Dumblemdore Family: Wizarding Witch World

During the war, a meeting took place at the state of Dumbledore. The subject of discussion? Marriage and the prestigious Autarch Predigma family. After reviewing the impressive reports about this young master, the Predigma family wasted no time. The young mistress, Angela Predigma, an Official Mage rank 1 at the age of 13, could not help but feel exasperated. She truly did not want her fate decided this way. After several dinners and discussions, Albus Dumbledore's mother, Fernanda, glanced briefly at the young girl before speaking.

"Although we've talked about this matter, and I respect the wishes of the little ones," she said with a brief look toward Angela, "we will make this simple."

With a flick of her wrist, Fernanda activated a magical video call tablet, which projected onto a large screen for everyone in the room to see. At that moment, Alvo was, as one might say, in the midst of combat. He was using his hands to control waves of earth, each more than 40 meters long, trapping elves in their wake. Then, a wave of compressed ice pierced through his enemies with deadly force, making him appear as a true god of destruction.

Alvo paused his actions, standing atop a platform, and called out to his companion, Henry, "Cover me, Henry."

He then noticed the tablet and waved enthusiastically. "Hi, Mum! What's up? Why the call?"

Fernanda had a fleeting thought about the ill-timed nature of the call, given the background—a sea of dead elves instead of a peaceful forest. Her brow furrowed as she turned her gaze toward Adrian. He simply shrugged, indicating his indifference to the situation. Fernanda sighed and spoke again.

"Little Adrian, the Predigma family is here to make a betrothal request. If you look here, you'll see the young mistress of their family, an Official Mage rank 1, named Angela Predigma. These are her parents."

Alvo's response was anything but respectful. "Hello, everyone," he said casually, before adding, "Mum, let's get to the point. I'm in the middle of a mission."

Fernanda, understanding her son's directness, quickly adjusted. "Do you wish to enter a betrothal with this young lady?"

Alvo looked at the screen, eyes fixed on Angela. "Angela, right?"

Angela nodded, her expression cold.

"Do you want to be part of this betrothal?" Alvo asked, his tone blunt.

The question caught Angela off guard. She glanced nervously at her parents, her face serious as she tried to process the situation. Before she could even begin to formulate a response, Alvo cut her off.

"Come on, Angela, answer," he urged.

In her anxiety, Angela blurted out, "I don't want to!"

Alvo grinned. "Well, that settles it, Mum. I'm not interested. If you could, try to find me a witch who's at my level of talent for the next betrothal."

With that, he ended the video call.

The room fell into silence. Angela, who had thought herself the center of attention just moments before, now found herself the object of pity, as everyone's eyes turned toward her. Even Helena looked at her with sympathy. Adrian stood and spoke calmly.

"Then it's settled. Please, leave," he said, motioning toward the door as he made his way out of the room.

Fernanda could only look at the couple with an apologetic expression, her gaze filled with pity for Angela.

Hours later, back at the Predigma complex, Angela's father addressed his daughter.

"Young one," he began, speaking slowly, "we understand that you cherish your freedom. The fact that we even secured this meeting for you came at a high cost."

He paused, his eyes fixed on her as though weighing his next words carefully.

"As for Alvo Dumbledore, it was simple. If you had accepted him, he would have accepted you. You rejected him, and he placed you in your place. And he was right. You were not at his level. Your family was, but you were not. I have nothing more to say."

Angela stood frozen, trying to process the reality of what had just transpired. It became clear to her that she was probably just another name in a long list of girls presented for marriage to Alvo Dumbledore. Her mother had advised her to remain cold and detached, as if the world revolved around her, but she had failed to grasp her own power in the grand scheme of things.

"All the young women who came before you were the same," her father continued, "cold, as though they believed the world existed for their convenience. Alvo Dumbledore is a second-rank Official Mage with combat abilities approaching the threshold of a Third-Level Warlock. What an opportunity you've thrown away," he sighed, disappointment lacing his words.

