Chapter 6

I own Nothing. Both franchises including characters and places belong to their respective companies.

Dumbledore's journey brought him to the outskirts of a bustling town nestled in a valley framed by jagged peaks. The air was warm and carried the faint scent of roasting mushrooms and fireflowers. As he stepped onto the cobblestone streets, he was greeted by a sight that could only be described as otherworldly.

There was even a large brightly colored sign that said Welcome to Koopa Town!

The first thing Dumbledore noticed was the sheer energy of the place—Koopa Town was alive with activity, its streets thrumming with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional metallic clink of tools. The cobblestone roads were immaculately maintained, and the air carried a warm, earthy aroma mixed with the faint scent of roasted mushrooms and fireflowers.

As Dumbledore stepped into the heart of the town, he was greeted by a remarkable sight. Koopas of all kinds moved through the streets, some hauling carts laden with goods, others chatting animatedly in small groups. Red-shelled Paratroopas flitted overhead, their satchels bulging with parcels. Bob-ombs rolled along carefully, their fuses bobbing gently as they greeted passersby with polite nods. Shy Guys manned colorful stalls selling everything from glowing star trinkets to bundles of oversized mushrooms, their masked faces surprisingly expressive.

Goombas waddled in pairs, their stubby legs carrying them with surprising efficiency as they balanced baskets on their heads. Lakitus hovered above the crowd, their clouds trailing faint wisps as they directed traffic or delivered packages. The occasional Spiny could be seen lounging near shady corners, their spiked shells glinting in the sunlight.

Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon spectacles, his sharp blue eyes twinkling as he took in the cheerful atmosphere. "Quite the lively community," he murmured to himself.

Dumbledore approached a small group of green-shelled Koopas standing near a stall selling fireflower bundles. "Excuse me," he said politely, his tone warm and inviting. "I'm looking to have an audience with the one known as Bowser. Might you be able to direct me in the direction of his Castle?"

The Koopas exchanged curious glances before one of them pointed down the main street. "You'll want to head straight through town, sir. Keep going until you see the big stone bridge—can't miss it. That'll take you to the Castle."

"Straight down this road, correct?" Dumbledore asked, tilting his head slightly gesturing to the large street they were on.

"Yep," the Koopa said with a grin. "It's that big spiky fortress past the lava rivers. Ya can't miss it. Don't worry, though—King Bowser's fair enough if you've got a good reason to be there."

"Thank you, my friend," Dumbledore said with a nod. "Your assistance is greatly appreciated."

The Koopa grinned and waved as he continued down the bustling street, he noticed how the townsfolk greeted him with cheerful waves and warm smiles, their initial curiosity quickly replaced by friendliness. He stopped briefly to admire a group of hatchling Koopas playing a game of tag, their laughter ringing out as they darted around the legs of passersby.

Near the town square, Dumbledore's attention was drawn to a commotion just ahead. A Goomba, her stubby legs waddling frantically, was attempting to pick up a basket of spilled groceries that had fallen from her head. Bright red mushrooms, bundles of greens, and small jars of spices lay scattered across the cobblestones.

"Here, madam. Let me help you." he said.

Without hesitation, Dumbledore raised his wand. With a flick of his wand, the groceries floated neatly back into the basket.

"Oh, thank you, sir!" the Goomba exclaimed, turning to him her large eyes wide with gratitude. "You didn't have to do that!"

"It was no trouble at all," Dumbledore replied, smiling kindly. "Are you alright?"

"Perfectly fine, thanks to you!" she said, her voice warm and cheerful. Then, as if struck by inspiration, she reached into her basket and pulled out a small, freshly baked muffin wrapped in a leaf. "Here, take this! My thanks for being such a gentleman."

Dumbledore hesitated, bemused by the fact she had no hands to speak of to hand him the treat, but touched by the gesture. "You are too kind," he said, accepting the muffin with a nod. "I shall enjoy this."

The Goomba beamed. "Safe travels, sir!"

As she waddled off, Dumbledore looked down at the muffin in his hand, its aroma wafting up to him. He chuckled softly, the corners of his mouth quirking into a faint smile. "A most delightful place indeed," he mused, taking a small bite before continuing on his way. "Hmm, Chocolate Chip!"

Leaving the warmth of Koopa Town behind, Dumbledore found the path gradually transforming. The cheerful atmosphere gave way to a harsher landscape, the ground rougher and dotted with cracks that revealed glowing rivers of molten lava. The air grew hotter, and the vibrant colors of the town faded into muted grays and reds.

Ahead, a massive stone bridge stretched across a chasm filled with roiling lava. The bridge itself was adorned with carvings of a dragon-turtle-like figure, its snarling visage repeated across the pillars and flagstones. Massive statues flanked the entrance, their eyes appearing to glow faintly in the molten light.

