Hello Readers,
Happy Independence Day to my readers in India!
I apologize for the delay in posting. I've been busy rewriting the initial chapters, which has affected the schedule for the new chapter. I appreciate your patience and understanding. I'll be periodically re-uploading the edited chapters, so feel free to revisit them at your convenience.
Chapter 1 has already been updated, and I hope you enjoy the changes. Your feedback in the comments is always appreciated!
Happy reading!
Chapter 11: Convergence of Power
As the meeting drew to a close, Hadrian stood and addressed the group with a proposal that held the weight of their future success. "We need full-fledged training for everyone in every field, particularly your children," he began, his voice steady and commanding. "Special emphasis will be placed on your specific strengths, and this training will be conducted under the guidance of the goblins."
He paused to let his words sink in before continuing. "When we completed the cleansing ritual, King Ragnarok offered us the privilege of being tutored by the goblins. The Goblin King was happy to extend this offer to anyone Mione and I deem worthy. We graciously accepted this opportunity, and now we urge you to do the same."
Hadrian's eyes scanned the room, ensuring he had everyone's attention. "Following Dumbledore's belief that every life is important is noble but impractical in our current situation. We cannot rely on non-lethal spells when our enemies are using Unforgivables without hesitation. Some of them brag about it, while others conceal their actions, but the result is the same—death and destruction."
He took a deep breath and continued, "There is a popular saying in India that I read about during the 5th year in the previous timeline though never paid much heed. But it does sound like it fits our situation. The Indians refer to it as Chanakya Neeti and it consists of Saam, Daam, Dand, Bhed. It roughly translates to 'By any and all means.' If we want to win, we must adopt this strategy. We must understand our adversaries, persuade when possible, punish appropriately, and use brute force when necessary. We have to take inspiration from the Indians and employ the same strategy. This is the only way to ensure our victory."
Isabella stepped forward, her expression resolute. "In our prior life, we tackled the Death Eaters and Voldemort without formal training or adequate help. We blindly followed Dumbledore and paid the price—we lost too many people, and we died."
She let the gravity of her words hang in the air before continuing. "I refuse to head into this unknown territory unprepared. I refuse to let anyone die this time around. It would defy the very purpose of being sent back. We have a second chance, and we must use it wisely."
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her voice remained steady. "We have been given a second chance, and we must seize it with both hands. We owe it to those we lost and to ourselves. We must be ready to face whatever comes our way, by any and all means necessary."
Her voice softened, but the determination in her eyes remained. "We owe it to ourselves and to those we lost to do better. To be better. And that starts with accepting the goblins' offer and training ourselves to be the warriors we need to be."
The room was silent for a moment, the weight of their words settling over everyone present. Then, one by one, heads began to nod in agreement. They would train, they would prepare, and this time, they would fight to win—by any and all means necessary.
As if summoned by the weight of their resolution, the heavy doors to the chamber creaked open, and King Ragnarok entered, flanked by two stern-faced Goblin guards. The air in the room shifted instantly, a palpable sense of respect filling the space as everyone rose in unison to acknowledge the Goblin King's presence. It was a gesture that not only recognized his authority but also cemented his acceptance as a crucial ally to their cause.
King Ragnarok, with his sharp, regal features and piercing eyes, exuded an aura of authority that was impossible to ignore. He walked with measured steps, his armour glinting under the light, a testament to the power and resilience of his kind. With an air of quiet dignity, he made his way to the seat at the end of the long table, his gaze sweeping across the assembled group. For a few moments, he said nothing, simply observing, his sharp eyes taking in the faces of those who had risen to greet him. There was a stillness in the room, a collective anticipation that hung in the air as they awaited his words.
Finally, he spoke, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of centuries of Goblin leadership. "Good noon, Lords, Ladies, Heirs, and Heiresses," he began, his tone formal yet laced with a hint of warmth. "As Hadrian and Isabella must have informed you, they will be training with us, and you are more than welcome to join them. The best warriors of the Goblin nation, and I myself, will oversee your training."
He paused, allowing his words to settle in, the weight of his offer clear to everyone in the room. The atmosphere in the room was thick with anticipation. The Goblin King's promise was no small matter; it was an opportunity to gain skills that few wizards ever acquired—skills that could tip the scales in the battles to come.
