Did someone put Struck on a list? Thank you all for the outpouring of love for this in the last few days. I'm beyond humbled by you all.
Chapter Eighteen
September 9th, 1944
Mia did her best to ignore everything she'd learnt from Nina as she went about her nightly ritual.
Once she'd made it back to the hospital wing she checked that the linens had been properly cleaned. Rearranged some of the potions she'd restocked, and checked the inventory. Ate her dinner at her desk. She sorted through the newest entries she needed to add to her patient files and worked on one of her ongoing projects; this one an advanced experimental version of the wolfsbane potion.
It was after midnight before she finally crawled into bed and the darkness bore down on her like a dementor had swooped in to steal any cheer she may have had and it sat heavy on her chest.
Guilt ate away at her, a clawing sensation in her abdomen.
She somehow brought Grindelwald to the gates of Hogwarts. Or would, at least.
Where could she even begin to unpack the tight box in which she'd sealed away her new reality? Her mere existence had changed everything.
Mia thought she hadn't been leaving a footprint on the fabric of time, she'd tried so hard for so long to keep from changing things. In the end was that simply her own hubris?
She wasn't supposed to be here, and as such she should have expected that there would be repercussions to any action she'd taken. Unless she had run off to live alone on a mountain somewhere in the wilderness for eternity she couldn't have stopped the inevitable.
Her footprint upon the past had created changes she was only now beginning to see.
Tom Riddle was far from her mind as the images from Nina's memory of Grindelwald's attack surfaced. The horror of what was to come far outshone Voldemort's attack on Hogwarts. The magnitude of devastation… if she hadn't seen the footage of the aftermath of Hiroshima she wouldn't have been able to comprehend it.
Everyone had died in those visions.
The castle itself fell, mere stone and rubble crumpled in massive burning heaps that didn't resemble Hogwarts in the slightest. One of the bastions of the magical world destroyed in a single battle.
Bombs… that's what felled the castle.
Grindelwald dropped bombs on Hogwarts.
Grindelwald would drop bombs on Hogwarts.
Then somehow the man would go on to complete his purpose; ending the Statue of Secrecy, resulting in the subsequent muggle invasion. Tanks invading magical spaces. Magicfolk dead from gunshot wounds.
A resurgence of the witch hunts, with modern technology and artillery the likes of which the magical world couldn't begin to comprehend, because the majority of them had never cared to mingle with muggles.
Most magickind saw muggles as weaker, lesser beings. They didn't see how muggles were adapting, advancing, becoming stronger and learning how to weaponize their strengths to cover their weaknesses. Learning how to manufacture magic.
And they would find a way to take what they were not born with, if they learnt that it knew this. Hermione of the past had stomped her foot and declared such things impossible, but Mia had spent four decades and two wars beside muggles and she knew.
If the statue of secrecy fell… the subsequent war would be an invasion the magical world couldn't hope to come out on top of. Not with seven-hundred thousand citizens to the muggle's two billion in this time.*
If she didn't find a way to stop it now then in a few decades there may not be a magical world. Muggles were smart, adaptable in a way that magic kind wasn't, and they were fierce. Brutal. The impact of a muggle invasion would be devastating. The world itself may not survive the fallout.
Not in the era of nuclear weaponry. Not in the era of machine guns, shifting tactics, and chemical warfare.
Mia's nerves were on fire, heart slamming against her ribcage with vigor as flashes of dead bodies, some she recognized from around the school and some still unfamiliar, were caught half under the rubble and others splayed across the grounds. Scorch marks over many. Little fires were still crackling over various piles of burnt bodies. The vacant film of death in each student's eyes as they all stared directly at her.
The blame they couldn't voice was evident in their cold stares.
A line of sweat beaded across her brow and she gripped her sheets tightly in white fists. The memory of Grindelwald, standing before the corpse of Albus Dumbledore grief and pride warring across his features as the quidditch pitch burned around them. His face pinched, then split into a broad smile as he spun around with an arm out as if to embrace all the chaos he'd wrought.
Light steps and a jubilant twirl, the beginning of a dance Mia couldn't name, Grindelwald moved lithely underneath the dripping blood of Dumbledore to a tune only he could hear. The man had lost his mind long ago, but this behavior made Mia's stomach clench in disgust.
Mia's jaw popped and her teeth hurt as she grit them hard; railing against memory of Nina's vision.
