Strange Potter

The Hogwarts staff gathered in the large, candlelit meeting room, murmuring amongst themselves about the sudden arrival of two unexpected first years—Lyall and Pietro Lupin. While new students were nothing unusual, the fact that only months ago, the twins had been infants was a cause for concern.

Seated at the head of the table, Dumbledore observed with a calm yet keen gaze, his fingers steepled. To his right, McGonagall adjusted her spectacles, clearly waiting for an explanation. Across from her, Snape sneered in irritation, arms crossed as he glared at Remus.

Remus, sitting stiffly, knew this moment would come. He had faced difficult questions before, but none quite like this. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I know this is a bit… unusual, but I can assure you, my sons belong here just like any other students.”

Snape scoffed. “Unusual? That’s a pathetic understatement. I distinctly remember seeing those two babies at the end of last term. And now they waltz in as eleven-year-olds?” His dark eyes flickered with suspicion. “What foul magic are we dealing with here?”

McGonagall pursed her lips. “I do not suspect anything foul, Severus. But an explanation is necessary, Remus.”

Before Remus could answer, the door swung open, and Wanda stepped inside, her crimson cloak billowing slightly as she moved. The room quieted instantly at her presence.

“I can explain,” she said, her voice carrying both authority and reassurance.

The tension in the room shifted as most of the staff—particularly those present for the Basilisk’s defeat—recognized the powerful witch standing before them. She had earned her Order of Merlin for her actions at Hogwarts, and her reputation alone demanded attention.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled faintly. “Wanda, how lovely to see you again.”

Wanda nodded in acknowledgment, but her focus was on the topic at hand. “Yes, my sons have aged rapidly,” she admitted, looking directly at McGonagall and Dumbledore. “It happened in response to a threat against me. Their magic forced them to grow in order to protect me. It wasn’t something I could control.”

McGonagall blinked in surprise. “Their own magic did this?”

Wanda nodded. “Yes. And while they may have aged physically, they’re still adjusting mentally. That’s why I’ll be staying at Hogwarts, not just to assist my husband but to ensure my boys adapt safely.”

Snape scowled. “And we’re expected to simply accept this? Their magic is clearly unpredictable—”

“Which is why I’m here,” Wanda cut in smoothly. Her red eyes flickered slightly, her presence alone enough to make most of the room uneasy. “Their abilities are contained. I made sure of it. For now, they are just two normal first years, learning magic like everyone else.”

There was silence before Flitwick let out a small chuckle. “Well, I daresay Hogwarts has seen stranger things. If the boys are here to learn, that’s good enough for me.”

Sprout nodded as well. “As long as they’re safe and happy, I don’t see a problem.”

Dumbledore gave a thoughtful hum before smiling warmly. “Very well. Thank you for your honesty, Wanda. I look forward to seeing your sons grow—at a hopefully more normal pace.”

Remus let out a small breath of relief, while Wanda merely gave a knowing smirk.

Normal? With her boys? That was wishful thinking.

As Snape sat through the explanation, his expression remained unreadable, but his mind seethed with quiet irritation.

Just perfect. Absolutely perfect.

First, Potter—the spitting image of his father, right down to the unbearable arrogance, was already a thorn in his side. Now, Black had his brat running around as well, and if that wasn’t enough, Lupin’s offspring had somehow defied nature itself to show up at Hogwarts years ahead of schedule.

All three of them. Three brats from the three fools who made my school years hell.

Snape’s grip on his arms tightened. He had spent years ensuring Hogwarts remained a place of discipline and order, only for it to be turned into a breeding ground for the next generation of Marauder spawn.

Potter, of course, was already following in his father’s footsteps—not nearly as clever, but just as reckless. Black’s son, while younger, would no doubt pick up his father’s idiocy in due time. And now Lupin’s twins had arrived—two magical anomalies, unpredictable and dangerous, carrying Maximoff’s unnatural influence as well.

And, of course, Dumbledore just accepted it all with his usual infuriating patience.

Snape barely heard the rest of the discussion. His mind was already calculating. If history had any sense of justice, these brats would end up ruining their own lives without any interference from me.

But he wasn’t going to leave it up to fate. No, he would be watching very closely.

At Potter Manor, the warm glow of the sitting room’s fireplace flickered across the walls, but the atmosphere was far from relaxed. Natasha sat on the couch, arms crossed, while Sirius leaned against the mantel, watching Harry closely. Regulus, perched on the armrest beside Natasha, kicking his legs as he listened.

Near the doorway, Winky stood nervously, wringing her hands, looking small and uncertain.

"So," Sirius finally broke the silence, his voice calm but firm. "You brought home a house-elf."

