THE BIRTH OF SOMETHING GREATER
CHAPTER 35: THE BIRTH OF SOMETHING GREATER
The atmosphere shifted as the focus of the room turned toward the next group of individuals, each one seasoned in their respective fields but having been unfairly cast aside for reasons beyond their control. I could sense their weariness, but also a glimmer of hope as they now stood before me. I wasn’t just offering them another chance—I was offering them something that could restore the value of their skills and talents.
"Mr. James Whitcomb," I began, glancing at the 63-year-old man, his bald head reflecting the dim light as his pale brown eyes met mine. His thin frame and the faint wrinkles that marked his face spoke of years spent in the shadows, yet there was an undeniable strength behind his gaze. "You’ll be one of the leads at the FIRM center. Your experience, especially within my aunt’s department, is invaluable. You'll help bring structure to the center as we establish it."
I saw a small flicker of recognition in his eyes. He might have been on the receiving end of the political games that had marred his career, but I could tell he was grateful for the opportunity to prove himself again.
"Ms. Sherry Holmes," I continued, shifting my attention to the woman in front of me. She was 49, with dark brown eyes behind a pair of librarian glasses and her shoulder-length black hair streaked with early signs of gray. Her figure had a certain presence to it—an intimidating, yet dignified, grace. Despite the light humor in my voice, I couldn't ignore the sudden realization of how she carried herself. "You’ll have a key role in establishing the magical transportation protocols at the FIRM center. Your knowledge in magical transport is exactly what we need to ensure everything runs smoothly."
She gave a small, approving nod, though I could see she still had some reservations. The years she’d spent watching her colleagues climb the ranks while she was held back would leave anyone with a cynical view. But she wasn’t one to hold grudges forever. I could sense she appreciated being seen for her true value.
Finally, I turned to the eldest member of the group: Mr. Anthony Wall. At 66 years old, he looked every bit the part of a wizard steeped in decades of history, his gray beard and hair framing his face like a well-worn tapestry. His robes were as old as his experience, but they held a quiet dignity. His very presence reminded me of a wizard like Ben Kenobi, but with more of a free-spirited, hippie-like attitude that made him uniquely charming in his own way.
"Mr. Wall," I said, offering him a respectful nod. "You’ll oversee the regulatory aspects of the FIRM center, ensuring that we comply with magical creatures' laws and their specific needs. Your background in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures will be instrumental. Later, as we expand, you’ll shift toward management and public outreach."
Anthony Wall gave me a knowing smile, as though he’d been waiting for this opportunity his whole career. Perhaps he didn’t care for the rigid bureaucracy, but he was a wizard of great wisdom, and I knew he would bring that same knowledge and calm presence to the center.
"I wish for you three to be in charge of the FIRM center as it opens in the Alley," I continued. "You’ll initially be in charge of everything, but when we expand and bring in more people, you’ll shift to management and the promotion of the center. My goal is to introduce new programs and magical products by the end of the year, so you’ll have full responsibility for developing the foundation."
The trio exchanged glances, nodding in agreement. It wasn’t just a task they were taking on; it was a new beginning. A chance to break free from the stagnation they’d been subjected to.
"We’ll make it happen," James Whitcomb said, his voice steady and determined. Sherry Holmes gave a firm nod, her expression softened but resolute. Anthony Wall, ever the calm one, simply smiled with a quiet affirmation.
The room settled into a hushed silence as everyone absorbed the assignments and responsibilities laid out before them. It was a lot to take in, but there was a palpable sense of determination in the air. Each of them now had a purpose and a path forward—a path that I had carefully crafted, knowing full well their potential to contribute to the success of the projects ahead.
I could feel the weight of the moment as I turned my attention to the final two individuals. Ms. Catherine Forrest and Jimmy Kent were an interesting pair—each of them with their own unique skills and backgrounds, ready to take on the tasks I’d outlined for them.
