"Why haven't the dementors come back yet?" asked a pockmarked Auror, stretching.
"They must be full," the red-nosed Auror beside him replied flatly.
Letting dementors roam freely had its risks. When they searched, they drained happy emotions from the students. Still, the Aurors assumed the creatures had some restraint. Even if a few kids were hurt, it wasn't their problem—this was all on Minister Fudge's orders.
"But still..." muttered the pockmarked Auror, frowning. "They should be back by now."
"Think something went wrong?" asked his partner, now visibly uneasy.
"They're brainless, but even they know the difference between a snack and a full feast," the first Auror said.
"They shouldn't hurt the students."
"Let's just wait," the red-nosed Auror muttered.
The Hogwarts Express finally arrived. Professor Lupin had repaired the roof Blake had blasted open. As the train slowed into the platform, students exhaled in relief. The threat of a second wave of Dementor attacks had kept them tense.
But now they were safe.
Especially when they spotted the tall figure with the long, silvery beard.
Dumbledore had come to the station himself.
"When the dementors appeared, I saw the conductor send word with an owl," Lupin explained. "It's no wonder the Headmaster came in person. An attack like that is serious."
"Freshmen! This way!" Hagrid called, waving his lantern and leading the first years off the platform.
As the crowd thinned, Blake finally jumped down from the train. He immediately spotted Dumbledore—and turned sharply to avoid him.
No luck.
"Blake! Come here, please," Dumbledore called.
Blake sighed. "Hermione, Sandra—go ahead. I'll catch up."
He wasn't worried Dumbledore would punish him for killing dementors. If anything, the Headmaster would shield him from the Ministry. But Blake was worried Dumbledore had seen how he lost control. The violence. The rage.
Blake knew Dumbledore might not approve of that side of him.
Still, he approached. Lupin was already talking to Dumbledore, likely relaying everything that had happened.
"You're walking slower than me, and I'm the old one!" Dumbledore greeted, smiling.
Blake shrugged. "Just enjoying the stroll, I guess."
Dumbledore gave him a knowing look. "Lupin told me what happened. Don't worry—I'm not here to scold you. You protected your classmates. If you hadn't stood between Harry and that dementor..."
"It was nothing," Blake said softly. "I could do it, so I did."
Dumbledore rested a hand on his shoulder. "You're upset about losing control. But trust me—anyone would, facing those monsters. And you didn't lose control, not really. You only attacked the dementors. Your classmates were never in danger."
Blake blinked. Dumbledore wasn't condemning him—he was comforting him?
Lupin stepped in. "I saw Blake's Patronus—it's a phoenix."
Dumbledore smiled, then leaned in with a chuckle. "You may find this surprising, but... Blake is actually my child."
"Ah—" Lupin's eyes widened.
Dumbledore's face turned a little red, his smile proud.
Blake watched the exchange and suddenly understood. Dumbledore truly saw him as family—not someone to fear, but someone to guide. That explained so much. How different he was from how Dumbledore had treated Tom Riddle.
"So... who's Blake's mother? Anyone I know?" Lupin asked, curiosity getting the better of him. Judging by Blake's age, she had to be their classmate!
Dumbledore sighed. "It's a long story."
Still, Lupin was a trusted friend. And now that he'd met Blake, Dumbledore felt it was time he knew the truth.
They climbed into a Thestral-drawn carriage together, which rolled toward the castle.
As they rode, Dumbledore gave Lupin the summary of Blake's origins.
No mother. Just two fathers—Dumbledore and Grindelwald.
Lupin stared, stunned. No wonder Blake's magic was so powerful. He wasn't just a prodigy—his very bloodline was unparalleled.
Dumbledore added, "At Hogwarts, he uses the surname Green. It was given by Lady Marian, the woman who raised him."
"Smart move," Lupin nodded. "If the press ever found out he was a Dumbledore or a Grindelwald..."
Blake sat quietly, listening.
Lupin glanced at him with newfound respect. Not judgment—just understanding. As a werewolf, Lupin knew what it meant to be different. In Blake, he sensed a kinship. Two outsiders, surviving a world not made for them.
In the Auror Office, Alastor Moody exploded with fury.
"I told you to watch the dementors! What the hell were you two doing?!"
The pockmarked and red-nosed Aurors stood stiff, heads bowed.
"They attacked the Hogwarts Express!" Moody bellowed. "You didn't even notice!"
"I—we thought they were still searching..." the red-nosed Auror stammered.
"Lucky no one died," Moody grunted.
"Wait—Harry Potter..." the pockmarked Auror paled. "Was he hurt?"
"Almost kissed by a dementor!" Moody shouted. "If not for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he'd be soulless right now. We'd all be out of jobs—including Fudge!"
The Aurors blanched.
"Where are those dementors now?" the red-nosed Auror asked, voice trembling.
"You want to punish them?" Moody sneered.
"Well... they disobeyed orders!"
"They're dead."
"What?!"
"Every single one. Not a scrap left."
The Aurors gaped. Dead dementors? That was supposed to be impossible.
"Did Dumbledore do it?" the pockmarked Auror asked weakly.
"No. He only drives them off with a Patronus. These things messed with the wrong person."
"Who?"
"A little wizard," Moody said, tone unreadable. "The same one who created the regeneration spell that restored my limbs. Blake Green."
The Aurors looked at each other, stunned.
"Don't touch him," Moody warned. "He's my benefactor."
"Understood!" the pockmarked Auror promised quickly.
Back at Hogwarts, Blake pushed the doors open.
"Bata!"
The bolt holding the great door in place snapped with a loud crack.
Blake stared at the broken piece on the ground, puzzled.
"Ah, Mr. Green," said Filch sheepishly, "I hadn't removed the door bolt yet. Was waiting for Hagrid to knock, like usual…"
Dumbledore stood beside Blake in silence.
Lupin looked like he was trying not to laugh.
The students in the Great Hall just... stared.
Finally, Dumbledore muttered, "Blake, perhaps work on controlling your strength?"
"Uh... yes, Professor."
Blake still didn't know what had come over him. Maybe his emotions had triggered another power surge?
Lupin gawked. The door bolt was as thick as a thigh—Blake had broken it with one push?
Dumbledore casually repaired the bolt with a Restoration Charm.
"Go sit down. You must be hungry."
"Thanks, Professor." Blake walked to the Hufflepuff table.
The moment he arrived, the entire Great Hall erupted into cheers and applause. Warm, loud, proud.
"Good job, Blake!" Fred called out. "I mean the door bolt! And the train, of course!"
"Merlin! Why didn't I think of snapping the door bolt?" George added.
Filch turned green. Glaring at the twins, he quickly pulled out a card with ancient runes and slapped it onto the bolt. It vanished into the metal, sealing the bolt with magic.
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