(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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High Council Chamber...
The tension in the room grew thick enough to taste.
The black scroll pulsed faintly on the table like a living thing—
Radiating power that none of them could immediately name.
Reluctantly, one of the officials extended a shaking hand, broke the seal, and unrolled the parchment.
Silence fell like thunder.
"____"
"____"
"____"
As the contents were read aloud, expressions around the room shifted—
From curiosity, to disbelief, to outright shock.
"Welcome to High Society,"
The scroll read in curling silver ink.
"A transcendent council that operates beyond borders… beyond even worlds."
Perks granted upon entry:
1. Limitless Growth – Access to knowledge, power, and evolution unlike any offered in this world.
2. Prestige of High Society – The bearer becomes part of an elite network influencing multiple realities.
3. Endless Possibility – With access to alternate worlds, all things once deemed impossible become merely… delayed.
Gasps broke out.
A few officials rose from their chairs in disbelief.
One stammered,
"This… this isn't a condition. It's an invitation. A reward. A pathway to… something beyond magic as we know it."
Another muttered under his breath,
"Alternate worlds? Prestige beyond realms? Is this even real? Minister is this some kind of joke?"
All eyes turned back to Jenkins and Leo.
"____"
Minister Jenkins didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Because at that moment,
Creak~
The chamber doors creaked open—
Carved brass parting like a whisper under immense weight.
Thud. Thud.
Thud. Thud.
Dumbledore stepped in first,
Radiating calm power beneath his half-moon glasses, eyes twinkling as always—
But darker now, burdened by what he knew.
Right behind him was Gellert Grindelwald, his sharp presence filling the room like cold fire.
For once, he wasn't sneering or smirking—
But utterly, intensely focused.
And trailing behind them… a figure in deep blue robes with a shimmering runic belt.
He was older than either of the others, his eyes wise and glinting with mischief—
Nicolas Flamel.
In his wrinkled hands, he held a strange, doorknob, charmed and humming with power.
The design was gothic, almost cartoonishly ornate—
But unmistakably magical.
"A sentient doorknob,"
Flamel whispered to himself, marveling.
"From Hotel Transylvania's world… it sings to me."
Everyone stared, stunned.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Moody broke the silence.
The magical eye clicked sideways toward Dumbledore, and he asked in a gravelly tone.
"What's written in that scroll… is it true?"
Dumbledore stepped beside Jenkins and Leo, his expression serious.
"More than true. It's already begun. The door is open. The High Society which is also known as Continetal has extended its hand—because someone here earned their attention."
Grindelwald gave Leo a curious smirk.
Smirk~
"And to think,"
He said lightly,
"I once thought you were just a nuisance with lofty ideals. Now… you've started something the rest of the world can't even comprehend."
The officials were still digesting it all—
Eyes darting between the scroll, the powerful wizards of the era, and the curious, humming artifact Flamel continued to study with glee.
Leo finally spoke.
"You wanted tradition. You feared change. But this… this is not change. This is ascension. What comes next will not just change Britain—it will redefine what it means to be a magical being in this universe."
He looked around.
"So I'll ask you again… will you fight the future—or become its architects?"
No one answered.
They didn't need to.
Because one by one, the officials placed their hands on the scroll—
And swore the oath.
Even though doubts lingered in the chamber like the scent of old parchment and paranoia,
None could deny the truth that stared them in the face.
These were not ordinary men standing before them.
Dumbledore, once revered as the most powerful wizard of his age.
Grindelwald, the feared revolutionary who bent Europe to his will.
Nicolas Flamel, the alchemist who defied death itself.
And above all,
Leo Morningstar—
The enigma who crushed Voldemort not with armies, but with unmatched dominance, rendering the so-called Dark Lord into a cautionary tale—
A meme of failure whispered about in corridors from Durmstrang to Ilvermorny.
Just thinking about Voldemort's last public appearance in news papers—
Bloodied, hanging upside down in a cage made of his own cursed magic—
Made several of the gathered officials involuntarily shudder.
