Chapter 23

1st of September 1991
London

Andromeda Tonks slipped through the door, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as her heels sank into the plush carpet. The softness underfoot was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of King's Cross Station, where she had just sent Harry off to Hogwarts. Pride and melancholy intertwined within her as she thought of her newest bundle of joy stepping into a new chapter. With Nymphadora off for Auror training, the suburb house felt hauntingly silent. Her steps echoed through the halls as she ascended the staircase, her thoughts lingering on her earlier meeting with Dumbledore. His eyes had sparkled as they spoke, but beneath his laid back exterior, she could feel the incredible, almost frighteningly so, power he exuded. It left her incredibly intimidated - and it had reawakened something in her. Something primal - her Black blood. She reached her room, closed the door with a soft click, and let the quiet envelop her.

Slowly, she began to undress, savoring the moment. The black wizard robe slipped from her shoulders, cascading to the floor in a silken heap. Beneath, she wore a bra of intricate black lace, barely containing her generous curves, and matching panties that clung to her hips, accentuating every contour of her body. She stood before the full-length mirror, pausing to admire her reflection. Her skin was smooth and radiant. The lace bra cupped her breasts perfectly, the delicate fabric teasing a glimpse of the soft flesh beneath. The panties hugged her hips, the sheer material hinting at the seductive curve of her buttocks. She ran a hand down her side, relishing the sensation of her own touch, the smoothness of her skin, the firmness of her muscles.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Andromeda reached for a white t-shirt. The soft cotton was a stark contrast to the lace she wore, yet it clung to her torso, outlining the swell of her breasts and the taper of her waist. She then pulled on a pair of snug jeans, the denim molding to her hips and thighs, enhancing every curve. The simplicity of the outfit did nothing to diminish her allure. She looked at herself in the mirror again, the casual clothes making her look effortlessly sexy, every inch of her exuding a potent blend of power and sensuality.

Her thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Dumbledore. She had been candid, revealing desires she seldom acknowledged even to herself. She had openly spoken of her ambitions, her desire for power, and the hunger that lurked beneath her composed exterior. Dumbledore's knowing smile and the palpable power he radiated had both terrified and exhilarated her. Despite her happiness with Teddy and her children, the blood of the Black family ran deep. Ambition and a yearning for influence were in her veins, impossible to ignore. She blushed at the memory of her bold admissions to her ex-headmaster, pride and excitement coursing through her. She wanted more, and she wasn't ashamed of it.

Andromeda made her way to the kitchen, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. She poured herself a cup, the warmth of the mug a soothing counterpoint to the cool air. She sighed deeply, letting the tranquility seep into her bones.

"Good coffee, isn't it?"

The voice shattered her peace, and she spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. How had someone bypassed her heavily warded home? The shock made her drop her cup, but before it could shatter, Albus Fucking Dumbledore caught it mid-air with a lazy flick of his wrist, levitating it back to her with an effortless display of wandless magic.

Dumbledore, looking startlingly different from the elder wizard she remembered, lounged with an almost ethereal ease in her kitchen. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, exuding a rugged strength that seemed carved from years of real-world action rather than the artificial sculpting of a gym. His tailored shirt accentuated a lean, muscular frame, each line and contour a testament to his practical prowess. His piercing blue eyes, alive with a mix of playful amusement and profound wisdom, locked onto hers. A neatly trimmed beard and slightly tousled hair framed his face. His presence was overwhelming, a primal force that sent her pulse racing and made her instinctively want to bow. But she was a Black, and Blacks did not bow.

Well, they did not bow easily - they only did so when faced with overwhelming power. And the air around Dumbledore seemed to hum with raw power, a magnetic force tugging at the edges of her consciousness. His magical presence was almost palpable, an ancient and commanding energy that both intimidated and exhilarated her. Andromeda felt a thrill run down her spine, her body reacting to the sheer potency of his aura. Yet, her Black blood surged within her, reminding her of her own heritage and strength. She straightened her back, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance…for at least two whole seconds before she looked down.

"Warlock Dumbledore," she managed to say, her voice steadier than she felt. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he was truly human; he was so far out of her league that it seemed almost impossible.

She quickly regained her composure, bowing slightly in deference. "Would you like some coffee?" she offered, only to notice he already held a steaming cup. Ordinarily, she might have considered it impolite for a guest to serve themselves, but Dumbledore's famous quirks made him an exception. She reminded herself that ordinary manners rarely applied to such an extraordinary man.

They sat across from each other in her kitchen. Dumbledore's presence was overwhelming, a whirlwind of raw power barely contained within his sleek, formidable frame. His youthful appearance belied the centuriy of wisdom in his eyes, which sparkled with chaotic mischief.

"So, have you given some thought to what we discussed?" he asked, his voice like velvet over steel.

"Huh?" Andromeda stammered, her mind racing. Did he mean their earlier conversation about her ambitions? The one where she had revealed her desire for power, buried deep beneath layers of respectability and maternal duty?

Dumbledore's smile widened, a knowing look in his eyes. "Of course, you didn't think this conversation would stay without a following, did you?"

