- INITIUM -

The corridors were empty as Albus Dumbledore made his way to his office. Situated on the seventh floor of the Grand Staircase, his office was quite far from the Bell Tower located on the other side of the castle. But the aging Headmaster didn't mind the walk. After all, he only had a few months at a time of peace and quiet before these very halls were once bustling with activities. Eager first years desperate to locate their next class. Exhausted fifth and seventh years doing their best to juggle their newfound responsibilities. Albus remembered being that young. It had been so long ago, and yet it seemed like yesterday. Albus reminded himself to contact his old friend Elphias Doge. The two had gone to school together, though they hadn't talked in some time.

"Care if I join you on your walk?" Albus was pulled from his musings in the direction of the Defence Against the Dark Arts wing, where his long-time friend and confidant, Minerva McGonagall, took a place beside him. He gave her a friendly nod, motioning for her to join him as they moved over the suspension bridge separating the north-west and south-east sides of the castle. Albus was once again lost in thought. He had heard whispers across the Wizengamot regarding the rise of the newest "Dark Lord". While Albus had his suspicions about the identity of this "Dark Lord", he could not bring himself to act directly. The Wizengamot was in shambles. With Henry Potter's passing years prior, his voice of reason had allowed the Wizengamot to be overcome by unproductive conversation and decision-making.

It certainly did not help that Orion Black, who had taken the Black Seats after Arcturus Black III's retirement, had taken a stance of inaction against the "darker" factions. His advisor, Pollux Black, seemed most outspoken. The man was well known for launching into lengthy tirades involving whatever discussion was being held. A very opinionated young man. But despite Pollux Black and Abraxus Malfoy's outspoken views, they seemed less inclined to act on their views compared to other individuals, such as the Lestranges, Notts, and Crouch's.

To be fair, the "light" factions were not doing much better. Without Henry Potter and the guidance of Hugo Longbottom, who had recently fallen ill, those who aligned themselves with the "light" found their numbers dwindling. Their only hopes were Albus himself, Septimus Weasley, the Bones family, the Prewett's, and hopefully the Greengrass'. Though soon things would change. Frank Longbottom had just graduated, and though he would be going into Auror Training, Albus hoped he would be quick to take his father's place in preparation for the growing conflict. Not only that, but James Potter would be graduating in just two years. Given his father Fleamont's refusal to enter the realm of politics, the Potter Seat would remain empty until James took it. It would be that, or perhaps Charlus or his boy would take the spot as proxies. Albus would have to wait and see. The brief moment of silence that had overcome the two was put out when Minerva once again grabbed his attention. "Knut for your thoughts, Albus?"

They were not making their way up the first set of stairs that made up the Grand Staircase. Albus cursed himself for his lapse in attention. He had been finding himself in these moments of thought more often in the past few years. You are 95-years-old, Albus reminded himself. He was certainly getting up there in age. He would not die anytime soon, but he could not fault himself for the momentary lapses in judgment that occurred at his age. Albus gave his friend a fond smile, nodding faintly as the two continued up the steps. He held out his hand, his smile never fading as Minerva rolled her eyes. Reaching into her robes, she produced a small Knut that she placed in his waiting palm. Closing his fist around it, he placed the Knut in his robes before answering her. "I was merely lost in thought over the current state of the world. Fear is rising over this "Dark Lord".

Minerva sighed. "Is this something we should be concerning ourselves with, Albus? With the start of term so close?"

"It is necessary to be vigilante, Minerva,"

"You sound like Alastor,"

It was true. Albus' old friend, Alastor Moody, who had gained a reputation for being one of the most skilled Aurors and Hit Wizards in history, had rubbed off on him. The man's motto Constant Vigilance rang through Albus' ears everywhere the aged wizard went. While he never let it known to those around him that he was always on guard, Albus would not allow himself to be blindsided. "Perhaps he is onto something,"

"What do you suggest, Albus? Fleamont is staunchly against politics. Mr. Potter seems to be along the same lines. Charlus is getting up there in age, and I would rather jump into the Great Lake than to see his son take their seat. It also doesn't help that Mr. Longbottom seems wholly under-prepared to enter that realm. It is you, Edgar, Septimus, and Fabian holding the line. If nothing can be done in the Wizengamot, I do not see why you should worry yourself with it," Minerva explained.

Albus could not help but agree with his friend. After all, he held little hope in convincing anyone in the "grey" faction to shift their stances on any matter. It was entirely up to chance whether things proceeded down the path he feared. As he had thought before, the only saving grace would be for Charlus to take the Potter Seat, Mr. Longbottom to take the Longbottom Seat, and perhaps convert the Greengrass' to the light. It was their only hope at achieving anything close to a balance on the political front.

The war front was a completely different story, however. While this "Dark Lord" worked from the shadows, Albus had begun his own plans to act before the conflict began. Six years prior, he had formed a special operation his brother, Aberforth, had cleverly named the "Order of the Phoenix". Their work so far had been minimal, focusing instead to build contacts and scout for information regarding the Dark Lord, his followers, and their whereabouts. They had already formed cases against several pure-blooded families, which included the names he believed were in the "dark faction" of the Wizengamot. It was certainly a daunting notion, having followers of the Dark Lord inside the Wizengamot. It reminded him of Gellert's rise to power and subsequent death.

