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DTWL: Chapter 20
🕑 Added 2025-11-15 14:53:15 +0000 UTCWednesday, 9:00 pm, Headmaster's Office
[Minerva McGonagall]
Minerva sat at Albus's desk in the headmaster's office, wading through a sea of paperwork. There were monthly expense reports, progress reports, inventory audits, student evaluations, medical wing logs, disciplinary records, and a host of other annoying documents that Albus should have dealt with by now.
She didn't even consider touching the growing piles of paper on the right side of the desk, nor the stacks of letters beside them that were almost as tall as the desk itself. No, those were Albus's problems. Her responsibility was strictly the school's administrative duties, and nothing else. Those ICW and Ministry-related papers didn't concern her in the slightest.
"I may have gotten younger and full of energy, but even I don't have that kind of stamina," she murmured, signing the authorization to restock the kitchens for the month.
As she continued her work, a ping brushed against her magical perception—the signal notifying the Headmaster, or Acting Head, that someone requested entry.
She sighed, drew her wand from beneath her left sleeve, and flicked it toward the door before returning to her duties. She knew who it was; she had invited them, after all.
She ignored the wave of magic from the left side of the office as the bookshelves folded into one another, revealing the table normally used for staff meetings. She also ignored the sounds of chatter and light laughter that followed, no matter what her twitching eyebrow might indicate.
Sigh. This won't do, she thought, setting her quill down and standing up. I'll have to take care of this first.
"Oh, Minerva, finally done?" Flitwick asked, his tone chirpy and almost juvenile.
"You know bloody well that I am not," Minerva answered, her voice a low mutter just above a whisper as she dropped into a chair at the meeting table.
"Hohoho, what's this? Minerva McGonagall complaining about doing something for Albus?" Pomona's eyes twinkled, and Minerva couldn't help but imagine the wild fantasies running through her head.
"Haha, lighten up, Minerva! You're young again; enjoy the energy!" Horace chimed in, his tone unmistakably envious.
"Oh, what's this, Horace? Could it be you're envious?" Minerva smirked, her mood lightening almost immediately.
"Of course not. What teacher envies their student?" Horace replied, pulling the 'teacher card' from the start—a tell that confirmed to everyone at the table that he was, in fact, envious.
A round of light laughter escaped them all, settling the room into a comfortable, cozy atmosphere. They fell into a familiar rhythm, discussing student progress, upcoming challenges, and other points typical of a teachers' conference.
"This last week and a half has been a breeze compared to previous years."
"True. Almost every student is theoretically prepared before our lectures even begin. Some even practice beforehand."
"I'll second that, Aurora. Charms classes are more enjoyable than ever. I even had a few first-years performing silent casts today."
"Oh, that's nothing! My third-years discovered how to use the Archive to optimize potion-making by using something called the 'RoR Room Simulation.' I don't know how they found it; I spent ten minutes searching for it after class and found nothing!"
"Oh, Horace, you poor thing. How could you not find it? It's one of only two icons on the second page. You just flip, and it's right there!"
"..."
There had never been an expression that conveyed confusion better than the one on Horace's face at that moment. Minerva tried, she really did, but she couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her. The moment he realized he was the only one who didn't know about the feature, his crumbled expression and the small pout on his old face were too much.
"Pfffttt—haha!"
"Hahahahaha!"
"Hehehe!"
A chorus of laughter erupted right after hers. It seemed she wasn't the only one enjoying this.
"Enough, let's just continue," Horace grumbled.
"Oh, don't grumble, Horace. It doesn't suit you."
"Let him be, Pomona. You can't expect old people to adapt to new things quickly."
"Nice one, Minerva. But seriously, we need to continue," Flitwick interjected. "For instance, the fact that we might not need new professors even if we add more students."
"Filius, you should thank Merlin and Morgana that Albus isn't here to hear you say that. Are you trying to kill us with overwork?" Septima Vector asked, aghast.
"Give it a rest, Septima. You and Bathsheda have the lowest number of classes."
"Oh, no, that was before Albus started telling everyone they needed to be highly knowledgeable in Arithmancy and Runic Studies if they wanted to get as powerful as him."
"Oh, don't forget about the time he told you to start studying more arithmantic systems and change the teaching order, too."
"When did that happen?" Minerva asked, surprised.
"Oh, it was when you were still unconscious. It seemed some students asked him questions which, in turn, pointed out how inefficient the course plans were, so Albus went and helped her redesign the entire curriculum."