"Ms. Forrest," I began, locking eyes with the 55-year-old woman whose platinum blonde hair and clear blue eyes gave her a certain striking appearance, one that for a moment reminded me of Draco’s mother. Her demeanor was calm and composed, yet beneath that, I sensed the kind of quiet authority that made her stand out. "I would like you to oversee the logistics for the farms. You’ve dealt with many different kinds of people in your previous role at the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and your ability to coordinate and get things done is exactly what’s needed for this venture. The farm business will experience the most immediate growth in terms of human resources, so you’ll need to assist Madam Chambers in managing the development. You’ll receive all the necessary details regarding the properties and their current state shortly."
She gave a respectful nod, her expression thoughtful but resolute. Ms. Forrest’s expertise would be invaluable as we moved forward with the farming operations. I could tell that she was ready for the challenge.
"Now, Mr. Kent," I turned my attention to the 33-year-old man standing at the edge of the group. He looked a bit out of place compared to the others—his distinctive Weasley red hair and green eyes set him apart immediately. He had a bit of a chip on his shoulder, though I could see the fire in his eyes, the drive to prove himself. "You’ll be in charge of managing the Breaking Grounds Apothecary. The apothecary will need considerable equipment and machinery, and if I know Mr. Mathews and his ideas like I think I do, it will require a lot of resources to bring to life. Additionally, you’ll be handling the finances so that our future potions master can focus on his craft. It’s a big task, but I trust you’ll handle it well."
His eyes lit up at the mention of the apothecary, the excitement clearly evident. He gave a sharp nod, and I could see his mind already turning over the logistics of the task. Despite his apparent youth, Jimmy Kent was clearly eager to prove himself.
"Now!" I called out to the group, breaking the tension and ensuring everyone was on the same page. "If everyone understands the roles I’ve assigned, Mr. Cross!"
A moment later, my team entered the room with a stack of documents for everyone. The papers were official, detailing the work contracts, pay, conditions, and the specific places each person would be working in. It was the next step in solidifying these positions.
"Each of these will be your work contracts," I explained, holding up a few of the papers for emphasis. "These contracts will outline your pay and the conditions of the jobs you’ll be undertaking, as well as detailed information about the places you’ll be working in. Ms. Summers will have a slightly different contract, as she’ll be considered sponsored by us to improve the image of Muggle-borns through excellence. Mr. Gunn will have his own contract as well if he agrees to the terms later."
I could see the confusion in his eyes, and I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. Oliver was a man who had seen the worst of the wizarding world, and his sharp instincts had kept him alive through a hellish war. The idea of creating a private protection business, essentially a mercenary force, was something that would surely set off alarm bells for him. I needed to be careful with my words.
"No, not a mercenary force in the traditional sense," I said carefully, choosing my words with precision. "What I’m proposing is something far more structured, more controlled. A private security company with a strong focus on protecting the innocent and maintaining order, where we can operate outside the constraints of the Ministry’s corruption and incompetence. You’ve seen how they’ve failed over the years. I’ve seen it too. The Aurors are spread too thin, the Ministry has no real backbone, and the Death Eaters are still out there. I want to provide a solution, something proactive, but with the right oversight."
Oliver raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but still skeptical. "And you think you can keep it from becoming just another band of mercenaries for hire? How do you ensure this stays on the right side of the line?"
"I don’t want it to become something dark or out of control," I said, my voice firm. "I want this business to be a force for good, built on the ideals we fought for during the war. We can’t rely on the Ministry to protect us, but we can provide a solid alternative—a private force that can be hired for high-profile security jobs, protecting both people and magical properties. There will be strict rules and accountability. We will offer not just physical protection, but magical expertise—spells and defensive strategies that even the Ministry might not have access to. A specialized service, that’s what I’m going for."
He nodded slowly, processing the idea. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. He had been through a lot, but he was still someone who had that warrior mentality—someone who understood the importance of being prepared and standing firm against the darkness.
"Alright," Oliver finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. "I’m intrigued, but I need to understand more. What’s the catch? There’s got to be one."
"There’s always a catch," I replied with a slight grin. "The catch is this: I need someone who knows how to lead a group like this. Someone with your experience and expertise. You’ll be the one who sets the standards, who trains the recruits, and who ensures this doesn’t become something it shouldn’t. I trust you, Oliver, but I also need to make sure this stays true to what we stand for."