This was more than just a meeting. It was the forging of a new alliance, one that would be built on trust, strength, and the willingness to do whatever it took to ensure their survival and victory. And under King Ragnarok's guidance, they would all be honed into the warriors they needed to become—ruthless, relentless, and ready for the battles that lay ahead.
His eyes shifted to Lord Weasley, and his expression became more serious. "Before I explain further, Lord Weasley, I request that you summon Heir Weasley and Heir Prewett. When they arrive, they will first undergo the Inheritance tests and Purging. Only then will they be included in the meeting."
The Goblin King's request hung in the air, a reminder of the meticulous and unyielding nature of Goblin protocols. This was not just about training; it was about ensuring that every individual was free from any external influences and that their minds and wills were entirely their own. The importance of these rituals was not lost on anyone present, and the room remained respectfully silent as Lord Weasley fulfilled the King's request.
Lord Weasley, with a quiet nod, touched his Lord ring, a subtle pulse of magic flowing from it as he summoned his heir, Bill. The twins, understanding the unspoken command, followed suit, their own rings glowing briefly as they called forth their heir, Charlie. A few tense minutes passed, the silence in the room thick with anticipation, until the door finally creaked open, and the two heirs entered.
Bill and Charlie Weasley stepped into the room, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. They hadn't been sure why they were summoned, but the involvement of the heir rings left no doubt that this was something of great importance. As they moved toward the table, they exchanged quick glances with each other, the weight of the moment not lost on them.
They greeted everyone present with respectful nods before taking the unoccupied seats at the table. The silence stretched for a few beats longer, the tension palpable, until Bill finally broke it.
Bill, ever the responsible elder brother, broke the silence first. "Father," he began, his tone respectful but laced with an undercurrent of unease. "What is the matter? I thought everything was settled yesterday. Why are you all gathered here?"
His voice carried a note of confusion, but also a hint of tension, as though he could sense the seriousness of the situation even without understanding it fully. The others remained silent, allowing Lord Weasley the space to respond.
Charlie, always the more laid-back of the two, couldn't resist adding a touch of humour though there was an underlying seriousness in his tone. "Yes, Dad. Thank God we were not close to home at the time, or else Mom would have had our heads."
His remark drew a few quiet chuckles, but the laughter was tinged with an unspoken understanding. Everyone in the room knew the reality of being under Molly Weasley's watchful eye, especially now that the full extent of her manipulations had come to light. There was a collective sense of relief that she had not yet discovered their absence—a reprieve from what could have been an explosive confrontation.
Lord Weasley met his sons' gazes, his expression a mix of pride and concern. "I know this is sudden," he began, his voice calm but firm, "but this matter couldn't wait. There are things you both need to be aware of—things that weren't fully settled yesterday."
He glanced at King Ragnarok, who gave a subtle nod, signalling the importance of the proceedings. "Before we continue, there are certain rituals you must undergo. The Goblin King has graciously agreed to oversee your training along with ours but first, we need to ensure that both of you are fully prepared—free from any external influences."
Bill and Charlie exchanged another look, their initial confusion giving way to a more serious understanding. Whatever was happening, it was far more significant than they had initially assumed. They straightened in their seats, ready to face whatever lay ahead, knowing that this was just the beginning of something much larger than any of them had anticipated.
After receiving their confirmation, King Ragnarok wasted no time. He turned to the Weasley account manager, Borod, and gave a curt nod. "Prepare for the Inheritance test and purging," he commanded.
Borod, ever efficient, bowed slightly before swiftly exiting the room to gather the necessary items. The moments before his return were marked by a heavy silence, the weight of anticipation settling over everyone present. Each individual was lost in their own thoughts, aware that this was a significant step for the heirs, one that would shape their futures and solidify their roles in the coming conflict.
When Borod returned, he carried with him an air of solemnity. He approached Bill and Charlie, presenting each of them with a parchment with the same meticulous precision one might expect from a goblin who had overseen countless such rituals. "You must follow these instructions precisely," he said, his voice steady and authoritative. "Seven drops of blood, no more, no less," Borod instructed, his voice steady as he handed each heir a small, sharp dagger.