Feeling increasingly hot and suffocated, Mia sat up in her bed, tossed her covers and swiped her unruly hair out of her face. In her haste she accidentally scratched her nose with her fingernail. The sting helped to ground her thinking for a moment and she took a deep breath.
"Get it together," she whispered viciously to herself, giving up the pretense of trying to sleep as she stalked into her closet and entered her beaded bag.
Mia made her way down the hall and into her meditation room, flooding it with darkness with a wave of her hand as she sat on the cushion in the center of the room. Mia breathed in deeply, then exhaled, long and slow.
As she calmed, she began to purposefully disconnect her thoughts from her physical body. She couldn't think things through properly with all of her physical responses, and she'd learnt long ago that it was best to look at things from an outside angle.
Instead of fighting herself, she disassociated.
Dissociation, while not healthy, had become something of a self-preservation response for her when she was under duress. Especially since the last war. It was how she could separate herself from the thing causing her distress and remain logical when emotions were too high. It came in handy when she had time to utilize it, but when the fight or flight reactions of external stimuli were too great she struggled to get herself under control. She couldn't have done this in bed.
Another deep breath and Mia was back in her memories of Nina's visions.
The trees were in full bloom. A line of sweat bead off Grindelwald's forehead, sticking to the dirt and grime from battle. Warm weather. Likely, the battle wouldn't happen until near the end of term, which was evidently bad-guy modus operandi, as Voldemort had done quite the same nearly every year she'd been in school.
At least the dark wizards seem to care for education, she scoffed, the sound echoing in the dark room. She never did understand it. Did it take the entire school year to come up with a plan to take Hogwarts? Would it not be simpler to enact such a plan when all students and the majority of the staff were on summer holidays? Focus.
The reminder made her steady her breathing again and step back into the visions.
Irma would die before the bombs blew the castle apart. She'd been shielding her first year in the library. In fact, most of the death would take place before the castle was destroyed. This clue led Mia to believe that the Alliance would get inside, reap mayhem, and get back out.
It would be a coordinated, planned attack.
And like in her time, Mia realized that the Alliance couldn't do it without inside help; getting inside hadn't been easy for Voldemort. He'd utilized Draco Malfoy to get his Death Eaters in during her sixth year. And during the Final Battle Voldemort was in control of the government and the school itself when he attacked at the end, yet he still couldn't get in until he'd crumbled the wards with multiple sustained and heavy magical attacks.
Grindelwald wouldn't likely have nearly as much control, but unlike Voldemort in the second war, Grindelwald has amassed a following that spanned all magical communities around the world.
He didn't need the government, not at this stage.
So that meant there were traitors inside Hogwarts. Right under Dumbledore's nose, just like they had been in her time.
Mia grit her teeth at the man's incompetence. If he'd spend more time working and less time mock flirting so he could manipulate people into doing his bidding… nevertheless.
Until now she'd been largely taking meals in her office and staying away from the majority of the staff.
Perhaps it was time to up the ante.
Mia needed to get a look at her coworkers and observe the students. If she could find out who the traitors were she might be able to work out a solution to stop the invasion before it happened.
Nina would help her, she knew, she just needed to get the girl alone and talk to her. With their jogging routine it shouldn't be too difficult to do so.
But first; Mia had to decide what to say to her.
Nina. The child that was never supposed to be, and knew it. The child that was seven years old when she found out she wasn't meant to be alive and saw the horrors of Voldemort.
The child who knew what Riddle would become, the horrors, the chaos, the insanity and cruelty, yet had befriended him anyways.
If Nina was to be believed, she had done this for Mia's sake. Of course, Mia harbored no delusions that Nina was an all around right fighter and a do-gooder. The girl had gotten close to Riddle, and perhaps she'd done so for Mia, but she'd stayed close. She let him live in her home, let him be a part of her family.
Nina Fawley cared about Tom Riddle. It wasn't just because of Hermione Granger that Nina supported him. It couldn't be.
Part of all this revelation with Nina grated against Mia like sandpaper over her flesh. That someone had seen her life, her struggles and her triumphs. How much Nina knew, Mia wasn't sure but knowing anything without Hermione having Mia confided it was a direct violation of her.
Mia hated it, hated the tight feeling that settled in her stomach and had begun to fester. Rage, white hot and sickly, engulfed her where she sat.
Focus, she reminded herself. Her emotions tempered off again as she pulled in another deep breath, working to regain control of her tumultuous thoughts. Anger only served her well if she was in the heat of battle. It would do her no favors now.
