July 1992, Court of Owls Headquarters, Diagon Alley
The peace inside Filius Umbra's office at the pinnacle of the Court of Owls tower was an achievement, not a coincidence. It was the silence after the storm, the calm center of a web of influence and power that stretched across the entire wizarding world. At 22 years old, Filius watched the bustling Diagon Alley below through an enchanted glass wall. The past few months had been intense, consuming his time with projects and expansions that demanded his personal attention, pulling him away from Hogwarts. His absence wasn't from disinterest, but from duties he couldn't delegate.
A soft knock, followed by the sound of the doorknob turning, announced the only person who entered without waiting for an "enter."
Natasha Romanoff walked in, a leather folder under her arm. Her professional dress, as always, did little to contain the aura of danger and grace she emanated. Her red hair fell over one shoulder, and her green eyes settled on him with a familiarity that went far beyond the professional.
"Albus is in the main hall," she said, her voice a soft contralto he never tired of hearing. "He seems determined to recruit you for another year of glorious teaching."
Filius laughed, a genuine, carefree sound. He extended his hand, and she crossed the room to hand him the folder, her hand resting on his for a second longer than necessary.
"Let the old warrior try. He enjoys the drama of persuasion." His eyes met hers. "And what about our dinner reservation?"
"Already done. The Acolyte's Nook, 8 PM." Her lips curved slightly. "I think we can survive one night without discussing security reports."
He smiled, appreciating the quiet intimacy they shared. "Excellent."
Moments later, Albus Dumbledore entered, his velvet robes an explosion of colour against the sober decor in shades of charcoal and silver.
"Filius, my dear boy! This tower grows more impressive with every visit. Sometimes I feel I'm stepping into the brain of a sleeping dragon – all this contained power ready to be awakened."
"Albus! Always a pleasure," Filius retorted, a broad smile on his face as he rose to greet him. "Sit. Tea? Firewhisky, to cut the formality?"
"That depends on whether the proposal I'm about to make will make you want to drink one or the other," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
The conversation that followed was light and casual. Filius spoke of the challenges of managing complex projects, joking that he was busier than a Gringotts goblin during tax season. Dumbledore, in turn, shared hilarious gossip about Slughorn's attempt to recruit a prodigy in alchemy.
"Speaking of Hogwarts," Dumbledore said eventually, his tone softening a little. "I need you to return to the classroom, Filius. Dueling and Magical Battle. The students need your... unique perspective. Ada is formidable, but she would admit herself that she's two steps behind you when it comes to teaching the art of battle."
Filius inclined his head. "And the Potter boy? I heard rumours about trouble last year..."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly. "Did Lily mention something?"
"She complained all summer," Filius said, a smile playing on his lips. "Furious about that business with Professor Quirrell being possessed, those dangerous challenges that almost cost Harry his life... She even asked, jokingly - or not so jokingly - for me to 'give that old meddling bee a thrashing' for allowing eleven-year-olds to face such danger."
Dumbledore let out a resigned laugh, colouring slightly. "Yes, that sounds exactly like Lily. A firecracker, that woman. She has every right to be furious. That's precisely why your presence would be so valuable - to prevent... similar situations from repeating themselves."
The conversation flowed to other members of the Court. Dumbledore mentioned Grindelwald's progress in educational reforms - the former Dark Lord, freed from Nurmengard by an unbreakable magical contract that channeled his strategic genius toward improving the wizarding world, instead of dominating it. It was a project they both found deeply satisfying, albeit ironic.
When Dumbledore departed, Filius watched from the window as the tall figure disappeared into the crowd. As he crossed the Court's main hall, Dumbledore allowed himself a rare moment of unguarded reflection. A wave of gratitude washed over him. The existence of Filius and the Court of Owls had changed everything. It was no longer just him, the sole architect behind the scenes, bearing the burden of predicting and manipulating every event alone. There was a structure now. Brilliant minds, allies, sharing the weight. For the first time in decades, Albus Dumbledore felt that he could, perhaps, simply be the Headmaster. The grandfather to all those students. In that moment, he could think of Harry Potter not just as a pawn in a cosmic game, but as a boy who needed guidance. And that thought was an immeasurable relief.
Alone, Filius's mind turned to the organization he had built. The Court of Owls had started as a study club in Ravenclaw, a group of sharp minds he had gathered while skipping school years and graduating in record time. But under his leadership and using the immense prestige of House Umbra, it had evolved into something far greater. It was now the most influential magical organization in the world, a global network of thinkers, innovators, and strategists working behind the scenes to shape the future of magic. It had members in every ministerial department, in every major educational institution, in every corner of the magical world. They didn't rule directly, but their influence permeated every aspect of wizarding society, from education to research, from politics to the economy. It was his greatest legacy - a way to channel power for progress, not domination.
His thoughts then turned to the most peculiar phenomenon of his existence: the memories.
They didn't come as a flood, but like tides controlled by some cosmic mechanism he didn't yet fully understand. The first and most overwhelming unlock had happened on November 1st, 1981, the morning after Voldemort's fall. He had awoken with the fragmented consciousness of a past life as a fan of a book series called Harry Potter. Along with this consciousness came all the events of the first book, The Philosopher's Stone, crystalline in his mind. He remembered reading it perfectly - Quirrell, the unicorn, the Mirror, and Lily's sacrifice that protected Harry.
Now, in this summer of 1992, a new wave of memories had consolidated. This time, they were the vivid memories of having read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. He knew perfectly what would happen: the house-elf Dobby, Tom Riddle's diary possessing Ginny Weasley, the Chamber of Secrets being opened, the basilisk, the Sword of Gryffindor - every detail of the book was clear in his mind, as if he had just reread it. It was perfect knowledge of the events about to unfold. And once again, the memories cut off after that point. The subsequent books remained a complete mystery.
These literary memories, even though from a fictional story in his past life, had always guided him. It was they that, subconsciously before 1981, had fueled his obsession with magic and his impulse to create the Court. It was this latent knowledge that had led him to interfere and save Lily Evans years ago, forever altering the Potter family's destiny. Now, he had the second act of the drama perfectly mapped in his mind.
The office door opened. Natasha entered, having changed her professional shoes for something more comfortable.
"Ready to go?" she asked, picking up his cloak.
He turned, his heart warming at the sight of her there. "More than ready," he replied, encircling her waist. "Let's go. Dinner, good wine, and no talk of possessed professors or dangerous challenges."
"I promise," she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment.
As they left, Filius felt a pang of anticipation. He was looking forward to the start of term. He wouldn't just be a teacher, but the Master of Magical Battle, the Lord of House Umbra, and a man with perfect knowledge of what was to come. The coming year promised to be interesting, and he was ready to play his part with all the cards on the table.