Man of Archives

Meditation and resting in a designated space turned out to be a pleasant and intriguing way to spend my time. I began by examining the information absorbed from the demonic souls, aiming to establish a foundational understanding. These souls held an abundance of knowledge, though much of it revolved around the battles they'd engaged in. For these demons, constant warfare was not only common but entirely natural.

These demons belonged to a larger organization, led by immensely powerful beings who sought to conquer worlds for their personal gain. Their approach was ruthless: they would exploit a world until it was entirely depleted, leaving behind a hollow shell before moving on to the next.

Interestingly, the world they found themselves in wasn't their intended target. Their armies were originally heading to another realm, intending to breach it and annihilate any resistance there. However, an unexpected magical fluctuation, combined with an open demonic summoning, created an unintended entryway, bringing them here. That's the extent of what these demonic warriors knew.

The magic they wielded felt unlike anything from this world—or from my own. It had a peculiar, "slippery" quality, carrying undertones of decay and something almost vile. I found it difficult to describe; I'd never encountered magic with such an unusual texture before.

Absorbing these demons also enhanced my own abilities in fascinating ways. It wasn't just linear growth but expansion in both breadth and depth. Previously, I had perceived my magic as two-dimensional. A good analogy would be seeing a square and then realizing it's actually a cube. That's precisely how it felt.

This new insight immediately allowed me to cast spells more efficiently, with each unit of magical energy yielding greater results. Where I could once cast twenty Lumos spells with a single "unit" of energy, I could now cast twenty-five.

This improvement extended to wandless magic as well, making it more intuitive and accessible. I even think I could teach Dumbledore a thing or two in certain areas. There's a heady thrill in realizing you're at the top, but I didn't let this feeling cloud my mind. A battle awaited me against a formidable demon, the commander of these demonic hordes.

My latest acquisition was a spell akin to the Veil of Death. As I unpacked the knowledge, I found myself in the familiar form of Death. Feeling the gaze of an ancient, terrifyingly powerful entity was as unsettling as ever—so much so that it shook me to my spiritual core.

Death examined my soul from every angle, scrutinizing and absorbing even the smallest details, ultimately deeming it suitable. Realizing I wouldn't be cast into some far-off abyss brought a profound sense of relief. Through Death's eyes, I glimpsed the vast cluster of worlds in the universe and watched as it decided whether a world should be erased or allowed to continue. The power this entity wielded was profoundly unsettling. At one point, I sensed Death choosing a world that needed to be reborn. With a precise, obliterating strike, that world vanished, taking all its inhabitants with it. Only a single cry—"I will become the Pirate King!"—echoed in the void before fading, lost among billions of other voices that were too faint to discern. It left me wondering… were there truly voices at all?

After this encounter, I was gently ushered out of Death's consciousness, finding myself back in the rest chamber, but now with new insight. This insight manifested as a spell: "Scythe." This was the ultimate spell Death used to annihilate entire worlds. It's a powerful ability I can only cast once per month. Unlike other spells, it doesn't rely on magical energy. Instead, it draws from an entirely different form of energy, one I had previously been unaware of. The Scythe is unaffected by shields or relative power; while I may not be able to destroy a world, I can certainly bring a demon to absolute zero.

The reason I can't destroy worlds lies in my inability to exist in the strange, liminal space between them. Only now am I beginning to understand that such an existence is possible, though I still don't fully grasp how it functions.

With a sense of relief, I fell asleep.

The next morning, another person arrived, joining our combat squad: the head of the Department of Mysteries. He wore a white mask, dark clothing, and a hat that cast shadows over most of his face. His movements were so smooth that, at times, it seemed he was gliding rather than walking, though that wasn't quite the case.

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore said, "we are all gathered here to discuss our upcoming battle against the demon. Everyone should already be briefed on the events of the previous battle."