Albus lowered his head at the thought of Gellert. His partner. An individual blessed with power and a wealth of knowledge, who had chosen to squander it on conquest instead of the greater good. He had not meant to kill him. Their duel had gone too far. Gellert had gone too far. It had to be done. Albus' silence continued as the two entered his office. His mind was pulled toward Minerva once more as she addressed him once again. "With term so close, I wanted to inquire if you had located someone for the Defence position,"

Cursing himself, Albus shook his head. "I have not. While I had many suitable replacements for Madam Stanton, none were available to take the position. I dare say I am at my wits end regarding the position, Minerva. We have not had a long-term professor in a decade,"

"As my students love to remind me," Minerva grumbled. "I fear that also contributes to the situation outside our walls. People are afraid, Albus. I fear they were not taught as well as they could have in how to defend themselves,"

"A fear I share. Believe me," Albus agreed. "What with shifting professors and almost yearly threats to the school, I find it increasingly difficult to manage. Perhaps I can ask Alastor if he would take the position for a year. At least until we can find a solution to the problem at hand or located a suitable replacement,"

"That man will never teach here, Albus. It is far less exciting than the work he does with the Ministry. Have you considered Madam Longbottom? What with Hugo -"

"The thought crossed my mind, but I believe it would be best to leave her be. I do not believe adding more stress to her life would be beneficial," Albus argued.

Minerva took a moment to adjust her spectacles before having a thought. "Then perhaps I could get in contact with Ms. Young. She just recently got back from America, and I'm sure she would love to come back to the castle,"

"Hmm," Albus mused. Ms. Young had indeed been a gifted student, though he was quite certain she had only scored an Acceptable on her N.E.W.T's for Defence Against the Dark Arts. He doubted she would be a sensible choice for the position. When he relayed this to Minerva, she left out an indignant huff. Raising a hand to placate her annoyance, Albus decided to shelf the discussion. "On a less prudent topic, how is Filius faring with his -" Albus was unable to finish his statement. The wards surrounding Hogwarts itself shook, producing an earthquake around the castle that rocked Albus and Minerva in their seats.

Albus was quick. In the fraction of a second, his wand was in his hand as he rounded his desk and stepped onto his balcony. Minerva was quick to join him, both aiming their wands into the sky for the source of intrusion. And then…the impossible happened. For the first time in his tenure as either student or educator at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore watched as the wards surrounding the school shattered. Shards of pure magic fell from the sky, collapsing to the ground as the source of the destruction showed itself. A meteor of raw spell energy was barrelling directly for Albus' office, threatening to crush himself and his colleague. Unable to ward it off with a counteroffensive strike, Albus did the next best thing, throwing himself into Minerva.

The two tumbled into the office just as the object collided with the office, producing an explosion that threatened to burst Albus' eardrums. Despite her fewer years on him, Albus found himself the first to return to his feet, the tip of his wand once again trained on the meteorite. Minerva stood a moment later, though he took notice of her broken spectacles and sprained wrist. When the smoke cleared, Albus was finally able to make out what exactly had crashed into his office. Instead of one of the Dark Lord's followers or a magical meteorite as Albus had suspected, he was instead met by two completely foreign individuals.

The first one was a woman. While her hair, face, and body were masked by the outfit she wore, it was unmistakable from her size and shape. The girl wore a dark green cloak that contained a raised hood, a face mask that resembled a human skull, dark brown boots, and dark green and silver gauntlets that surrounded her forearms. A brown quiver was strapped around her waist, with a broken bow lying at her side. But that wasn't the only weapon on her person. She also had a knife attached to a sheath on her belt, a broken hilt to what appeared to be a sword was attached to the other side of her belt by a clip, and an odd looking muggle rifle was lying on her chest.

The second one was a man. His outfit was similar in style to the others, possessing a dark grey tight-fitting coat, shoulder pads, gloves, a chest plate, pants, and boots, each with bright green lining along the hem. His outfit also featured a raised hood with green lining, as well as a grey mask that obscured the lower half of his face from sight. A worn down and tattered grey cape looped around his neck, connected to his shoulders, allowing him to use it as a scarf or secondary mask. Unlike the woman, the man was conscious, with his eyes scanning the room intently. Bright green eyes that matched the colour of his clothes. Albus would also be a fool to not notice two odd-looking muggle pistols in the man's hands.

Albus observed the man as he took a protective position over the woman, his pistols immediately rising toward Albus and Minerva. The two educators kept their wands trained on the man and his friend, though they took a step back in consideration of their newly founded standoff. The man, who Albus now believed to be a young-man no older than 15 or 16 based on his size and mannerisms, slowly rose to his feet. His aim held true, never leaving the two professors. Eventually, the young man broke the long-lasting silence. With a chuckle.

