• Hogwarts, Headmaster's Laboratory •
• October 15th, 9:00 AM •
[Albus Dumbledore]
'I love magic,' I thought as I reviewed the theories, spells, rituals, and everything related to time magic now available in the Archive.
Every experiment, error, and mistake the Unspeakables ever made was being constantly updated, thanks to the absolute level of bullshit the Archive had reached ever since I mixed divinity with it.
The efficiency and effectiveness it now possessed in deciphering, extracting, translating, and converting magical information imprints into data were seriously busted.
"I am rather looking forward to how absurd this will become in the future," I muttered, smiling in anticipation.
Sure, it still needed a local point—a wizard to connect to it—but that didn't really matter to me anymore. I had finally gained unrestricted access to the information I wanted, without all the magical oaths and bureaucracy.
'I should really thank Tsunade more for her magic,' I mused.
What magic it was. The woman looked at the healing magic we had, said nope, I don't like it, and went the direct opposite way. Really, she would never have succeeded in creating this if not connected to my essence.
It went far beyond what the current level of magical knowledge and belief could hope to accomplish. If not for Gellert's and Flitwick's contributions, she would have failed—miserably at that, seeing how massively helpful their creations were.
I shook my head and returned to what I was doing: creating my own personal, optimized time magic—a hybrid between the Arc of Time from Fairy Tail and time magic from Black Clover. It was still a work in progress, of course, but I was making headway very quickly.
"Anime is a really great source of inspiration," I muttered as I pointed my hand toward the half-eaten apple on the table in front of me. A small golden-colored magical circle appeared before me, with a blank rainbow-colored center and various bizarre white symbols and writings surrounding it, filling the rest of the circle.
The circle glowed for a second, followed by the apple glowing a slightly muted green. I could see the bites returning to it, but soon it started to turn brown and shrink before combusting into smoke.
I stared at the results and couldn't help but sigh. The phrase 'wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff' came to mind. And it perfectly described the absolute ridiculousness I'd been facing since I started trying to unify and create an actual, active, ready-to-use branch of time magic.
I raised my right hand and inspected the circle, noting how the conversion and distribution of energy, as well as all translation runes and scriptural links, were as good as could be.
The magic circle should have worked. The spell should have, too. So what was the problem?
My Archive screen flickered with a subdued flash of light, drawing my attention away from my slowly rising frustration.
[How is this for optimization, huh? Am I great or what? 🎆]
— Tsunade Sanju
I stroked my chin as I observed the details of the magic circle picture Tsunade had sent me. It was not good enough—nowhere near the level of the one I sent her yesterday—but a lot better than her first one.
For starters, the center of the circle was now a better representation of herself. It still bore her name in stylish writing, but she had added the symbol of healing behind it as well as her clan sigil. She had replaced most of the inefficient runes with more coherent scriptural links…
[All in all, this is better than your first one. Not as good as the one I gave you, but it's a step in the right direction. Good job. 👍🏽👏🏽]
I sent her a reply and quickly left the chat.
'This will get her all indignant and trigger-happy for a while,' I thought, smiling brightly.
My plan for Tsunade was simple. The woman was spoiled, prideful, and quick to anger. So what better way to gain her attention and occupy her mind than by poking at her pride?
The fine line, though, was knowing how to deliver said pokes. I chose the persona of the kind, wise, just-trying-to-help old man.
Sure, I would need to change the approach depending on how things progressed, but as an approach for a more personal introduction? It was working just fine.
This was the woman whose new magic made the Unspeakables trip over their own heads, throw precaution to the wind, and fully synchronize with the Archive.
'Hehe, they thought it was time magic… the title "Restoration" was really on point, yet had nothing to do with time.'
Her magic simply used magic to make a living organism change back to its original state. It needed a template to work—already existing, complete information. So if one was born without legs? There was nothing to restore…
It was a completely different direction from the one Pomfrey was working on. At least Poppy's version was geared towards regeneration and growth…
I yawned and stretched as a wave of laziness washed over me, but I didn't relent. Not today.
'I need to figure out this problem before anything else.'
X_
• Hogwarts, Flying Class Lawn •
• October 15th, 9:00 AM •
[Albus Dumbledore's Clone N:1]
Being a clone was a strange experience. One of the strangest things I had ever experienced—and I had been inserted into a world of magic.
If I were to describe the feeling, I would sum it up in four words: lack of free will.
