Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office
The late afternoon sunlight, reflected and refracted off the vast surface of the Black Lake below, streamed through the tall glass windows of the Headmaster's office in shimmering beams.
The light illuminated the high domed ceiling that crowned this circular chamber. The painted frescoes adorning the dome, depicting various historical moments from Hogwarts' thousand-year history, shimmered with undulating reflections that danced and swayed like living things.
The effect made the entire office as bright and airy as if they were standing outdoors in full daylight, despite being enclosed within stone walls several feet thick.
Inside, Fawkes rested in his brazier, snoring softly. The sleeping phoenix occasionally let out a few crisp, melodious calls from within his dreams.
On the wall behind the massive desk, hung the portraits of all the former headmasters and headmistresses who had guided Hogwarts through the centuries.
All remained present in their frames except for Dilys Derwent who had served as Headmistress in the eighteenth century. She had departed her portrait hours ago to travel to her other frame hanging in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, where she was currently providing expert guidance on the treatment of the wounded from today's battle.
Even those ancient headmasters who had existed for ages in their painted forms—those who perpetually slumbered through decades at a time, barely stirring except for the most momentous occasions had rarely opened their eyes.
Today, something had called them all to wakefulness.
Those distinguished, long-dead professors had donned their reading glasses,, and now gazed with unconcealed awe and reverence at the four legendary magical relics displayed on the desk at the office's center.
Godric Gryffindor's sword
Salazar Slytherin's locket
Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem
Helga Hufflepuff's cup
Under the shimmering reflections pouring down from the domed ceiling above, these four radiant treasures emanated a mysterious aura that filled the entire office.
Ting~
With a hint of reluctance, Bryan reached out and flicked his knuckle against the newly acquired golden cup.
The contact produced an ethereal vibration. The sound resonated through the office, carrying on the air far longer than any normal sound should.
More remarkably, the vibration produced by Bryan's touch resonated with the other three relics arrayed on the desk. The sword, the locket, and the diadem all began to tremble slightly in response to the cup's note, each adding its own harmonics to the chord.
In the mingled reverberations that filled the office—one could faintly detect a note of joy. It was as if these four highly sentient legendary treasures had finally recognized one another after centuries of separation.
But after a long while, as the trembling sounds gradually subsided and faded back into silence, the four relics simply lay quietly on the desk once more. They showed no further changes.
Bryan's disappointment appeared plainly on his face.
"Ah, a disappointing result—"
Dumbledore turned his head, taking in Bryan's expression.
"Though I must say, I'm considerably more curious about what exactly you were expecting to see."
"I was expecting—"
Bryan rubbed his brow with one hand. He drew his wand with the other hand and conjured a high-backed armchair with a casual flick.
After slowly settling his battle-weary body into the conjured seat, Bryan exhaled deeply and murmured,
"I was expecting the great four Founders themselves to emerge from their respective legacies and have a word with me—"
"Oh, boy—"
In the portrait frames covering the wall, many of the more recent headmasters and headmistresses were shaking their heads. Several exchanged knowing glances with their neighbors, clearly thinking Bryan's expectation absurd.
Armando Dippet, who had served as Headmaster during Tom Riddle's student years and had always been somewhat pompous and territorial about Hogwarts' history spoke up in a distinctly unfriendly tone edged with sarcasm:
"Surely you don't actually believe these four invaluable relics are Horcruxes left behind by the great Founders?!"
Bryan offered no explanation or defense against this criticism. He merely shook his head slightly as he continued to frown with intense concentration. His gaze remained fixed on the four relics, studying them as if he could unlock their secrets.
'Expected the four Founders to emerge from the relics?'
Dumbledore's eyes flickered with a trace of surprise behind his half-moon spectacles.
Bryan didn't seem to be joking about this expectation—that much was clear from his body language, his tone, his obvious disappointment at the lack of response. He had truly believed something would happen.
Yet Headmaster Dippet's sarcastic dismissal was also entirely reasonable from a conventional perspective.
In any case, Dumbledore would never believe that Hogwarts' four Founders—wizards and witches of such broad vision, such magnanimous spirit, such dedication to education and the betterment of magical society would have resorted to splitting their own souls through murder.
"Oh."
Dumbledore suddenly let out a small exclamation of understanding.
For someone like him—a wizard who had weathered many storms over more than a century of life, this vocal expression of shock was proof enough of just how significant his sudden realization was.
Meeting Bryan's gaze, holding eye contact, Dumbledore's normally steady breathing becoming slightly irregular. His pulse quickened.
"I think I understand what you mean—"
'He understands?'
Bryan stiffened slightly in his chair. His eyes widened slightly.
Dumbledore's perceptiveness, once again exceeded Bryan's already high expectations.