"Truly?"
"Oh, yes. He had almost all of us go back to the basics, restudy them, pinpoint gaps in our knowledge, and redesign the course plans, etc…"
"Why didn't I know anything about this?"
"Well, you have been running around deducting points from our houses since you woke up…"
"Oh, right. We could have ended this term with the most points gained in Hogwarts history if not for you."
"Let it go, Horace," Aurora Sinistra intervened. "And you too, Pomona, don't even start."
"Eh, it's not an issue. My Gryffindors will still win."
"In your dreams. This year is the badger's year."
"Not possible. My house has Harriet, Cassius, Hermione, the twins... They are thriving with the Archive. I saw Harriet practice the Knock-back Jinx yesterday, and she could almost cast it silently."
"So what? I have Susan, Cedric, and a lot of other students doing the same."
"Okay, stop it, both of you. We will be here all night, and we won't finish our agenda."
"Ohohoho, Filius, why are you stopping us? Is it because you don't have any rising stars in your house?"
"No, Horace. We all know that's not the issue. We need to start discussing the important parts of our meeting, like the fact that we will begin sending invitations to younger students in a couple of days."
"Okay, you have a point there."
"So, how is the progress of the Student Guide selection?" Minerva asked, finally setting a serious atmosphere for their meeting.
"It's done. I have selected a group of seven from my house: one seventh-year overseer and two from each year below," Flitwick answered, stroking his beard.
"Why so many? I only selected three," Pomona asked with a puzzled expression.
"Oh, I didn't choose them. They were the ones to suggest the formation, as it allowed them to manage their own time while still fulfilling their duties. I merely approved the best from the pool of names they submitted," Flitwick replied with an almost victorious tone.
"Ravenclaws," Pomona shook her head. She then turned her attention and asked, "What about you, Horace?"
"Oh, I selected five. One seventh-year and four sixth-year students."
"Hmm, that's a good selection. What about you, Minerva?"
"Well, I chose thirteen: three seventh-years, seven sixth-years, and three fifth-years," she answered, her tone thoughtful. "I still think that's not enough for Gryffindor."
"Oh, don't worry. I am certain everything will be alright," Horace reassured her.
"It's easy for you to say that…" she mumbled, shaking her head as she tried not to think about the chaos a group of energy-filled, prepubescent teens would get up to.
"I don't envy you," Pomona said. "You can only blame your Albus for your upcoming headaches."
"Hahah, true," Filius chuckled mirthfully.
"On that topic, though, where's Albus? Shouldn't he be here by now? I thought he said he'd be here by Monday at the latest."
"I don't know, Horace. No one does," Minerva shook her head, her right hand clenching as she tried to suppress her frustration with Albus.
"Why is he out, though? I thought he was going to search for traces of Grindelwald, but the papers say something else," Horace commented. "Although by now, most of the news is pure speculation. No one has seen him since last Monday."
"It was always speculation, Horace. The only thing I believe when it comes to Albus is what he himself says," Flitwick added. "Plus, do you really think they can spot him if he wanted to hide? I'm more interested in why he let them find him in the first place."
"The reason for his sudden departure, and why he's doing things like this, isn't really important, is it?" Septima said, voicing her opinion. "What's important is the data that's been compiling in the Archive since he left, and the fact that it's locked, even to us."
"You have a point, but I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. I'd be more worried about the political fallout," Bathsheda Babbling countered.
"I am with Bathsheda on this one," Horace stated. "Germany, the USA, Italy, and half of the French political parties already hate Albus, and now that they have an excuse, they've already started."
"Don't forget our pure-bloods too. They have been quiet so far, but who knows when they'll start getting uppity again," Pomona pointed out, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Yeah, it's weird that they haven't tried anything yet."
"True, I would have forgotten about them if Pomona hadn't pointed that out."
"Hahahah," Minerva chuckled, a knowing smile on her face. "It seems you have forgotten something very important. Albus is on a mission, and he will make sure he succeeds, even if by force. You've seen the data. He's not going to give up until the very end. The stakes are too high for him to keep playing politics."
"…"
Silence fell over the table as her colleagues digested her words. They might not show it, or try not to think about it, but they knew what she said was true.
Sigh.
Filius sighed loudly, breaking the silence and the tension that had started to build. "Let's stop talking about this for now. It's useless to speculate on what Albus will do; we all know it's futile. So, let's change the topic. How about the fact that I should be going through the ascension process right now, but Albus isn't here to supervise—even though he was the one who told me to wait…?"
