HP: MAGICAL LIFE CHAPTER 35 (Patreon)

Chapter 35

MINERVA MCGONAGALL

The last twenty-four hours had been hell for Minerva McGonagall, and if Albus was telling her now was true, things were about to get way worse.

“How can they get the Minister like this? Just how?” she questioned him once more, exasperated and troubled by the news of the death of the leader of their government. The truth was she was still reeling from the shock, her consciousness refusing to accept the return of he who shall not be named.

Albus sighed, looking haggard and tired, with no trace of his usual cheer and calm behavior as he shook his head.

“I don’t know myself. The Aurors just found him dead in his home. I suspect that Voldemort had been planning for this for quite some time. It’s just that we had all become complacent and careless,” the man said, and McGonagall could sense how this all was taking its toll on the man. Everyone would now look to him once more for guidance and hope, an honor it may be, but it was a daunting, extremely large burden to carry, especially for someone his age.

“Tell me about the injured students. Is everything fine?” he suddenly asked her about the six unfortunate children that had been caught in Voldemort’s schemes. When the dark mark had gone up on the lake, her heart had nearly given up, and she had prepared herself never to see those bright faces again.

Thank god, she had been wrong. Relief had flooded her when she had seen them all in the hospital, injured, scared, and distraught. But alive nonetheless. And it was all that mattered.

“Everyone except Edward has been cleared up. They are still a bit tired and nervous from the experience, but the healers are saying that they can return to normal activities by tomorrow,” she replied to Albus, and she saw him nod at her words.

“Good! That is good, but what about Edward? Filius told me that they took him to St. Mungos, has there been any news from there?” he questioned her, and she sighed heavily as she nodded.

Edward Wright was one of Minerva’s favorite students, and from what the rest of the captive students had told the Aurors, he had faced Voldemort, shielding them from the Dark Lord, a feat that not many adult wizards, let alone children, could boast.

“Poppy inquired about him, and the reports are mixed. The damage to his nerves because of the cruciatus was not extensive and would heal up in a couple of days.” And she could see Albus relax a bit at that. The Cruciatus curse was classified as Unforgivable because of its long-lasting effects. The curse was so dangerous that it could drive people mad.

“But his face has received severe burns. They believe them to be caused by an unknown cursed fire of sorts. According to healer Jack, his face will be scarred from them, maybe for life,” Albus stiffened at that. And it was only because she had known him for such a long time that she noticed his fists clench momentarily in anger before he leaned back and closed his eyes.

“How extensive are the burns?” he questioned, and she shook her head.

“I am not sure,” she replied, and he sighed, and silence reigned in the Headmaster’s chambers.

“What will happen to the Tournament, Albus?” she questioned the man.

“It’s not sure! My proposal would be to continue it, to send a strong message, but I believe this will have to be discussed with the ministries and the rest of the Headmasters.” Albus replied, making her remember another troublesome piece of news.

“Regarding that. I believe that Igor Karkaroff has gone missing and is nowhere to be seen,” she informed him, appalled by the selfishness and carelessness of the man. Though Albus just sighed.

“That is unfortunate but expected. The man did betray several of his former colleagues when the last war ended. So, who is in charge of the Drumstrang students now?”

“It is one of their professors. Though, I have contacted their Governors and deputy headmaster regarding this. Hopefully, we will receive a response from them any time tomorrow,” and Albus nodded as he saw him glance at the Great clock on his desk before standing up again.

“Then this will be all. I need to return to the Ministry and see to the matters over there. If there is any emergency in the Scholl, you can contact me, but otherwise, I believe you shall have to see to running Hogwarts for some time,” she nodded, and Albus smiled as he added.

“Well, we can consider it a trial run for when you eventually become the Headmistress,” and Minerva smiled at his joke.

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LUCIUS MALFOY

Lucius Malfoy kneeled in front of his lord as he gave the lord a report about the task that had been assigned to him.

“My lord, the Minister is dead,” he spoke up, and he could feel several eyes focus on him as murmurs broke out in the Great Dining hall of the Malfoy manor. The Manor was already under Fidelius and unplottable and had been deemed by his lord as the base of operations.

The Dark Lord sat on the chair, a chair that had been designated for the head of the household, his seat.

“Good! And who have we nominated for the next minister?” the dark Lord questioned, and Lucius swallowed before finally responding.

“Cornelius’s undersecretary is sympathetic to our cause and will oppose the holding of an election, and we have placed several Ministry employees under our influence. Though, we are facing some resistance in our efforts,” he finished nervously. The Dark Lord was not one to forgive failures.

“Crucio!”

And Lucius’s breath hitched as he felt like his body was on fire. Pain. Sheer burning pain.

“AGHHHH! AHHHH!” he screamed as he writhed on the ground, screaming, shouting, begging.

“Pl… Plea..se! Me…r…me…cy!” he tried to beg.

And then he felt the spell ends as his lord moved away his wand. Lucius was sweating profusely. His clothes were dirty though he did not care. He could not care, for he slowly, pain stacking, bowed once more.

“Tha..nk you for sho…wing me.. rcy my lord,” Lucius said, and the Dark Lord stood up, and Lucius felt his cold wand touch his face, beckoning him to look up. Lucius looked up and shuddered internally as he once more saw the appearance of the Dark Lord.

Those red orbs stared at him, evaluating his worth, cutting through his very being.

“Tell me, Lucius. Who is it?” Lucius swallowed again, steadying his trembling voice before he began again.

