"Gilderoy Lockhart, recipient of the Order of Merlin, honorary member of the Anti-Dark Arts League, internationally renowned author and public figure—exposed as a fraud?"
Noah couldn't help but feel an immense sense of satisfaction as he stared at the front page of The Daily Prophet, where a rather disheveled Lockhart was being dragged away by Aurors—still flailing dramatically, as if he could charm his way out of the situation.
Truth be told, Noah never had any personal grudge against Lockhart. The man had never directly provoked him or any of his friends.
But Noah did remember being scammed during his first year.
The prices of Lockhart's useless books had been outrageous—and the worst part? Every single one of them had been required for class and exams. It didn't take a genius to figure out the man had only taken the Hogwarts post to sell his books by the hundreds.
With so many students attending Hogwarts, each being forced to buy full sets of his books, Lockhart must have made a small fortune.
"Tsk tsk, now that's business acumen," Noah muttered sarcastically, flipping to the next section of the paper.
The more he read, the more satisfied he felt. Lockhart wasn't just being investigated—his accounts were frozen, and charges of widespread fraud were being filed. There was even talk of him being sent to Azkaban.
And Azkaban wasn't exactly known for its hospitality. Between the Dementors and the former Death Eaters, it was hard to say how long Lockhart would last. Noah half-wondered if the man might go mad… or worse.
Just as he was imagining Lockhart trying to talk his way out of a Dementor's embrace, Professor Flitwick entered the classroom.
The students immediately straightened up, and Evan quickly stuffed the newspaper into his bag. Class was class—and despite their adventures, they all took learning seriously.
—
Far away, in the opulent chambers of Malfoy Manor, Lucius Malfoy sat brooding on a black leather sofa crafted from the hide of an African giant rhino. His usually pristine composure was nowhere to be found. His thoughts were a tangled mess.
This Christmas had been nothing short of torment.
The information Draco had brought home had been shocking enough—but after launching his own investigation, Lucius felt like a stone had sunk deep in his chest.
A boy raised in a Muggle orphanage… possessing extraordinary magical prowess… far beyond even Tom Riddle at that age.
And even more terrifying—this boy, Noah Firney, had not only slain the Basilisk, but also defeated a magical echo of a sixteen-year-old Voldemort. In the second year of school.
Lucius had confirmed Draco's memories through his own discreet and ethically questionable means, and what he saw made his blood run cold. Voldemort—even in sixth year—had been a dark prodigy. Yet Noah had outdone even him.
What chilled Lucius more was discovering that Noah wielded elemental magic.
Elemental magic wasn't taught in schools. It wasn't even spoken of outside of high councils or elite institutions. This was advanced sorcery—rare, coveted, and monopolized by the most mysterious magical organizations across the globe.
Organizations so powerful and detached that even the Ministry of Magic dared not meddle in their affairs.
And among them, one name stood out above all: Kamar-Taj.
According to the intelligence he received from the United States Ministry of Magic, Noah's teacher—though never publicly confirmed—had a 90% likelihood of being a practitioner from Kamar-Taj.
That changed everything.
Lucius had always believed in the supremacy of pure-blood families. But his decisions had always been strategic. The real priority had always been to secure the Malfoy family's power in the magical world.
Which was why, after his visit to Dumbledore, Lucius had done the unthinkable—he had started reading Muggle history books.
He'd even gone to Arthur Weasley—the man he used to mock the most—for information. Though Arthur hadn't been particularly friendly, he shared data thanks to some behind-the-scenes nudging from Minister Fudge.
The results of Lucius's investigations? Terrifying.
Most of the magical communities across the globe had already integrated with Muggles and Muggle-borns. Only a handful of nations clung to the "pure-blood supremacy" ideology—and those, aside from the UK, weren't exactly thriving.
The integrated nations? They were magical superpowers.
Lucius realized, with creeping dread, that if Voldemort rose again… the international magical community wouldn't just stand by. They would intervene.
And when they did, Britain's magical regime would fall like a stack of playing cards. The Death Eaters? They'd be hunted down, tried, and erased from history.
He could not let that happen.
He had to plan. He had to pivot. He needed to protect the Malfoy name, even if that meant betraying old alliances.
"Bloody hell… what a mess."
Lucius cursed under his breath, unsure if he was more angry at Noah, Dumbledore, or himself.
Noah Finniel… that brat had wrecked his dreams.
Dumbledore… that infernal old man had appointed Snape as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—practically waving a red flag at the rest of the pure-blood faction.
Lucius nearly lost his mind when he received congratulatory letters from other pure-blood families:
"Dear Mr. Lucius Malfoy, your efforts have secured us a stronghold within Hogwarts. Your loyalty will be remembered. Congratulations, friend."
He had half a mind to strangle Dumbledore with his own beard.
Worse yet, part of him suspected Snape was Dumbledore's agent, planted to sabotage everything from the inside.
And while Lucius almost guessed the truth, he pushed the idea aside. Snape had always been a loyal Death Eater—at least as far as he knew.
Still, he had no choice now.
He stood up and walked to the mirror.
The reflection staring back at him was pale, drawn, and exhausted. The once-proud aristocrat now looked like a worn-out pauper. Even his golden hair hung limply.
"Should I hide the dark artifacts?" he whispered. "Or destroy them?"
He had to start shifting allegiances.
Leak minor intel to Dumbledore. Keep an eye on foreign Ministry officials. Begin cleaning house.
Lucius clenched his fists. This wasn't about winning anymore—it was about surviving.
—
Back at Hogwarts, in the Room of Requirement, Lance stared at Noah in disbelief.
"You did all this during the holidays and didn't tell us?!" he shouted.
Noah, calmly writing a letter, barely looked up. "I was waiting until everyone was here. Summer's long—we all needed something useful to do."
Professor Flitwick's Charms class had ended just an hour ago, and their group had cleaned up, eaten, and come here to talk freely—away from the curious eyes of other students who had taken a growing interest in them ever since the Basilisk incident.
Noah, at last, finished the letter and tied it to Hathaway's leg—their trained owl. With a soft pat, he sent her off.
"So… you started a firm with an exorcist over the break?" Kenn asked, incredulous.
"Yep. And I talked to professor Dumbledore about it. He agreed to help smooth over the 'no magic outside school' rule. We'll be supervised but free to operate."
"Honestly, this is genius," Evan said. "We're always using family money—might as well do something meaningful. But seriously, why keep it a secret?"
Noah glanced at him with a small smile. "Because there's more. We're also teaching a Muggle how to use magic."
"…What?"
"Excuse me, what?!"
Chaos broke out instantly.
Noah just leaned back with a smirk. Summer vacation was about to get very interesting.
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