The tense, almost suffocating standoff in the Ministry lobby was broken by Albus Dumbledore's gentle, dazzling smile. The old headmaster clasped his hands calmly, trying to ease the tension that had built up.
"We'd best go up now, gentlemen," Dumbledore suggested in an affable tone that stood in stark contrast to the hostility displayed mere seconds earlier. "We're running late for the meeting."
Voldemort clenched his jaw, but remembering the facade he had to maintain in public, he released Aurelian's shoulder and nodded stiffly.
The three wizards walked toward the golden gates and stepped into the same elevator to head to the lower level, where the Wizengamot assemblies were held. The descent was pure torture. During the minutes they were confined in the small cabin, none of the three uttered a single word. The silence was so thick and heavy from the clash of magical auras that anyone else would have fainted just from being nearby.
When the gates opened and they entered the circular Wizengamot chamber, Aurelian immediately noticed the marked division in the gallery seating.
The political landscape had changed dramatically in a matter of weeks. The divide was clear, and if one looked closely, overwhelming: seventy percent of the seats openly supported his father for Minister of Magic, while barely thirty percent remained loyal to Amelia Bones's candidacy.
Madame Bones, seated with her usual stoic expression, led the remnants of the Light Faction and a few stubborn members of the Gray Faction. On the opposite side, Tom Gaunt had achieved the unthinkable. Not only did he have absolute control of the Dark Faction, but he had managed to bring the calculating Lord Greengrass to his side. By bringing the Greengrass patriarch on board, nearly the entire Grey Faction had aligned itself under the Gaunt banner.
As he observed the looks of admiration and reverence directed at his father, Aurelian knew it was practically a foregone conclusion who would be the next Minister for Magic. The official vote would be nothing more than a formality.
Due to Fudge's dismissal and the lack of an acting Minister, the meeting was presided over by Albus Dumbledore in his capacity as Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot.
Aurelian took a seat in the spectators' section, crossed his legs, and, to be honest, didn't pay much attention to the technicalities of the meeting. His gaze was fixed on the power dynamics.
He watched, with a certain fascination, as Dumbledore grew increasingly despondent. With every elegant, charismatic, and perfectly calculated speech Tom Gaunt delivered from the podium, the Dark Lord secured even greater loyalty and crushed the opposition's arguments with relentless logic.
The session reached its climax when the status of Muggle-borns in the new structure and their safety were debated.
Tom Gaunt stood up, smoothed his robes, and in a deep voice that echoed throughout the hall, declared:
"In times like these, talent cannot be wasted. All wizards and witches are equal, and their worth will be measured by their power and usefulness to our society; their origins should not matter to us."
The silence that followed was deafening. Dumbledore's eyes widened in genuine astonishment, nearly dropping his wooden gavel.
From his seat, Aurelian could barely suppress the laughter threatening to escape his lips. He knew exactly what Dumbledore was thinking: the old headmaster surely believed this was just a dirty, elaborate political ploy by Voldemort to gain even more power and supporters. Dumbledore was unable to see that his father's madness had… been controlled and that he was now more pragmatic in his view of the world.
When the meeting finally ended, after three interminable and exhausting hours, Aurelian rose from his seat with a grimace of pain, stretching the tense muscles in his back.
He approached his father and said in a low voice,
"I'm going to talk to Dumbledore for a moment. Don't wait for me."
Voldemort frowned and tried to stop him, but at that very moment, a wave of Wizengamot members and journalists completely surrounded him, congratulating him and seeking favors. Caught up in his own success, the Dark Lord found himself physically unable to reach his son.
Aurelian walked toward the main podium. When he reached Dumbledore, the headmaster was packing up his own things. Upon seeing him, he gave him a deeply weary smile, as if the last three hours had added another decade's worth of weight to his shoulders.
"Let's walk, boy," Dumbledore suggested.
As they walked through the now-empty corridors of the Ministry toward the exit, the echo of their footsteps reverberated off the walls. Dumbledore was the one who broke the silence.
"I can't blame you for bringing your father back, Aurelian," Dumbledore said, glancing sideways at him. "After all, I understand that feeling. Family is family, and the desire not to be alone is very powerful."
Aurelian let out a dry laugh, devoid of any sentimentality.
"You're very wrong, Headmaster. That wasn't my intention at first. I brought him back because I needed his raw power on the table, not because I wanted a father figure in my life." Aurelian shrugged. "Although I must admit that I've grown quite fond of him now."
Albus looked at him, a sharp smile forming on his lips.
"So, if love wasn't your primary motivation, tell me, Aurelian… What was your true intention in unleashing Tom upon us once again?"
Aurelian stopped in his tracks. He turned his face and looked Dumbledore straight in the eyes, without a hint of hesitation.
"Because we both know perfectly well who the true enemy is in this war."
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. The indirect mention of Grindelwald on the continent made his posture tense.
"Gellert is dangerous, Aurelian. No one knows that better than I do," Dumbledore replied, his tone turning defensive as he tried to sound authoritative. "But I assure you, I can handle him."