The Head of the Department of Mysteries, who introduced himself by the call sign "Zero," merely nodded. He, too, had received Dumbledore's memories and likely had ideas of his own. His voice, entirely mechanical and devoid of emotion, was strikingly cold.

"As much as I'd like to, we can't spend too long planning our actions," Dumbledore continued. "The plan we used last time was effective, but it needs adjustments. I'm sure the demons will be prepared for our next assault, so breaking through their layered defenses will be tougher. Thankfully, we now have Agent Zero with us."

"Mmm," Zero drawled. "Yes, I'll handle breaching the first line of their defense. I have experience in this sort of thing."

No one questioned where he gained this experience. When a powerful wizard claimed expertise, that was usually enough. But curiosity got the better of me, and I ventured to ask:

"Where from?"

All eyes turned toward me—even the assistants paused. Dumbledore appeared indifferent, the Cardinal gazed out the window, and Oblan simply nodded. The Unspeakable himself looked at me, as though unsure how to respond.

The silence stretched on. The Unspeakable offered no reply, and I stood there, waiting for an answer.

"Well," the Cardinal finally broke the tension, "what's our plan when we're face-to-face with the beast?"

"Alright," Albus said, redirecting everyone's attention. I was still curious, though, about where Zero had learned to break through defenses as a wizard. That was something I'd have to look into later.

"We know the demon can endure a prolonged fight due to its defenses and some unusual abilities," he continued. "We have two options. The first is to break through its defenses with a single, decisive strike. The second is to slowly wear it down until we reach the core of its body. Each option has its pros and cons. What are your thoughts?"

"I believe we should prepare for both approaches," Oblan suggested. "If the first fails, we need to fall back on the second. The latter will be more difficult, as the danger will increase."

"Agreed," the Cardinal nodded. "But we still need a strategy that allows for both options. The second approach will require us to use some of the more forbidden curses."

"No need to worry about that," the Unspeakable interjected. "I'll take care of it."

"So be it," the Headmaster of Hogwarts replied. "Mr. Jody, your role will be to support the main attack on the demon."

"Understood," I nodded.

From there, we moved on to the details: setting timelines, selecting spells that would allow allies to amplify their attacks by building on one another's magic, and ensuring that various spells wouldn't cancel each other out. The second half of the discussion focused on contingency plans—preparations in case things didn't go as expected. It struck me as a wise approach.

The next day, final preparations began for the strike team of wizards. Our forces appeared bolstered with seasoned professionals and wizards from distant lands. With their established networks, they integrated smoothly into our ranks; after all, the magical world isn't so vast that master wizards are strangers to one another, even if only by second- or third-hand connections.

"Señor Jody," called a voice behind me. I turned to see a Frenchman in his fifties. "I'm Alonso Martinez, the uncle of your acquaintance Lucia de Mendoza."

"Ah," I replied, "pleased to meet you, Mr. Martinez. How is Lucia?"

"Don't ask," he chuckled softly. "Since the Olympics, she's become quite the demanding young lady. Her father doesn't think too fondly of you—she compares every potential suitor to you."

"Heh… really?" I laughed.

"Yes," Alonso nodded. "If a young man hasn't at least earned a Bachelor's degree by eighteen, she won't even consider discussing marriage with him. And Señor de Mendoza can't do much about it—Lucia is already stronger in magic than he is."

I just nodded. If Lucia were weaker than her father in magic, or even on par, she'd likely have been married off to some influential wizard by now. But the natural order of things works as it should… If you're too weak to force someone's hand, you might as well start picking out a coffin and a three-meter-deep plot.

After chatting with him a bit longer, I returned to my tasks, while he headed to a briefing with Alastor Moody, the head of his team. Other wizards were also gathering with their groups for final briefings. Since I was without a team, I simply waited for things to get underway. To pass the time, I set about enchanting items for battle. They might not make a huge difference… but it's better to have them than to be caught unprepared.

"Timothy," Dumbledore addressed me as he approached. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," I replied. "I'm ready."