'How much do you think we can get done for the better? If Tom Riddle, a very powerful, very dark wizard, never becomes Voldemort. If he maintains his mental facilities? If he makes friendships, instead of just contacts and followers out of power hungry sycophants?'
Nina Fawley had moxy unlike any other and for a moment, Mia was reminded of herself at seventeen. Nina wasn't the same as Hermione, far from it. She'd have to talk to the girl more to gain a better grasp on the younger woman; but the way Nina had stood in front of Mia, scared shitless of the reaction her information would trigger but with determination to say her piece with the express intent of saving the world?
Mia saw herself. She saw a sixteen year old Hermione Granger, trembling as she led Dolores Umbridge into the forbidden forest. She saw an eighteen year old Hermione, starving and afraid, tossing and turning on a hard cot in a dingy tent hidden deep within the Forest of Dean. Hunted and on the run. Doing her best to support someone she cared about and save the world from a madman.
Moxy.
'You, Hermione Granger, I will follow.' Nina had said, and Mia hadn't thought of the weight of that statement until now.
Nina had said it with a fire and determination in her eyes. It was much like the fire Mia knew she had, especially in regards to Harry.
Hermione would have followed Harry straight into death's embrace if he'd needed her to. In fact, quite often she'd nearly done just that.
For the first time, Mia understood how heady and absolutely terrifying a thing loyalty, especially the kind of loyalty that was earned, could be and why Harry had sought to leave her and Ron behind to begin his horcrux search. The weight of the new responsibility she felt for Nina Fawley pressed itself onto Mia and it clawed at her chest like a scalded rat with nowhere to run but through her.
Mia pushed the feeling away.
Focus, she reminded herself again.
Other than gaining Grindelwald's attention in the first place, Mia wasn't sure what she might have done to draw his attention to Hogwarts.
Of course, such thoughts were exceedingly arrogant and Harry-esque. She could argue that he'd decided to come after Dumbledore and the only part she'd played in it was that she happened to be at Hogwarts.
But still, she hesitated to believe that. She must have done something, somewhere. A misstep.
Grindelwald had thought she'd accidently killed the Nazi's with lightning. What if he figured out it wasn't accidental? All he would have to do was mention it to the right people and she would be arrested. And if he wanted her in his service Grindelwald could easily steal her from the Auror's, especially during transport as they took her away to Azkaban. Or… or he could let her rot.
None of it made sense. What changed? What misstep was it that caused this? There were still so many variables that had yet to be revealed and she couldn't solve the problem in its entirety if she didn't have them. Mia needed more information.
What was the catalyst for the destruction of the magical world?
Mia couldn't hold back the torrent of emotions anymore and when she opened her eyes the room was engulfed in electricity.
September 15th, 1944.
The Great Hall was empty save one of the long tables that was cleared and free of the benches. It had stairs leading up to the table itself set on both ends and Mia was reminded of dueling club in her days, stifling a smile at the thought of how enamored she'd been with Lockhart; even after he'd been utterly thrashed by Professor Snape.
Some students were already gathered in little groups around the table. All in their house groups, not a soul mingling with others. Mia hadn't thought too much about the segregation of the houses in her day, but as an adult with experience in the way racism and classism worked she now understood that the way Hogwarts was set up made it seem like they didn't want the houses co-mingling.
From the point system to the competitiveness of the houses over quidditch, things that Hermione thought had been meant to keep everyone either in line or entertained had Mia thinking that it was this way for more sinister purposes. Isolate. Control. Manipulate.
But that could simply be her own distrust projecting. Still, the thought lingered as she observed the room.
A few Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw, and several Gryffindor were inside. Only a couple of Slytherin that she didn't recognize were lingering in a dark corner, speaking quietly amongst themselves and ignoring the rest of the room.
Mia noticed the other staff involved congregated near where the Staff table usually sat and strode toward them, ignoring the kids whose heads turned to stare at her as she passed.
"Welcome, Healer Gardner," Dumbledore said as she came to a stop beside him. He had a top hat in his hand, three slips of paper inside. He held it out to her and bounced the hat, the papers lightly tussling. "I hope you're excited for this. We're drawing names for who to duel. It seemed the best way, everyone had an idea of who they wanted to duel and it overlapped."
"I'm drawing first?"
Professor Hassat, coming forward just a step, nodded and reached up to adjust his kufi. His Middle Eastern accent was thick when he spoke. "We decided without your input so we figured you should choose; whoever is left will be dueling each other."