Aurelian raised a hand, cutting off the Headmaster's justifications.
"Please, spare me that speech," Aurelian cut him off coldly. "If you could really handle him, you would have eliminated him fifty years ago when you had the chance. But you didn't. You spared his life, locked him in a tower, and now the entire wizarding world is paying the damn consequences of your personal weakness."
The words hit Dumbledore hard. The Archmage fell silent, the weight of his mistakes stifling any reply he might have wanted to give.
When he finally reached the Ministry exit, Albus paused before passing through the turnstiles. He looked at the young Lord Gaunt, his expression reflecting a mixture of concern and fear for his student's future.
"Aurelian… I beg you, don't let your father manipulate you," Dumbledore pleaded in a low voice, almost a whisper. "You possess a talent that comes along once in a century. You are better than Tom's darkness. Don't become his pawn."
Aurelian adjusted the collar of his robe. He gave Albus Dumbledore a perfect smile.
"I don't think you quite understand yet, Dumbledore," Aurelian replied, his dark eyes shining a deep emerald color. "I follow no one. Neither the light, nor the darkness, and certainly not my father—I couldn't care less about his ambitions. Everything I do in this world, I do solely and exclusively for me and by me, keep that in mind, Headmaster."
Turning on his heel, Aurelian Gaunt walked toward the Flu Network fireplaces, disappearing in a flash of green flames.
Albus Dumbledore stood in the empty hall, staring at the spot where the boy had vanished. A chill ran down his spine, leaving him with more questions than answers, and with a single, terrifying question echoing in his mind: Who is Aurelian Gaunt really, and what does he want from our world?
The sun was beginning to paint the sky with orange hues over the vast, silent gardens of Gaunt Manor. The cool evening breeze blew gently.
Aurelian, standing with his arms crossed and a relaxed posture, watched Hestia and Flora intently.
The girls were completely focused. Unlike squibs, who required ink and parchment to channel ambient magic, the Carrow sisters possessed powerful magical cores and more than enough reserves to emulate their boyfriend. Both raised their hands and began to draw in the air.
Their fingers moved with grace and fluidity, tracing the complex circuits of the Arcane Patterns.
With one final, elegant stroke, Hestia activated her pattern. Out of nowhere, the air in front of her froze, creating a small, beautiful snowstorm. However, the snowflakes were not white; instead, they glowed a brilliant shade of purple that lit up the garden.
A second later, Flora finished her own sequence. The air exploded in front of her, and an intense flame, also a deep purple, shot up into the sky like a pillar of fire before dissipating harmlessly in the heights.
Aurelian began to clap, a proud smile forming on his lips.
"You did it perfectly," Aurelian praised them warmly. "Your movements were flawless and your channeling impeccable. Excellent work, both of you."
As the twins smiled at him, delighted by their beloved's approval, Aurelian's mind made a quick note. It was now perfectly clear to him: magic channeled through the Arcane Patterns took on a different color depending on the magical signature of the individual shaping it. In his case, the energy always manifested as an emerald green hue, but for the twins, the magic took on a deep purple color. It was a fascinating detail that opened up a whole new world of theories.
Beside him, leaning casually against a stone statue, Bellatrix Lestrange scratched her chin. Her eyes watched the remnants of purple snow melting on the grass.
"Well, well," murmured Bellatrix, genuinely impressed. "Now I understand perfectly why everyone was talking about this. It's fascinating—no wand, no spells. Just magic in its wildest, purest form."
Bellatrix turned toward Aurelian. She gave him a broad smile, raising both hands to give him two thumbs up in an effusive gesture.
"I expected nothing less from my master's son!" Bellatrix congratulated him, letting out a little giggle. "You're quite a prodigy, my lovely lord."
Aurelian rolled his eyes in amusement at the witch's eccentricities. Before he could answer her, Hestia and Flora were already upon him.
Knowing that their training session had ended successfully, the girls put their focus aside and went back to being two teenagers in love and deeply possessive. They hugged him from both sides, wrapping their arms around his.
"We've practiced enough for today, my love," Hestia cooed, tugging on his left arm.
"Now it's time for you to give us your undivided attention inside," added Flora, pulling hard on his right arm.
Aurelian didn't even try to resist. He let his fiancées lead him, smiling broadly and letting out a couple of laughs as the twins dragged him back toward the large doors leading into the mansion.
Bellatrix was left alone in the garden, the evening breeze ruffling her tangled curls. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching silently as the three teenagers entered the house, enveloped in laughter, jokes, and that display of affection so typical of them.
Bellatrix's smile softened, becoming small and strangely melancholy.
"Sometimes," Bellatrix whispered to herself in the solitude of the garden, "sometimes I feel a deep envy of those three brats."
----------------------------
I have a Patreon account. If you would like to support me, I would greatly appreciate it. You will be able to read up to 15 more chapters, listen to all chapters as audiobooks, and view images of the characters in the story for free. Thank you very much for reading my story :D
patreon.com/Daoistrg