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HP418- Greater Good?
🕑 Added 2025-04-29 23:22:38 +0000 UTCWhen Harry and Luna walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, the rest of their group spotted them immediately. Most of them looked half relieved, half suspicious. Relief because Harry hadn't woken them at the crack of dawn for morning training—which, by itself, felt like a minor miracle—and suspicion because anything that spared them had to come with a price.
Harry didn’t say a word. He dropped into his usual seat, Luna slipping in next to him with her usual dreamlike calmness.
She smiled at the others, her voice light and easy. “Sorry, everyone. I had a bad dream and Harry came to calm me down.”
That seemed to do the trick. Nobody pushed. A few exchanged glances, but no one dug into it.
Tracey leaned in and muttered to Daphne, “Still counts as a miracle. Saved by a nightmare.”
Pansy, across from them, grabbed a slice of toast and nodded. “I'll take divine intervention where I can get it.”
Neville glanced over. “You alright now, Luna?”
She nodded, reaching for the pumpkin juice like nothing had happened. “Better now. Thank you.”
Ginny pushed a bowl of fruit toward her. “Eat something. Dream or no, it’s still a school day.”
Luna plucked a grape from the bowl and popped it into her mouth without a fuss.
Theo arched an eyebrow at Harry but didn't say anything, just went back to buttering a scone with too much focus.
Blaise leaned back in his seat, casual. “So... no training today. Does that mean we owe you a thank-you card, Lovegood?”
Luna tilted her head thoughtfully. “A small statue would be nice.”
Tracey snorted into her tea. “Brilliant. I’ll carve one out of stale bread.”
Daphne started talking about the timetable mix-ups she heard Ravenclaw had this morning. Apparently, some first-years were sent to three different classes at once.
Astoria looked unimpressed. “Classic Ravenclaw. If they can’t triple-book themselves, are they even trying?”
With the mood settling back to normal, chatter picked up like it hadn’t skipped a beat. Ginny and Tracey argued about whether Hufflepuff’s new Chaser lineup had any hope this year. Fred and George were planning some kind of prank war involving invisible ink and Skiving Snackboxes. Astoria was sketching something bizarre on a napkin that looked suspiciously like an exploding teapot, and Neville was deep in a debate with Blaise about magical compost.
It was loud, it was fast, and it was just another breakfast at Hogwarts.
The flurry of morning owls descended not long after—the usual chaos of wings, feathers, and letters raining down like a slightly uncoordinated air raid. A few students ducked. Some didn’t bother. This happened every morning, after all.
Harry snatched his copy of the Daily Prophet as it swooped past, flipping it open between bites of toast.
The headline wasn’t what he expected.
UNEXPLAINED SIGHTINGS AND MASS KILLINGS IN NORTHEAST ASIA — DARK EXPERIMENTS SUSPECTED
He kept reading, the article scribbled in tight, cramped font like the editor had tried to cram too much onto one page.
"Reports from isolated villages near the Russian and Chinese borders describe horrifying scenes—entire communities found lifeless, with no apparent cause of death. Witnesses claim strange lights and ‘shadowy figures’ appeared before the disappearances. Ministry officials refuse to comment, though inside sources suggest signs of dark experimental magic. Analysts fear rogue elements, possibly linked to banned magical research from the First War era, are behind the attacks. A joint task force has been proposed, but no official response has been made public yet."
Across the table, Daphne noticed Harry’s focus shift and leaned over. “Bad news?”
He slid the paper toward her, finger tapping the headline. She skimmed it, frowning slightly.
Pansy leaned in too. “Mass killings? Sounds like something out of The Oracle tabloids.”
Tracey grabbed a corner of the page before it could flutter. “Dark experiments? What are we talking here—Frankenstein wizards?”
“Maybe,” Blaise said, not looking up from his plate. “Or maybe someone dug up something they shouldn’t have.”
Susan frowned slightly, reading the article upside down. “Could be another Grindelwald leftover. Some of his followers vanished before they could be caught.”
“Would explain the weird experiments,” Hannah said quietly.
Hermione frowned. “Could it be Voldemort?”