"Oh, right. You've done all the preparations, haven't you?"
"Yes, and I should be getting younger by now if not for Albus's tardiness."
"Hohohoho, don't mind Albus too much. He must have gotten tied up with something important," Horace laughed slightly, though his laughter seemed forced. "What topic did you research?" he asked.
"Oh, I just continued my own research on magical control: speed-casting, simultaneous casting, wandless magic, and the quality difference of magic between species," Flitwick answered, his eyes glittering with excitement. "And then I saw the ideas and half-finished theories about magic circles, and that got me thinking. Would it be possible for wizards to manifest circles and cast magic through them as opposed to wand casting? What would happen…."
"Ah, I see. I get the general idea, but wouldn't it have been better to choose a specific kind of magic? Like light magic, for example? Or something along those lines?" Horace cut in, stopping Filius from going into a rant. "For example, I am researching how to change the taste of potions, as well as how to enhance their effects without changing the doses or the amount of ingredients needed."
"That's interesting," Filius said, not to be deterred. "If I succeed, then half of your research will be rendered obsolete by me. As circles will work as a medium to convey our intent and manifest it without the need to go through the process of creating new spells…"
"….."
"Pffftt—Hahahahah! Horace, your face!" Pomona laughed, pointing at Horace's reddening cheeks and his moving lips, which were fighting not to pout.
"Hahaha, come on, Horace, don't pout. It's harmless fun!"
"Fine," Horace muttered, taking a deep breath. "Still, your area of research is too wide. What are you going to do if you fail?"
"I'll try again next year," Filius replied with a shrug. It was slightly baffling just how casual he was about it.
"So, you are betting on the state of hyper-awareness to help you connect the dots, then?" Minerva asked.
"Honestly? Yes," Flitwick replied. "If what I've read about it is true, then I might succeed. And it's not like it's a new concept either. We already use circles in rituals, and I was partially successful when I tried to draw one in the air with my wand, so…"
"Then you will most probably succeed," Minerva nodded. "From my experience, once you are inside your mind, you begin the trial of self. If you succeed, you are rewarded with a state of enlightenment—for lack of a better word—and the longer you stay in that state, the younger and stronger you become. That's why Albus said to have a research subject with all the foundational knowledge ready before going through the experience."
"That's new," Sinistra mumbled. "So that means we could theoretically regress to being teenagers if we stay in that state long enough?"
"No," Minerva shook her head. "From what I could tell, you can't go back any further than when your body stopped growing, which is the early twenties."
"Ah, there goes my hope."
"Anyways, let's start talking about the new invitations and who will be accompanying the new Muggle-borns."
"Oh, right, there's that…" Pomona said before smiling. "Let's ditch that on Dumbledore. He started this problem, so he should solve it. So don't worry, Minerva. Just relax."
"I like the idea… I am not reassured, but I like it nonetheless."
"See? It's not worth stressing over. Worst comes to worst, we just send students to do the job…"
"— —"
Soon, the meeting was back on track as the professors began discussing student progress, teaching plans, and other administrative duties, having unanimously decided it was better for their health not to stress and simply dump the problem on Dumbledore.
X_
• Somewhere in the Arabian Desert •
[Albus Dumbledore]
"Ugh."
A low groan escaped my lips, the sound rough and alien to my own ears as my consciousness returned to the aching protest of my muscles. I pushed myself up, movements stiff and uncoordinated, shifting from an absurdly undignified position—face pressed into the sand-filled carpet and body bent over my knees.
"No wonder my neck hurts so bad," I muttered, wincing as I rolled my shoulders.
I sighed in relief as a familiar golden light enveloped me, my essence automatically doing its job, healing strained tissue and relieving the pain.
It’s really nice to have cheats.
I took a deep breath, adjusted my sitting posture, and finally looked around.
I blinked. Once. Twice. Rubbed my eyes and looked again. I was still seeing the same thing.
“What the fuck?” I muttered, utterly baffled, as one would be upon waking to find the world fundamentally altered.
“Where in Merlin’s name did the palm trees come from?” I asked the empty air, hoping for an answer that would never come.
I stood up and took a proper look. Yes, this whole place was an oasis. A picture-perfect oasis straight out of a storybook, complete with a cluster of palm trees, a small, clear lake fringed by little green grasses, all still surrounded by the endless, hot desert sand…
“Okay, I am not going to question the logic of this. I know better,” I told myself, snapping my fingers to clean my body, clothes, and carpet with a single, efficient spell. Efficient use of magic, if I do say so myself.
