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-The Next Day-
The speech delivered by Headmaster Dumbledore the previous night had not been very long, nor particularly complex. Some might even say he merely stated the obvious.
Even so, despite bringing no great surprises, the impact his words had on Hogwarts was undeniable.
After that address in the Great Hall, the castle once again sank into a period of tension and unease — this time even more intense than before.
It was then that I understood something simple, yet predictable: the words of an influential and widely respected wizard carried far more weight than those of a boy.
That realization also made me understand that my little spectacle at the entrance of the maze that night, no matter how striking or shocking it had been, had been nothing more than a prelude to something greater.
The true warning — the one that truly mattered — was the message the Headmaster had delivered to the students and to the wizarding world the night before.
I knew it would take some time before his words reached the ears of those outside the castle. But when they finally did reach the British wizarding community, they would certainly cause an uproar.
More than that: I was certain they would serve as the spark that would ignite the flames of the coming war.
And I strongly suspected that had been the Headmaster's intention from the very beginning.
But well, setting aside the possible reaction of those outside Hogwarts, what truly interested me was the reaction of those who remained within its grounds.
As I had said before, the castle's residents were deeply affected by Headmaster Dumbledore's speech — and there was nothing exaggerated or strange about that.
Knowing that a war could break out at any moment — especially one that would inevitably involve them — was not the kind of news that allowed people a peaceful night's sleep.
Even so, caught between the doubt and disbelief, and the sense of safety brought by the old wizard's promise of protection, the fear surrounding the students did not turn into panic.
And as time passed, any shock or dread they might have felt gradually faded.
In fact, after overcoming the initial impact, what these students began to feel was a contained sense of nervous anticipation — as if they were waiting to see what would happen next.
But above all, there was something else…
They felt a sudden, genuine interest in this whole mess… and this was not limited to Hogwarts students alone.
The students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang also had their youthful curiosity stirred by the Headmaster's speech.
All of them found in his words a fresh fuel for their conversations, exaggerated theories, and of course, inevitable gossip.
And in the end, the youths of the three schools — so different in language, personalities, and customs — ended up bonding over these very topics.
Through this common ground, they even developed a certain friendly connection among themselves… which was somewhat ironic.
The goal of the schools and ministries in reestablishing the Triwizard Tournament, beyond competing with one another, had also been to strengthen international bonds among the youths who would represent the future of their countries.
However, throughout the tournament, that goal had been forgotten, with only rivalry prevailing.
Few, like Fleur and I, had managed to overcome that barrier.
But now, very ironically, these hot-blooded and narrow-minded students drew closer, setting aside their differences… all because of gossip and theories.
Even the professors, who throughout the year had maintained professional distance from one another, could now be seen whispering and gossiping through the castle corridors, completely at odds with their usual "serious and impeccable" demeanor.
It seemed the old saying that good gossip brought people together was not entirely false.
And now, I understood better than ever the power of words, and the irresistible pull of curiosity they awakened in others.
That also led me to reevaluate the Daily Prophet and other newspapers, which held immense and influential power in their hands.
It was a power few truly understood: the ability to shape opinions, direct emotions, and control the masses.
With only a few carefully chosen words and strategically placed "information," they could unite — or manipulate — most of their readers, who made up more than half of the British wizarding community.
A single article in the morning edition could alter public opinion in a way not even the most powerful Imperius Curse could achieve.
If they wished, they could turn the kindest and most benevolent person in the world into a ruthless criminal in the eyes of the public.
Someone uninformed might think I was exaggerating… but I was not.
That was exactly what had happened, in canon, to Harry and to the Headmaster.
Then, understanding how problematic that was, I made a mental note: from now on, I should act with extreme caution when dealing with the press.
Of course, that consideration only applied if I chose to remain discreet and maintain a low profile, ensuring public opinion never turned against me — something that would only concern me under very specific circumstances.
Anyway, my personality had never been the most patient or tolerant.
If I were truly pushed too far by those newspapers, I might simply abandon any remnant of calm or mercy.
If, in the original timeline, those media outlets had bowed to Voldemort out of fear, I could very well make them bow to me as well.
The only difference would be the method.