Harry met his gaze without hesitation. "Yeah. I couldn’t just leave her, Sirius. Crouch tossed her aside like she was nothing."

Regulus frowned. "That’s awful. He treated her like garbage."

Sirius smirked slightly. "Look at you, sounding all proper."

Regulus rolled his eyes. "I just think it’s messed up, Dad."

Before Sirius could respond, a soft pop echoed through the room, and Kreacher appeared beside Regulus. The old house-elf squinted at Winky before shifting his gaze to Sirius.

"Kreacher sees another lost elf," he muttered. "Crouches were never good masters."

"Agreed," Sirius said. "But the real question is, Harry—do you understand what this means?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I know house-elves are bound to the family they serve, but I didn’t force her. I gave her the choice. And she chose to be here."

Winky sniffled, her large eyes glistening. "Harry Potter is a great wizard! Winky chooses to serve him!"

Kreacher tilted his head, observing her closely.

Natasha sighed and leaned forward. "We’re not angry, Harry. We just want you to understand what you’re taking on. Winky isn’t just living here—she’s part of this family now. That’s a big responsibility."

"I know," Harry said firmly. "I told her she won’t be treated like a servant. She’s family now."

Winky gasped softly before dropping to her knees, trembling. "Winky will be the best elf for young Master Harry and his family!"

Kreacher, watching the exchange, gave a slow, approving nod.

Regulus grinned. "Well, no turning back now. You’ve got yourself an elf."

Sirius groaned. "Yeah, yeah, just… can we not do the whole ‘Master’ thing? Feels weird."

Kreacher smirked at him. "Master Sirius will never escape the title. Kreacher is too old to change now."

Regulus chuckled. "Face it, Dad. You’re stuck with it."

Natasha stood up and walked over to Winky, kneeling to meet her gaze. "If you’re staying here, you’re not going to talk about yourself like you’re worthless. You’re part of this family now, Winky. You don’t have to prove anything to us."

Winky let out a choked sob before throwing herself forward, clinging to Natasha’s legs. "Mistress Natasha is kind! Winky will serve young Master Harry and his family forever!"

Natasha patted her head, then glanced at Harry with a smirk. "Well, looks like she’s all in."

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Welcome home, Winky."

With a soft pop, Kreacher vanished, but not before giving Winky a small nod of approval. Regulus, clearly entertained, leaned back against his mother.

"Can’t wait to see what mischief two house-elves in the family will cause," he muttered.

Sirius groaned. "Merlin help us all."

As the group gathered on the platform, the usual bustling excitement of students rushing to board the Hogwarts Express was cut through by the serious undertones of the conversations happening around them. Harry stood between Sirius and Natasha, his gaze shifting between his friends and family, still processing everything that had happened over the past few months. In the midst of it all, Strange stood nearby, his posture rigid, deep in thought.

Hermione and her parents listened eager to hear what Strange had to say.

The train was set to depart soon, but before anyone could board, Strange gathered everyone’s attention. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried across the platform, commanding those present to focus.

“We need to address something before the students leave for Hogwarts,” Strange began, his voice laced with authority. “As you all know, Peter Pettigrew has escaped from Azkaban, and his disappearance is tied to the broader issue of the rising threat from the Death Eaters. We can’t let our guard down, not for a moment.”

Sirius stiffened at the mention of Peter’s name. He clenched his fists, but his expression was a mask of restraint. Natasha stood beside him, a protective hand on his shoulder. “We know, Stephen,” she said quietly, though her tone betrayed a hard edge. “We’re doing everything we can, but it’s clear Peter has his sights on something—he’s more than just a threat now. The Death Eaters are rallying around him.”

Strange nodded solemnly. “I’ve already been tracking movements, but I can’t be everywhere. That’s why we need to work together, and especially with Hogwarts being a key focal point, we need to ensure everyone’s safety.”

Wanda, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. “The twins and I will stay close, Remus and I will keep an eye on things at the school, but we’ll need all of you to be vigilant.”

Pietro, hearing his name, bounced excitedly. “Does this mean we get to help out too?” he asked, practically vibrating with energy. "We’ve been training, we can handle it!"

Wanda’s smile was small, but there was a firm edge to her words as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You and Lyall will stay under the radar. We can’t risk making a scene, Pietro. We’ve been through enough.”

Lyall, standing slightly apart from the group, nodded but didn’t speak. He was more composed than his twin, and his eyes were focused, calculating. He looked up at his parents. “We’ll stay out of trouble,” he said in his calm manner, though his eyes flickered with the same determination.

Strange continued. “We’ll have the Aurors on alert, and I’ll be coordinating with Amelia for additional support. But this isn’t just about security—it’s about preparing for what might come.”