That shifted the air around the table, making everyone a bit more serious. With Voldemort back, hearing about dark magic halfway across the world wasn’t something you could just laugh off.
Theo shook his head. “Unlikely. China and Russia both have massive magical communities. Dark Lord or not, he wouldn’t risk stepping into those places. Same reason Grindelwald never pushed east. Too much resistance.”
Tracey leaned back in her seat. “Makes sense. Even Voldemort’s smart enough not to start fights he can’t win.”
“Depends what he’s after,” Daphne said, sipping her tea. “If it’s something he thinks is worth the risk, he might try.”
Harry frowned, tapping the headline. “This isn’t China or Russia. They worded it like that to stir hype. The area’s closer to North Korea. Still technically along the border, but not part of either magical community. It’s isolated.”
That pulled a few more heads in. Daphne leaned in slightly. “So not an official magical territory?”
“Nope,” Harry said. “No registered enclaves, no local Ministry ties. Last known patrols were back in the ’70s. Place has been a blind spot since.”
Theo nodded slowly. “Then Voldemort might be after it. A place like that—off-grid, no oversight? Perfect testing ground.”
Before anyone else could chime in, a familiar voice cut in just behind them.
“You’re wrong, my boy.”
Dumbledore stood there, one hand resting lightly on the back of Draco’s chair. His eyes, blue as ever, scanned the newspaper.
“Grindelwald did try to push east,” he said, voice calm. “Not as openly as in Europe, but he made moves. Unlike Voldemort, his vendetta wasn’t just with Britain or blood status—it was against the world order.”
That pulled the group’s attention fast. Susan and Hannah went quiet. Tracey looked up from her plate. Even Pansy paused mid-sip.
Blaise hummed, “Didn’t know he went that far.”
Dumbledore nodded once. “Few do. It wasn’t loud. But he sent envoys. Magical scholars. He tried to sway the isolated regions first. Promised structure, alliance, advancement.”
“What happened?” Daphne asked.
“Resistance,” Dumbledore replied. “From people who didn’t want foreign ideals meddling with their traditions. And from local powers who weren’t as passive as Grindelwald expected. But he did leave marks. There are remnants—magical systems twisted by his influence, still echoing.”
Astoria leaned forward. “You think this is Grindelwald’s old work resurfacing?”
The old headmaster shook his head. “No,” he said flatly, something almost disdainful in his tone. “This is not his style.”
The table quieted again. Even Fred stopped chewing mid-bite.
Tracey glanced between Dumbledore and the paper. “What do you mean?”
“Grindelwald was a visionary,” Dumbledore said simply. “His actions weren’t fueled by emotions or selfish desires. He believed in making the world right, better. Although controversial at its core, his ideals were focused on the betterment of the world.”
Harry stabbed his fork into a sausage and almost chuckled. “For the greater good?” he asked, tone dry enough to scrape stone.
Dumbledore’s gaze locked with his, smile thin. “For the greater good of wizard-kin,” he said, like he was correcting a student.
Harry gave a small nod and turned back to his breakfast, loading toast onto his plate without saying anything more. He wasn’t about to get dragged into a philosophical debate before eight in the morning.
The headmaster didn’t push. He let the moment sit, then shifted back to the rest of the table with a lighter tone. “Regardless, I encourage all of you to keep your focus on the year ahead. Exams, coursework, and personal growth await. The world outside continues, but so must you.”
And just like that, he drifted off, robes brushing past a second-year who nearly tripped trying to get out of the way.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Pansy leaned over, voice low. “Did he just casually endorse Grindelwald over breakfast?”
Tracey picked up her juice. “Don’t act surprised. It’s Dumbledore. He probably wrote essays about it.”
“You think he kept them?” Daphne asked.
“Bet they’re in his sock drawer,” Fred muttered.
Days passed. Hogwarts slipped into its rhythm—classes, club meetings, Quidditch bickering, piles of homework that never shrank. The news didn’t. Every few days, the Prophet ran new headlines about another village gone quiet. No one's name was mentioned, just vague phrases: "dark magic," "mass disappearance," "no surviving witnesses." Hogwarts didn’t stop for any of it.