Irritated that the men had gone ahead and decided how things were going to be, Mia figured it wasn't worth telling them off so she reached into the hat and withdrew the paper. She unfolded it and stifled a laugh, looking up at her former Headmaster. "Looks like you and I are going to be dueling without use of the quidditch pitch this time, Professor Dumbledore."
He looked pleased as a peach while he vanished the hat. Mia had the sudden thought that he had done something to guarantee all names in the hat were his own to fix the odds. She wouldn't put it past him.
"Splendid! Please don't be too hard on me." Dumbledore winked.
Mia fought to stop the slow, retaliatory smirk that wanted to spread across her face. That comment, from Dumbledore, felt like the spark of a challenge.
Tom entered the Great Hall just as the first combatants were stepping onto the stage, missing whatever benign opening words had been stated. He beelined to the corner where his followers were gathered, each of them acknowledging him with a respectful nod as he approached.
They were all in attendance. All but Nina who didn't care for dueling in the way Hogwarts permitted. With the others, Tom would've insisted but he'd fought Nina over the summer and was surprised by her raw power and ability, she didn't need Hogwarts to teach her the watered down version of what she could already do.
The others, however, needed to learn.
The students were a titter with wide, excited eyes as they looked expectantly between Healer Gardner and Professor Dumbledore. Tom's brow raised, taking in their easy bow. He didn't miss the way Healer Gardner's lip twitched upward before she rose and turned.
She was either sure of herself because she had ability or she was naive. He couldn't decide which. Intrigued, he turned to fully face the spectacle as Dumbledore turned and cast the first spell with none of his usual flare. It was a non-verbal cast that hit the table by Gardner's feet and shook it, attempting to destabilize her right away.
If Dumbledore thought this would be an easy win, he was mistaken. Gardner's face was blank, not a trace of her opinion of Dumbledore's opening attack visible. Tom watched with rapt attention as she countered, wand held by her side–not lifted and directed at her opponent. Smart. Subtle. Dumbledore couldn't assess movements and spells so easily if she wasn't obvious about her intentions.
This technique had a caveat, though. Tom wondered how she'd get around the inability to direct more forceful magic and control the trajectory of her magical attacks if she wasn't pointing the magic in the right direction. Unless she had talent in wandless magic.
Whatever she sent at Dumbledore hit, and the man slid backward, nearly falling off the table as he leaned forward to stabilize himself, dropping to a knee. Gardner didn't give him a chance to stand before she sent two spells in rapid succession, and a wide eyed Dumbledore was lifted clear into the rafters, spun upside down and dropped. He fell rapidly, stopping his descent with a quickly cast arresto momentum before he'd have taken a nasty hit against the table.
The move could have ended in a broken neck.
Dumbledore shielded, finally, blocking Gardner's next attacks as he got to his feet, breathing heavily. Dumbledore's face contorted ever so slightly with anger and Tom relished the idea that someone was giving the old sod a run for his galleons, even as Dumbledore began to cast again.
A great ball of magical energy began to form out of the tip of Dumbledore's wand and he launched it across the table to Gardner. Tom didn't know what the spell was but it looked and felt like a nasty bit of magic, for being a light spell.
Whatever the spell he sent at Gardner, she finally threw her wand up in front of her and her other hand raised beside her wand, the palm cupping the side of it. Magic crackled between her fingers.
Tom couldn't suppress the excited thrill that display shot through him as the giant ball halted right in front of Gardner and burst. Raw magical power, like the kind he felt from Nina when she embraced her Volva nature but far, far stronger, swept over the room. The shock that pulsed outward knocked everyone off their feet.
The windows all around them shattered and glass glittered in the dwindling evening light. Tom had barely enough time to cover his head where he was prone on the floor, libs tangled with Orion's as they tried to brace for the imminent stabbing pain.
But glass fell like ash around them, piling over their bodies. Sand, he realized, running a hand over the thin layer of it that settled on the floor. He looked up at Gardner and Dumbledore, expecting to see them climbing down to ensure everyone was alright.
Instead, Gardner had one hand held above her head, face still utterly devoid of any emotion, fingers moving strangely. Tom watched in shock as glass fell slowly through some kind of shimmering barrier that stemmed from her hand and stretched to cover overtop of everyone in the room, converting the glass to its purest state and raining down upon them like a heavy snow.
Despite all the power she was utilizing to protect the students and faculty in the room, Gardner's wand was still pointed straight out, trained on Dumbledore.