"What do you think—can we win?" he asked.

"I believe we can," I said. "But I wonder… what will happen to the non-magical people? How will we manage that?"

"Don't worry," the Headmaster chuckled. "The Inquisition, with plenty of mages, is already prepared. As they say in one country, 'Religion is the opium of the people.' They'll handle it in a similar way."

"Understood," I replied. "And what do you think, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"It will be tough, but we'll prevail," he said, as a phoenix landed on his shoulder, giving a confident squawk in agreement.

The wizards continued their preparations, and I continued waiting. To keep the wait from becoming unbearable, I focused on enchanting items.

The next morning greeted us as the sun was just beginning to rise. It was bitterly cold, and fluffy white snowflakes drifted down from the sky, settling into a pristine blanket over the ground. Our breaths formed visible clouds of thick steam, hovering in the crisp air.

"It's going to be a cold winter," remarked one of the French wizards in the group.

"Move out," commanded Dumbledore.

There were no words of encouragement, no lengthy speeches, no explanations. Everyone understood the gravity of the battle ahead, the necessity of it… and the resolve to see it through.

The first group teleported, led by Agent "Zero" and a dozen battle mages. They were followed by Oblan, joining the fray as the second wave. The third group comprised the Cardinal and his inquisitors. Finally, it was my turn, along with Dumbledore's team.

"Ready?" he asked his team members.

They all responded with resolute nods.

"Then let's go."

The teleportation was swift—a sudden jolt. Within seconds, we arrived at our location, but the situation was far from what we'd expected. The teams led by the Unspeakable, Oblan, and the Cardinal had collided with a dense, fortified defensive line surrounding the teleportation area. Demons were swarming, viciously attacking the wizards who'd arrived, trapping them in a brutal encirclement. Apparating back was impossible—a barrier was sealing the space.

"We're in deep trouble," said Oblan. "We need to retreat."

Casualties had already begun to mount; no one had anticipated this ambush.

"How did this happen?" the Headmaster asked sharply, sending a wave of fire crashing into the advancing demons.

"The demons tricked our scouts," Oblan replied, launching an air spell that amplified Dumbledore's attack to incredible proportions. "I don't know how…"

"I think I know…" said Cardinal Voltaire, pointing. Standing there was a tall woman with a striking figure, grayish skin, small horns, and sharp ears. Above her forehead floated a strange symbol, glowing faintly purple. She held a large staff radiating an unfamiliar, unsettling magic.

Notably, she had a tail tipped with a gold ring and hooves instead of feet—unmistakable signs that she wasn't human. Although, I suspected many would still find her quite alluring.

"Yeah…" Oblan muttered. "I don't like the look of that glowing staff."

"Agreed," the Unspeakable nodded. "The question of how she got here will be on the table—if we survive this battle."

"I think she was summoned," I suggested, eyeing the scene and bracing for our next move. It looked like we'd have to break through by force, taking on both the demon and this demonic sorceress.

The wizards saw the attack coming and quickly moved to ready their defenses. A flash from the sorceress's staff—a swift, practiced motion—and a fiery beam shot toward us. It didn't just scorch the ground—it melted it. A lone wizard, isolated from the group, was caught in its path. He threw up a shield, but it barely held for a second before the beam incinerated the upper half of his body and continued its path. We were next in line.

Dumbledore began casting rapidly… A shimmering, bubble-like barrier materialized in front of us. The fiery beam struck the barrier, ricocheting into the clouds with a metallic clang. Dumbledore held the shield firm, waiting for the beam to fade. But it showed no sign of weakening—if anything, it only intensified as the sorceress channeled more power into it.

"This is tough," Dumbledore muttered through gritted teeth. "I can't hold it."

The moment he said that, we all scattered, dodging the deadly spell. Dumbledore managed to evade it as well, letting it pass him. If not for the phoenix's protective aura, the situation might have been even more dire.

