increase the thickness, while people who had gold invested in the cauldron market wanted to dismiss the idea altogether or make it so small that it wouldn’t matter. They ended up just choosing somewhere in the middle, which honestly didn’t change a single thing. Desperate people in Knockturn Alley will keep skimping on costs, and desperate people who can’t afford a normal cauldron will buy them. People will still continue to brew in normal cauldrons which will have the same price as before.
As he said, it was one of the most boring topics ever discussed in a Wizengamot meeting. It was a miracle he just didn’t fall asleep, especially with how much it was taking out of him every day to finish his prison. He would have to think of an appropriate name for it.
While time consuming this prison gave him a frankly ridiculous level of influence over the country. He had enough backdoors installed to put or remove anyone from their cells, without anyone realizing it. He could get his followers to take riskier missions, especially since they would only have very little risk. No wonder Voldemort was confident in the war…
But that was not the time to think about this dark period, but the time to finally relax.
His faithful companion, Fawkes, flew towards him and crooned slightly. The sound alleviated his worries, and he could feel his tense shoulder relax as he started to caress the mythical bird.
Ah Fawkes, one of his most treasured friends. Even now, he had a hard time believing that the phoenix had chosen to stay with him. Fawkes wasn’t his familiar, but they were friendly enough. There was something eternal, something more, in Fawkes, that made it seem like phoenixes were just more than a magical creature. A magical bond with something this eternal, this complex, would surely result in madness of a wizard.
The truth was that there was very little known about phoenixes. He had never heard anything about a phoenix egg, or their gender. They appeared in history, completely randomly, and chose companions. Some were good, some were evil men, but one thing was certain, whoever they chose were immortalized in the annals of history. Albus thought that Fawkes’ presence was proof that his path was correct, that his ambitions were true.
It took some time to warp the current understanding mages had of Phoenixes, but it was known considered in the whole world that the mythical bird symbolized all that is good and light in the world.
As the evening turned into night, Albus unwittingly started to think about his current political position. He had lost one of his posts after the fiasco that was the Potter guardianship hearing. He did gain enough goodwill after rebuilding the current wizarding prison, but it paled compared to what he could have had should the truth about his sister not have been revealed. He heard them all, even his own allies, whisper’ kin slayer’ behind his back. There was just something fundamental about the trust the people had in him had disappeared, and he would likely never get it back.
“How could it go wrong so fast, Fawkes?” the headmaster asked the magnificent creature just a few feet away from his desk. Unfortunately, he didn’t think that Fawkes had the ability to discern complex political maneuvers that he had found himself in.
Since no one was in his office, apart from Fawkes and the paintings of past headmasters that were bound to not reveal any of his secrets while he still drew breath, he scowled and slammed his fist on his desk, letting odd knickknacks and small artifacts fall to the ground. It was a sight that he would have never shown to the public. Albus Dumbledore did not get angry, after all.
He growled, “Even after saving them almost a million galleons on that blasted prison, I still lost my influence. I need something…. Something to put himself back into his good graces. He needed another Grindelwald. If this was revealed during the war, people wouldn’t have cared. He was the only one opposing Voldemort, their only chance at life. He needs another Voldemort, or maybe for the original to return. He needs to be the light in their darkness, the hope to their terror, only then, would he be able to gain enough influence to achieve his goal.
It was a simple idea.
To replace freedom with security.
Magic was dangerous, magical experimentation more so. Hence, he made sure that it would fade away. He was slowly limiting the number of spells taught, the number of spells available, removing vital books from the Hogwarts library, and he had made sure the lower access to the restricted section. Students, even if they have a pass, were not able to take out more than a single book and were not allowed to stay more than a few minutes there every day, which added in the fact that the books were not sorted anymore, made most books impossible to find.
He had already refused most of the researchers coming to the castle for access to the books, apart from the junior professors, who he made sure were not advanced enough to truly benefit from the tomes in the library.
He had pushed his influence to do the same all across Europe, and while a few headmasters were swayed by his way of thinking, others did oppose him, though he silenced those oppositions rather quickly. Sometimes a firm hand was needed after all.