Dumbledore didn't seem to want to stop fighting. The look on his face spoke to exertion and determination. Seeing that this fight was not yet over, Tom (along with the rest of the students and Professors in the room) struggled back to his feet with wide eyes. He didn't want to miss a second of whatever was about to happen.
Tom watched Dumbledore's face, the elder man's lips forming the word 'legilimens,' without speaking the word, and Tom wondered if Gardner would be able to stop a mental attack. If she even knew that Dumbledore could utilize mind magics.
It seemed like he didn't have to wonder after all. Because the first emotion he'd seen from her during the fight slowly spread over her face. Her amber eyes lit in a way that reminded him of fiendfyre and a sharp smirk raised one corner of her mouth.
Like a viper that had caught its mouse. Tom's heart thundered in his chest at the sight and his mind raced as he tried to calculate just what the woman would do next.
He couldn't have guessed.
The lights in the room dimmed with a flick of her wand until all that was left was the fading evening light. The sand rose all around them, snapping to swallow Dumbledore. Sudden voices of varying tone and cadence began to call out. Some whispered, some screamed. All of them said the same thing.
'Albus, why? Why, Albus? Why?' Rang through the room, over and over in an unsettling and eerie way that caused the little hairs on the back of his neck to stand. Goosebumps raised over his arms and he fought the shiver that climbed up his spine.
Tom felt adrenaline and anticipation spread through him. Excitement and a raw need that was unlike anything he'd ever felt before ripped through his body as he watched Albus bleeding Dumbledore stumble and try to fight his way out of the tornado of sand that blanketed him.
A golden whip shot out from the sand, Dumbledore finally making his way through it. Every grain stopped moving and fell to the ground the moment he made his way out of the whirring mess. His whip wound its way around Gardner's wand hand, wrenching it to the side. Her wand went soaring over Tom's head.
That should've been the end of the fight. Once one was wandless that was it by the standard rules.
But Gardner wasn't finished.
The smirk was still in place as she twisted her wrist and gripped the whip. She then yanked it toward her. Dumbledore stumbled forward and in his brief distraction, Gardner sprinted forward.
Dumbledore's eyes widened as she ran up to him. He seemed too fixated on the fact that the small woman was now mere meters from him to act appropriately as she lept over him, twisting expertly and gripping his shoulder in her free hand. She wrapped the whip around Dumbledore's throat once, twice, three times, before her legs slammed down and she jumped again, pressing her feet against his back and pushing, pulling the whip backward in the same move.
"Yield." Dumbledore croaked, his wand fell from his hand and it came up to clutch the magical whip around his neck, struggling to get it off. Asphyxiating. His eyes were nearly bulging out of his head, veins becoming more prominent as he gasped. "I yield, Gard- Gardner!"
The sharp sound seemed to make it through whatever battle fog had clouded Gardner's mind and she released Dumbledore. The man collapsed to the ground with a harsh gasp, his arms the only thing keeping him from becoming a heap against the table.
'Who are you, Mia Gardner?' Tom thought as he watched her walk around to the front of Dumbledore, hand out to help him to his feet. In that moment, he wanted Mia Gardner unlike he'd ever wanted any one. He needed someone of her caliber among his own– that raw power and the intellect. The ability to use it. The unconventional way she'd defeated Dumbledore… after turning his mental manipulations back onto him. Gardner was resourceful. Cunning, ruthless, intelligent, and hiding secrets.
But really, beyond all that, Tom Riddle found as he watched the way her amber eyes danced that he may have finally found a good match for him. He wanted to learn her secrets. To test her. To see if she could measure up the way he thought, after seeing this, that she could because if he was right… oh if he was right.
His eyes followed her as plans began to form, calculations, ideas. Whatever it took. He would learn all of Mia Gardner's secrets.
Dumbledore coughed and drew in several more ragged breaths before tiredly smacked his hand into Mia's. She smiled sheepishly at him as she helped him get to his feet. The students were all standing around with wide eyes and open mouths. Mia felt a twinge of satisfaction that she'd stunned them all into silence.
But in doing so, she'd also tipped Dumbledore off that she was far, far more powerful than he thought.
And Tom Riddle, too. Which, she supposed, was what she'd been intending to do. Nina's warning and advice had played in the back of Mia's head as soon as she saw the young dark wizard enter the hall.
To save the world, she'd at least have to explore the idea of teaming up with Riddle. Mia had no idea how powerful he was at this juncture, but he could be of use. And in order to use him she'd have to get close enough to him to do so. Nina was right, she needed to impress him.
