"Recently, the community of night creatures in London has shown unusual activity. Werewolves, vampires, and other beings have been more organized than usual. It's not their typical behavior."
"Are you saying Voldemort could be behind this?" asked Arthur Weasley, visibly alarmed.
"One of our members suspects the Dark Lord may have tried to contact them," replied Lupin. "If he manages to convince them to join his cause, we could be facing an even more dangerous army than we already imagined."
"We can't let that happen," declared Moody, slamming his metallic hand on the table.
"The Death Eaters are bad enough, but if they recruit werewolves and vampires, we could be in serious trouble."
"We know Greyback has been more active lately," Tonks added.
"If Voldemort has officially recruited him, he might be using him to lure more werewolves to his side. His influence among them is considerable."
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," said Lupin, frowning.
"If Greyback is involved, the situation is even more serious. He doesn't just turn werewolves—he indoctrinates them to hate wizards and the magical world as a whole. He could have convinced many that Voldemort is their only hope."
"And what about the vampires?" asked Kingsley.
"They don't usually get involved in conflicts, but if someone has managed to persuade them..."
"That's what I need to find out," replied Lupin.
"Their society is closed, and their motivations are often different from those of wizards and werewolves. But if someone has promised them power or protection, we could have an even bigger problem."
"Then it's crucial we find out what's going on," said Dumbledore calmly. "Remus, I trust you to investigate this situation. You have connections within the werewolf community, and if anyone can get answers, it's you."
Lupin nodded, his expression serious.
"I'll do what I can. But we have to act quickly. If Voldemort has already begun gaining influence among them, each passing day works in his favor."
"You won't be alone in this," said Moody.
"We can organize surveillance teams and patrols in suspected areas."
"We can also try reaching out to those within the community who haven't yet taken sides," added Kingsley.
"If we can persuade them before Voldemort does, we might prevent them from joining his cause."
"Then it's time to move," said Kingsley with determination.
"We can't afford any more delays."
The atmosphere in the room filled with a sense of urgency.
As the members of the Order of the Phoenix discussed their strategy, a threat greater than Voldemort was brewing in the shadows.
In a vast hall lit only by flickering torches, a masked man stood atop a platform. His dark robe fluttered slightly in the ethereal breeze that swept through the chamber, and on his back, an eclipse embroidered in golden thread shimmered faintly.
The crowd of night creatures watched in silence, waiting for his words.
To his left, a towering werewolf stood like a loyal sentinel.
Fenrir Greyback, his muscular body covered in scars, growled impatiently as he surveyed the mass of werewolves, vampires, and other shadowy creatures gathered in the great underground chamber.
To the masked man's right, a seductive vampire stood with predatory elegance.
Her skin was marble-white, and her crimson lips curled into a tempting smile. Though she looked no older than thirty, her golden eyes reflected centuries of cunning and power.
Without uttering a word, the masked man rose into the air with fluid grace, no visible spell required.
His voice rang out clearly as he began to speak, his presence growing even more imposing in the eyes of the creatures below.
"Children of the night," his voice echoed with a mix of authority and passion, magically amplified with every word. "For centuries, the magical world has condemned us to the shadows. They've cast us out, hunted us like soulless beasts. They fear us—but instead of recognizing our greatness, they banish us into darkness."
A murmur of anger rippled through the crowd. Fists clenched, claws scraped against the stone floor, and vampire fangs gleamed under the dim light.
The masked man smiled at their reaction and continued:
"But I promise you a new dawn. A future where we no longer need to hide. Where you may walk freely in the world without fear of being hunted by Aurors. We will no longer be outcasts... We will be conquerors."
A murmur of approval swept through the hall. Some nodded, others exchanged determined glances.
Anger and hope burned in their eyes, and soon, the clamor of the crowd grew into a unified chant:
"Twilight King! Twilight King!"
The masked man extended his arms with satisfaction before gently descending to the ground, his silhouette casting a long, menacing shadow.
Without saying another word, he turned and walked between Greyback and the vampire, who followed without hesitation.
With a simple gesture of his gloved hand, a circle of blue energy expanded beneath their feet, and in a flash of shadows, the three vanished into the gloom, leaving behind a hall full of creatures wrapped in fervor and hope.
---
Fenrir Greyback reappeared in a remote part of Romania. Without hurry, he began walking along a stone path, heading toward an unknown destination.
Meanwhile, the masked man and the vampire appeared in a luxurious room dominated by a large bed with velvet sheets.
