Chapter 30
2nd of September 1991
Forbidden Forest
"Now, I believe we have much to discuss." With that, Dumbledore began to hum a deep, guttural melody, extending his hands forward. The ground responded to his call, herbs solidifying into vines that snaked out of the earth, intertwining and weaving themselves into five sturdy chairs and a table.
Bill found the sight mesmerizing, but his awe was nothing compared to Moody and Andromeda, who whistled in appreciation. Andromeda leaned over to Bill and explained in whispers, "That's druidic magic, very ancient and notoriously difficult to master."
They took their seats, and as they did, a majestic phoenix appeared, its feathers glowing with an ethereal light. Fawkes swooped down, ruffling Andromeda's hair with a playful nip. The phoenix then perched on the back of her chair, its vibrant plumage brushing provocatively against her raised his hands in mock innocence. "I swear, I am not responsible for Fawkes' behavior," he said, "nothing to do with it". Which was more suspicions than if he had said nothing. Fortunately, Andromeda, too enraptured by the sight of the mythical creature, merely nodded, unable to muster a response.
Once they were all seated, Dumbledore's demeanor shifted to that of a leader unveiling a grand vision. "For too long," he began, his voice resonating with authority, "our magical society in Great Britain has wallowed in decadence. We have ceased to innovate, to explore the boundless possibilities of magic. We have forgotten the very essence of what makes our world extraordinary. Groundbreaking research and discovery have fallen by the wayside, replaced by complacency."
He paused, letting his words sink in, before continuing. "Our society is not just stagnant; it is corrupt. The very mindset of our people has been poisoned by self-interest and the pursuit of power at the expense of progress and enlightenment. Philosophers like Nietzsche and Kierkegaard warned of the dangers of such decadence, of the soul's decay when it abandons its higher purposes. Our greatest institutions have been tainted, our brightest minds stifled by bureaucracy and fear."
Dumbledore's eyes blazed with fierce determination. "What I propose is nothing short of a renaissance for our magical world. A rebirth of the values and principles that once guided us. We will establish a new center of learning and innovation, where the brightest minds can come together to push the boundaries of magic, to discover new spells, and to understand the deeper mysteries of our existence. This tower we are building will be a beacon of hope, a symbol of what we can achieve when we work together for the greater good. We will reclaim our legacy and create a future where magic is once again a force for wonder and progress."
Moody nodded, a knowing glint in his magical eye. He already knew of this. Andromeda, Bill, and Arthur were completely captivated, their attention fixed on Dumbledore with a mix of awe and anticipation.
"I have decided to create a new place, a new institution," Dumbledore continued, his voice rising with passion. "This institution will serve as a beacon of hope and innovation in our magical world. It will act as a think tank, where the brightest minds will gather to generate groundbreaking ideas and strategies. Imagine a place where the most brilliant wizards and witches can collaborate, free from the constraints of traditional structures, pushing the boundaries of what is possible."
"But that is not all. This institution will also be a training facility for PhD-level magical disciplines. We will cultivate the next generation of magical scholars, providing them with the knowledge and skills to lead our world into the future. This will be a university like no other, hosting chairs dedicated to the study of ancient magic, magical law, alchemy, and more. Each chair will be a center of excellence, attracting the best and brightest from around the globe."
His voice grew more intense as he continued. "This institution will also serve as a trust fund, ensuring that resources are available for the most promising students, regardless of their background. We will provide scholarships, grants, and support to those who need it, ensuring that talent and potential are never wasted. It will be an investment society, fueling magical innovation and entrepreneurship. We will support startups, fund research, and drive the magical economy forward."
Dumbledore paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "But we must also be prepared for the challenges ahead. This institution will include an industrial laboratory where new spells, potions, and magical devices will be developed. We will create the tools and technologies that will safeguard our future. And yes, it will be a political and paramilitary institution, preparing us to defend our world from any threats. We will train our students in the arts of defense and strategy, ensuring that they are ready to face any challenge."
He looked at each of them in turn, his gaze intense and inspiring. "We are heading into dark times. The probable return of Voldemort is just one of the dangers we face. Even more pressing is the potential discovery of our world by Muggles and the emergence of dark forces that have long lurked in the shadows. Our society must be prepared to confront these threats head-on, united and strong."
Dumbledore's voice softened slightly, but his passion remained clear. "This new institution will be called the Society of Occultism, Cryptic Knowledge and Sorcery—or S.O.C.K.S for short."
At that moment, little confetti cannons exploded behind him, filling the air with colorful pieces of paper. But Andromeda, Bill, Arthur, and even Moody were too enraptured by the monumental scope of the project to find it funny. They could only envision the future that Dumbledore described, a future where magic would once again lead the way into a new era of enlightenment and strength.
