Chapter Text
Dumbledore had assumed that the Dark Lord had been defeated, when Harry Potter didn’t return from the Forest, and the Death Eaters vanished quietly. He was disappointed that they weren’t found, or if they were, that they no longer bore Dark Marks. But he had been victorious, and that was the main thing that mattered.
He stood before the Wizengamot, ready to present his bill to ban all Dark magic. He had laid groundwork for decades, carefully manipulating the public into believing that Dark meant evil. Now was the time to finish his life’s work. Once Dark magic had been eradicated, then he would be the only remaining Lord of Magic – Light magic, of course. His power would increase, his influence, his lifespan… He held back his glee, eyes twinkling but restrained, as he presented his proposition.
The doors opened suddenly, and a small group of people entered. A man stood at the front of the group, calm and quiet power radiating from him. His eyes swept around the chamber, pausing momentarily on each member of the Wizengamot, before finally settling on Dumbledore.
‘I have come to stand against this proposition.’ The man said, voice quiet but clearly heard throughout the room.
Dumbledore held back his fury as he smiled genially at the newcomer. ‘And who might you be, my boy? I’m afraid none can enter here while the Wizengamot is in session. If you have something to say, perhaps you might address it in writing to a Wizengamot member to bring up in the next session.’
The man looked at him steadily. He did not smile, or smirk, or frown, or react in any way. His face was smooth, impassive. ‘I have come at Lady Magic’s behest.’ He said in that quiet, even tone.
Gasps and whispers echoed around the chamber. Dumbledore frowned. ‘That’s quite a claim, my boy. Of course, we are all aware that such a thing is not real. Perhaps in the time of the Founders, such superstitions were more common, but today, in our modern society, we know that magic is a force of nature – not some sort of sentient deity.’ Dumbledore spoke with absolute certainty, trying to temper his smugness as he lectured the crowd before him. He turned back to look at the young man, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. The man looked quite familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it…
‘Lady Magic is indeed alive and sentient. She has asked me to come here today. To pass this proposition against Dark magic is to sentence her to die. She cannot survive with half of herself cut away, and so neither can we. Our magic will be lost, and magic will fade from our world.’ His voice was calm, certain, leaving no room for debate.
‘Come now, friends, let us have this young man escorted to St Mungo’s where he can be properly attended.’ Suggested Dumbledore kindly, but there was a hard glint in his eye. He raised his wand to the young man, but without so much as a word or a twitch, his wand was plucked from his hand.
All eyes stared at the wand as it floated high into the air, twirling slowly. The young man’s eyes stayed fixed on Dumbledore, and after his initial surprise, Dumbledore looked back down and glared at him.
‘I’d appreciate it if you returned my wand, young man.’ He said, voice cool but still polite. He had an image to uphold, after all.
‘I have not taken it, Headmaster Dumbledore. Lady Magic herself has seen fit to remove it from you.’ Still calm, still quiet, still even toned.
Dumbledore felt anger rising in his chest. He grit his teeth, biting back a comment that would certainly tarnish his reputation. He breathed deeply, thinking quickly – but the young man was already speaking again.
‘Men and women of the Wizengamot, I have come before you today at the behest of Lady Magic, as I said. It has been a long time since magic has been balanced in our world. False lines have been drawn to judge and condemn Dark magic, but it is not what you have been taught. All magic is magic. All magic can be used for good or evil, to help or to hurt.’
‘Who are you?!’ a voice interrupted, calling somewhat angrily to the young man.
The young man stepped forward, shedding his outer robe. He stood straight and confident, but not arrogant, and not particularly tall. The people standing at his back were mostly taller than him, but they stood with a defined deference, and a clear display of loyalty and protectiveness. They didn’t look defensive, though – as if they knew there was no risk to their leader, or themselves.
Beneath his outer robe, he wore simple clothes, not fancy or expensive or anything noteworthy. He looked thin, with long black hair. His eyes were his most striking feature. They were a deep green, and looking into them was like looking into an unfathomable depth. They were gentle, kind – not in a manner that suggested weakness, but as if he had seen unimaginable things, experienced them, and come through them changed. They weren’t happy eyes, not really – but definitely kind.
‘My name is Harry Potter.’ He stated simply.
Outrage echoed around him at that statement.
‘Harry Potter is dead!’
‘He died during the war!’
‘Nobody ever found the body?’
‘Nobody ever looked!’
‘Prove yourself!’
Harry Potter stood silent and still until the shouts died down. ‘If I am not Harry James Potter, let my magic be stripped from me.’ He said, then held up a hand, where a glowing ball of light sat, pulsing gently. More gasps followed, at the bold declaration, and at the wandless, wordless, and seemingly effortless show of magic.
Suddenly the Wizengamot members were a little more hesitant to go against him, a little more willing to listen.
Dumbeldore held no such reservations. He knew some wandless spells too. He raised his hand and tried to hurl a curse at Harry, but Harry turned to face him, and the spell just dissipated into the air between them.
Harry watched him, impassive and steady. He appeared completely unconcerned that Dumbledore had tried to attack him. He didn’t look angry at the attack, or smug at having stopped it. If anything, there was a vague sense of disappointment, in a sad sort of way. Like it had hurt him a little bit to be attacked, even if it didn’t hit him.
Dumbledore’s expression twisted with anger. ‘Are you the new Dark Lord, Harry Potter? I always suspected that Lord Voldemort had left a piece of himself inside of you, and now it appears he still has control over you. It pains me, dear boy, but you will have to die. Our world cannot be free from darkness until he it truly gone.’
Whispering the incantation as quietly as he could, still trying to hold onto his image, Dumbledore cast a Killing curse at Harry.