"This must be the residence of a rather... confident ruler," Dumbledore murmured to himself, adjusting his half-moon spectacles. "A touch theatrical, but effective."

The heat from the lava below rose in waves, distorting the air and adding to the oppressive atmosphere. The bridge, wide enough for several carriages to cross side by side, felt oddly silent except for the faint crackle of the molten rivers below. Banners hung from tall poles on either side, emblazoned with the same snarling visage that adorned the statues, and their presence only deepened Dumbledore's curiosity.

As he reached the end of the bridge, the towering gates of the fortress came into view. Massive and made of iron, the gates were adorned with even more images of the dragon-like figure. The craftsmanship was impressive, the sheer scale of the structure a testament to its owner's authority.

Two winged guards descended from their posts above, their armored forms landing neatly on either side of the path. They were Paratroopas, Dumbledore realized, their red shells gleaming in the glow of the lava. Each held a spear tipped with sharp steel, and their sharp eyes scrutinized him with suspicion.

"Halt!" one barked, his wings fluttering briefly as he adjusted his stance. "State your business!"

Dumbledore stopped, inclining his head politely. "Good day to you both. I seek an audience with the ruler of this castle. My purpose concerns someone under their care—a boy named Harry."

The guards exchanged a glance, their expressions hardening. "You mean the Prince?" the second guard asked, his tone sharp.

"Prince, you say?" Dumbledore replied, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Yes, I believe that is the title he holds here."

The first guard tightened his grip on his spear. "And what's your business with him? Outsiders don't usually get this close to the castle unless they've got trouble in mind."

"I assure you, my intentions are peaceful," Dumbledore said evenly. "I have traveled far to ensure his well-being and to speak with him, if your ruler will permit it."

The guards exchanged another look, their suspicion evident. Finally, the second one nodded. "Fine. But no funny business. One wrong move, and you'll regret it."

"You have my word," Dumbledore said with a faint smile, stepping back as the guards moved to open the gates.

The iron gates groaned as they began to part, the sound reverberating through the air. Beyond them, the courtyard of the castle came into view. Despite the intimidating exterior, the interior was bustling with activity. Koopas of all types moved with purpose—some carrying supplies, others drilling in formation, and a few tending to the castle's massive defenses. The air was filled with the clatter of armor and the occasional roar of distant fire.

Dumbledore stepped forward, his gaze drawn to the towering entrance at the far end of the courtyard. The main doors were even more ornately decorated than the gates, and the same dragon-like visage loomed above them, its eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

He followed the guards across the courtyard, their spears held at the ready. As they approached the massive double doors, they pushed them open with a loud creak, revealing the vast throne room beyond.

The room was immense, its high ceilings supported by massive stone columns carved with flames and jagged designs. Torches burned brightly along the walls, their flickering light casting long shadows that danced across the polished floor as servant Koopas and Goombas were cleaning the room. While the edges of the throne room were lined with more Koopa guards with spears. At the far end of the room, seated on an enormous stone throne flanked by glowing pools of lava, was the figure Dumbledore assumed was the ruler of this imposing domain.

The creature was massive, easily three times the size of any human, with a spiked shell that gleamed like polished armor. His orange-red hair flared like a mane, and his piercing eyes burned with a fiery intensity. He was every bit the embodiment of the castle's imagery—the dragon-like creature whose face adorned every banner and carving.

Dumbledore stopped in his tracks, realization dawning as he took in the ruler's formidable presence. "Ah," he murmured to himself, "this must be Bowser."

The ruler's fiery gaze locked onto him, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the throne room. "So," Bowser rumbled, his deep voice resonating through the chamber, "you're the old man who wandered into my castle. I don't know who you are or what you want, but you'd better have a good reason for being here. I don't take kindly to strangers nosing around my kingdom."

Dumbledore stopped a respectful distance from the throne and inclined his head slightly. "King Bowser, I presume. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I have come seeking your audience on a matter of great importance. It concerns your adopted son, Harry."

Bowser's expression darkened at the mention of Harry. His claws dug into the stone of the throne, leaving faint marks. "What do you want with my son?" he growled. "If you've come here to take him away, you can forget it. Harry is mine, and I'll crush anyone who tries to change that."

Dumbledore raised a placating hand. "I assure you, Your Majesty, my intentions are not so blunt. However, the nature of this matter is delicate. I would request to speak with you about it privately."

Bowser's eyes narrowed further, his suspicion palpable. After a tense moment, he threw back his head and let out a thunderous roar. "EVERYONE OUT!"

The Koopas, Goombas, and other denizens of the throne room scattered instantly, their footsteps echoing as they hurried through the side exits. Only one figure remained—a robed Magikoopa who appeared in a puff of blue smoke near the throne.