And after some time watching him, if necessary, she could just kill the burgeoning little tyrant and work to save the world behind the scenes.
She was always working behind the scenes, after all.
As soon as Mia was certain Dumbledore could walk on his own she let go of his hand, holding it out until her wand flew back into her palm from wherever it had been amongst the students.
"Let me run diagnostics and see what I need to heal. I think we got a little carried away, Professor."
"That was the most brilliant duel I've had in a while, Healer Gardner. Absolutely stupendous. I demand a rematch, actually. Who's with me?" Dumbledore barked a strained laugh and patted her upper back. His voice was rough when he spoke, but the sound carried and it snapped the students out of their stupor as most of them began to clap wildly, hooting and hollering like they'd all just won the house cup.
"If you recall, Professor, I am here merely to instruct and heal now that this duel is out of the way. I'm afraid there won't be a rematch," the students all groaned and whined in protest and she lowered her voice, giving a sly smile to Dumbledore, "at least during term."
It was enlightening, thrilling, even, to know that she had bested the man who would be considered the greatest wizard of all time. Of course, this was Hogwarts. And neither of them had actually been trying to fight each other, nor were they utilizing their full power.
Mia had a better idea of how he dueled now, though. And Dumbledore had a better idea of how powerful she was; the raw ability and the skill behind it, too. Dangerous, certainly. Mia knew she would now have to tread more carefully around him.
Still. The two of them were misleading each other intentionally, because neither wanted the other to know just how powerful, cunning, or ruthless they could be. And they both knew it.
Dumbledore was a wily old fox, in her time and now. He wasn't so easily bested, and he didn't show all of his cards to anyone. It would be foolish to assume she'd won this match because she'd been the better dueler.
His eyes twinkled and she backed off, thoughts still running through her mind. Dissecting the duel, like she knew she would be doing for days now that it was over with. She cast the diagnostic spell as the other two professors strode up to them, both wearing expressions that spoke to varying degrees of outrage.
"Seems we're in trouble," Dumbledore whispered conspiratorially whilst Mia healed his various burns and bruises. "Ah, gentleman!" Dumbledore greeted with cheer, clapping his hands together as the men opened their mouths. "It's your turn now, isn't it? Apologies, apologies, Healer Gardner and I will clear out." He waved his wand and the table righted itself, sand whirring and reforming into glass, fitting right back into the windows where they'd burst from.
"Absurd. Utterly absurd," Alaric Prince was muttering, a heated glare roving over Mia and Dumbledore as they strode past to get out of the way, "students could have been injured."
"Luckily we have a fantastic healer to point them to." Dumbledore smacked the man on the back as he sauntered by. He flexed two fingers at Mia, gesturing for her to follow him to the sidelines.
When the students were busy watching the next pair of professors face off, Dumbledore spoke so quietly that Mia had to strain to hear him.
"That shield of magic was impressive. A mix of defense and some incredibly powerful transfiguration. Wandless, and non verbal. Quite advanced."
Mia's eyes glittered with mirth as she looked over at the wizard. "Thank you. It was inspired by a man that once protected a dear friend of mine from an explosion of glass. I've never used it, I was afraid it wouldn't work in time."
He was glancing at her from the corner of his eye. So was Riddle, she noticed.
"I didn't appreciate the Legilimency, Professor. If you would be so kind as to not do that again." Mia quipped, pursing her lips.
Yes, she'd have to tread carefully from now on. But she couldn't bring herself to regret her decision.
Dumbledore huffed a laugh, but nodded nevertheless. "My apologies."
If she was going to save the world, she would need powerful allies.
She needed Riddle. She needed Dumbledore, too.
Now that she had their attention, she'd have to gain their trust.
Note:
This was just a hint of Mia's ability. She was holding back but a lot. But then, so was ol' Dumbledore.
**Sooo, when I looked, JKR said the wizarding world's population in the '90s was around 1.7 million. At that time our world's population was at like 5.2 billion-ish. I did math. In '45 the estimated world population was about 2.3 billion (crazy, considering we're now at about 8 billion.) So scaling that; in '45 the entire wizarding world would be at approximately 772k.
Doesn't that make you want to laugh at how naive they are about muggles? How hopelessly outnumbered they are? How within a few short decades muggles will have the tech to utterly devastate the magical world should the mood strike? I'd love to see your thoughts on this, maybe get a debate going!