The heirs listened intently as Borod explained the procedure. With careful precision, they nicked their palms, the sharp scent of blood briefly filling the air as they allowed exactly seven drops to fall onto the parchment. They watched as seven drops of blood fell onto the parchments, the liquid seeping into the parchment as if drawn in by some unseen force. The ancient magic embedded in the ritual hummed softly, responding to the life force offered to it.
Borod then handed them each a vial containing the purging potion. "Drink this," he instructed. "It will cleanse your body and mind, removing any lingering influences or blocks that may hinder your true potential."
Without hesitation, with a shared nod of resolve, both heirs downed the potion in one swift motion. The effects were immediate and powerful. As soon as the liquid passed their lips, their eyes fluttered shut, and within moments, they were both in a deep, dreamless slumber, their bodies slumped but peaceful.
A hushed silence fell over the room once more as the others watched the two heirs slip into a deep, almost trance-like sleep. The purging process had begun, and there was nothing more to do now but wait.
As the minutes ticked by, the silence was broken only by hushed whispers as those gathered spoke among themselves. They spoke in low tones, aware that this moment was crucial but also heavy with the knowledge of what was yet to come.
Arthur Weasley, however, could find no such comfort in the whispered conversations. Though he was outwardly composed, his mind was a whirlwind of worry. His restlessness had little to do with the Inheritance test or the purging. Having undergone the same ritual himself and witnessed the twins' results, he had a fair idea of what to expect. No, his concern lay elsewhere—with his third son, Percival Weasley.
Arthur was sure that Percy was not directly involved in Molly's schemes to deceive Hadrian, but that certainty did little to ease his mind. His son had always been the most ambitious of his children. Percy's dreams had always centred around the Ministry and his desire to climb its ranks was evident from a young age. Percy's ambition, once a source of pride, now made Arthur uneasy. The current state of the Ministry, tainted by Cornelius Fudge's incompetent leadership, was a far cry from the institution Percy had once idealized.
The Ministry, under Fudge's disastrous leadership, was a shadow of what it once was, riddled with corruption and incompetence. But change was on the horizon. Arthur had every confidence that Amelia Bones, with her experience and integrity, would soon take the reins, restoring order and justice. When that happened, the Ministry would be a very different place—one where Percy could truly thrive.
Still, Arthur knew he couldn't involve Percy in their plans until he was absolutely sure of his son's loyalties. It wasn't just about trusting Percy; it was about ensuring that Percy saw the truth and was willing to fight for it. All Arthur could do now was hope that his son would be open to a different perspective on the Ministry—a perspective that might lead him to stand with them when the time came.
Arthur sighed softly, his gaze drifting to where Bill and Charlie lay, still deep in their potion-induced slumber. The road ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but one thing was clear: they could not afford any more mistakes. Not with so much at stake.
As the minutes ticked by, the room held its collective breath, waiting for the heirs to awaken. Finally, Bill and Charlie began to stir, their eyes slowly opening as they emerged from their deep slumber. At first, they appeared disoriented, their gazes unfocused and their minds foggy. But it didn't take long for them to regain their bearings, blinking away the remnants of the potion's effects. The room remained silent, every face turned toward the brothers as they began to sift through the results of their Inheritance test and purging.
The tension in the air was palpable as Bill and Charlie studied the parchments before them. Their expressions, a mix of shock and resignation, told the story even before they spoke a word. It was clear to everyone in the room that their suspicions had been confirmed—Molly Weasley's influence had not spared her eldest sons, even though they had been far removed from the Burrow for years.
Bill, his face a mask of controlled anger, handed the parchments to his father. Arthur took them with a heavy heart, his eyes scanning the results. As he read through the details, a sense of relief washed over him. The extent of potions and compulsions placed on Bill and Charlie was minimal, largely due to their years away from the Burrow. It seemed that their mother's reach, while formidable, had been significantly blunted by their physical distance.
Arthur shared the findings with the rest of the group, his voice steady as he relayed the information. "It appears the effects of the potions and compulsions were not as severe as we feared. Their prolonged absence from the Burrow, years spent abroad before Harry arrived at Hogwarts, had shielded them to some extent. The damage was there, but it was not insurmountable." His words brought a collective sigh of relief from those gathered, a sense of hope stirring in their hearts.
