The Final Feast
The farewell dinner took place in the Great Hall, where all the students gathered to celebrate the end of another school year. The next day, the Hogwarts Express would take them home, but tonight, the castle hummed with energy—small celebrations breaking out in every corner among groups of friends.
In particular, two redheaded twins stood out. They had nearly dropped out halfway through the year, but thanks to Einar's return, they found a reason to stay. Since then, they had teamed up with Lars and spent the entire day running through the halls, scheming who-knows-what sort of mischief. But one thing was certain—they were planning something unforgettable.
Meanwhile, in another part of the castle, Einar was walking with steady steps toward the Headmaster's office. After so long, he would finally meet Dumbledore face to face. They hadn't even crossed paths since their last encounter.
Einar entered with his usual calm. It had been weeks since he stopped wearing his mask inside the castle—a subtle but significant sign that he was slowly opening up to this world. However, he still wore the pendant in his ear: a small artifact that altered his voice, improved through this world's alchemy. A blend of Nordic magic and modern enchantments that had served him well.
"Professor Einar, please, take a seat," Dumbledore said from behind his desk, his expression void of emotion, as though he were struggling to hold himself together.
Einar studied him for a few seconds, immediately sensing that the headmaster's grip on sanity was hanging by a thread. Then he sat down with ease, as if facing an old acquaintance… even if that familiarity came with pain.
"You don't have much time left," Einar said bluntly.
"Yes… I've noticed," Dumbledore replied. For a moment, a different light flickered in his eyes. It was as if a war raged within him—a brutal, relentless battle against his own mind. A battle he knew he would lose.
"Get to the point. I still have to catch my little troublemakers. They're scattered all over the castle."
"Wonderful children," Dumbledore murmured, with the faintest hint of a smile. "You were a remarkable father. And mentor. I truly envy you."
He paused for a moment.
"Then I'll be direct. Horace Slughorn. He can confirm whether there were truly seven Horcruxes. That question still haunts us. I tried to make him talk, but the memory he gave me is… strange. He's a master of Occlumency, so it wouldn't be surprising if he altered what really happened. He's an old friend, and I don't want to hurt him. Not… like this. I shouldn't be near him anymore."
"And why are you telling me this? You should be informing the Order."
"No. I've already given the command: from now on, I am no longer the head or the leader. And if they hear any instruction from me, they are to ignore it. Trust nothing I say. If they find me somewhere… it won't be me anymore."
Dumbledore lowered his gaze for a moment. Then, with a quiet voice, he added:
"I'll try to stay away as much as possible, Einar. But if I return… you know I won't be myself. I'll be a danger. To the students. To everyone."
He looked up. For a moment, his eyes pleaded.
"If you see me again… kill me. For everyone's safety. Don't hesitate. Do it."
Einar stared at him for a long second.
"All right," he replied simply.
Then Dumbledore picked up his wand and gently laid it on the desk.
"This is yours. I don't know what I was thinking that day… but in the end, I couldn't go through with it. It barely obeys me anymore. Surrendering to you was never an option—it was just foolishness on my part. During my fight with Tom, I had to use a backup wand. All my plans fell apart. I have no reason to keep this anymore."
Einar took the Elder Wand, studying it briefly before tucking it away without ceremony.
"I know you're not fond of using wands," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "But you should give it a chance. After all, you more than anyone understand how useful it is to blend magic from both worlds."
He glanced at Einar's enchanted pendant one last time, admiring that impossible fusion of alchemy and arcane spellwork.
"Anything else?" Einar asked.
"I don't know how much longer you'll stay in our world… but I spoke with McGonagall. I asked her to train you as the next Headmaster. Of course, only if you want the job. Having someone who truly cares about the students—someone who would even declare war on the Ministry to protect them—would be madness not to consider."
"I'll think about it," said Einar, rising to his feet and walking toward the door.
"And Einar… it was fun having you as a professor while I was still Headmaster. You unraveled every one of my plans so easily… that you managed to give this old brain of mine a little energy again. Energy that used to be wasted on useless theories. Thank you for stopping me."
Then he added, almost in a whisper:
"Tell your daughter to take care of Fawkes, please."
Einar left without another word.
The door closed behind him.
And the moment it did, Dumbledore let out a strained groan, clutching his head before collapsing to his knees. His body crawled toward the nearby fireplace, where a flash of green light filled the office in an ominous glow.
