Chapter 80
Chapter : Ripples of Power
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Alex McKinnon-Black’s POV
The aftermath of the dementor incident still rippled through the school like a haunting chill. As I walked through the hallways of Hogwarts, conversations buzzed with the aftermath of what everyone had witnessed during the last Quidditch match—Harry, nearly thrown from his broom as dementors swooped in, only for a burst of blinding light to drive them away. Harry’s mysterious “device” had everyone speculating wildly. And with no signs of dementors returning, students seemed to swing between awe and suspicion over what happened.
In the meantime, my inventions were gathering attention too—more than I’d anticipated. Even in the magic-drenched world of Hogwarts, my Pensieve projector had stirred up quite the frenzy. It was one thing to see memories in Dumbledore’s old-fashioned Pensieve, but now, pureblood children were watching muggle films, thanks to projections brought from my other world. Hogwarts had turned into a strange, magical multiplex, screening everything from “Star Wars” to “Back to the Future.” And with that came reactions I hadn’t expected.
Some of the Slytherins, especially the traditionalists, found the movies confusing, even uncomfortable. They were quick to criticize, claiming that muggle media was frivolous or, worse, brainwashing. But others were enthralled. The clash between positive reactions and cynicism was stirring in Slytherin—a subtle debate unfolding in their common room every night.
Meanwhile, purebloods like Daphne and Draco had been trying to decipher what “The Force” might mean, and why Harry Potter, who’d been raised in the muggle world, found these ideas so fascinating. That was the fun of it, in a way—giving people a glimpse into something so unexpected that they couldn’t simply dismiss it.
Today, I had a break from it all. In the quiet moments after Charms, I was finally able to get some research done. The Ravenclaw notes were proving invaluable, but my current experiment focused on something more than just amplifying light or magic. I wanted to create something closer to the original Pensieve—able to store not just memory, but perhaps the very essence of magic, drawn from the positive emotions of people’s Patronuses.
So far, I’d had success with quartz crystals, which seemed to amplify stored light magic. But I wasn’t quite ready to unveil anything yet. And then there was Harry—he seemed more burdened than usual, clearly grappling with the presence of dementors and the whispers of Voldemort in his dreams. I knew I had to talk to him, but before I could, Hermione approached me.
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Hermione’s POV
I found Alex studying in the library, surrounded by stacks of books. His focus was unwavering, which was something I’d come to admire. But as he caught sight of me, he set aside his notes and gave me a small smile.
“Deep in your research as always, Alex?” I asked, settling across from him.
“Some things never change,” he replied, tucking his quill away.
We began discussing the projector again—though this time, I wasn’t looking for a tutorial. I was trying to understand the philosophy behind it. “I was just thinking,” I started, choosing my words carefully, “about your invention. The way it lets us experience memories and stories… do you think it might lead to other people sharing their experiences?”
He looked at me thoughtfully, then nodded. “That's the hope, Hermione. Stories shape us. They influence how we see the world, and, if we’re not careful, they can distort our view too.”
That piqued my curiosity, and I couldn’t resist pressing further. “Distort how?”
“Well,” he began, “think about it. History books can tell you facts, but they don’t always tell you the truth. It’s important to read from every perspective because the victors often write the books. That’s true in the magical world, too.” His eyes darkened a bit, and I could tell he’d given this a lot of thought. “Think about colonization—the British would say they uplifted the world. But if you ask those who lived under them? Genocide. Slavery. Control.”
The shock of it hit me hard. “I never thought about it that way,” I said quietly.
“That's why critical thinking matters,” he continued. “Take what you’re given with a grain of salt, and always question the context. Knowledge isn’t just about facts—it’s about understanding the people who created them.”
I left our conversation feeling as though a curtain had been pulled back on how I saw the world. If even books could carry biases, then every fact I held close might be tainted. My mind was spinning with new questions, and I knew I’d need to talk to Harry and Daphne about it.