Andromeda Black was a careful woman. She had to be, after all. She was one of the few living people in the entirety of the Sector who wasn't a variant of the Council. And it had all been because of her dear son, Harold Black, had pleaded for her life. The Council had been generous in their decision, and she ensured her services met their requirements every day since in reparation. Of course, she could no longer use her son's name. He was now "Obscurus". A Gladiator. While she had attempted on several occasions to visit her son, she was strictly forbidden. No one of her stature was allowed to leave her Sector without express permission from a Council Member or a Master.

So instead, Andromeda busied herself with menial tasks and projects being undertaken by her fellow peers. Some of it appealed to her. Most of it did not. Time travel, dimensional warping, and extradimensional exertions were things of the past here. Instead, her peers bored themselves with new and inventive ways to destroy the worlds they found. Hers had been "torched", which involved letting loose a 'Leviathan Class' Fiendfyre on the universe in question. The process only took 500 years. An amount of time that passed in seconds here.

She had helped them, of course. It was her duty, after all. But she had recently found herself invested in an altogether new form of science. Extradimensional Demolition. A way to obliterate several universes at the exact same time. While it was not strictly her own idea, the true creator, Omen, had allowed her to claim it as her own. Omen. She remembered that boy. She had been present during his trial, and had bore witness to his acceptance into the Gladiators. He had come a long way in the last dozen eons. Perhaps it had been the tutoring of Furva that led him down the right path. And here he was, assisting her, a Peritus, alongside his own squire. She was very proud of him. It was hard not to be, all things considered.

It was in the middle of her own laboratory that Andromeda waited for the Gladiator in question. Omen would be arriving shortly with his squire, with the former having stated he had found the key to their work. Countless years of exhausting research had led to this moment. Perhaps with this discovery, Andromeda could become one of the Council Members personal Peritus'. She personally hoped Council Member Seven picked her. After all, he reminded her the most of her son. "Andromeda!" The woman in question snapped out of her musings, her gaze falling on her personal Servus. He was very thin, with scraggly and long black hair, green eyes, and a lightning bolt scar stretching his entire face. An ugly one. "Gladiator Omen and his squire, Augury, are here,"

"Bring them in," The squire bowed, sending a considerable amount of his odor in her direction. Scrunching her nose in disgust, Andromeda turned back to her holodesk before catching Omen and Augury approaching. "Omen!" She greeted. She did not know his real name. None of the Gladiators were allowed to share their names, though some knew them due to ancient legend or word of mouth. She assumed it was Harry, Hadrian, Hadriel, Harrison, or something along those lines. Or perhaps he was a James or Fleamont. Those were always exciting. Andromeda pulled the man into a hug, one he did not return.

Coughing slightly to separate herself from the awkwardness, she turned to Omen's squire. Andromeda had known he had one. It had been wide-spread news, given he had acquired her through a favor with the Gladiator Fulmen. All Andromeda had known was that the girl had been a Codder. A level of human above a Servus, or Servant, in the fact that they were useful solely to be used as cannon fodder. When the Grand Armada descended on a target, the Codders were the first to land on the surface. It did not help that many variants were sadly recruited during their childhood, which meant that without the proper development, they were either named a Servus or a Codder. This girl had been useful enough to be a Codder.

But it seemed shadowing Omen had done the girl some good. She no longer used the cheap and defective Codder Power Armor, and instead wore her own dark green cloak. She had risen in the ranks to become a Gladiator. As such, any name she had had been wiped, and she named herself "Augury", a name most older variants found familiar. Andromeda did not concern herself with the girl, and instead redirected her attention to Omen, who was silently connecting his QuantumPad to the holodesk. After only a moment, the holodesk display shifted from a blue hue to an orange color, with the map of the greater Multiverse appearing before them. It was obviously not to scale, given its infinitude, but it included every single universe they had encountered.

Of the trillions of small dots within the display, one million of them had very thin red circles surrounding them. Andromeda took a step, recognizing what this was. "The algorithm can track down and lock in this many?" She asked.

Omen let out a soft laugh. "It can track down this many. It can lock onto this many," After pressing the button, half of the circles disappeared, leaving only 400,000 universes. It was still a significant number. "The Grand Armada has to limit itself to 10,000 universes a sector due to its numbers. With this, a localized torching could eradicate 400,000 without much effort," Andromeda noticed that the girl, Augury, grew stiff after the word "torch". Omen, who didn't seem to notice, continued. "Take a look at it,"

Andromeda didn't need to be told twice. She quickly grabbed hold of the QuantumPad, taking a moment to examine the data. Her gaze shifted toward the number of worlds. 400,000 kept shifting back and forth from that to 777,777. She doubted it could be an error, given the margin for locking onto their target had been accurate. She pressed the button to redo the sequence, and was surprised when the holodisplay shifted from orange to red. The number changed from 400,000 to 0. It was then that she saw it. The destination of the localized Torch. The Domus Mortis. Horrified, Andromeda Black turned to Omen and Augury. She never got a chance to discover what had happened. Her vision was overtaken by blood as the plasma-bolt passed through her forehead. With her son's name fresh in her mind, the last thing she saw was the face of the girl. Augury.

Updated: 3/5/2025