Regulus was standing with his wand in hand, looking up at Strange. “What do we do if they come for us?” he asked, a note of worry creeping into his voice despite his usual bravado.

Sirius put a hand on Regulus’ shoulder. “No one’s coming for you,” he assured his son. “But if they do, we’ll be ready.”

Strange nodded. “That’s right, but we can’t be complacent. Peter’s escape changes everything. We know he’s involved in something darker, something that could bring Voldemort back. We can’t let that happen.”

Wanda’s gaze darkened as she turned to face the group. “We’ve all seen what’s possible when Voldemort comes back. We can’t let him have that chance again.”

 Harry felt the weight of the words, knowing all too well the man who had killed his parents and who still threatened to return. He clenched his fists, his thoughts briefly drifting to the Darkhold and the blackened state of his fingers.

“I’ll take point on the magical defenses at the school,” Strange continued, his voice regaining its authority. “The wards will be stronger than ever before. We need to make sure Peter doesn’t get his hands on anything—or anyone—important. And we can’t rule out that he may be working with others.”

Remus, standing near Wanda, placed a hand on his Lyalls shoulder. “We’ll make sure the kids are safe,” he said firmly. “We’ve been through worse.”

“That’s true,” Natasha added, her eyes sweeping over Regulus. “But this is different. We need to be proactive. I know you all have your hands full, but we can’t leave any gaps in our defenses.”

Strange sighed and gave a nod. “We’ll keep each other informed. You all need to stay focused, but don’t hesitate to reach out if something seems off. I’ll be in contact with Dumbledore and the rest of the Ministry.”

Regulus, looking between his parents, felt a pang of unease but tried to mask it with confidence. “What about Hogwarts itself? Will the students be safe?”

Wanda crouched down beside him, her tone softer. “We’re taking every precaution, Regulus. The school will be more protected than ever, and your uncle Remus and I will be right there.”

"And you got your big brother." Sirius smiled.

Harry watched all this unfold. It was strange, this mix of tension and reassurance. The stakes were higher than they had ever been, and yet, seeing his family united in this way gave him strength. They might not have all the answers yet, but they were ready to face whatever came their way.

“We’ll be okay,” Harry finally spoke, his voice steady. “We’ve got each other.”

Strange gave him a long, appraising look before nodding in agreement. “That’s right, Harry. Together, we’re unstoppable.”

With that, the parents and their children turned their attention back to the train, ready to board. The weight of the upcoming year hung heavily over them, but with their family together and their resolve firm, they knew they were ready for anything.

"You sure you're going to be okay?" Richard asked Hermione.

"I'll be fine. I promise. With Wanda there it should be a lot safer." She hugged him.

"Call every night." Jean said. "Understood?"

"Yes ma'am." Hermione hugged her too.

The Hogwarts Express rumbled steadily along the tracks, the gentle sway of the train and the distant chatter of students filling the air. Inside one of the compartments, Harry and Regulus sat across from each other, the younger boy idly swinging his legs while examining his new wand. Hermione had taken her spot right next to Harry, maybe leaning in a little more than necessary.

"Think we'll see any dragons?" Regulus asked, twirling the wand between his fingers. "I mean, it's a tournament. There has to be something exciting, right?"

Harry leaned back against the cushioned seat, arms crossed. "If it's anything like what I've heard, it's going to be dangerous. I don't even know how they're making it safe enough to be in a school."

Regulus scoffed. "Right. Because Hogwarts is so safe. Remind me—how many times have you nearly died here?"

Harry shot him a flat look. "Not the point."

"No, he's got a good point." Hermione agreed.

"Not helping Mione."

"Don't call me that!"

Before Regulus could reply, a tiny, furry head peeked out from his pocket. Motto, now a sugar glider thanks to Harry’s magic, blinked his large eyes before clambering up to sit on Regulus' shoulder. His long, fluffy tail curled around his neck like a scarf.

"Still mad at me?" Harry asked, smirking slightly at the unimpressed look the small creature shot him.

Regulus snorted. "He hates being this small. But it was the only way Mum and Dad would let me bring him."

The compartment door slid open, and Luna Lovegood poked her head inside. Her wide blue eyes immediately landed on Motto, and she let out a delighted gasp. "Oh, he looks wonderful like that. The perfect size for traveling. He must be very happy."

Motto gave her a slow blink, then shuffled a little closer to Regulus.

"Yeah, thrilled," Regulus deadpanned, but Luna simply beamed and stepped fully into the compartment, taking the empty seat beside Pietro, who had been zoning out, staring at the scenery.

Luna reached out a gentle hand, and Motto, after a moment of consideration, allowed her to scratch his tiny head.