"Kamek stays," Bowser said firmly, his fiery gaze locking onto Dumbledore. "If you're planning anything, I want my best magician here to stop you."

Kamek adjusted his glasses and hovered slightly off the ground, his wand held at the ready. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

Dumbledore nodded, his tone calm and measured. "Of course. I understand your caution."

With the room now silent, Dumbledore took a deep breath. "Your Majesty," he began, "I have come because Harry is no ordinary child. He was born into a world far removed from this one— but still a world of magic, where he was marked by fate to play a significant role. He is, in essence, a wizard."

Kamek, who had been hovering to the side, suddenly perked up, his eyes gleaming behind his thick glasses. "Wait, wait, wait! You're telling me there's someone who actually knows how to teach him magic?" He clapped his stubby hands together, nearly dropping his wand in his excitement. "Finally! Do you have any idea how hard it's been trying to figure out his magic? I've been testing everything—spells, enchanted items, even star fragments—but nothing sticks! He's like... like an uncalibrated Bob-omb!"

Bowser shot him a sharp look, his claws tapping against the armrest of his throne. "Kamek."

"Right, right," Kamek said quickly, though he couldn't hide the giddy grin spreading across his face. "I'll just... be quiet. But this is huge!" He waved his wand enthusiastically. "I mean, the kid teleported out of a kart crash last week without even trying. I had to bribe half the Koopa Troop with cake to stop them freaking out about it!"

Dumbledore's lips twitched with faint amusement, though his tone remained solemn. "Indeed, young Harry's magic is remarkable, though it appears to be raw and untamed. What you described is what we call accidental magic. Basically a young witch or wizards magic reacts to strong emotions such as anger, fear or want. That is one of the reasons I have come—to help him understand and control it, should he wish to."

Bowser's brow furrowed, his claws digging into the stone armrest. "I already know Harry has magic. We've seen it. He can't control it, but he's strong. So what's your point?"

Dumbledore hesitated, his blue eyes shadowed with regret. "It is more complicated than that. Harry's parents were killed when he was an infant, and I, believing I was acting in his best interest, placed him in the care of his only remaining relatives."

Bowser's claws stilled, his fiery gaze sharpening. "Go on."

"They were not kind to him," Dumbledore admitted, his voice heavy with guilt. "They resented him for who he was and what he represented. I failed to see the danger in my decision, believing that familial bonds would overcome animosity. I was wrong. They treated him cruelly, and for years, he endured neglect and abuse because of my blindness."

Bowser rose from his throne abruptly, his massive frame casting a shadow over Dumbledore. The air grew hotter as his anger simmered to the surface. "You mean to tell me," Bowser growled, his voice low and dangerous, "that you left him with people who hurt him? That you didn't even check on him?"

"I did not," Dumbledore said quietly, meeting Bowser's furious gaze. "And for that, I bear the full weight of my failure. It was not until I realized he was missing that I began to uncover the truth. That is why I am here—not to take him, but to understand the life he has built here and to offer him the choice to learn about his heritage."

Kamek, still hovering beside Bowser's throne, muttered under his breath, "Might've been nice if he'd had someone to check in earlier, don't you think?" Bowser silenced him with a glare.

Bowser let out a low growl, his claws curling into fists. "You have a lot of nerve coming here and admitting all that, old man. You failed him once already. Why should I believe you won't fail him again?"

"You have every right to doubt me," Dumbledore replied, his voice steady. "And I do not ask for your trust, only the opportunity to speak with Harry. He has a right to know where he comes from, just as he has a right to choose where he belongs. If he wishes to remain here, I will not interfere. But if he wishes to learn about our world, I will ensure he is prepared."

Bowser stared at him for a long moment, his fiery eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. Then, slowly, he sat back down, the stone of the throne groaning under his weight.

"You're right about one thing," Bowser said finally. "It's Harry's choice. But don't think for a second that I'll just hand him over to you. He's my son now, and if you want to earn his trust, you'll have to earn mine too. You've got a lot to prove, wizard."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "I would expect no less, Your Majesty. Thank you for allowing me the chance to make amends."

Bowser grunted, his gaze still sharp. "Kamek, keep an eye on him while he's here. If he steps out of line, you know what to do."

Kamek straightened, saluting with his wand. "Oh, don't worry, Your Majesty. If he tries anything, I'll turn him into a Goomba faster than you can say 'fireflower.'" He turned to Dumbledore with a slightly sheepish grin. "But, uh, in the meantime... any chance you've got some, I don't know, wizard manuals or something? Because I have so many questions."

Despite the tension in the room, Dumbledore allowed himself a faint chuckle. "I'll see what I can do."

A/N: And so here we are. The last day of the year and the last chapter i'll post till next year. (I make that pun every year. I'm allowed one bad joke) Here's to a hopefully better year coming and please keep safe. Happy new year everyone.