“It is Amelia Bones. She has garnered significant support and is a strong candidate for Minister of Magic. Rumors are that she even has Dumbledore’s support,” Lucius reported faithfully.

And he saw the Dark Lord nod before he raised his head, closing his eyes as he seemed to think.

“Bones. I remember now, though, no matter. It is but a small setback. And then Lucius felt his Lord’s eyes land on him once more.

“Give me your arm, Lucius,” and dread pooled in his gut. But nonetheless, Lucius raised his arm, obeying the command.

The Dark Lord looked at the mark. The dark mark was now back to full color. And Lucius was sure he could feel it writhing on his very skin.

“It seems many have refused my call or seem to have forgotten their loyalties. Haven’t I been quite merciful in forgiving all your treachery?” the Dark Lord questioned all those present. He could feel his colleagues shift in their position as they all replied.

“Indeed, my lord, you have been merciful,” came the collective reply.

“Hmm, then I believe it is time I set an example for all those who seemed to have forgotten their vows,” and Lucius’s heart raced as his Lord placed his wand on his dark mark.

“It is time they learn that I am inevitable,” and Lucius’s senses screamed at him to run away, yet he did not move as a wave of magic rippled through the air. And Lucius could feel his arm burning up; the Dark mark writhed and glowed though he did not move.

“AGHH!” he muffled his scream.

Lucius’s face would turn ashen white the next day. The Daily Prophet would reveal the news of the death of one Igor Karkaroff.

The man had died writhing on the ground, his own body decaying from withing because of unknown magic. However, Lucius knew exactly what kind of magic it had been.

0000

FLEUR DELACOUR

RUDERLESS MINISTRY!
 by Harvey Spectre

As Great Britain reels from the presumptive return of the infamous He-who-shall-not-be-named. Our Ministry shows levels of incompetence that allowed this to happen in the first place.

It has been two days since the Death of the late Minister Fudge and the subsequent return of the Dark Lord. Yet, our ministry seems rather busy with infighting and power games rather than providing assurance and hope to the anxious people of the British Isles.

The Undersecretary of the late minister refuses to give up power and has refused to comment on the Dark Lord’s return, calling it all a ‘hoax and ploy of Albus Dumbledore to gain control of the ministry’.

She has also tried to remove Lady Amelia Bones as the head of the DMLE, a move which has been stopped by Albus Dumbledore, who exercises his powers as the Head of Wizengamont.

Unrest, incompetence, and confusion. These words sum up the situation of the ministry. Many questions that perhaps it is time for the esteemed Headmaster of the Dumbledore to step up and lead the nation, while others question the extraordinary power and influence wielded by the man.

And Fleur had had enough as she placed the paper down. The sheer incompetence of the British Ministry had been mind-boggling. She had always known about their corruption and incompetence, for Edward would often comment on it, but she had never thought that things would be this bad.

She looked to the side at him as he lay unconscious on the bed, his moving chest the only sign of life as bandages covered half of his face. And she berated herself once more for causing this and for not being strong enough. For not being careful enough.

The fire used by Voldemort had not been the regular fire but something rather obscure. They had tried to make the scars disappear, yet to no avail. In the end, all they could do was just let it be.

She got off her chair and sat on the side of the bed, her hands brushing over the bandages.

“Please wake up. Please,” she pleaded as she gripped his hand, squeezing it, trying to make him aware of her presence. Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. She brought his hand up to her lips and gave it a small kiss, hoping that her warmth would reach him. Hoping that he would finally wake up.

Yet there was no reaction. Suddenly she felt a knock at the door. She looked at the clock and saw that it was time for visitors, so she wiped her eyes and walked to the door.

She opened the door and found two very familiar faces standing outside. Hermione Granger, the young girl whom Edward regarded as a younger sister, stood there with Edward’s headmaster.

The Headmaster gave her a smile.

“It is good to see you, Miss Delacour. May we come in? I wanted to check on Edward,” she nodded and moved out of the way.

“I am better, Headmaster Dumbledore. Please, come in,” and the man entered the room, followed by the young bushy brown-haired girl.

“Thank you. I believe you are already acquainted with Miss Granger?” he questioned her as he placed, and she nodded.

“Indeed. We have met a couple of times,” she said as she gave the young girl a smile.

“Yes, she taught me how to dance for the Ball,” the little girl added as she placed the fruit basket she had been carrying on the table before sitting on the bed beside Edward.

“Ahh! The Ball was a magnificent event,” the Headmaster said a little forlornly before he turned to face her.

“Has there been any change?” and she shook her head. And the man sighed, and before he could speak up, the room lit up. Fleur instinctively reached for her wand but was stopped as Edward’s Headmaster raised his hand.

And suddenly, something lept out of the flames, encircling the room, and Fleur’s eyes widened as she recognized the legendary bird.

“It’s a phoenix!” she spluttered as the bird suddenly flew towards her.

“Relax, my dear. This is Fawkes, my companion,” the Headmaster assured her as the bird suddenly landed on her shoulder. And despite its size, it was light as a feather.

It was looking at her, examining her. And before she could react, it opened its beak and let out a melodious cry.

Peace and tranquility transcended upon her. And it was like all her worries had been washed away. She could feel her spirit healing, her muscles relaxing as it continued to squeak out melodiously.

“It seems that he likes you, not a coincidence, for he was quite fond of Edward,” the Headmaster added from the side.

Fleur felt herself looking over the mythical bird, her body still trying to process it all, when suddenly the little girl shouted.

“HE IS WAKING UP! HE IS WAKING UP!”

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