Dumbledore's voice grew serious again, but his passion remained clear. "We are not just building a tower. We are building a future. A future where magic is respected, where it is a force for good, and where we can face any challenge that comes our way. And it is together, we will make this vision a reality."
He paused, letting the significance of his words sink in. "I will, of course, take the presidency of SOCKS," he declared, a gleam of determination in his eyes. "But I cannot do this alone. I need your help. Each of you brings unique skills and strengths that are essential for this endeavor."
Moody, his magical eye still swiveling, added gruffly, "I've already accepted the position of Security Officer and a member of the board." His tone left no room for doubt about his unwavering commitment.
Dumbledore turned to Arthur, his gaze warm and inviting. "Arthur, you have the experience and the integrity we need. I would like you to be the Administrative Director. Your experience in managing a department, your knowledge of the Ministry and your ability to manage complex systems make you the perfect fit for this role."
Arthur's eyes widened in surprise, his face flushing with modesty. "Warlock Dumbledore, I—I don't know what to say. This is such an honor, but it's a very high position. Are you sure I'm the right man for the job?"
Dumbledore's smile was both gentle and firm. "Arthur, there is no doubt in my mind. You are exactly the right man for the job. As Administrative Director, you will oversee the daily operations of SOCKS, ensuring that all departments function smoothly and efficiently. You will also be responsible for coordinating with various ministries and magical institutions, maintaining our standards of excellence and integrity."
Without missing a beat, Dumbledore turned to Bill. "Bill, I would like you to be the Deputy Executive Director. You will assist the Executive Director in all matters. And the Executive Director will be Lady Andromeda Black."
Bill, Arthur, and Andromeda stared at Dumbledore, their expressions a blend of shock and awe. Had they really just been offered such significant roles in what could become the greatest magical institution of their time?
2nd of September 1991
Dumbeldore Mansion
Sirius Black grit his teeth as he forced his legs to move, each step a battle. Albus Dumbledore's mansion, his current hideout, was straight out of a James Bond movie—a sleek, modern fortress that screamed Villain - or Badass.
"Please, Master Sirius, go slower. You are still very weak," Dipsy, the green-skinned teletub…house-elf in charge of his rehabilitation, pleaded, his eyes wide with worry.
Sirius shot him a glare. "I'll go at my own damn pace, Dipsy. Warlock Dumbledore said I need to get back on my feet, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do."
He had informed him that Wormtail had been captured by Dumbledore himself and was now rotting in a dungeon at Hogwarts. Sirius had felt a surge of dark satisfaction at the news. However, Dumbledore, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to dangle the rat in front of him like a carrot on a stick. Sirius could only confront Wormtail—and perhaps beat him to a pulp—once he had shown significant progress in his recovery.
So here he was, pushing himself to the brink, fueled by a cocktail of rage and sheer bloody-mindedness. Eating well, catching up on lost years through newspapers, and signing papers were his daily routine. One such paper, signed with a blood quill, had reinstated Andromeda to the Black family. He hadn't hesitated. Andromeda was good people, unlike the rest of his damned family. But he hadn't asked Dumbledore for details. He trusted the old man, even if he didn't understand half of what he was up to. It was not even trust…but loyalty. Blind one. If he could have his vengeance and see Harry, he would kill for Dumbledore. And Sirius thought the old man may ask him to.
"How's Harry?" Sirius panted, each word a struggle.
Dipsy hesitated. "Master Harry is doing well, Master Sirius. But Master Dumbledore says you can see him once you are stronger."
"Figures," Sirius muttered, his mind flashing with frustration. "Just another hoop to jump through."
Dumbledore had promised he could send letters to Harry once he was better. And maybe even see him, once the old man would have devised a plan solid enough to let him be seen in public without the Aurors trying to kill him. The thought of his godson, living under Andromeda's roof and under the protection of the Chief Warlock, was a powerful motivator. And then there was Wormtail. The thought of getting his hands on that traitorous rat gave him a twisted kind of hope.
"Let's keep going, Dipsy," Sirius growled, his voice laced with determination. "I need to get better. For Harry. And to settle some scores."
Each step felt like walking on hot coals, but Sirius welcomed the pain. It was a reminder that he was alive, that he had something worth fighting for. Sirius Black wasn't one to back down from a fight. Not now. Not ever.
"Move it, elf," he snapped, more to himself than to Dipsy. "We've got work to do."
And with that, he forced himself forward, every muscle screaming in protest, determined to reclaim his life and deliver some much-deserved retribution.