"You’re very lucky," she told Regulus. "Not everyone gets to bring a magical creature to school. Most people wouldn’t be able to change one into something allowed either." She turned her dreamy gaze to Harry. "That was very kind of you."

Harry shrugged. "It was either that or leave him behind. And we both know how well that would’ve gone."

Regulus grinned. "Yeah, I’d probably have woken up with him biting my ear every morning as payback."

"Be happy he's even able to come." Hermione looked up from her book. "We all know what he really is."

The train continued rolling toward Hogwarts, and for a moment, the weight of the tournament, Peter's escape, and everything else waiting for them at school faded into the background. Right now, it was just the Hogwarts Express, a sugar glider with an attitude, and the promise of another year full of mystery, magic, and whatever chaos awaited them next.

The Hogwarts Express screeched to a halt, steam billowing around the platform as students bustled to grab their trunks and make their way toward the carriages. Among them, Regulus Black stood with a mischievous grin, eyes locked onto the Weasley twins as they joked with their fellow Gryffindors.

Harry, adjusting his bag over his shoulder, noticed the look and sighed. “Reg, what are you up to?”

Regulus smirked. “Just a little something to remind the so-called ‘Prank Kings’ who really has Marauder blood.”

Before Harry could stop him, Regulus flicked his wand subtly, muttering under his breath. A moment later, both Weasley twins suddenly vanished—or at least, that’s how it appeared. Their clothes, shoes, and even their hats remained exactly where they stood, held up as if by invisible bodies.

Gasps and laughs erupted around them as Fred and George flailed, completely unseen beneath their robes.

"Oi! What the—?"

"Blimey, I'm naked!"

Students burst into laughter, some stumbling in surprise. Even the first-years gawked at the bizarre sight.

"Relax," Regulus called, grinning. "You're not naked. Just invisible. Thought I'd see if the great Weasley twins could handle being on the receiving end of a prank for once!"

Fred and George—though unseen—exchanged a glance, and in perfect synchronization, they threw off their robes and ran at Regulus.

"YOU LITTLE MARAUDER SPAWN!"

Regulus yelped and bolted, laughing as the invisible twins chased after him through the crowd. Students stepped aside in amusement as the chaos unfolded, and even the teachers near the entrance shook their heads.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, but he couldn’t hide his smirk. "This is going to be a long year."

Beside him, Neville chuckled. "He’s got guts, I’ll give him that."

"Yes he's definitely your brother." Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

Nearby, Pietro laughed so hard he was wheezing. "Oh, this is so much better than I imagined! He actually did it!"

Wanda, standing with Remus near the entrance, merely sighed as she him sprinting from the invisible mayhem. "Sirius is going to be so proud."

Remus, however, rubbed his temple. "I’m not telling him about this."

"Regulus will tell him before the end of the day."

"I know."

As Regulus dodged a swing from one of the unseen twins, he shouted back, “Lesson one, Weasleys! Never challenge a Black! Especially not one raised by Sirius Black!"

Laughter and cheers followed them up the path to the castle, and it was clear—Hogwarts had just gained another legendary troublemaker.

The air in the dimly lit chamber was thick with tension. Two men sat bound in enchanted chains, their expressions wavering between defiance and unease. Garrick Mulciber and Evan Rosier Jr. were among the few Death Eaters who had managed to evade Strange’s wrath when Voldemort fell the first time. Most of their former comrades were either buried or rotting in Azkaban. Their survival was a fragile thing, and they knew it.

Doctor Stephen Strange stood across from them, his piercing gaze unwavering. His Cloak of Levitation rested still upon his shoulders, an unspoken warning of his power. He wasn’t here to play games.

“I’ll make this easy for you,” Strange said, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. “You tell me what I want to know, and I make sure you don’t spend the rest of your lives wishing you were among the dead.”

Mulciber sneered, forcing a smirk. “You’re wasting your breath, sorcerer. We’re not afraid of you.”

Strange raised a brow. “You should be.”

He lifted his hand, weaving a spell so seamlessly that the shift in reality was almost imperceptible—until it wasn’t. The walls of the room melted away, dissolving into an abyss of swirling darkness. The Death Eaters gasped as the sensation of solid ground beneath them wavered. The temperature plummeted, their breath now visible in the unnatural cold.

Rosier stiffened, his bravado faltering. “W-what is this?”

“A place outside time,” Strange said casually. “A void where I can keep you trapped, where every second feels like a lifetime. Where you’ll never know if Voldemort has returned… or if you’ve simply been forgotten.”

Mulciber clenched his fists, fighting the tremor in his hands. “You’re bluffing.”

