(Harry's POV)
By February, Hogwarts had gone back to pretending everything was fine.
Just classes, homework, and Ron snoring loud enough to wake the portraits.
I didn't mind the normalcy.
After everything that happened last year, well, let's just say I'd earned a few quiet breakfasts.
My life had found a rhythm again: Transfiguration in the morning, Dumbledore's tutoring on the Sundays, and my own projects in between.
Dumbledore didn't call them projects, of course.
He called them "dangerous, fascinating ideas that could potentially dismantle reality if done wrong."
I called them "fun."
Under Dumbledore's guidance, I'd gone through dueling drills sharp enough to make Flitwick proud,
learned to shape fire into a shield through battle transfiguration, studied ancient runes and alchemical sigils,
and solved more arithmancy equations than was morally acceptable for a teenager.
Basically, I was getting the education of a Hogwarts graduate with none of the breaks.
Worth it, though.
Because with every session, I could feel it, that click when magic stops being something you cast, and starts being something you are.
-----------------------------------------
It was a Friday morning when the first hint of trouble showed up.
I'd just stolen a bite of toast off Ron's plate when a large, official-looking owl swooped down and dropped a sealed letter in front of Dumbledore.
Heavy parchment. Gold thread. Serpent insignia.
The Great Hall went quiet.
Dumbledore broke the seal, read, and his expression barely changed, but his eyes did lost some twinkling, the calm-before-a-storm thing.
Ron nudged me. "What's that about?"
"No idea," I lied.
The crest told me enough, something old.
Obsolete, supposedly. But if trouble is back, I'll give them trouble in return.
-----------------------------------------
That evening, I was summoned to Dumbledore's office.
As if that wasn't obvious.
When Fawkes appeared beside me in a shimmer of red gold feathers, I didn't even bother pretending it was for tea.
Dumbledore looked up as I entered. "Ah, Harry. Thank you for coming."
He gestured for me to sit. The air in the office felt... thick.
"The Serpent Council, an old group with no leverage" he began, "has requested a meeting. The Ministry will be in attendance, Cornelius Fudge, Dolores Umbridge, and Lucius Malfoy."
Serpent Council? Sounds like a bad Slytherin alumni club, but I haven't heard of it anywhere.
A butterfly effect I created?, maybe but I am not worried.
At this point? Nobody can kill me now.
I tilted my head. I frowned. "that's quite the collection of moral fiber."
His lips twitched. "I fear this is less a meeting and more... an inspection. They claim to be investigating magical irregularities in the region."
I knew exactly what those were.
"My teleportation trials," I said softly.
Dumbledore nodded once. "Yes. The anomalies registered as high tier spatial distortions. Most would not understand their source... but the Council rarely overlooks such events."
"Where were they when Voldemort was raising armies?" I asked. "Bit late for moral panic."
"Power rarely moves unless it feels threatened," Dumbledore said, eyes glinting. "Be careful, Harry. They will not come here as friends."
Of course they will not.
-----------------------------------------
Later that night, I found Dobby in the kitchens.
He'd been avoiding me all term, but when he saw me, his ears drooped.
"Harry Potter, sir... terrible things is being planned. Dobby is hearing Master Lucius shouting, He says he will make someone pay."
"Proof?" I asked carefully. "He didn't say what?"
Dobby shook his head. "Only that Hogwarts will be... 'cleansed.'"
Oh, OH I see.
So daddy dearest doesn't know the diary failed.
Oh this will be entertaining.
"Dobby," I said quietly, "if anything happens, you come straight to me. Understand? You don't run, you don't hide."
Dobby's eyes were huge. "Harry Potter is too kind. Dobby will watch. Dobby will listen."
And I already knew what I was going to do.
-----------------------------------------
The following Monday, storm clouds rolled over the castle.
The Great Hall was unnervingly quiet when the main doors opened and the guests entered.
Cornelius Fudge, looking like a toad in a bowler hat.
Dolores Umbridge, pink and poisonous, smile like curdled milk.
Lucius Malfoy, pale and immaculate, walking with the confidence of a man who thought he owned the air itself.
And behind them, three cloaked figures bearing the crest of the Serpent Council.
The room felt colder just from their presence.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," one of them said, voice smooth as silk. "We appreciate your cooperation. We're here to ensure the safety of this establishment and to investigate the recent... irregularities."
Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. "Hogwarts welcomes inquiry. Though I should hope the Council remembers — curiosity, like magic, is best used with restraint."
Fudge chuckled nervously.
Lucius didn't.
I kept my head down, pretending to study my toast. But I could feel Lucius' gaze sweep the students, searching. Calculating.
He was hunting for a ghost and I had no intention of being caught.
-----------------------------------------
(Harry's POV)
Hogwarts had this strange way of pretending everything was normal, even when it wasn't.
The Serpent Council was stalking the halls, in sleek grey cloaks, with their silver serpent pins gleaming and somehow breakfast still smelled like toast and pumpkin juice.
Maybe that was the magic of Hogwarts.
Or maybe everyone here had just survived enough insanity to develop selective denial.
I'd been careful since they arrived.
No teleportation trials. No new spell work that bent reality too loudly.
Just quiet observation...and countermeasures.
You don't leave yourself open when the Ministry sends its snakes into your den.