That was right. I had everything the main body had, even access to my essences and all, but I didn't feel anything about being a mere clone. I didn't feel anything about my life and death being decided by the mere thought of the main body, or experience any sort of existential crisis, for that matter.
I knew everything from the moment I was created: my job, my expiration date, and just the general purpose of my life. I could do other things during the allotted time—the theories of magic I posted on the Archive could attest to that.
I may have been just a clone, but I still got bored. Watching and training whiny teenagers and young adults was a very boring job. Yes, boring.
Like watching those idiots over there try to use their new magic to slow down the people behind them so they could win a bet…
"Aghhhh, I'm going to kill you, Weasley!!!"
"Up yours, Fred Weasley, you git!"
"Bleaugg!! That stinks… you bloody…"
"We'll get you for this, Fred!!"
"You too, George!!"
"We always welcome challenges!!" the still-ahead, seriously panting and flushed-red twins shouted back.
Here I was, watching over the idiots who had somehow gotten everyone in the third year—all four houses—to create a massive bet-like tournament where everyone just paid one Sickle and the top three got them.
This, of course, had led to people from other years betting on who they thought would win, etc…
And here I was, wondering if I should just cancel myself and let the real body deal with this headache.
"Messrs. Weasley!" I said, my voice traveling through magic to reach their ears as if I were behind them. They flinched and accelerated their running speed, but still turned their heads in my direction. "Less talking and more running…" I ordered, making them speed up even more.
I sighed, rubbing my temple between my eyes. I didn't enjoy being the supervisor over the exercises. At least not while they were still at the beginner stage.
I noticed the twins slowing down, wide grins on their faces, and eyes lit up as if they had just won the ultimate prize. Of course, I didn't let them enjoy their moment…
"Messrs. Weasley, you still have twenty more additional laps to run…" I announced, gaining the attention of the aforementioned twins as well as the rest of the student body running dejectedly behind them.
"But why? We just finished a ten-KM run…" they asked at the same time.
"That was your plan, too, until you decided you were knowledgeable and competent enough to create your own magic…"
"Huuuh??" Now everyone stopped in their place and stared at me.
"We thought that was a good thing?"
I stared at them with an unamused expression. "…Let me break down the idiocy of what you've done for you, all right?
1. The only reason you are not in the school infirmary right now for half-arsing the ritual and failing to complete the trial of self without any side effects is because you are inside Hogwarts and I shouldered the burden for you." I paused for dramatic effect and to let my point land properly.
I could see it: the widening eyes, slightly opened mouths as they comprehended what I was saying. All of them…
"2. The magic you created is not really a new magical invention—more like you translated the enchantments of stink bombs into a maker formula. Something, while ingenious, anyone in Hogwarts could have done without needing to waste a trial chance…"
"But we got more powerful!!" they interjected, trying to argue their point and defend themselves. Good for them—and I could see where they were coming from. They did get more powerful, but I had to crush this before what they did became a tradition and messed up my plans at large.
"Did you really?" I raised an eyebrow. "Or did you just get a feel for how to use and mold your already existing magic in a different way?"
They shut up. Their eyebrows rose and their faces took on an "oh!"-like expression. I could see the rest of the students look at one another with expressions of understanding too.
'Okay, this is good,' I thought, suppressing a grin that was fighting to show. 'Now the students have an Albus-level explanation that satisfies them and takes their minds off the reason why access to the ritual was cut off for them…'
"If you had tried to practice some of the new maker magicks like Fire Make, Water Make, or even Syrup Make, you would have noticed the same thing," I continued, trying to drive my point home.
"3. And the final point: you do not yet comprehend how much you messed up because of all the enchantments I am powering throughout Hogwarts to keep you all safe. So when I say you have twenty more additional laps, you say, 'Yes, sir, thank you, sir,' and start running. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir!!" Everyone shouted at the same time and started running—completely forgetting that I only meant the twins…
I smiled in satisfaction and contentment, observing their progress, a little less bored than before.
'Maybe training kids isn't that boring after all…'
X_
• St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, The Janus Thickey Ward •
• October 15th, 10:00 AM •
[Albus Dumbledore's Clone N:2]
"…Thank you again, Healer Smith. Your help has been invaluable," Theodore, the hospital's director, said as we walked through the corridors of Ward 49. "It means an absolutely great deal to have one of the very few healers who understand and use the new Restoration magic in these troubling times. We owe Professor Dumbledore a huge debt for referring such a promising young wizard to us…"
'Ugh, damn you, original,' I thought as I continued to smile, listening to the director of the hospital try to butter me up so I would stay and help longer.