She hesitated, processing the rapid sequence of events. Had he come to her in less than 24 hours with a proposition? It was all so fast, suggesting a plan that had been in motion long before their recent encounter. His recent changes, the article he wrote on Hogwarts she had just read—it all pointed to a man who was several steps ahead of everyone else. She gulped. It was Albus Fucking Dumbledore coming to her with an opportunity…She had to take it. She had to. The magic radiating from Dumbledore pressed on Andromeda. His presence was like a storm, powerful and unpredictable

A bead of sweat filled from her forehead. She crossed her legs, the fabric of her jeans tightening around her thighs, trying to adopt a posture both deferential and confident.

"Warlock Dumbledore," she began diplomatically, "I have indeed thought about our conversation. Your faith in me, your protection over the years, especially when I was banished from House Black... I am deeply grateful." She shifted slightly, her movements graceful. "You've offered me opportunities, shielded me from dangers, and for that, I am ready to serve you in any capacity you desire."

"Andromeda, you must understand that the path I am suggesting is not without its perils. The political landscape is treacherous, and the alliances we forge will be delicate and precarious. I need someone who can navigate these complexities with both grace and cunning."

She nodded, her fingers lightly brushing the fabric of her jeans, drawing attention to her slender waist and the curve of her hip. What could be this job ? Why wasn't he more precise ? What did that mean ? "I am prepared for the risks, Warlock Dumbledore. However, I must ask for assurances. For my protection, for my children, but most importantly, for my freedom as a Black." Her voice softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability seeping through. "I want to ensure that I will have true opportunities for power and growth."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with approval. "Ah, Andromeda, always the pragmatic one. But understand this: power comes with its own burdens. The freedom you seek must be balanced with the responsibilities and sacrifices that come with wielding such influence."

Andromeda leaned slightly forward, her chest subtly emphasizing her words. "Your support has meant everything to me, Warlock Dumbledore. I want to ensure that my loyalty to you is rewarded with the same trust and opportunity you have always shown me." She placed a hand on her knee. Dumbledore's smile grew wider, his eyes dancing. The pressure of his magic seemed to lighten, though it still buzzed in the air around them.

"Indeed, Andromeda, your loyalty is something I value greatly. And I assure you, the opportunities for power and growth will be yours."

He leaned back, his fingers steepled. "However, the role I need you to play requires four key qualities. First, political savviness to navigate the treacherous waters of the wizarding political world."

Andromeda's eyes sparkled with determination. "I am the woman for that, Warlock Dumbledore. I was raised a Daughter of the Blacks. Intrigue and politics are in my blood."

Dumbledore nodded appreciatively. "Secondly, management skills."

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Management skills?"

Dumbledore explained, "You will need to be an efficient leader, capable of organizing and guiding others, ensuring that our plans are executed flawlessly. It's about delegation, motivation, and seeing the bigger picture."

Andromeda straightened, her confidence unwavering. "I am the perfect person for that. I have managed my household and various responsibilities with precision and grace. Moreover, I have fifteen years of experience as a Senior Lawyer, overseeing complex cases and managing teams with efficacy and finesse."

"Thirdly, magical might."

Andromeda flexed her own magical power, the air around her humming with energy. But as impressive as her display was, it was dwarfed by Dumbledore's overwhelming presence.

"I shall test it."

Dumbledore stood, his wand appearing in his hand as if by magic. Andromeda followed suit, her own wand ready. He took out a small hourglass.

"You have to hold for fifteen seconds," he said simply, his tone almost casual.

Andromeda felt a surge of indignation. Fifteen seconds? Did he think so little of her abilities? But before she could voice her protest, Dumbledore flicked his wrist, sending a jet of red light barreling toward her. She reacted instantly, raising a shield that exploded into shards of light upon contact with the spell's brute force. And…it had been fucking wandless.

Her heart pounded in her chest. This was no ordinary duel; she was up against Albus Fucking Dumbledore, and she had to survive.

The first spell had barely dissipated when Dumbledore unleashed another, a crackling bolt of blue lightning. Andromeda's Protego charm shattered like glass, the electric tendrils singeing her skin. She cast a hasty Stunning Spell, but Dumbledore deflected it with a mere flick of his wand, the spell ricocheting and smashing a cabinet to splinters. He was relentless. A wave of icy shards flew towards her, and she conjured a wall of fire to melt them. The resulting steam clouded her vision, but she heard the hum of another spell. Dumbledore sent a gust of wind that dissipated the steam and knocked her off balance. She stumbled, her jeans scraping against the rough kitchen floor.

Desperate to hold her ground, Andromeda cast a powerful Blasting Curse, but Dumbledore countered it effortlessly, sending the spell crashing into the already ruined kitchen. The force of the explosion sent pots and pans flying, a cacophony of metal against tile. The seconds ticked - well, the sand flowed - down painfully slow. Dumbledore conjured a serpent of flame that slithered towards her. She barely managed to transfigure it into harmless smoke, but he was already on to the next attack, a powerful surge of water that she diverted just in time, soaking herself in the process.