Angela felt a sinking feeling in her chest. She realized that she had likely missed her one shot at greatness, her future dashed in a single night.

Meanwhile, the high-ranking wizards received a message from the only Elven Autarch, who had begun planning negotiations. The wizards, now accustomed to these kinds of political schemes, were less than indulgent. They had called in three Autarchs to facilitate the surrender of their enemies: one for negotiations, one for pressure, and one to prevent ambushes. After what had happened with the Titan Autarchs, everything had become more restrictive.

The negotiations, though crucial, were not the only focus of the wizarding world. Behind closed doors, a young girl named Angela Predigma came to realize that she had missed an opportunity that could have elevated her in ways she hadn't even considered. Her fate was no longer in her hands. The choice had been made for her, and in the end, it was not the way she had envisioned her future.

During the war, a meeting took place at the state of Dumbledore. The subject of discussion? Marriage and the prestigious Autarch Predigma family. After reviewing the impressive reports about this young master, the Predigma family wasted no time. The young mistress, Angela Predigma, an Official Mage rank 1 at the age of 13, could not help but feel exasperated. She truly did not want her fate decided this way. After several dinners and discussions, Albus Dumbledore's mother, Fernanda, glanced briefly at the young girl before speaking.

"Although we've talked about this matter, and I respect the wishes of the little ones," she said with a brief look toward Angela, "we will make this simple."

With a flick of her wrist, Fernanda activated a magical video call tablet, which projected onto a large screen for everyone in the room to see. At that moment, Alvo was, as one might say, in the midst of combat. He was using his hands to control waves of earth, each more than 40 meters long, trapping elves in their wake. Then, a wave of compressed ice pierced through his enemies with deadly force, making him appear as a true god of destruction.

Alvo paused his actions, standing atop a platform, and called out to his companion, Henry, "Cover me, Henry."

He then noticed the tablet and waved enthusiastically. "Hi, Mum! What's up? Why the call?"

Fernanda had a fleeting thought about the ill-timed nature of the call, given the background—a sea of dead elves instead of a peaceful forest. Her brow furrowed as she turned her gaze toward Adrian. He simply shrugged, indicating his indifference to the situation. Fernanda sighed and spoke again.

"Little Adrian, the Predigma family is here to make a betrothal request. If you look here, you'll see the young mistress of their family, an Official Mage rank 1, named Angela Predigma. These are her parents."

Alvo's response was anything but respectful. "Hello, everyone," he said casually, before adding, "Mum, let's get to the point. I'm in the middle of a mission."

Fernanda, understanding her son's directness, quickly adjusted. "Do you wish to enter a betrothal with this young lady?"

Alvo looked at the screen, eyes fixed on Angela. "Angela, right?"

Angela nodded, her expression cold.

"Do you want to be part of this betrothal?" Alvo asked, his tone blunt.

The question caught Angela off guard. She glanced nervously at her parents, her face serious as she tried to process the situation. Before she could even begin to formulate a response, Alvo cut her off.

"Come on, Angela, answer," he urged.

In her anxiety, Angela blurted out, "I don't want to!"

Alvo grinned. "Well, that settles it, Mum. I'm not interested. If you could, try to find me a witch who's at my level of talent for the next betrothal."

With that, he ended the video call.

The room fell into silence. Angela, who had thought herself the center of attention just moments before, now found herself the object of pity, as everyone's eyes turned toward her. Even Helena looked at her with sympathy. Adrian stood and spoke calmly.

"Then it's settled. Please, leave," he said, motioning toward the door as he made his way out of the room.

Fernanda could only look at the couple with an apologetic expression, her gaze filled with pity for Angela.

Hours later, back at the Predigma complex, Angela's father addressed his daughter.

"Young one," he began, speaking slowly, "we understand that you cherish your freedom. The fact that we even secured this meeting for you came at a high cost."