One of them even muttered under his breath,
"Poor bastard still hasn't blinked since that day…"
A silence fell again.
The scroll glowed faintly.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Dumbledore folded his hands behind his back.
Grindelwald studied their reactions with cold amusement.
Flamel had wandered to the corner, now tapping the sentient doorknob against a crystal goblet just to hear the echo.
Then, with a kind of collective resignation to the sheer absurdity of their reality, one official sighed—
A rotund man from Magical Transportation, his jowls shaking.
"Well,"
He grumbled,
"if we're going to sell our souls, better be to High Society than to another madman with a snake face and noseless."
He looked at the scroll.
Then at Jenkins.
Then at Leo.
"Sod it. On Merlin's condom… I'm in."
There was a stunned pause.
Someone in the back whispered,
"He means 'Merlin's beard,' surely?"
But it was too late.
The room had broken into a ripple of reluctant agreement—
Shoulders slumping, pens clicking, oaths mumbled, and scrolls signed.
"On Merlin's bloody condom, then…"
"May the Merlin help us."
"Better Leo than another Voldemort."
And so it began—
Not with a grand speech or a golden spell,
But with a half-joking swear and a signature inked in nervous sweat and reluctant awe.
FLASHBACK ENDS...
Present Day...
Hogwarts Training Grounds...
The sun filtered softly through drifting clouds as the seventh-year students gathered at the sprawling training grounds behind the castle.
It wasn't a typical classroom, and that's exactly how Leo Morningstar preferred it.
Standing tall with his coat lightly swaying in the breeze, wand sheathed and arms folded,
Leo surveyed the students with a sharp yet calm gaze.
His presence alone commanded attention—
Quiet, firm, and dangerous in all the right ways.
"Defense isn't just about spells,"
Leo said, voice steady.
"It's about who you are when the wand slips, when the lights go out, and the only thing between you and death… is will."
The students shifted, some exchanging glances.
After everything they'd heard and read newspaper during the purge, none dared take his words lightly.
To the right, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black stood together.
Sirius, though physically present, seemed distant—
His fire dimmed by the loss of nearly his entire family.
A hollowness had crept into his eyes since the day his family is dead.
Remus gave him a reassuring nudge, voice gentle.
"You're still here. That counts for something."
Snape, added.
"The dead can't speak. But you can. So stop acting like you're one of them."
Sirius didn't reply.
"____"
He only gave a quiet nod, pulling the sleeves of his robe tighter around himself.
Nod~
Across the field,
James Potter stood apart from his usual group.
There was no mischief in his eyes, no pride in his stance.
He looked older—
Weathered.
Haunted.
And when a hand touched his shoulder, he turned slowly.
"____"
It was Sybill Trelawney.
She wore her usual flowing shawls, but there was no flair in her movement, no dramatic tremble.
Only guilt. And grief.
Since her release from the Hospital Wing, her Divination magic had been crippled—
A cruel aftershock due to the slap from James.
And though she never blamed James aloud… he knew.
Everyone knew.
She looked at him with moist eyes, whispered,
"James… I never mean it. I should have. I…"
James gave her a weak nod.
Nod~
He didn't say anything.
He had apologized to her after understanding the full extend of what he done.
From that day on both of their relationship seems to have strengthen.
Each feeling guilty about what happened to each other.
Behind them, hushed murmurs floated across the field—
This time about Professor Melwyn.
Melwyn clearly holds onto James.
And James had become his symbol of failure making him loose a potential apperentice.
In each class he would find a reason to scold him.
"You brought chaos to the pattern, Potter,"
Melwyn snapped in their last class.
"The threads were clear until you… twisted them."
"The stars mourn the foolishness of youth."
Students began calling him
"the bat of Divination,"
And this time, the scorn was aimed not at an outcast—
But the father of the Boy Who Lived.
Back on the training grounds, Leo clapped once, sharp and commanding.
Clap~ Clap~
"Pair up. Shields up. Show me what you've learned—not what you've memorized."
Spells sparked in the air as dueling pairs took formation.
The heavy mood lightened, if only slightly, in the rhythm of magic and motion.