-----------------------------------------
Transfiguration revisions that week was about morphological continuity, which was McGonagall's fancy way of saying,
don't make your porcupine a pincushion that still squeaks.
Ron turned his into something that looked like a small, furry landmine.
"Brilliant," I told him. "Now it can explode and hold pins."
He flipped his wand at me. "You're enjoying this too much."
"Absolutely."
Meanwhile, Hermione's pincushion actually fluttered its little quills like it was proud of itself.
McGonagall gave her that rare approving smile that could make an entire class feel inferior by comparison.
Everything looked normal. Students laughing, parchment rustling,
Malfoy whispering snide comments about "Council protection against unstable students."
But I could feel it the subtle ripple in the castle's wards.
The Council wasn't just investigating. They were scanning.
And they weren't scanning for ghosts.
-----------------------------------------
That night, it was just the three of us Ron, Hermione, and me in the Room of Requirement.
The walls had shaped themselves into a broad training space with sand flooring, soft blue light, and shelves of spare wands.
We'd been using this place for weeks now, part spell practice, part endurance training, part therapy session disguised as dueling.
Ron was sprawled on the floor, groaning. "Tell me again why we do this instead of sleeping?"
"Because," I said, flicking my wand, "magic's like a muscle. You don't train it, you lose it."
Hermione shot me a glare between wand swings. "You sound like a very smug fitness instructor."
I grinned. "maybe because I am."
She rolled her eyes but didn't stop practicing the wandless repulsion charm I'd taught her.
The air shimmered faintly around her hands.
Her control was improving fast, so was Ron's.
They'd both started picking up the mental focus needed for wandless casting.
Still, tonight wasn't just practice.
"Alright," I said finally, leaning against the wall. "We're taking a break."
Ron groaned in relief and collapsed onto a cushion.
Hermione just narrowed her eyes. "You're about to say something worrying, aren't you?"
"Probably." I tossed an apple between my hands. "Those spatial fluctuations the Council's chasing? They're mine."
The silence that followed could've frozen a Cornish pixie mid flight.
Hermione blinked. "Yours?"
Ron sat up, crumbs in his hair. "You—you're the one who's got the Ministry's knickers in a twist?"
"Guilty." I shrugged. "But before I tell you what I've actually been working on, you two need to strengthen your Occlumency."
Ron groaned. "Again?"
"Yes, again," I said. "Until you can block my Legilimency without sweating like you've run a marathon."
Hermione frowned. "You're being paranoid."
"I'm being practical."
She hated when I was right.
I could see the curiosity burning behind her eyes, she wanted to ask what I'd made, how it worked, why I was hiding it.
But I'd promised myself I wouldn't tell them until they were ready.
Not because I didn't trust them, because I don't trust others.
-----------------------------------------
The next evening, the Gryffindor common room was warm and loud.
Seamus was teaching Dean a new exploding card trick (it worked too well), Parvati and Lavender were giggling over Witch Weekly,
and Ron was arguing with me over whether chess counted as exercise.
"It's mental exercise," he insisted.
"Your knight's been in the same spot for ten minutes," I said.
"Strategy," he said smugly.
"Laziness."
Hermione sighed from her armchair. "I'm surrounded by idiots."
"Accurate," I said.
She threw a cushion at me. I ducked, laughing.
It was these moments stupid, pointless, peaceful that made the rest of it bearable.
Because outside the common room walls, the air around Hogwarts was tightening like a drawn bowstring.
-----------------------------------------
A week later on sunday, Dumbledore's summons came again.
When I entered his office, he was seated by the window, moonlight catching the faint smile beneath his beard.
"Your progress is remarkable," he said. "Your control of transfiguration during duels has improved as has your patience."
"Thanks," I said. "Still working on the patience part."
We spent the next hour transfiguring conjured weapons mid-flight, turning daggers into dust, arrows into flowers, hexes into harmless sparks.
It wasn't flashy, but it was elegant clean magic, as Dumbledore called it.
As the session ended, he turned serious.
"The Council's scope is widening," he said quietly. "They've requested permission to inspect the lower vaults. I declined, of course."
"Do they think Hogwarts is hiding a criminal?" I asked.
"I think they're looking for an answer that frightens them," he said softly. "And they're hoping to find it in you."
I smiled faintly. "Then they're looking in the wrong place."
He didn't disagree.
By midweek, the bootlicke-*cough* I mean Council had started interviewing students.
Polite questions at first — "Have you noticed any unusual magical activity?" — but the undertone was sharp.
Lucius Malfoy was often seen near them, whispering, advising, pretending he wasn't orchestrating the whole thing.
Fudge looked increasingly nervous, Umbridge increasingly delighted.
The castle had become a chessboard and they hadn't realized yet that I was playing too.
Behind the scenes, I'd already reinforced the castle's inner wards.
Every Council scanning charm now looped harmlessly back to their own devices. They'd find nothing but static.
And at night, when the corridors fell silent, I began crafting something else a small, intricate rune series along the northern wing of the castle.
A containment field.
In case the Council decided to escalate.
I wasn't paranoid. Just prepared.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I.AM.BACK
sry for not uploading, I was reviewing the chapter and found a polt hole.
yea, that was the cause of the delay, had to rewrite the whole chapter multiple times and even changed the arc.
if you found the arc boring thats on me
-Nine11P2