He sat back in his chair, his expression a mix of contemplation and calculation. "And what exactly do you stand for, Mr. Folster?" he asked, his steel-blue eyes locking onto mine.
"I stand for the idea that the wizarding world doesn’t have to be a place of fear and uncertainty," I said, my voice steady. "I stand for the belief that we can do better than what we’ve been given. We have the power to protect what’s worth saving, and we don’t have to wait around for others to do it for us. But to make that happen, we need to take matters into our own hands."
There was a long silence as he thought it over. Finally, he spoke again, his voice more measured.
"Alright. I’ll help you, Mr. Folster. But I want clear boundaries, clear rules, and a strong sense of purpose. If I’m going to lead this, I need to know that it’s for the right reasons, and that we won’t lose ourselves in the process."
"I wouldn’t expect anything less from you," I said, offering him a nod of respect. "You’ve already been through the worst, and you know what happens when people lose sight of their goals. We’ll set up clear guidelines, build this the right way from the ground up, and ensure that it stays focused on protecting the innocent and keeping the world safe."
Oliver gave me a curt nod, his expression serious but not without a hint of approval. "Let’s get to work, then."
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Oliver stared at the pages of the book for a long moment, his brow furrowed as he absorbed the implications of what I was saying. The shock in his eyes was palpable, but beneath that, I could see the spark of recognition—the same spark I’d seen in many who had once fought against the darkness. The truth I had just revealed to him was a heavy one, and I could tell it was weighing on him. But Oliver Gunn wasn’t a man to back down in the face of danger.
"You're telling me that not only was Voldemort a madman who made the most dangerous form of dark magic possible," Oliver said, slowly lowering the book, his voice steadying. "But that he had the foresight to make sure he’d never truly die, leaving a piece of himself to anchor him to the world even after his body was destroyed?" His voice had a hard edge to it now, the warrior in him starting to emerge once again.
"That’s exactly what I’m saying," I replied, locking eyes with him. "The magic he used is ancient, powerful, and twisted. It’s beyond what most wizards could ever hope to understand. But the thing is, the people who know about this... they’ve kept it a secret. They’ve kept it hidden, and the Ministry has no interest in looking into it. Why? Because they can’t—because it’s too dangerous, too much for them to handle. But I’m not going to sit back and wait for it to happen again. We need to be ready, Oliver."
He didn’t speak for a while, clearly deep in thought. I knew that this revelation wasn’t something that would sit well with him. After everything he had been through—after losing his family to Voldemort, after the battle he’d fought on behalf of the wizarding world—it wasn’t easy to hear that the threat hadn’t truly ended. But it was the truth, and in this world, the truth was a heavy burden to carry.
"I’ll help you, Mr. Folster," Oliver said after a moment, his voice hard and determined. "But I need to know everything. I need to know how he did it, where the pieces of his soul are hidden, and most importantly, how we can stop him before he gets the chance to return." He looked up from the book, his steel-blue eyes unwavering. "You’ve got a war on your hands, and I don’t care who or what stands in our way. We’ll stop him—this time, for good."
I nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle into my chest. Oliver Gunn was more than just a warrior—he was a man with a purpose, a man who had seen the worst and was still willing to fight for what was right. If anyone could help me prepare for what was coming, it was him.
"We’ll need to be careful," I said, leaning in slightly. "The Ministry will never approve of this, and there are those out there who will try to stop us before we even get started. But with the right people, with the right resources, we can build something that will be ready for when the Dark Lord returns. It’s not just about power. It’s about strategy. About being ahead of the game."
Oliver gave a sharp nod, his jaw clenched in determination. "Then let’s get to work. We’ll need everything we can get—information, resources, recruits. And I’ll need to start training those who’ll be joining us. If this is really happening, we won’t just be fighting Dark magic. We’ll be fighting everything that comes with it."
I knew that he understood now—the gravity of what we were preparing for. It wasn’t just a new business venture. It was the beginning of a war. And in that war, there would be no room for mistakes.
"Agreed," I said, my voice resolute. "We’re building something much bigger than a security company, Oliver. We’re building a force that will change everything."