Bill and Charlie, having now fully processed the situation, addressed the room. "The purging was effective," Bill stated, his voice calm but tinged with an undercurrent of anger. "We feel completely reconnected to our magical core and the family magics."
Charlie nodded in agreement, his usually light-hearted demeanour replaced by a rare seriousness. "It's like a fog has lifted," he added. "We see things clearly now."
The room listened intently as the brothers were brought up to speed on the events that had unfolded and the plans that had been put into place. As they absorbed the gravity of their mother's actions and the challenges that lay ahead, their initial reactions were exactly what everyone had expected.
Bill, the more analytical and level-headed of the two, was visibly furious. His jaw was set in a hard line, and his eyes flashed with righteous anger. "I can't believe the lengths she went to. The things she's done…" he muttered, his voice low but filled with emotion. "She's our mother, and she betrayed us like this."
Charlie, on the other hand, was struggling to contain his emotions. His hands clenched into fists, and his knuckles turned white as he fought to control the inner dragon that threatened to unleash itself. "It's taking everything I have not to go back there and give her a piece of my mind," he said through gritted teeth. "And Ron… how could he be a part of this?"
The room remained quiet, allowing the brothers to process their feelings. It was a difficult moment, but also a turning point for them. As they began to calm down, their resolve only strengthened.
Bill was the first to speak up again, his voice firm and resolute. "We're with you. Whatever it takes, we'll stand by the council and help in every way we can."
Charlie nodded, his eyes meeting those of his father and the others in the room. "Count us in," he said, his voice filled with determination. "We won't let her or anyone else bring us down. We'll fight for what's right."
Their words were met with nods of approval and murmurs of agreement from the rest of the group. At that moment, a new sense of unity and purpose was forged among them. In that room, surrounded by allies and friends, Bill and Charlie Weasley had found their purpose.
It was a powerful moment, a testament to the strength and unity of their group. They were ready to face the challenges ahead, knowing, that they were stronger together and determined to protect each other and the wizarding world from the darkness that threatened to consume it.
With the critical matters addressed and the council's resolve strengthened, the gathering gradually dispersed. There was a palpable sense of relief and renewed purpose as they broke for lunch, each member carrying with them the weight of the plans discussed and the challenges ahead. The promise to reconvene in an hour or two lingered in the air, a reminder of the work still to be done.
As the room emptied, Hadrian found his opportunity. He approached Augusta Longbottom, a woman of formidable presence and undeniable strength, who was preparing to leave. He politely requested a moment of her time, gesturing toward a quieter corner of the chamber where they could speak privately.
"Of course, dear," she replied, her voice gentle but firm. She followed him to the secluded corner, her eyes sharp and attentive, always ready to listen and observe.
Once they were away from the others, Hadrian turned to face her, his expression earnest. "Lady Augusta," he began, his voice soft but serious, "I hope you don't mind my bringing this up, but I have a concern about Neville that I feel compelled to address."
She regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and respect. "What is it, Hadrian? You know you can speak freely with me."
Taking a deep breath, Hadrian continued. "I might be overstepping here, and if I am, I apologize. But I request that you consider buying Neville a new wand.
Augusta's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her gaze. "Neville uses his father's wand," she replied firmly. "It is a way for him to honour Frank's memory. I don't see why he would need another."
Hadrian raised his hands in a gesture of understanding, his expression sincere. "I understand the sentiment behind it, and it's a noble gesture," he assured her. "But it's not about right or wrong. Sometimes, our intentions, no matter how good, may not serve the purpose we hope they will. In my experience, and with what I know, a wizard's wand is a very personal thing. It chooses the wizard, and using someone else's wand, even a parent's, can affect their magic."
Augusta's lips tightened, and she was about to respond, but Hadrian gently held up a hand to stop her. "Please, hear me out, Lady Augusta. I'm not saying you were wrong. Your sentiment towards your son is understandable, and it's rooted in love and respect for his memory. However, I'd like to share something with you, something from our previous life that might shed some light on the matter."
Augusta's expression softened slightly, curiosity mingling with the hint of reluctance in her eyes. "Very well, Hadrian. Tell me what you know."