Mine would be far more definitive and… creative.
And speaking of my methods, there was a perfect example of that: Rita Skeeter.
The most lethal, harmful, and repugnant being ever to have worked at the Daily Prophet.
She, with her poisonous quill and despicable methods, had brought misery and suffering to countless people and families, all in exchange for a few minutes of notoriety.
And I knew that if she had remained free, sooner or later she would have tried to target me and those around me.
Fortunately — or unfortunately, in her case — one of my first operations outside Hogwarts had involved dealing with that problem.
Getting rid of her could be considered one of the best things I had ever done for the wizarding world, perhaps even surpassing the killing of Macnair.
I only hoped that, at this very moment, our dear and amiable Ms. Skeeter was enjoying a wonderfully comfortable stay at the Azkaban Paradise Resort.
Being granted lifelong residence at that five-star luxury resort — situated on a private island and attended day and night by devoted hooded servants — was a privilege granted to few.
Skeeter should feel blessed for it.
And above all, she should thank me, since it was thanks to me that she received that privilege.
And come to think of it… she was the second person I had helped receive that reward.
The first, of course, had been my smiling and talented former DADA professor, Gilderoy Lockhart.
Hmm. I truly was an extraordinarily generous person…
Azkaban ought to reward me somehow for sending so many distinguished guests there.
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-Afternoon-
Today was Monday — a day that should have been like any other normal school day.
However, due to recent events, the Headmaster had decided to grant the entire school another day off, to the general joy and relief of the students.
So, since we had the whole day free, I decided to show Luna, Fleur, and the golden trio the other functions of the Room of Requirement.
At the moment, we stood at the center of a vast circular chamber, surrounded by metal targets, training dummies of various types, and iron rods, plates, and spheres.
This was, without question, the room I had used the most since discovering the Room of Requirement — and also the one that had contributed most to my combat development.
The special training room.
"Dude, so you're telling me you train here every day… using these things?" Ron asked, gaping.
His horrified gaze was fixed on a heavy iron sphere that whistled around us at high speed. The mere sound of the air being violently cut by it was enough to make his legs tremble.
"Yes. This is what I usually train with," I replied casually.
"Ugh…" He finally tore his eyes from the sphere and turned to me, staring as if I were some abnormal creature. "Now I know why you're so strong… and terrifying…"
In response, I merely shrugged.
By this point, I had already begun to consider being called terrifying a compliment.
Knowing that the room possessed countless utilities and functions — and that many of the items and equipments within it were still unfamiliar to my friends — I allowed them to explore the space freely, testing each feature and acquainting themselves with everything around them.
After a few minutes, the five of them had already tried nearly all of the training room's equipment and were now simply wandering through the area, observing the rest with satisfied curiosity.
Noticing that none of them seemed inclined to say anything — still impressed by the room's facilities and resources — I decided to take charge of the conversation.
"Well," I clapped my hands, drawing everyone's attention to me, "now that you've seen how the room works, how about we do a short but exciting training session in this new environment?" I asked, an eager smile spreading across my face.
And that smile, so familiar to them, looked utterly horrifying in their eyes.
In panic, they all took a step back.
"Err… actually, I'm not feeling very well today…" Harry said, sweating nervously.
"Ugh, me neither."
"You know, I think it must've been something we ate, because I'm also feeling a bit off."
"Oui, oui."
"Hmm… the Wrackspurts here are very strong. I must stay away from them so my mind doesn't become confused…"
"Oui to that as well."
Watching the five retreat in fear, my smile only widened.
Fortunately for them, before I could introduce them to a new form of torture... I mean, training, someone opened the door of the Room of Requirement.
"Hey, Harry. Everyone," Sirius waved as he entered, walking toward us.
"""Sirius!""" the five teenagers exclaimed at once, smiles of relief.
They quickly rushed to the Animagus, clustering around him. The looks they gave him were as if they were looking at their savior hero.
"Huh?" Blinking, Sirius looked at the group with a puzzled expression. "Did I miss something here?"
And, without him noticing, a deeply dissatisfied and irritated glare from the other side of the room fell upon him.
'This guy always shows up at the worst possible moments'
End.
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