No sooner had they arrived than the vampire approached him with a seductive smile and, with a swift motion, removed the mask from his face.
Beneath the mask was revealed a young man of about 25 years old. It was Noah.
However, his appearance had changed: his once healthy skin was now pale, and his emerald eyes had turned a deep amber, like those of a vampire. Even his apparent age had changed, making him look much older than he truly was. It was the effect of a potion he had recently developed, designed to give him the appearance, some physical traits, and aura of a vampire so he could pass as one.
The vampire stared at his face for a moment before throwing herself into his arms, and they began kissing passionately.
Quickly, they undressed and started a fierce battle on the bed.
Throughout the night, growls and moans of pleasure could be heard from the room.
Finally, as the sun rose, they calmed down and lay down to sleep.
Noah, with the beautiful vampire wrapping her arms around him, began to reflect.
This vampire, whose name was Selene, belonged to an influential vampire coven.
He had met her a month ago in the London underworld while putting his plans into motion and had approached her.
Although she had now become essentially his assistant and companion, their relationship was purely transactional, and there was no such thing as love between them.
He had approached her for her connections, and she clung to him for his power and influence.
In the end, their relationship was mutually beneficial.
---
Slowly, the days passed as Noah prepared for his plans.
Today was the day the Battle of the Department of Mysteries would take place.
Giving Selene a playful smack, Noah made her rise from his lap and got dressed in his cloak and mask, followed by the vampire.
---
At the Department of Mysteries
The elevator doors opened with a faint click, revealing a silent hallway lit by a bluish magical light.
The atmosphere felt different, as if the air was being held in place.
Harry glanced around as the others stepped out behind him.
"So... this is the famous Department of Mysteries," Ron commented, not lowering his voice.
"Yes," Harry replied, adjusting his wand.
"Sirius is here. I saw him."
They moved down the hallway until they reached a circular room with black walls and many identical doors aligned along the edge.
As soon as the one they used closed, the others began to rotate slowly, as if the room itself wanted to confuse them.
"Perfect," Hermione murmured.
"It's a protection mechanism. I can mark the doors so we don't repeat them."
"And if the place changes again?" asked Ginny.
"Then we improvise," said Neville.
They began opening doors one by one.
They found strange rooms: one with clocks floating in the air, another full of tanks with brains suspended in liquid, and a third where the floor looked like liquid but wasn't.
Finally, a door led them to a vast room with metal shelves stretching into the darkness.
Each shelf was packed with labeled glass spheres.
Harry walked among them, guided by memory.
"This one," he said, picking up a dusty sphere with his name on it.
The moment didn't last long.
A sound came from behind them.
Several hooded and masked wizards emerged from the shadows.
Lucius Malfoy stepped forward confidently.
"Well, Potter," he said. "Hand over the prophecy. No one needs to get hurt."
Harry didn't answer. He held the sphere tightly, ready to run or fight.
But just as the first duel seemed about to break out... something strange happened.
A sharp sound, like a contained buzz, cut through the room.
A figure appeared out of nowhere in the center, hooded and cloaked in black — not belonging to either side.
He wore a white mask etched with the pattern of an eclipse, matching the design engraved on his robe.
"Who's that?" one of the Death Eaters asked, lowering his wand slightly.
"Abyssal Gate."
A rift opened beneath everyone's feet.
In less than a second, all were dragged inside.
No one had time to react.
---
When they touched solid ground again, they were somewhere else.
It was a circular chamber made of ancient stone.
At the center stood a worn stone arch, covered by a veil that moved slowly despite the absence of wind.
No one spoke at first.
"The Death Chamber...?" Hermione murmured, looking around.
The portal behind them had already disappeared.
The hooded figure hadn't followed them.
"What was that?" Ron asked, getting up.
"No idea," Harry said, eyeing the Death Eaters, who were also regaining their footing.
Lucius Malfoy wasted no time recovering his composure.
"Doesn't matter where we are. The prophecy, Potter."
---
Back in the now-empty room, the hooded figure extended his hand and drew a circle in the air.
A complex symbol made of blue light appeared around the chamber.
In seconds, the shelves, the spheres, the floor, the ceiling... everything began compressing toward a single point at the center of the room.
Space folded in on itself like a sheet of paper.
What had once been the vast and mysterious Hall of Prophecies transformed into a small black cube, the size of a golf ball, floating in the air.
The figure calmly took it, pocketed it, and without looking back, vanished in a flash that quickly dissipated.