Just then, the demon I'd only known from memories charged at us, killing three wizards as he advanced. Spells flew toward him, but the sorceress shielded him with a powerful magical barrier.

"We need to do something," I said.

I charged forward, clearing a path through a few minor demons and absorbing their souls to gather energy for my spells, growing stronger with each one. I'd deal with the memories later. The sorceress immediately noticed me and, with a flick of her staff, sent dozens of icy spikes hurtling in my direction. A quick transfiguration into a steel wall and a burst of magic to shift my body aside saved me just in time.

The spikes shattered against the wall, leaving dents but failing to penetrate. With a wave of my wand, I launched a dozen razor-sharp spinning disks at the sorceress. She struck the ground with her staff, raising part of the earth as a barrier. My disks tore through it, forcing her to dodge nimbly.

As she dodged, I attacked her on both mental and physical fronts. A dozen bolts tracked her every move, but neither my attacks nor my mental assault could touch her. The mental attack struck a silver barrier around her mind, impenetrable.

"Damn," she muttered something in her language, incomprehensible to me, and twisted her staff.

In an instant, massive ice shards began to form in the sky, covering a vast area. As they fell, they shattered into countless splinters that scattered, freezing everything they touched. Several unlucky wizards were killed by the larger shards, while others suffered grievous wounds as the splinters struck, freezing parts of their bodies before breaking off.

If this kept up, no one would survive. I quickly pulled out a broom and shot into the air, dodging the falling ice. The sorceress continued spinning her staff, conjuring more shards. At that moment, the Unspeakable sent a powerful purple spell her way—but something unexpected happened. A golden-yellow glow enveloped the demons, effortlessly deflecting the spell.

The Unspeakable, momentarily stunned, cast another spell at her, but it was deflected once again. Caught off guard, he lost track of the main demon. At first, it seemed as though Dumbledore, Oblan, Voltaire, and several other wizards were holding the demon back—but that wasn't the case.

Suddenly, the demon shifted, leaving trails of gray sparks in his wake, and appeared behind the Unspeakable. In a single, brutal strike, he slammed the Unspeakable into the ground with a massive fist, crushing his head into the earth. The Unspeakable was dead instantly. Yet his death gave me a surge of power as I absorbed his soul. Excellent! Now, if I could survive this carnage, I'd have a chance to sift through the agent's memories.

With a quick flick of my wand, I blasted the demon back several steps. He spread his wings, stabilized himself, and landed firmly. Growling something incomprehensible, he launched a massive fireball, incinerating several wizards and narrowly missing me. Reacting instantly, I transfigured a wall in front of me just in time to block the fiery blast.

Dodging a falling icicle, I grabbed my broom and shot into the air, prioritizing the sorceress as my main target. I rolled to evade her spells, then sharply pulled up and banked, leveling out before flying directly over her. I dropped a few specialized spells behind me; explosions erupted in my wake, but they were quickly snuffed out. Whatever protective spell she was using, I definitely didn't want to get caught in it.

An idea came to me. I curved around in a half-circle, accelerating toward the demon engaged with Dumbledore, Oblan, and Voltaire. Pulling out a small enchanted artifact, I made it glow like a star and focused.

All eyes turned to me as I cast the "Scythe" spell on the demon. He didn't have time to react—the spell hit him instantly, killing him outright.

As his soul tried to escape, I positioned myself to intercept it, absorbing it into my Archive. The rush of power was intoxicating, nearly doubling my strength. It wasn't just physical satisfaction—it was as if my very soul had been granted ultimate fulfillment.

Suddenly, a spell struck my back, shattering a few of my protective charms. The impact was absorbed by my broom, which began to swerve erratically, its tail smoldering. Sensing the increasing danger, I leapt off the broom, transfiguring my clothing to allow for a controlled glide. Dumbledore cast an extra spell to aid my descent, and I landed—albeit rather roughly—on the frozen ground.