The sickly green curse sped across the room, right towards Harry’s chest. His people around him surged forward, but then caught themselves and held still. Harry himself didn’t even twitch. The spell slowed as it reached him, then spread out to brush over his skin, bathing him in green light before fading slowly.
The whole room went deathly still. Had they just watched Harry Potter survive the Killing curse – again? Even Dumbledore was dumbstruck, staring wide eyed at Harry.
‘There was a time when I welcomed death.’ Harry said so quietly, people leaned forward in their seats to listen better. ‘The course of my life has led me through many trials and much suffering. I was a boy when I was sent to my death at Headmaster Dumbledore’s command. I went willingly, facing death with open arms. Lady Magic had other plans for my life.’
Harry paused, looking down for a long minute. The chamber was completely silent, waiting on bated breath.
‘Lady Magic has marked me as her Chosen. Lord Voldemort and Lord Dumbledore became Lords of Dark and Light Magic through brute force and manipulation, but this will no longer continue. I am the Dark Lord, chosen by Lady Magic. The Light Lord will be made known soon. In the name of Lady Magic, I strip Light Lord Dumbledore of his title and his magic, for his sins against Lady Magic and her people.’
More gasps of shock and cries of outrage.
Dumbledore’s livid glare practically tried to burn Harry, but he just gazed back, unmoved. When Dumbledore tried to throw another wandless curse at him, nothing happened. He blinked in surprise before trying again. Still nothing.
He looked to one of his followers, snatching the man’s wand from where it was resting against the railing in front of his seat, and tried to send another curse. Dumbledore knew that even with an unfamiliar wand, he had enough magical strength to make something work.
Still nothing. His surprised eyes flicked from Harry, to the wand, to its owner, and back again.
‘Your magic is gone, Albus.’ Harry said gently. ‘You have not honoured the one who gave it to you, and you have not used it for the good of our people. It is gone, out of your reach forever.’
With a strangled shout, Dumbledore tried to hurl a series of curses at Harry, each more cruel and evil than the last. He ignored the shocked cries and betrayed glares of his followers as he shouted louder and louder, more and more horrendous curses. His image would be in tatters, but he would not let this boy defeat him. He was Albus Dumbledore! He was the Light Lord! He was so close to consolidating his power, so close to having his life’s work completed!
He tried again and again, until he was sagging, weary and afraid, finally stopping the fruitless endeavour.
Through it all, Harry Potter stood still and unmoving, watching Dumbledore with a slightly sad expression, like it hurt him to watch someone be broken like that. It wasn’t pity, or remorse. Harry knew that what was happening was deserved, was justice coming to pass. But he had lived a life of pain and sorrow, and it made him soft, made him understand the pain others felt.
His gentle gaze held Dumbledore’s, as the old man sunk to the floor, exhausted. He walked over and knelt to one knee beside him, speaking quietly enough that everyone strained hard to hear him.
‘If you chose it, you may end your life now. Lord Death can take your soul beyond this realm. He will take you gently, without pain or suffering. Your body would simply remain, and your soul would move on past this life. Or you may continue to live. Your magic will never return to you, but you could live out your days as you choose.’
Dumbledore’s eyes were hard as ice as he practically spat at Harry. ‘I will not die! I will regain my magic, I will regain my power, and I will destroy you!’ he snarled.
Harry just stood back up and offered his hand to help Dumbledore stand. It was slapped away as Dumbledore stood stiffly. With a vicious glare and a promise to return and destroy him, Dumbledore spun on his heel to apparate away.
When nothing happened, his cheeks darkened and he marched for the door, striding out and away. The Wizengamot stirred, glancing at one another, before looking to Harry as if for direction.
‘While I think there is much work to be done, will you agree for now to dismiss the proposition to ban all Dark magic? Dark does not mean evil, as I know you have been taught. To ban Dark magic is to deny Lady Magic’s nature. Without night, there is no day. Without winter, there is no time to rest. I have much to teach our society as the Dark Lord, and I intend to start immediately. As Albus Dumbledore no longer has magic inside him, he is not eligible to be Headmaster at Hogwarts. I would like to take on that role, and work to balance our society, starting with our youth.’
Surprised faces met his speech, before an older woman called out, ‘Are there any objections to Harry Potter becoming Headmaster of Hogwarts School?’
Several people drew themselves up, ready to start a tirade about a Dark Lord ruling the school, when a breeze stirred in the room. People faltered and looked around in confusion. The breeze brushed over them and through them, warm and comforting.
My Chosen… a voice whispered, and each person present shivered, warmth and fear and a soul-deep delight crashing through them. I have Chosen Harry Potter to be my voice… He will lead the children into the future…He is my Chosen…
The breeze died slowly, and all eyes were on Harry.
‘Any objections?’ the woman from before asked, voice a little shaky. She was meet with silence. ‘Then let it be known, Har- Dark Lord Potter is now Headmaster of Hogwarts.’
An expression almost like a smile, but smaller and shier and sadder, flickered over Harry’s face as he bowed his head to the assembled Wizengamot. Then, he turned and walked out of the chamber, his people following him instantly.
The new school term would begin soon. There was much to be done to restore Lady Magic to her full power and resplendence.
Headmaster Potter became the most cherished and beloved Headmaster Hogwarts had ever known. He was kind, and gentle, and inspired the best from everyone who came in contact with him. He was far wiser than his years, and imparted his wisdom and guidance generously and gently. One look into his deep, kind eyes, and his student’s fears and angers and worries seemed to fade away. Some claimed it was part of his magic as Dark Lord. Some said it was just because he truly looked at you and saw you. Regardless, he was effective and efficient in educating and guiding young minds, in counselling and correcting them, and in sharing his understanding of Lady Magic.
A new era in the British Wixen world had dawned. Lady Magic smiled down on her Dark Lord, pleased with her choice.