Strange flicked his wrist. Shadows twisted around them, morphing into nightmarish visions—memories of pain, betrayal, failure. The Dark Lord’s disappointed gaze. The searing pain of punishment. The faces of those who had been left behind.

Rosier let out a shuddering breath. His lips pressed into a thin line, sweat beading at his brow.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the void was gone. The stone walls of the interrogation room snapped back into place, the torches flickering as though nothing had happened. The two Death Eaters shivered, the sensation of the abyss still clinging to them.

Strange stepped closer, his voice quiet, but all-consuming. “Who gave the order to attack the World Cup?”

Mulciber hesitated, then scoffed. “You already know.”

Strange’s eyes narrowed. “Say it.”

Rosier’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “He’s coming back.”

The words sent a ripple of cold through the room, but Strange didn’t flinch. “Voldemort,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.

Neither Death Eater spoke, but the flicker of fear in their eyes was answer enough.

Strange studied them a moment longer before nodding. “And Peter Pettigrew?”

Rosier’s face twitched, but Mulciber turned away, stubborn in his silence.

“That’s what I thought,” Strange muttered.

He turned toward the door, already forming the next steps in his mind.

“What happens to us now?” Rosier asked, voice lower than before.

Strange paused at the threshold, looking back. “You go exactly where you belong.” He flicked his fingers, and the chains binding them tightened.

The heavy door swung open, revealing a pair of Aurors waiting outside. Amelia Bones stood at the head of them, arms crossed, waiting for the verdict.

“They’re all yours,” Strange said simply. “Azkaban will have two more guests tonight.”

As the prisoners were dragged from their seats, Mulciber’s defiance cracked just enough for Strange to catch the glimmer of fear in his eyes.

It wasn’t much.

But it was a start.

The Great Hall was alive with excited chatter as students settled at their house tables, whispering about the upcoming year. The enchanted ceiling reflected the night sky, and floating candles bathed the room in warm light. At the staff table, Remus and Wanda sat together, their eyes fixed on their twin sons, Lyall and Pietro, who stood alongside the first-years.

Nearby, Regulus, stood with his arms crossed, looking more confident than the rest of the nervous first-years. Lyall was fidgeting slightly, clearly feeling the pressure, while Pietro was practically vibrating with energy, talking a mile a minute.

“I don’t know why we have to wait so long—shouldn’t the smart ones get sorted first? I mean, what if I’m so good that they have to invent a new house just for me? Like—Lupinclaw! No, that’s dumb. Maximoff Manor? Wait, do we get house pets? If Ravenclaw has an owl, does Gryffindor get a lion cub? That would be cool—"

“Will he ever stop talking?” Ron mumbled to Harry at the Gryffindor table.

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head with a small smirk.

"That's not comforting." Hermione sighed.

"That's my godson." Harry shrugged. 

"Well get used to it eventually." Hermione decided. "He's got a lot of energy for sure."

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, parchment in hand. “When I call your name, you will come forward and place the Sorting Hat on your head.”

The first few names were sorted quickly, and then—

“Black, Regulus.”

Regulus strode up confidently, grabbing the hat and dropping onto the stool. As soon as it was placed on his head, the hat hummed.

"Ah, another Black! But not like the others… Raised by Sirius, I see. You have ambition, but you value bravery just as much. You seek to prove yourself, to step out of your brothers shadow… cunning, yes, but loyalty even stronger. Where to put you?"

Regulus didn’t hesitate. "I know where I belong."

The hat chuckled. "Yes… I see it now. Better be—"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers as Regulus sauntered over. The Weasley twins whooped, and Harry clapped him on the shoulder as he sat down beside him. Hermione gave him a smile.

“Lupin, Lyall.”

Lyall swallowed hard and stepped forward. The moment the hat touched his head, it made a thoughtful noise.

"A strong heart… kind, patient, but determined. You want to protect others, to be strong for those who need you. A healer’s touch and a warrior’s spirit. Yes… I know where you belong. Better be—"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hufflepuff table cheered, and Lyall let out a breath before grinning and heading over. Susan Bones scooted over to make room for him, offering a kind smile.

Pietro cupped his hands around his mouth. “You got yellow, Lyall! I’ll send you letters when I’m winning at everything!”

Lyall rolled his eyes but grinned.

“Lupin, Pietro.”

Pietro practically sprinted to the stool, yanked the hat onto his head, and started talking before it even had a chance to speak.

"Oh, Merlin’s beard," the hat groaned. "You’re a fast one."