This conversation had been repeated so many times, in a variety of different words, over the past two and a half days. He was not alone, either—his vice-director, as well as the different healing ward supervisors, had been trying to get me to stay beyond the agreed-upon period of five days.
Sure, their motivation was not pure or altruistic. They were trying to coast off my accomplishments and get me to explain Restoration magic—which I did, multiple times already—though most of what I said flew well over their heads.
Only younger trainees seemed to have the capacity to understand the principles behind Tsunade's Restoration magic. As for the old, set-in-their-ways wizards and witches? Not so much.
"…Hahaha, your words are appreciated, Director. Truly. It means a lot to hear such a compliment from a wizard with your knowledge and experience. But I'm afraid I still cannot stay longer than the agreed-upon period, as I have a magically binding contract for another five days in India, as well as other Southern Asian regions."
"A shame, truly. But one cannot break magical contracts without suffering horrible consequences," the man shook his head regretfully. "I do hope you will visit us after your business is done…."
And so the man still continued to chew my ear off.
'Damn you, original!' I cursed the main body again for putting me in this hell without giving me a chance to escape…
Nevertheless, I continued to do my job. Opening the door for my next patient—a thirty-three-year-old witch named Linda, a housewife who had tried to create a Clothes Maker magic without so much as trying to understand how to use the Archive for things other than lurking in public threads to gossip.
"I'm so sorry…"
"I will be better… I swear, I will do better…"
"No, not my magic…! Anything but that!"
As soon as I opened the door, I saw the woman in question lying on the bed, hugging her knees in a fetal position, and heard her mumble between sobs, chokes, and other incoherent murmurs.
"This is one of the more mild cases…" the director started running his mouth again, but I didn't pay him any mind.
I stretched my right hand out, summoning a green-colored magic circle with a Caduceus symbol in the center—the generalized circle for public use. The woman, Linda, began to calm down as I sneaked in a few blessings of fortitude and other motivational, study-boosting blessings under the guise of healing her.
Something I had been doing remotely and automatically through the Archive, after the temporary state of depression and instability the original had put them through was gone.
'I have never felt like I embodied the "for the greater good" motto more than these past few days,' I thought, slightly unsettled by how far the original was willing to go to make sure his various plans worked.
The madman had created a special blessing called the Blessing of Mental Trial and set it to be automatically applied to everyone who failed in making new magic.
It was designed to shock people into taking things seriously—to accelerate personal growth and development without wasting much time.
'Him and I are a lot more different than anticipated, huh,' I pondered, knowing full well that I, the current clone, would never have been able to set some of his more convoluted plans into motion.
Then again, it was to be expected. We clones have one dominant personality aspect, and mine was mercy.
'Sigh, fuck you, original,' I cursed the original one last time and turned around to continue doing my job.
X_
While Dumbledore and his various clones were busy across the world, something else was happening.
The fabric of space and time was growing increasingly unstable as two portals began to form—one in Rome, Italy, and another in Texas, USA.
They started as tiny, fly-sized fractures in mid-air. No one paid attention, or even noticed, until they began to grow larger. More robust. More noticeable.
After some time, they looked as though someone had taken a magic marker and drawn a jagged, purple-and-black crack in the middle of the air.
The phenomenon began to cause localized panic. Police and law enforcement were called, but other than setting up a perimeter and notifying higher authorities, they could do nothing.
It was only by midday, when the cracks finally reached two to three feet in length, that things escalated. The fractures began to emit energy—tangible, visible waves of green and blue, steam-like radiation.
That was when full-scale panic set in.
When magical authorities were alerted.
When the Archive started flashing red—and Dumbledore and all his clones stopped dead in their tracks, forgetting whatever they were doing, and in one synchronized moment, said:
"Fuck…."
X_
A/N: with this, I will be taking the next couple of days to give my P@treon a 4-5 chapters ahead, you know so that people have a slightly more motivation to join.
Anyway, with this I have officially introduced one of the main themes of the mergers. Portals. Solo leveling type portals.
Do write in the comments of you have something to add and/or can see how this will turn into a bigger clusterfuck than already is…