…
Meanwhile, Einar walked through the castle halls without looking back.
He glanced with mild interest at the wand in his hand before tucking it into his bag like it was just another tool.
In the distance, he spotted Avento strolling calmly down the corridor, nose buried in a massive spellbook. The boy hadn't had much time to be a proper student, but he had dedicated himself day and night to learning every bit of magic he could.
Sensing his father's gaze, Avento looked up. Their eyes met for a moment.
"Father," he said with a solemn nod.
"It's time to pack for home," Einar said in a calm tone, glancing around the candlelit corridor.
"You bought a house here?" asked Avento, eyes still half-fixed on the book in his hands.
"I did," Einar replied. "Where's your sister? And the others?"
Avento lifted his gaze for a second, mentally going through a list.
"Sofie is harassing the librarian's assistant. I assume she's already planning a date for you—be careful.
And with Lucia doing the same to that girl you're training… I'd say you need to be twice as careful."
Einar raised an eyebrow.
"And the rest?"
"Blaise is throwing a party with the kids he trained. I saw him carry mead—and Samuel—for emergency healing.
Alesan took his group fishing… in the middle of the night. They'll only catch a cold, if you ask me.
Lars is with the so-called Weasley Twins, preparing something.
Sissel fell asleep after dinner.
And Hroar went looking for the giant, Hagrid. Apparently, he wants one last battle."
Einar let out a soft sigh, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"If you see them, tell them we're leaving tomorrow."
"Of course, Father," Avento replied before walking off, eyes already back in his book as if it were the climax of an adventure novel.
Einar resumed his walk through the halls… until a sudden explosion of color made him pause.
The night sky above Hogwarts had erupted in a show of magical fireworks. Bursts of light painted the heavens with glowing words like THANK YOU, SEE YOU SOON, and LONG LIVE FREE MAGIC.
He understood instantly: the Weasley Twins.
Every corner of the castle was bathed in that symphony of color and light. Some professors shook their heads, tired but resigned. Others, like Flitwick, clapped in delight. Students shouted, laughed, embraced one another. And Filch… poor Filch was sprinting back and forth with a bucket of water, trying in vain to extinguish the unextinguishable.
Einar stopped to watch it all, his eyes reflecting a blend of interest and quiet nostalgia.
"They better enjoy it," he murmured to himself, arms crossed as he looked at the sky. "Once they leave Hogwarts, the real battle begins—protecting this peace. But they're ready. I made sure of it. And if they ever need me… they just have to call."
With a faint smile, the Dragonborn walked on, his steps lighter now.
In a quiet, tucked-away corner of the library, Sofie was hard at work crafting a complex plan titled "How to Win the Dragon's Heart." Her sharp gaze lingered on Fleur, who was finishing her tasks as assistant librarian. The veela turned and offered a gentle smile, unaware that the little girl was drafting the opening moves of a romantic campaign with military precision.
Meanwhile, somewhere else in the castle, Lucia had completely forgotten her original plans. She was laughing with Hermione under the shimmering sky, catching each firework's glow in her wide, joyful eyes.
Because even in the middle of a war, there must be space for romance.
Even if the author… isn't particularly good at writing it.
—
And now, at long last, it begins:
Season 3: Race into Darkness
The board is nearly complete.
Two Horcruxes remain. One… everyone knows where it is, though no one says it out loud.
But the last one… the last is the real mystery. The one that will decide the future.
Who will find it first?
Harry and his group?
The Ministry of Magic?
The good guys pretending to be bad… or the bad guys disguised as good?
The race has begun.
And in the midst of this madness: grave robbers who turn corpses into weapons just for fun, chaotic new players who entered this world uninvited, and a ruthless enemy who cares for nothing but watching the world burn.
Sheogorath is surely already celebrating with a goblet of madness in hand.
This is not a battle.
It is a dance with chaos.
And no one knows who will take the final step.
But not everything is darkness…
Because while the world wavers, another conflict is igniting in the shadows.
One far more dangerous.
More emotional.
More lethal.
Einar has grown.
And so have his suitors.
Now that both sides are truly of age… it's time to get moving.
Who do you think will win?
The intelligence and fire of Hermione...?
Or the charm and passion of Fleur?
The war for the Dragonborn's heart has begun.