"Right?! So listen, I figure you’ve got this whole Sorting thing down to a science, yeah? But just saying, I think Gryffindor would be cool—Regulus is there, and Harry, and Uncle Sirius was there, and Dad was super smart but brave too, but maybe Ravenclaw? Because I’m super fast, and I bet my brain works fast too. Do you get headaches? Because I would if I were you. Also, do you even have eyes? How do you see anything?—"

"Enough! Merlin, you’re exhausting," the hat sighed. "You seek knowledge, not just for power, but because you crave answers. You want to learn everything, and you have the mind to do it. There’s only one place for you."

"RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table burst into cheers as Pietro tore off the hat, grinning wildly. He shot a look at Lyall and Regulus. “Guess you’ll have to send me letters when I win at everything.”

He jogged over to the Ravenclaw table, plopping down beside a dreamy-eyed girl with blonde hair. Luna Lovegood smiled at him. “You talk a lot,” she observed.

Pietro grinned. “Yeah, and you have rad earrings.”

Luna’s smile widened. “Thank you.”

At the staff table, Wanda and Remus exchanged a glance. Their boys had found their places.

"Good thing I didn't bet on Regulus going to any other house." Remus grinned.

"Sirius would have lost it." Wanda grinned.

"Only if his son ended up wearing green."

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as students filled the long tables, eager for the start-of-term announcements. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the darkening sky outside, flickering candlelight casting warm glows across the expectant faces. At the center of it all, Dumbledore stood, arms outstretched, waiting for silence.

Slowly, the chatter faded, and every eye turned toward the Headmaster.

"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying easily through the hall. "It brings me great joy to see both familiar and new faces among us."

His gaze briefly flickered toward the three most anticipated first-years—Regulus Black, Lyall Lupin, and Pietro Lupin—before he continued.

"Before we begin our feast, there are a few important announcements that must be made."

A murmur of anticipation spread through the students.

"First, I am pleased to announce that Professor Remus Lupin will be continuing as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Lupin's lessons last year were invaluable, and I trust you will continue to show him the same dedication and respect."

Cheers erupted, particularly among the older students who had experienced Remus’ teaching firsthand. Remus gave a polite nod from his seat at the staff table, his expression composed but watchful.

Dumbledore allowed the applause to settle before his expression turned more serious.

"Secondly, due to recent unfortunate events—including the escape of the criminal Peter Pettigrew and the attack at the Quidditch World Cup—the Ministry has deemed it necessary to strengthen security within Hogwarts."

The Hall fell into an uneasy hush. Even the youngest students understood how serious that was.

"As such, Wanda Maximoff Lupin has been assigned as Head of Security for the school," Dumbledore announced. "She will be stationed here throughout the year, working alongside Professor Lupin to ensure the safety of all students."

This time, the whispers that broke out weren’t confused—they were awed. The new years couldn't hold back their excitement.

"Wanda Maximoff? The Wanda Maximoff?"

"The Avenger?"

"She killed the Basilisk!"

"She got an Order of Merlin for it!"

Dumbledore raised a hand, and the murmuring stopped. His expression was calm, but those who knew him well could see the slight tightness in his posture.

"Mrs. Lupin’s presence is a precaution," he said smoothly. "I trust you will treat her with the same courtesy and respect as any other member of staff."

At the staff table, Wanda sat poised, her sharp eyes scanning the students with quiet intensity. She wasn’t a stranger to their stares—she had felt them when she stood in the Chamber of Secrets, the Basilisk’s lifeless body at her feet, Harry Potter beside her.

Next to her, Remus remained composed, though his eyes flickered between Wanda and Dumbledore briefly before he turned his attention back to the students.

Dumbledore inhaled before moving on.  “This year, however, will be unlike any other. As many of you are aware, Hogwarts has the great honor of hosting the Triwizard Tournament, a competition that brings together the brightest and bravest from three great wizarding schools.”

A murmur of excitement spread through the hall, students exchanging eager whispers. The foreign guests, seated among the Hogwarts students, listened with expressions ranging from quiet confidence to open curiosity.

“To ensure fairness, only students who have reached the age of seventeen may submit their names,” Dumbledore continued, glancing at the younger students who had been hoping for a loophole. “The Goblet of Fire will serve as the impartial judge, selecting one champion from each school to compete in a series of difficult and dangerous tasks. These tasks will test their intelligence, courage, and magical ability in ways unlike any they have faced before.”

His sharp blue eyes swept over the students, emphasizing the gravity of his words. “Those who wish to enter must submit their names to the Goblet of Fire before the deadline. Once chosen, there is no turning back. The selection is binding.”

The hall was silent now, students hanging on his every word.

“However,” Dumbledore said, his expression lightening slightly, “for those who do not wish to compete, fear not. Hogwarts will not be without its usual joys. Quidditch, for instance, will still be played this year.”

A wave of cheers erupted from the students, especially among the Quidditch teams.