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Harry’s POV
Waking up in the hospital wing again wasn’t exactly a surprise. The near-death experiences were starting to feel routine. Madam Pomfrey tutted over me as I propped myself up on my pillows, the familiar ache of my body reminding me of just how close I’d come.
And then there was Sirius, standing over me with a scowl that was half-amused, half-terrifying.
“I swear, Harry, you must have a death wish.” His tone was light, but the way his eyes narrowed told me he was serious. “If you don’t stop putting yourself in danger, I’ll ground you—even if I have to do it from here.”
The grin that broke out on my face probably didn’t help. “You’re going to ground me from Hogwarts? Good luck with that.”
He shook his head, though a smirk crept onto his face. Marlene, standing beside him, shot him a look that seemed to say, “You’d better not even try.”
After a bit of teasing, Sirius’s tone softened, and he ruffled my hair, something he hadn’t done in a long time. “Just be careful, alright? We don’t need another close call.”
Dumbledore stopped by later, his usual riddles as inscrutable as ever. But before I could piece together what he was hinting at, Alex and my friends came bustling in, their faces a mix of relief and concern.
“You gave us all a scare, Harry,” Hermione scolded, her arms folded sternly. But there was warmth behind her words, the relief clear in her eyes.
The conversations with my friends made the exhaustion worth it. The laughter, the support, it all reminded me that I wasn’t alone in any of this. Daphne and Hermione gave me an earful for taking such a risk, but I could see the worry beneath their scolding. And even though I still felt the weight of Voldemort, the warmth of their friendship kept me grounded.
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Daily Prophet and Quibbler Articles
The Daily Prophet splashed a headline across its front page: “Dementors Loose at Hogwarts—A Threat to Student Safety?” The article was filled with criticisms of Dumbledore’s leadership, barely stopping short of calling for his resignation.
Meanwhile, The Quibbler took a slightly different approach. Its headline read: “Dementors Defeated by Mysterious Light—Has Hogwarts Found a New Hero?” It was almost comical in its dramatics, complete with theories about “ancient soul-repelling charms” and some wild guesses about the device I’d used.
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Alex’s POV
Just as I’d hoped, the distractions were working. Dumbledore was keeping his attention firmly on Hogwarts and the students rather than on me. But as he’d called me to his office, I had another distraction prepared.
Fawkes perched regally on his stand as I entered, the soft trills of the phoenix filling the room with warmth. But even Fawkes’s song couldn’t disguise the intense scrutiny of Dumbledore’s gaze.
"Ah, Alex,” he greeted, his usual warmth laced with something sharper. “I wanted to speak with you about... a certain artifact.”
I raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Oh?”
“The Philosopher’s Stone,” he continued, his voice quiet yet firm. “And your knowledge of it.”
A flash of alarm coursed through me, but I kept my expression calm, tightening my mental barriers as I sensed him attempting Legilimency. “Well,” I said slowly, “I’ve always admired Nicholas Flamel’s work. I thought perhaps… I might even like to meet him one day.”
Dumbledore’s gaze softened slightly. “Flamel is... an acquaintance, and he’s shown interest in meeting you as well.”
Then, as if reading my thoughts, I carefully pulled the Resurrection Stone from my pocket and held it out to him. “I found this in the Black family manor,” I said, watching his reaction. “I don’t think it’s something anyone should have—too dangerous.”
The surprise in his eyes was genuine, and for a moment, the room was filled with a strange silence. He took the stone carefully, handling it as if it were an old, fragile memory.
We exchanged a few more words, his demeanor softening as he talked of Flamel and alchemy. Eventually, he let me leave. But I knew he’d be watching me even more closely now.
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Dumbledore’s POV
As Alex left, I examined the stone in my hands. His gift had been unexpected, and I wondered if it was some calculated play in a larger game. But as I turned the stone over, the temptation grew. And so, as night fell over Hogwarts, I summoned her once again—my sweet Ariana.
Her forgiveness was both a balm and a curse, a pull I knew I couldn’t yield to… not yet.
The world still needed protecting. Tom’s shadow had