"Great job," Oblan said, catching his breath. He had borne the brunt of the fight against the demon, while Dumbledore and the Cardinal supported him with devastating magical attacks.

"We need to deal with that creature," Voltaire said, nodding toward the demoness, who had begun casting something ominous. "Before she tries anything else."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "Let's go."

The trio of wizards, bolstered by the combat mages who felt an invigorating surge of power, charged toward the demoness as I took a moment to steady myself. Some might have thought I was exhausted, but it wasn't that… I was just calming my mind from the surge of pleasure I'd felt earlier.

The battle between the three most powerful wizards on the planet and the demoness rapidly escalated. Her abilities differed from the demon's, and being a mage herself, she presented different vulnerabilities, making it slightly easier for the other wizards to engage her.

Fawkes, circling the battlefield, began to sing, filling the air with an uplifting resonance that restored strength to the combatants. While I didn't feel the effects as strongly, already charged with power, I rose to my feet, taking a deep breath as the magical energy surged within me, eager to be unleashed.

I restrained myself and moved toward the battle. The demoness was fighting with ferocity, but the combined efforts of the trio, backed by other wizards, pressed her hard. It looked like they only needed a bit more to take her down.

With a flick of my wand, I released sparks as I charged into the fray. Seizing an opening, I unleashed a forked lightning bolt at her, which her shield deflected. But that deflection worked to our advantage—it interrupted her spellcasting, allowing the Cardinal to strike, which in turn opened the way for Oblan and Dumbledore to deliver their blows.

My arrival forced the demoness into a defensive stance. Where her defenses had once been fluid and dynamic, they now became rigid and static. Breaking through was difficult but not impossible—it was only a matter of time before our spells struck their target. She realized this too; I could see the frantic look in her eyes as she searched for an escape.

This time, Dumbledore made a decisive move. He unleashed a powerful spell that, with the roar of a thousand birds, pierced her defenses and grazed her with its searing touch. This was the end for her. Cardinal Voltaire followed with a slashing motion of his wand, severing her arm. Oblan began to incinerate her, and I struck the final blow—a lightning bolt that tore through her heart and brain, killing her almost instantly.

Silence fell, broken only by the groans of the wounded, sounds that had been lost in the chaos until now. I approached the demoness and absorbed her soul, feeling another wave of that indescribable pleasure. The soul not only added a new section to my Archive but also bolstered my personal strength. Glorious.

"That's it," Oblan exhaled.

"Yes, the main threat is gone," said the Cardinal. "But that doesn't mean all the demons have been banished. We still have work to do until every last creature is destroyed. And… we need to find out who's responsible."

Dumbledore said nothing, merely sending off his Patronus to deliver the news. Soon, wizards began arriving in waves. Medical personnel tended to the wounded, giving initial treatment before transporting them to nearby hospitals. Several other wizards gathered the fallen, identifying them for an honorable burial.

Meanwhile, other teams assessed the damage and made plans to restore the area so that Muggles wouldn't notice anything unusual. The work began immediately, faster and more efficiently than ever.

"Let's head back to headquarters," Dumbledore said. "We have a few final matters to discuss."

We returned to headquarters, now almost empty as most wizards attended to post-battle duties. Entering a large room, we finally allowed ourselves a moment to relax. Oblan set down a greenish bottle with a clink and placed a few thick-walled glasses alongside it. Into each glass, he poured a liquid as clear as a child's tear.

Without hesitation, Dumbledore took a glass for himself. The Cardinal clasped his hands in a prayerful gesture, crossed himself, and took a glass as well. Not wanting to be left out, I grabbed one too.

"Well, friends," said the Maltese wizard, raising his glass. "We've won, but at a high cost. Many died, and many were injured… So let's drink to the dead, to the living, and to the unborn, hoping the latter never have to endure something like this, and that the survivors remember those who sacrificed everything for the survival of the magical world."