“There is, of course, a condition,” he added, raising a hand to quiet them. “Any student who enters their name in the Goblet and is chosen as champion will be unable to participate in the season. The tournament requires full commitment, and balancing both would be impossible.”

The Quidditch players exchanged glances, some torn between the thrill of competition and their love for the game.

“With that said, I encourage you all to consider your choices carefully,” Dumbledore concluded. “Enjoy the feast, and let this year be one of camaraderie and growth.”

With a wave of his hand, the golden plates filled with food, and the excited conversations resumed, filled with speculation, anticipation, and the endless possibilities the tournament promised.

Food appeared on the tables in a grand display, and the students quickly forgot their concerns in favor of the delicious meal before them.

But at the staff table, while Dumbledore resumed his usual serene expression, Wanda’s gaze lingered on Harry for a moment before she turned her attention back to her plate.

This year was going to be very interesting.

The Great Hall buzzed with energy as students whispered and chatted about the upcoming tournament. Among them, Colin Creevey and his younger brother, Dennis, had their eyes locked on Regulus, Lyall, and Pietro as if they were the most fascinating discoveries of the century.

Colin practically vibrated with excitement. "I still can't believe it! Your mum is Black Widow! And your mum is the Scarlet Witch!" he gushed, his camera clutched tightly in his hands. "That is so wicked! Do you have powers?"

Dennis, just as wide-eyed, looked between the twins. "Do you guys fight bad guys with them?"

Regulus, always one to enjoy a bit of mischief, smirked. "Oh, I do plenty of fighting, but mostly against the Weasley twins in a prank war at the moment."

Pietro, already speaking at lightning speed, grinned. "Technically, we’re still getting used to being at Hogwarts, but yeah, mum’s Wanda, which means we kinda have magic in our blood too! But, y’know, wizard magic is different, and we’re still figuring all that out, and Lyall—"

Lyall shot his brother a look, shaking his head before turning to Dennis, his nose twitching slightly as he picked up the scent of excitement radiating from the younger boy. "No bad guys yet," he admitted. "But Mum and Dad told you to keep our abilities quiet. And she’s literally here, so if we tried anything, she'd know."

Colin grinned as he snapped a photo. "That is so cool! Do you think you’ll ever be Avengers?"

Regulus rolled his eyes but smirked. "Please, I already have enough on my plate with Hogwarts. But I wouldn’t say no to a cool suit."

Pietro immediately jumped in. "Ooooh! Can you imagine? Matching family costumes! Red and black for Mum, green for Dad—wait, no, he’s a werewolf, or he use to be, so maybe silver?—and then something fast-looking for me!"

Lyall huffed. "If we were going to be Avengers, I’d want a codename that sounds cool."

Regulus chuckled. "I’ve already got one."

Colin and Dennis looked at him eagerly. "What is it?" Dennis asked.

Regulus gave them a smug grin. "Marauder Jr."

Colin nearly fell over in excitement while Dennis let out an awed, "Whoa!"

Pietro laughed, nudging Lyall. "See? We’ve got built-in fans already."

Lyall sighed, but even he couldn't hide the small, pleased grin on his face.

Dobby stood in the middle of the grand study, his large green eyes darting around the room, taking in the shifting staircases, floating candles, and books that seemed to whisper among themselves. He clutched his mismatched socks, both nervous and excited to be standing before two great wizards.

Doctor Strange sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled in thought, while Wong stood nearby, arms crossed, observing the house-elf with a skeptical expression.

“Dobby,” Strange greeted, his tone measured. “Thank you for coming.”

Dobby straightened, ears twitching. “Oh, yes, sir! Dobby always comes when called. And Mister Strange is a great wizard, sir! And Mister Wong, too! Very powerful!”

Wong sighed. “Let’s skip the flattery. We need information.”

Strange nodded. “We’re looking for the Room of Requirement. Have you heard of it?”

Dobby perked up immediately. “Oh! The Room of Hidden Things, sir?”

Strange tilted his head. “That’s what you call it?”

Dobby nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes! It is a room that changes to fit the needs of the one looking for it! Many students and professors use it to hide things they do not wish found.”

Strange and Wong exchanged glances.

“If Voldemort left something in Hogwarts,” Wong said, “this would be the perfect place for it.”

Dobby’s excitement faded, his ears drooping slightly. “Dobby does not like the Dark Lord, no sir! Dobby will not let his darkness touch Hogwarts if Dobby can help it!”

Strange leaned forward. “Then help me find this room. If there’s something dangerous hidden there, we need to recover it before someone else does.”

Dobby hesitated, wringing his hands. “The room does not always give up its secrets easily, sir.”

Wong huffed. “Neither do we.”

Strange smirked, nodding. “Then let’s see if Hogwarts is ready for us.”