Her strength was waning rapidly. Dumbledore's magic was like a relentless tide, each spell more powerful and precise than the last. He sent a barrage of stunners, and she deflected them, but the impact drove her back, her feet sliding on the wet, debris-laden floor. Her t-shirt was torn, revealing glimpses of her smooth, alluring skin. She breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling with exertion, every muscle in her body straining to keep up. Sweat dripped down her face, mingling with the soot and debris from the ruined kitchen.

Just as she felt she couldn't hold on any longer, the last grains of sand slipped through the hourglass. Dumbledore lowered his wand, the magic dissipating as quickly as it had begun. Andromeda collapsed onto her knees, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath, sweat glistening on her skin.

Dumbledore approached her with a calm, steady gait, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, I must say, Andromeda, you have a knack for not dying. That's a rare talent."

She looked up at him, trying not to feel insulted. "Thank you, Warlock Dumbledore," she managed to say, still huffing."And the last condition?" she asked, panting.

"The last is loyalty, Andromeda. Unwavering, unquestioning loyalty. Can you give me that?"

Andromeda met his gaze, feeling the full weight of his words and the immense potential of the path before her. "Yes, Warlock Dumbledore. I am ready to serve and grow in might, to reclaim what is rightfully mine."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with a blend of approval and mischief. "Welcome, Andromeda. You will be the second to take my mark."

"The second? Your mark?" Andromeda's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Dumbledore cringed slightly, as if momentarily regretting his choice of words. "Yes, the one who took it before you is a…brave…warrior of the mop…I mean, of the old ways. And my mark... it will allow me to call upon you, but the reciprocal is also true. You will be protected, and my followers will recognize you as an ally. And there's a few surprise boons, too."

Andromeda's thoughts raced. This was starting to sound like a plot for world domination, something a dark lord might concoct, but then she reminded herself: this was Albus Fucking Dumbledore. Of cours ehe was not a wannabe Dark Lord - if he wanted to take over Britain, the one he would have to topple would be himself. He was already at the top.

"How do we do it?" she asked, trying to mask her trepidation with resolve.

"Take off your shirt," Dumbledore instructed calmly.

"Huh?" Andromeda felt her cheeks flush. Dumbledore had indeed become quite attractive in his newfound youthfulness, but did he really want to...

He sighed. "I'm flattered, Andromeda, but I just need total access to your back to place the mark."

Her face reddened even more, but she nodded. Taking a deep breath, Andromeda turned her back to him. She slowly peeled off her t-shirt, feeling the fabric slide over her skin. The garment clung to her curves for a moment before slipping away, revealing her smooth, fit back. Her white skin glowed softly in the light of the kitchen, a stark contrast to the dark strands of her hair that cascaded over her shoulders. As she reached behind to unclasp her bra, her heart pounded in her chest. The straps fell away, and she let the garment drop to the floor, her arms crossing over her chest to hide her generous breasts. She stood there, vulnerable yet defiant, her bare back exposed to Dumbledore's intense gaze.

"I'm ready," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Dumbledore began to trace intricate patterns across her back with his wand. The touch was light and delicate, sending shivers down her spine. The mark began to form, starting at the nape of her neck and expanding across her shoulders. It became a magnificent pair of phoenix wings, each feather detailed with vibrant hues of red, gold, and orange. The wings spread wide, covering her shoulder blades and curving gracefully down her back, ending just above the curve of her lower spine. As the magic settled, the wings seemed to come alive, pulsating with a warm, radiant energy. Andromeda could feel the immense power it took for Dumbledore to create them, more than ten times what she would have been able to give. The sensation was overwhelming, a rush of power surging through her, filling her with strength and a deep connection to Dumbledore. It was as if a part of his essence had been transferred to her, binding them together in a way that went beyond mere loyalty.

The living tattoo of the phoenix wings pulsed with a warm glow, the feathers shimmering and shifting as if caught in a gentle breeze. She turned to face him, her arms still crossed over her chest, but her eyes shining with determination. "Thank you, Warlock Dumbledore. I won't let you down."

He smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made her feel truly welcomed. "I know you won't, Andromeda. Welcome to the fold. And with that," he continued, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "we'll mess with the goblins, steal a treasure, make you the Head of a trust fund, and enchant all the tea in Hogwarts to sing opera. Oh, and let's not forget making Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort's lives an absolute nightmare. But first…"

What the…. "What are we going to do, Warlock ?"

Dumbledore's expression turned serious for a moment before breaking into a grin. "We must repair the kitchen!"

Andromeda blinked, taken aback by the mundane task. "The kitchen?"

"Yes, the kitchen," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "One cannot plot world domination or engage in absurd adventures with a kitchen in disarray. Besides, it's always good to start with something manageable. Accio broom!"

With a flick of his wand, a broom flew into his hand, and he handed it to Andromeda. "Let's get to work, shall we?"

She facepalmed. What had she done ?

"And then, we'll retake control of the Black House". She grinned. That, she could get behind.

"Accio bucket!", she intoned.

I hope you liked this chapter.
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