The wizards raised their glasses, and I followed suit. A moment later, all three downed their drinks in one go. Exhaling deeply, I did the same, feeling the warmth of the nearly pure alcohol spread through my body.

"Phew," I breathed out, surprised at the strength of the drink.

"Mr. Jody," the Cardinal addressed me. "You did brilliantly. Regardless of what anyone says, it was you who killed the demon. Without your artifact, all of this would have been in vain… we wouldn't have won."

"No," I shook my head. "It wasn't just my victory—it was everyone's who was there. Every single person played a part, and each deserves recognition."

"Don't worry about that," Dumbledore chuckled. "In the next few days, magical newspapers will be full of scenes from our battle. The names of the fallen will be printed and engraved in their countries' halls of honor."

"Reporters find out that quickly?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "No wizard can keep their mouth shut."

"So… what's next?" I asked the wizards, the pinnacle of magical power.

"What's next…" Dumbledore mused. "As head of the Confederation of Wizards, I'll need to push everyone to address matters swiftly. We'll need an investigative committee to identify those responsible and ensure Muggles remain unaware… The magical world has a great deal of healing and rebuilding ahead."

"The Inquisition will fully support the investigation," Voltaire added. "I'd be more than happy to turn the guilty over to my colleagues for questioning, but I think the goblins will want to handle those who attacked them personally. As for the Muggles, we'll take care of that."

"Timothy," Oblan turned to me, "after today's battle, I believe your training is complete. Mastery in Combat Magic awaits you. If you're interested, you could join me in hunting down the demons that scattered across Europe."

"I think Mr. Jody may have other plans," Dumbledore interjected unexpectedly.

"Oh? Really?" I replied, intrigued.

"The French Ministry of Magic is likely to approach you with an offer to serve as the interim headmaster of Beauxbatons."

"A magic school?" I asked, surprised. "Why?"

"Olympe Maxime, the previous headmistress, was killed in the initial attack," Dumbledore explained. "At present, France lacks any wizards with both the strength and expertise to take her place. Since you're nearly unaffiliated, already hold two Masteries, and are close to a third, you'd be an ideal choice to give them time to find a permanent replacement for Olympe."

"And if they don't approach me?" I asked.

"Well, then they won't," Albus Dumbledore shrugged. "In any case, it's not for me to tell you whether to accept such an offer, should it come."

"I understand," I replied.

"Alright then," said the Cardinal. "I need to return to the Vatican. Mr. Jody, my invitation still stands. I'm sure you'll enjoy the city."

"And I'd be delighted to visit," I said to him.

Oblan left shortly after Cardinal Voltaire, giving me a firm handshake before departing. Now, only Dumbledore and I remained in the office. Fawkes landed on the back of a chair, tucking his head under his wing; it seemed that even this mystical bird was exhausted.

"So, what's next for you, Timothy?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm not sure yet," I replied, shaking my head. "I think I'll take a break somewhere warm, continue my research, and study magic."

"Next year, in the summer, there's a Quidditch World Cup scheduled," the headmaster began. "And after that, Hogwarts is set to host the Triwizard Tournament."

"The one that's been canceled for hundreds of years?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes, that one," he replied. "And I don't intend to cancel it again, though holding it won't be easy."

"Maybe postpone it a year?" I suggested.

"No," he said firmly. "I want wizards to quickly move past this battle."

"Why?"

"Because if they don't, there'll be all sorts of questions—why didn't we do this, why didn't we do that, why didn't we use spells differently," the old wizard sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. "And I'll be the one answering them. Better they focus on Quidditch and the Tournament."

"Need any help?" I asked.

"Beauxbatons is supposed to be one of the participants," Dumbledore said. "If you're offered the interim headmaster role, I hope you'll accept Hogwarts' invitation to join. Will you?"

"I will," I replied. "Why not."