Dobby straightened, determination shining in his large eyes. “Dobby will take you, sir! We will find what the Dark Lord tried to hide!”

Wong sighed, already anticipating the chaos. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

Strange’s cloak fluttered as he stood. “Then let’s wake it up.”

The decrepit manor stood silent under the cloak of night, its once-grand architecture now a skeleton of decay. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of mildew and neglect. In a dimly lit parlor, Lord Voldemort sat in a dilapidated chair, his gaunt form shrouded in darkness. His crimson eyes, though set in a weakened visage, burned with an insatiable hunger for power.

At his feet, Nagini coiled, her scales glistening in the faint candlelight. Peter Pettigrew hovered nearby, his demeanor a blend of fear and sycophancy, while Barty Crouch Jr. stood with a posture of unwavering devotion.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing three cloaked figures. At the forefront was Theodore Nott Sr., his face etched with the weariness of years spent in exile. Flanking him were Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood, their expressions a mix of apprehension and determination.

The trio approached cautiously, then dropped to one knee before their master.

"My Lord," Nott began, his voice tinged with both reverence and fatigue. "We have sought you tirelessly."

Voldemort's gaze fixed upon them, his fingers drumming methodically on the armrest. "Have you?" His voice, though soft, carried an edge sharper than any blade. "And what has kept you from me all these years?"

Nott lowered his head further. "After your fall, I fled Britain to evade capture. I have lived in exile, always seeking a way to return and serve you once more."

The other interjected, his tone respectful. "My Lord, the world has changed in your absence. An outsider, a sorcerer named Stephen Strange, has risen against us. He has dismantled our networks, purged the Ministry of our influence, and hunts us relentlessly. Many of our brethren are imprisoned or in hiding."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "One man has achieved this?"

Rookwood nodded. "Yes, my Lord. His magic is... different, formidable. The Ministry, though wary of him, has allowed his actions due to his effectiveness against us."

A tense silence settled over the room, broken only by the crackling of the dying fire.

"And yet," Voldemort mused, "you have returned to me."

Nott raised his gaze slightly. "We are but a few, my Lord, but our loyalty has never wavered. We await your command."

Voldemort's lips curled into a semblance of a smile. "Loyalty is a precious commodity. This... Strange may have scattered us, but with my return, we shall gather anew. However, our immediate concern is Potter. His blood is the key to my resurrection."

Crouch Jr. stepped forward, eagerness evident in his eyes. "The Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts presents an opportunity. We can ensure Potter is delivered to you."

Voldemort considered this, his gaze distant. "Yes... a plan begins to form. Once I have regained my full strength, we will deal with this sorcerer and any who dare oppose us."

He leaned forward, his voice a venomous whisper. "Prepare yourselves. The world believes it is rid of me, but they will soon tremble once more at the mention of my name."

The assembled Death Eaters bowed deeply, the weight of their master's words resonating within them. The Dark Lord's resurgence was imminent, and with it, a new reign of terror.

Barty Crouch Jr. knelt before him, eyes alight with feverish devotion. “Master, the Triwizard Tournament presents the perfect opportunity. We need Potter’s blood, and the boy will have no choice but to compete if his name is chosen. If I take my father’s place at Hogwarts, I can ensure he reaches the final task—where we can take him.”

Voldemort’s red eyes gleamed with approval. “An intriguing idea, but how will you accomplish this? Your father is a man of discipline and precision. You may mimic his mannerisms, but Dumbledore is not easily deceived.”

Crouch smirked. “Polyjuice. I spent years observing him—I can play the part. I know his speech, his routines, his control over the Department. I can manage the tournament just as he would.” His grin faltered slightly. “However, there is a problem. Strange.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes narrowed.

Crouch continued, voice tinged with unease. “He has ways to detect the Dark Mark. I don’t know how, but he purged nearly all of our ranks in the Ministry last time. If I step into my father’s role, he may uncover me before we’re ready.”

Voldemort considered this, fingers gliding over the arm of his chair. Strange was a thorn, one he had yet to fully account for. The sorcerer had undone his past work, destroyed his networks, and weakened his grip on Britain. He could not afford to let him interfere further.

“The Mark must be removed,” Voldemort murmured.

Crouch’s breath hitched. “Is that possible, my Lord?”

The Dark Lord’s gaze was cold and calculating. “It will not be easy, and the process will not be painless. But I will not allow Strange to interfere with my plans any longer. If you are to succeed, you must be beyond his reach.”

Crouch clenched his fists, determination overriding any hesitation. “I will endure whatever is necessary, my Lord.”

Voldemort’s thin lips curled into a cruel smile. “Then let us begin.”