The current headmasters were fully not under his thumb. Madame Maxime of Beauxbattons had grown with her predecessor’s reform which was a follower of his, hence following his footsteps, even if the pace was smaller. However, Igor Karkaroff was fully his creature. Albus made a deal to make him headmaster and make sure that he would not be convicted to Azkaban, in exchange for following his instructions regarding the administrations of the school.
In the end, with every generation, fewer spells would be taught. Magic would remain harmless, and there would be peace. The magical world would finally be free of war, of famine, of violence, of the darkness.
He did not want the European Tournament to take hold, especially not in Hogwarts. Alas, Barty Crouch and Fudge had taken him by surprise by announcing it to the ICW, who ended up approving. He tried to stop it as his role as the Supreme Mugwump, but he had made too many reforms in the years before the announcement, making him exhaust some of his favors in the international scene.
Hogwarts was just too ahead of his plans, and the other schools would probably decimate them. He needed to train the students, to pick the most promising of them, and make acceptable champions to represent the school a year later.
It was why he proposed the school tournament this year. It would help him recuperate some of the gold he invested in the prison, but also see the current level of his students.
He had already the first task prepared, an obstacle course, filled with creatures, small dangers, and a few enchantments. It was likely far easier the real tournament would be, but Albus could make the excuse that younger students would be involved. He was planning on holding a race for each school year, and a final one, with a different obstacle course which will have the best three students for each year.
He was being petty, he knew, but he wanted to get back at the Potter boy with that maneuver. Albus had presented the boy to be Voldemort’s successor, a child of prodigious talent that presented a danger to the status quo. If the boy won, then people will start fearing him, in fear of another Dark Lord. They would not do business with him, and always be wary of his influence.
If the boy failed, in front of spectators filled with very influential people, then people will mock him. No one would ever take his seriously, and Albus would make sure to publicize this with his connections to the daily prophet.
In the end, Albus Dumbledore always won. It was time for the Potter boy to realize that he bit off a lot more than he could chew.
Although, Albus was excited for the Longbottom boy’s performance. According to his teachers, the boy’s progress was noteworthy. It seemed like young Neville had finally moved on from the tragic loss of Hermione Granger, and the slander campaign against him. He had tried to stop it, but it wasn’t truly worth the effort, or the favors needed to go through with it, and he had to deal with the aftermath of Azkaban at the time.
This was very reassuring. It wouldn’t do for his weapon to dull with grief after all.
Young Neville’s value was always as the prophecy child. When Voldemort inevitably returned and be defeated once more. The victor will have enough influence to do it. Albus had originally planned on either letting the boy be a martyr to his cause, but he could be a good subordinate if he survived.
The influence he would wield alongside the boy would be enough to hammer the last of his plan, for his dream to fully become a reality. He only needed for Voldemort to be tempted enough to move towards the rest of Europe. Pureblood Supremacy was a surprisingly powerful cause to follow.
As for the rest of the world, Asia was already isolated and ignored anything occurring outside. Australia and its surrounding islands had already joined the ICW, as did half of South America. Only North America was stubborn to his influence, and even then, their magical society was relatively new, which came mostly from Europe. The original residents of the continents were wiped out by the invaders centuries ago, their magics lost to time.
As for Africa, it barely counted, especially with the countless warlords trying to get more territories, every decade or so. The only stable governments were already part of the ICW, but the rest were on the brink of collapse, and the ICW was one move away to forcefully invade their magical society or even just wipe it off the ground at the chance of the Statute of Secrecy being broken.
People did not understand just how important the Statute was.
Albus did. He read texts written from one of the castors. It was the day the true Order of Merlin died, leaving only a pale shadow that became the ICW.
They died for a great cause, for the greater good of the world.
The Statute could not be broken, and he would rather kill every single muggleborn in the world than let that happen. Thankfully, the ICW followed his lead, although fearing a war with the muggles, not the true horrors that would await them.
War was the only way forwards. War for peace, what an oxymoron. Hopefully more old families would perish and their cursed crests with them. His magic would reign supreme.
Voldemort’s war should be the end. But if it isn’t, there was always the Potter boy.
After all, he made one Dark Lord, what was another? If the boy would not be useful as a pawn, then he could be useful as an enemy.
He was already sowing the seed.
It was for the greater good, after all.