He paused, his eyes fixed on her as though weighing his next words carefully.

"As for Alvo Dumbledore, it was simple. If you had accepted him, he would have accepted you. You rejected him, and he placed you in your place. And he was right. You were not at his level. Your family was, but you were not. I have nothing more to say."

Angela stood frozen, trying to process the reality of what had just transpired. It became clear to her that she was probably just another name in a long list of girls presented for marriage to Alvo Dumbledore. Her mother had advised her to remain cold and detached, as if the world revolved around her, but she had failed to grasp her own power in the grand scheme of things.

"All the young women who came before you were the same," her father continued, "cold, as though they believed the world existed for their convenience. Alvo Dumbledore is a second-rank Official Mage with combat abilities approaching the threshold of a Third-Level Warlock. What an opportunity you've thrown away," he sighed, disappointment lacing his words.

Angela felt a sinking feeling in her chest. She realized that she had likely missed her one shot at greatness, her future dashed in a single night.

Meanwhile, the high-ranking wizards received a message from the only Elven Autarch, who had begun planning negotiations. The wizards, now accustomed to these kinds of political schemes, were less than indulgent. They had called in three Autarchs to facilitate the surrender of their enemies: one for negotiations, one for pressure, and one to prevent ambushes. After what had happened with the Titan Autarchs, everything had become more restrictive.

Alvo and Henry were enjoying a hot bath in their quarters, relaxing in the warmth of the water after a long day. Henry, with a mischievous grin, broke the silence.

"So, which one was this?" he asked. "The tenth one rejected, right? Though, you don't seem to care. You give them the choice, and they refuse. But I can't help wondering—would you really accept if one of them said yes?"

Alvo thought for a moment, his fingers running through his hair. "Maybe, she seemed cute... but that's in the past now," he said with a shrug. "I'll let Dad know that I'll probably meet my destined partner sooner or later, so these meetings can stop."

He glanced at Henry, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't it the same for you?" he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Henry laughed, scratching his head. "Hahahaha! Not really, mate. We've been in this battlefield for four years, and now we're fifteen. When we get back, I'm planning to kick back and relax for a while."

The two exchanged a knowing look, both of them finally able to unwind after their long, grueling time on the frontlines.

Alvo, enjoying the calm atmosphere, casually asked, "Have you started transforming any symbols to red yet?"

Henry, already deep in thought, replied, "I'm in the process of starting. What about you?"

Alvo grinned, leaning back in the bath. "I finished the symbol for the true intent of the waves this morning."

Henry nodded thoughtfully. "When we get back, we should analyze a few more symbols that might help us. Though, with the ones we have now, we're already pretty capable."

Alvo paused for a moment, his fingers tapping the water rhythmically as he considered the next steps. "I'll take a look at some other symbols that could benefit us overall. But I'd advise you to focus on turning your healing symbol to red first, then golden. Forget about the others for now," Alvo said, his tone calm but firm, as if laying out a battle plan.

Henry gave him a quick nod, acknowledging the advice. "Got it. Red, then gold. I'll stick with that for now."

One week later, the news arrived: the Elven Plane had signed an eternal slavery treaty with the Wizarding Plane. Decorations were given to the best soldiers, and relief spread across the camp as they would soon be returning home. However, a solemn silence fell for the fallen.

Meanwhile, Alvo and Henry were escorted into a room filled with several young Elf girls standing in rows, each wearing slave collars around their necks. The Commander spoke, his voice authoritative.

"You may each choose one," he said, looking at the older girls with cold, calculating eyes.

Alvo, however, moved toward the younger ones. His gaze landed on a small girl, no older than three, with tattered clothes and large, wide eyes that darted nervously around the room. Alvo approached her, and as he did, she appeared frightened. But with a subtle movement, the Theta waves he had mastered took effect, calming her instantly. He performed the master-slave contract ritual, binding them together.