I sat back down, took a few deep, centering breaths, and allowed myself to calm down. I had been slightly disoriented; it was good to finally feel at ease.
“Now, what happened?” I asked aloud, opening my Archive interface and navigating to the section that logged all user and environmental data.
It didn’t take long to determine two things: first, I had been unconscious for two days, and second, the Archive desperately needed an update. The data from the last 48 hours was pure gibberish. The system didn't operate on divine energy, couldn't register it yet, and hadn't finished its initial analysis. Until I pushed through a core update, the data would remain useless.
“I guess I’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way, then.”
I closed my eyes and began an internal scan, letting my magic course through my body in gentle waves, reading the feedback. The good news was that I was stronger. My bone density was about five times what it had been, and I’d already had a superhuman body to begin with. My muscles, blood vessels, nerves—everything else was also five to ten times more robust. Although, my blood now had a distinct golden tint to it, which looked rather odd.
I took another deep breath and plunged into my mindscape. It was a mess. Vastly larger than before, but chaotic. My memories of my past life also seemed more vivid, if the faint glow emanating from those particular books was any indication.
I set to work reorganizing everything, meticulously restructuring my memories to their previous, orderly state to avoid any dissociative phenomena. It took a while, but I managed it.
“Now, that’s more like it,” I smiled, seeing my memory books neatly arranged on their shelves. I wasn't the least bit curious about why my past-life memories had become more vivid. And no, my eyes didn't purposely stray; the books just glowed slightly, which is very eye-catching.
Still, I had more to check. I willed myself into my soulscape—the term I’d coined for the inner space I’d discovered when trying to project my soul out of my body.
This place was the same as ever, though my soul-body now appeared denser and more vivid than a few days ago. It, too, was surrounded by a golden aura. Most notably, the contract tattoo on my soul seemed to have faded, its intricate edges almost completely gone.
“Does this mean the contract will dissolve by itself once I finish the job?” I asked the silence, not expecting an answer as I was alone in my soulscape.
I took a closer look at my reactor core. It was now slightly larger, with a dense, rainbow-colored energy swirling inside. I had already noticed this energy circulating through my heart; I just hadn't paid it much attention before.
I guess my mind was more messed up than I realized, I thought with a frown before shrugging. It wasn't a problem yet, so why make it one?
Still, I seemed to have succeeded in acquiring divine energy, though it was still a relatively small pool. And for some reason, the knowledge of my domains hadn't been automatically installed into my head like those stories and fanfictions said it would.
“Hmmm, I’ll get back to this later. For now, let’s check what else happened while I was passed out.”
It took me a few minutes of browsing through the Archive to check the news. Nothing really important, other than the fact that Gellert was stuck in his mindscape because my "Essence of the Archmage" still needed to be manually connected for him to gain temporary access.
“It’s not like it’s a problem, either. The man looked quite content watching his younger self flirt with my sister.”
I sighed inwardly and finally established the connection, feeling a conceptual jolt ripple through the link. I watched through the interface as he started looking around, his eyes losing focus as he returned the book of memories he was holding to its shelf.
“So, that’s what it was?” he murmured. “Me accepting that it was not my fault and that it was simply fate?”
“Don’t make me laugh. Fate had nothing to do with this,” he replied to his own question, his voice firm. “What happened was the result of an accident that occurred because we had more pride than sense.”
He then stood up, gathered a few more books, returned to the table, and sat down to read.
I continued to observe for another minute before starting to feel slightly stalkerish, so I closed the tap. There was no need to watch him; I would know everything he learned through the Archive's data stream, regardless.
“Still, I don’t know if he noticed or not,” I mused, “but the mental representation of himself already looked quite youthful.”
“Eh, it’s not that important either, I guess,” I shrugged the thought off and began walking towards the Archive’s core within my mindscape. It was time for some upgrades. I needed to know what that ‘corrupted’ data was, and it wasn't like I had anything better to do.
“Now then, let’s start by playing with this first,” I said, a spark of excitement in my voice as a golden energy, shimmering with shifting rainbow hues, coalesced in my palm.
Best to practice primary control before recklessly jumping into upgrading the very foundation of my global intelligence network. A little caution before rewriting the source code of my best magic yet was just common sense.
This is going to be a long day.