"Excellent," he nodded, a smile crossing his face. "Well then… Mr. Jody, you've earned the respect and recognition of the entire world. I think you'll be receiving many more invitations to all kinds of events."

"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore," I replied respectfully. "If it weren't for Hogwarts and your guidance, things might have turned out very differently."

With a final exchange of words, we parted ways. Dumbledore returned to his paperwork, even after just coming from battle. I, too, had my own matters to attend to… namely, unpacking the memories of all the souls I'd absorbed. That alone would give my development a powerful boost.

***

Far beyond the boundaries of countless worlds, a vast and powerful being turned its attention to the disappearance of one of its lesser, subordinate demons. It wasn't merely that the demon had been killed—that alone would be of little consequence, as the demon would normally reincarnate. But this time, something was different.

The demon had been slain without reincarnation, an anomaly that intrigued the lord of countless demonic legions. He examined the circumstances, rewinding time to observe what had happened. His subordinate had been killed by a concept-based spell, its soul consumed entirely.

Exploring various probabilities, the Demon Lord came to a realization: this spell—a concept capable of annihilation—could destroy him as easily as it had his lesser demon. And unlike before, there would be no revival or reincarnation. While he felt no real fear, a trace of wariness crept in. To avoid any risk of being drawn into that world, the Lord resolved to seal all pathways for his Legion's demons leading there.

The idea of facing an opponent who appeared weak yet held the power to destroy him with a single blow was distasteful. But the Demon Lord did not let wariness shape his actions. No… he had other matters to attend to, and another world, Azeroth, awaited him.

***

Lucius Malfoy studied the emergency news release. The past week had been extremely nerve-wracking for him and his associates. Their plan had gone completely off track, spiraling out of control. The appearance of demons—and then their leader—had shattered the intended cover for the largest goblin heist in history.

He knew that meticulous investigators would be combing through every detail, so he'd taken every precaution to conceal his involvement. No one should be able to trace this back to him, but the arrival of a powerful demon was an entirely unforeseen twist. Now, every major magical authority—the Inquisition, Ministries, the Department of Mysteries, and other similar organizations—would be hunting for the culprits. Each would have its own demands, especially the goblins.

Now he'd learned that the Wizarding World had defeated the demon and his followers. Four photographs adorned the front page. He recognized two of the figures, while the others were unfamiliar. The battle scenes were impressive, but that wasn't what concerned him. What mattered was that a new force had emerged in the magical world: Timothy Jody. And this was the very man with whom Lucius held a contract. That alone offered faint hope that he could avoid detection. He could only hope the same for his associates. But if they weren't as fortunate… so be it. Lucius also knew that prominent politicians would now be vying for Timothy's attention, eager to secure this powerful new asset on their side.

Fortunately, the Malfoys' relationship with Jody was on solid footing. Lucius intended to keep it that way, though it wasn't entirely within his control. Who knows—Timothy might even take Draco as an apprentice… After all, Young Granger, who had already become Timothy's apprentice, was reportedly showing the best results in her year.

Turning the page, Lucius found an article by Rita Skeeter speculating on which of the four combatants was the strongest. To his surprise, her tone was unusually cautious. She'd never shown such tact before, not even toward Dumbledore. Every influential wizard knew that if the Hogwarts headmaster chose to, Rita Skeeter would find herself performing Muggle operas in falsetto while juggling. But he had never wielded his power that way, which had led some wizards to consider him weak or incapable. The battle with the demon had proven to all his detractors that Dumbledore was not to be challenged. Now, Timothy Jody had joined that same league.

Lucius was certain that Skeeter would be angling for an interview with the young hero now known as the demon's slayer—and he suspected her article would be devoid of lies. No one wanted to stir trouble with an unknown hero.

The next page held an interview with Minister Fudge, who rambled on about England's foreign policy, followed by statements from wizards of various guilds. On the last page was a portrait of Sirius Black, still on the run. Considering recent events in the magical world, it was no surprise that many other matters had been put on hold.