"Indeed... At the very least, I believe they possessed that ability—"
Dumbledore's tone was slow. He fixed his blue eyes on Bryan's brown ones, searching for confirmation.
"What puzzles me, though, is why they would choose to leave their consciousness here."
"Perhaps to guide us through some future crisis?"
Bryan's lips twitched with something that wasn't quite a smile as he spoke. His tone was difficult to read—half-serious contemplation, half-joking deflection.
"Ah—"
The corners of Dumbledore's eyes crinkled with the beginning of a smile. He looked at Bryan with a probing gaze. When he spoke, his tone matched Bryan's playful tone. "I imagine it's not out of concern that we can't handle Voldemort, at least."
"I cannot make irresponsible speculations, Headmaster Dumbledore."
To Dumbledore's surprise, Bryan didn't deflect the serious with humor or change the subject. Instead, he looked at him with genuine seriousness.
"I am indeed worried about something more troublesome emerging. But so far, I haven't detected any concrete signs of it, no evidence I can point to and say 'there, that's the threat I fear.'"
Bryan paused.
"The reason I'm not telling you the specifics of my concerns is because I'd rather not turn my solitary precaution into our shared paranoia."
Dumbledore fell silent for a moment, then nodded.
He circled around the desk to return to his high-backed chair behind the desk.
Dumbledore no longer paid attention to the four golden relics resting on the desk before him.
"You're quite right about our priorities," he said, interlacing his wrinkled fingers together on the desk's surface. Behind the half-moon spectacles perched on his nose, his blue eyes regained their tranquil depth.
"What we need to focus on most right now is not hypothetical future threats, but Tom's next move."
Bryan nodded in agreement, pulling his thoughts back from the Founders' potential guidance.
"I must say," Dumbledore continued, "while Harry's reckless action today was impulsive and dangerous, it inadvertently provided absolutely perfect cover for your plan to destroy the Horcrux.
Harry's appearance, his mysterious power, the golden-red light that drove Tom away—all of it has given Tom something else to focus on, something to obsess over. I imagine he's now desperate to figure out what that power Harry possesses truly is."
Dumbledore's smile widened slightly.
"Of course, Tom will be equally desperate to do something to mask his failure in this war was forced to face. His ego cannot tolerate the appearance of defeat, especially not in such a public manner."
Bryan nodded slightly.
"After today's defeat, I believe Voldemort will be considerably more cautious for some time to come—"
The two men in the office were equally brilliant, and many matters required only a hint to be understood—there was no need for lenghty elaborations.
Objectively speaking, today's confrontation at Diagon Alley hadn't been completely one-sided in terms of raw combat power, nor had Voldemort's assembled dark wizard army suffered what could be called a truly crushing, decisive defeat.
Nevertheless, Bryan could still confidently declare it a magnificent victory for their side.
Beyond successfully destroying the Horcrux hidden in the underground vaults of Gringotts which was the primary objective—
The fearless determination and courage displayed by the Ministry's Hit Wizard teams and the Order of the Phoenix fighters had greatly intimidated those dark wizards who had smuggled themselves into Britain through various means over recent months, each one harboring their own selfish schemes and ambitions.
Indeed, even the dark forces across all of Europe would feel the powerful deterrent effect radiating from today's battle.
Many opportunistic dark wizards would abandon their predatory intentions and flee Britain for safer locations where the Ministry was less competent.
The army that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had painstakingly assembled through threats and promises would, if not completely disintegrate into nothing, at least be significantly weakened in both numbers and morale.
Unless Voldemort could somehow demonstrate some overwhelming advantage or achieve a dramatic victory soon, it would be extremely difficult for him to recruit more hired thugs and mercenaries using merely his reputation and promises of future rewards.
In the short term at least, the pressure from Voldemort and his forces would diminish.
However, this positive development didn't mean that the burden currently resting on Bryan's shoulders had lightened even slightly.
The Hit Wizards who had sacrificed their lives on the battlefield today.
Diagon Alley, glorious and prosperous for many centuries, destroyed completely in a single day.
The tremendous impact its destruction would have on the daily lives and livelihoods of thousands of British wizards who depended on it.
And, entirely predictably, the growing discontent and unrest among the magical world's lower classes who would suffer most from the economic disruption.
These serious matters couldn't possibly be left to Amelia alone to resolve—Bryan would need to involve himself in resolving them all, dedicating significant time and energy.
This too would be a war in its own right, and perhaps even more brutal and bloody in its own way than the battle that had just ended today!
But without destruction, there can be no construction—this was an eternal truth throughout history. When the new order was finally established after the chaos, Britain's magical community would flourish and thrive even more than it had before the war.
A phoenix rising from ashes, as it were.
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