Hadrian nodded, appreciating her willingness to listen. "In the future, I've seen, Neville struggled greatly with his magic during his time at Hogwarts. During our fifth year, at the end of it, a group of us—myself, Isabella, Ronald, Ginerva, Neville, and Luna—were lured to the Ministry of Magic by Lord Voldemort. That same year, Umbridge was at Hogwarts, a horrid woman who did more harm than good. Her methods were… less than adequate, to say the least.
"We formed a secret group to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts taught by Myself and Neville was a part of that group. He learned a great deal, not just about magic but about himself. He gained confidence and started to find his footing. He made great strides during those meetings—his confidence grew, but something was holding him back."
"During the encounter at the Department of Mysteries," Hadrian said, his tone darkening with the memory, "It was a dangerous situation and Neville showed incredible courage and loyalty, just like his father. We faced many challenges. It was there, in the heat of battle, that Neville's wand was broken. At that moment, he was rendered defenceless, unable to cast a single spell. It was a devastating blow to him, not just physically, but emotionally. The wand he had carried, his father's wand, had failed him at a critical moment."
He paused again, giving Augusta a moment to absorb the weight of his words. Her eyes flashed with a mixture of sadness and regret, the realization of the burden Neville had been carrying finally dawning on her.
"I'm telling you this because, after that summer, Neville got a new wand. It was a wand that chose him, one that suited his magic. From that point on, his progress was remarkable. It was as if a dam had burst, and his abilities came pouring out in leaps and bounds. You should be proud of your grandson, Lady Longbottom. He became an extraordinary wizard, a leader in his own right."
Hadrian's voice filled with a sense of pride as he continued, "When we were on a wild nargle chase across the country, hunting for Horcruxes, Neville took on the mantle of the leader of the Hogwarts rebellion. He became a beacon of hope for the students, boosting their confidence and defying the Carrow twins at every turn. His bravery and determination inspired everyone around him. He was the one who slayed Nagini- A vicious snake who was precious to Voldemort and was also the bearer of his Horcrux."
As Hadrian finished, he watched Augusta closely. Her expression was a mixture of shock and realization. She had always believed that by insisting Neville use his father's wand, she was keeping Frank's memory alive and close to her grandson. It had never occurred to her that she might be inadvertently holding Neville back.
Hadrian's words hit home, and Augusta felt a wave of emotions wash over her—pride for her grandson's accomplishments, guilt for not seeing the situation clearly, and a deep resolve to support Neville in every way she could. She nodded, her voice softer than usual. "Thank you, Hadrian, for bringing this to my attention. I see now that I've been so focused on honouring my son that I didn't see how I was affecting my grandson."
Hadrian nodded, his expression understanding. "It's not easy to see these things, especially when they're so deeply intertwined with our emotions and memories. Neville has so much potential, but he needs the right tool to help him harness it. Knowing what we do, we can help Neville reach his full potential. I know you want the best for him. Frank's wand is a noble legacy, but it might be holding him back. A new wand will allow him to truly come into his own, to become the wizard he's meant to be."
Augusta took a deep breath, her resolve strengthening as she looked up at Hadrian. "Thank you, Hadrian. Thank you for sharing this with me. I will speak to Neville about getting a new wand. It's time for him to create his own legacy, and I want to support him in any way I can."
Hadrian smiled, a sense of relief washing over him. "Thank you, Lady Augusta. I know it wasn't an easy decision, but I'm sure Neville will appreciate your support and guidance. He's capable of great things, and with the right wand, there's no limit to what he can achieve."
Determined to make things right, Augusta made up her mind. She thanked Hadrian once more and, with a newfound resolve, turned to find Neville, her mind already set on their next destination. She gently took his arm, guiding him out of the room with a clear purpose. Together, they left the room, heading directly to get Neville a wand that was truly his own.
As they departed, Hadrian and Isabella exchanged a knowing glance, a small smile playing on their lips, pleased to see the positive change in Augusta's attitude toward her grandson. They had just set in motion a change that would undoubtedly lead to a stronger, more confident Neville—one who would be ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Neville would finally be able to truly honour his father's legacy in the way he was meant to.
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