Later That Evening...
Leo's Office...
The echo of bootsteps faded behind him as Leo Morningstar closed the heavy oak door to his office.
The scent of parchment and old wood lingered, the only sound the low hum of a protective charm fading from the doorframe.
"____"
He exhaled softly, eyes scanning the dim room.
They were already waiting.
Three women, unmistakable in both power and poise, stood by the fireplace—
Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda Black.
Their long cloaks shimmered with subtle enchantments, not for vanity, but for protection.
Seated across from them on the carved settee were their uncle Cygnus and his wife, their faces etched with years of noble pride and the weight of pure-blood expectations.
The fire crackled behind them.
Silent. Waiting.
Leo stepped forward, his eyes briefly locking with Bellatrix, who stood at the center.
Her arms were folded, but there was a wild gleam in her eyes.
Not madness, not tonight—
Something colder. Focused.
"You've been trying to reach me,"
Leo began, voice calm as he removed his gloves and tossed them on the desk.
Bellatrix didn't wait.
Bellatrix stepped closer to Leo's desk, her voice lowered but sharp.
"Before we go… my uncle—Cygnus—wishes to speak with you. Privately, if you'll allow."
Leo's amber eyes flicked toward the older man, who now stepped forward with surprising calm, his posture straight, hands behind his back in the dignified style of pure-blood nobility.
Behind him, the three sisters—
Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda—
Remained still.
But something subtle had shifted in their expressions.
The word "extinction" had struck deeper than they expected.
Even Bellatrix's lips were pressed into a thin line.
Andromeda's arms were folded, her gaze hardening.
Narcissa stood with the grace of a noble, but the set of her jaw betrayed her thoughts.
"____"
"____"
"____"
They had abandoned the Black name long ago—
Either by marriage, by rebellion, or by choice.
But to hear it spoken of as dying—
That stung.
Cygnus Black approached Leo with reverence.
He bowed—
Not in the manner of a servant, but of an elder offering allegiance to one greater.
"Lord Morningstar,"
He began.
"Thank you for receiving us."
Leo inclined his head slightly.
"Speak."
Cygnus's tone remained steady,
But the tremor of a man watching his family legacy slip away surfaced beneath the surface.
"Our family—once feared, once revered—is crumbling. Not because of time, nor blood traitors, nor even misguided rebellion. No… because of him. Because of Voldemort."
His voice sharpened on the name, like spitting poison.
"He used disgrace means to attack us. That legacy—that pride—is all we had."
He turned slightly toward the three women behind him.
His eyes lingered on Bellatrix a little longer, softening.
"They chose their own paths. Some may not carry the name anymore… but they are Black—through blood, through soul, through fire."
Cygnus turned back to Leo and knelt.
A Black, kneeling.
The room went still.
"Help us reclaim what was stolen or pride. Help us destroy the Dark Lord. And I swear on the Ancient Magic of the House of Black, upon our crest and name, that we shall bind ourselves to the House of Morningstar."
He raised his hand and unsheathed a small ceremonial dagger from his cloak, offering it to Leo hilt-first.
"Let this blood oath bind us. Forever."
Leo stepped around the desk slowly, stopping before the kneeling patriarch.
His eyes, glowing red now, scanned Cygnus's bowed form.
Then he looked up at the sisters, one by one.
"The world thinks you're broken,"
Leo said softly.
"That the Black name is nothing but ash."
He took the dagger, holding it between two fingers.
"Then let us forge something new in fire."
He slashed a shallow cut across Cygnus's palm, letting blood drop onto the floor. It sizzled faintly as it touched the protective wards etched into the stone beneath.
A pulse of ancient magic burst in the room—
Silent, invisible, but unmistakable.
It sealed the oath.
"So be it,"
Leo whispered.
Bellatrix, for the first time, seemed shaken—
Not by fear, but by the weight of what had just transpired.
Andromeda lowered her eyes, lips pressed together.
Narcissa stood taller, as if an invisible burden had been lifted.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review
And power stone!!!
It will Motivate Me.