As the final words hung in the air, I could feel the weight of the responsibility settling firmly on my shoulders. But I was resolute. This was no longer just a matter of business; it was a mission that could reshape the future of the wizarding world. With Oliver Gunn at the helm and the twelve others now in place, the groundwork was set. The secret facility would soon begin training the next generation of defenders, people who would be ready when Voldemort—or whatever darkness rose again—made its move.
"Good," I said, giving a nod of finality. "Now, we move forward. Everything will fall into place as we go. You’ll have everything you need, but it's up to us to make it work." I looked at Oliver, seeing the same fierce determination that had carried him through the war.
"I won’t let you down," he said, his tone unwavering.
I gave him a small smile, a sense of confidence blooming within me. This was just the beginning. There were many obstacles ahead—political, personal, and magical—but with this team, I knew we had a fighting chance. We weren’t just going to survive the coming storm; we were going to be the ones to fight it head-on.
With everything set in motion, I turned back to Scott and the others, feeling the weight of the moment. The foundation of something new had been laid. This wasn’t just about making money or building a business. This was about securing the future—and if Voldemort truly was out there, waiting to rise again, we would be ready for him.
And as we moved forward into the unknown, one thing was clear: we were in this together.
The weeks that followed were a blur of planning, meetings, and setting things in motion. The team I had assembled was far from perfect, but they each brought something crucial to the table. As we worked to build the infrastructure for what would become our mercenary force, there were constant challenges—both external and internal.
The secrecy was key, and every decision had to be made with precision. Oliver Gunn took charge of recruitment and training, drawing from the best candidates he could find—people who had the skills but also the grit to stand up to the darkness that was undoubtedly on its way. His no-nonsense approach worked well, and soon enough, we had a solid core of individuals who were eager to prove themselves.
Scott handled the business side of things, using his connections to ensure everything remained under the radar. We couldn’t afford any leaks—not with the Ministry and its many spies everywhere. I stayed on the periphery, overseeing operations, ensuring the money kept flowing and that everything stayed on course.
One of the most delicate tasks was maintaining our cover. We weren’t a mercenary group, we were simply a “high-end security firm”—the perfect front to shield us from unwanted attention. But everyone involved knew the truth. And with each passing day, the looming threat of Voldemort’s return grew heavier. Every conversation seemed to circle back to the same question: What if we were too late?
As we moved deeper into our preparations, I began to notice something I hadn’t expected—more and more people were coming forward with their own stories, their own reasons for wanting to be part of this. The war had left scars, both physical and mental, and those scars were starting to surface in unexpected ways. Some came from families who had lost loved ones, others from individuals who had narrowly escaped the wrath of Death Eaters. All of them had something to prove, a reason to fight. And I realized something: This wasn’t just about stopping a dark wizard. This was about rebuilding the spirit of the wizarding world—showing that even in the darkest times, there were people willing to stand up and fight back.
Then, one evening, a breakthrough came.
Scott came to me with a lead—a potential ally who had been hiding in the shadows for years. Someone who had knowledge about Horcruxes and dark magic that even the Ministry had never uncovered. It was a dangerous gamble, but I knew that if we were going to defeat Voldemort once and for all, we needed every advantage we could get. The risk of drawing attention to ourselves was great, but the potential reward could be even greater.
"Are we sure about this?" I asked Scott, eyeing the map he had handed me.
He met my gaze steadily. "There’s no turning back now."
I knew he was right. We were already in too deep. And so, with a nod, I gave the order. We would make contact, and we would do whatever it took to secure the information we needed.
The next few weeks were a test—both for our team and for our resolve. We were playing a dangerous game, one that could expose us to every threat imaginable. But it was a game we had to play if we had any hope of defeating Voldemort when the time came.
And with every passing day, it became more and more clear: the future of the wizarding world rested in our hands.
That night, as I sat in my office, staring out at the dark sky, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change. Something big. The pieces were falling into place, but I couldn’t help but wonder if we were ready for the storm that was about to break.
But one thing was certain—I wasn’t about to let Voldemort win again. Not if I had anything to say about it.