Next, it was Henry's turn. He observed his brother's choice, a small girl, knowing that it would be easier to train one so young and ensure her loyalty. He, too, chose a three-year-old girl. The same calming waves settled over her as the contract was formed. Once it was done, the remaining Elves were taken away, their fates sealed.

The Commander glanced at the two brothers, nodding approvingly. "You have good eyes. These two little girls come from royal lineage." He paused before continuing, "You may use the planar teleport to return to the academy. I'll see you next time."

Afterward, Alvo and Henry completed a few paperwork duties before heading back to the academy. Upon arrival, they were greeted by a large entourage, congratulating them for their outstanding achievements. The Dumbledore Academy valued combat, and the feats these young men had accomplished in just four years were nothing short of extraordinary. Now, as Official Mages of level 2, their status had risen significantly.

After settling into their quarters and giving the little Elf girls a warm bath, Alvo and Henry took some time to instruct them on what they needed to know. The girls were then sent to practice yoga under the care of a level 2 apprentice, for whom Alvo and Henry paid a weekly commission of 10 spiritual stones. With the girls occupied, the brothers made their way to meet their esteemed master.

In a quiet corner of the room, Alvo's little Elf girl, with her big eyes and soft voice, tugged at his sleeve. "Master," she said shyly, "I want to work hard for you. I want to help you always." Her words were innocent, but the contract's magic had made her believe that nothing mattered more than serving her master well.

Henry's little girl, with a slightly nervous smile, nodded eagerly. "I work hard too. I want to make you happy." She looked up at him with unwavering loyalty, a smile that was sweet despite the circumstances. The contract had already worked its magic, instilling in them the purest devotion to their new roles.

Alvo and Henry greeted their esteemed master, Alartard, with a respectful nod.

Alartard turned to face them, nodding incessantly with a wide grin. "Very good! Hahaha, excellent! Here, I've prepared a group of symbols that will help you."

He began to present them, one by one, with a sense of pride in his voice.

Symbol 1: Ruler Symbol (Red Rank)

"This symbol activates passively when you're exposed to moments of leadership. Your orders will become natural, your decisions unquestionable. Cowards will become believers, and the weak will become strong."

Symbol 2: Dumbledore Mark (Gold Rank)

"Wherever you go in the universe and multiverse, these symbols will mark you. The Dumbledore family gains undeniable fame in the vast heavens of the universe. You will be recognized wherever you tread."

Symbol 3: Cruz Mark (Gold Rank)

"The wisdom of this mark will elevate the respect of all who follow healing and battle. In the vast sky, those devoted to the Cruz family will offer you aid when encountered. It will invoke the highest degree of reverence."

Symbol 4: Born for Battle (Red Rank)

"This symbol will accompany you in battle. In times of adversity, you will never lack the willpower to fight. You are combat machines, loving the struggle. Fear? Tears? Frowning? No. The harder the fight, the bigger your smile. This mark infinitely boosts your statistics while you are in combat. But once the battle ends, you will experience a fatigue that requires rest. It is an active symbol, so use it wisely."

Symbol 5: Quantum Mind (Gold Rank)

"Your minds will transcend. The minds of witches and wizards are ranked as Common, Expertise, Masterized, SuperBrain, and then Quantum Mind. This will allow your cognitive abilities to reach new heights."

Alartard paused, making sure the weight of the symbols sank in. "These techniques come from your families, they are not common. The Cruz and Dumbledore families compiled them for you to use as your foundation from here on out. Now, you may ask—do other Autarch families have these? The answer is no. This is a secret, something to discuss with your parents if they are interested in the future."

He smiled, stepping back. "Now, go ahead and draw these symbols. You can take a month off to rest. I'll send the curriculum shortly."

The brothers exchanged glances, the magnitude of what they had just been given slowly sinking in. Alartard's words echoed in their minds as they left, both eager to begin their new journey with these powerful symbols.