The Great Hall, on the morning of June 19th, 1937, buzzed with a peculiar mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. The last of the sixth-year exams had concluded just hours before, leaving behind a collective sigh of relief, but also a lingering sense of depletion. Despite the summer sun streaming through the high windows, bathing the hall in a deceptive warmth, the atmosphere remained tinged with the familiar undercurrent of unease that had permeated Hogwarts since Christmas.
Marcus Starborn sat at the Ravenclaw table, a half-eaten piece of toast on his plate, his mind already far from the recently vanquished examination papers. He felt the familiar thrum of his own magic, potent and ready, after months of rigorous, secret training that had continued relentlessly alongside his academic pursuits.
Around him, his housemates mirrored his weariness, yet also his underlying apprehension. Eleanor Crombwell meticulously stacked her empty juice goblet, her usual composure strained by the pressures of N.E.W.T.-level exams. Edgar Selwyn, though looking pale, still managed to offer a concise analysis of the theoretical physics involved in a particularly challenging Arithmancy problem. Elara Croft simply stared out the window, a thoughtful, almost distant look in her eyes.
"Well," Eleanor sighed, rubbing her temples. "That's that for another year. Only one more set of exams stands between us and… whatever lies beyond these walls." Her voice, though weary, carried a new maturity, a weightiness that spoke of their growing awareness of the world.
"And what lies beyond those walls seems to be getting more complicated by the day," Edgar added, his voice dry, gesturing subtly towards the High Table where Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were engaged in a low, intense conversation, their faces grim.
Just then, the familiar rustle of wings and the soft thuds of parchment announced the arrival of the morning papers. But this delivery was different. Instead of a scattered few, a veritable flurry of owls descended, each clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet or one of the foreign magical newspapers that had become increasingly common sight in the Great Hall. The sense of foreboding, which had been momentarily suppressed by exam relief, returned with a chilling immediacy.
The headlines screamed, once again, of Grindelwald. But this time, it was not of conquest, but of a new, unsettling phase of his campaign.
THE DAILY PROPHET:
ACOLYTES STRIKE SWITZERLAND!
Grindelwald's Forces Cause Havoc Near Geneva - Neutrality Breached
A collective gasp, louder and more immediate than any in recent memory, swept through the Great Hall. The term "Acolytes", a name Grindelwald's followers had adopted for themselves, seemed to hang in the air like a noxious gas. Switzerland. The bastion of magical neutrality. The financial heart of the magical world. Breached.
The relief from exams evaporated, replaced by a fresh wave of fear and indignation. Whispers erupted, frantic and desperate, about what this new development meant.
"Switzerland?!" Eleanor exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock. "But they're neutral! They have no military… it's always been understood they were off-limits!"
Edgar pushed his spectacles up his nose, his analytical mind immediately dissecting the implications. "This isn't a full invasion, not yet. 'Causing trouble.' That suggests targeted acts of destabilization, perhaps terror attacks, disrupting their banking and trade. It's psychological warfare, intended to sow fear and undermine confidence in neutrality."
Elara's face was pale. "It's like he's testing the waters. Seeing how much he can get away with before anyone reacts. And 'Acolytes'… it sounds so deliberate, so… cult-like."
As the Hall erupted in anxious chatter, the Gryffindor table became a focal point of their friends' reactions. Henry Potter looked utterly devastated, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. Leo Lionsguard looked like he wanted to punch something, his jaw clenched, his broad shoulders tensed. Elizabeth Blackwood, however, looked grimly unsurprised, her eyes scanning the article with a cold, dissecting intensity.
Marcus felt a familiar knot in his stomach. Not shock, but a grim, weary acceptance. This was precisely the kind of move he had discussed with Salazar Slytherin – a strategic probing, a calculated destabilization. Grindelwald wasn't just about direct conquest anymore; he was expanding his influence through insidious means, chipping away at the foundations of the established order.
"This confirms it," Marcus stated, his voice low, but clear enough for his friends to hear. "He's testing their resolve. He's showing that nowhere is truly safe, not even the neutral territories. It's a message, not just an attack."
After breakfast, with the somber mood clinging to them like a shroud, the group of six friends – Marcus, Eleanor, Edgar, Elara, Henry, Leo, and Elizabeth – gravitated towards one of the abandoned classrooms on the fifth floor. It was a place they often used for private conversations, far from prying ears, its ancient Muting Charms a silent guarantee of their privacy. The room was dusty, filled with overturned desks and chipped blackboards, but to them, it was a sanctuary.
"So, 'Acolytes' causing 'trouble' in Switzerland," Leo began, pacing the room restlessly, his anger barely contained. "What does that even mean? Is it like… magical hooligans? Or something more sinister?"
"More sinister, I'd wager," Elizabeth stated, her voice sharp, cutting through Leo's bluster. She leaned against a dusty desk, arms crossed. "It's psychological warfare. Switzerland's strength isn't military, it's its neutrality and its financial stability. Disrupt those, and you hit them where it hurts. Panic bank withdrawals, economic instability… it undermines their global standing without firing a single Blasting Curse."
"Exactly," Edgar agreed, adjusting his spectacles. "It sends a message to other neutral nations, too: 'You are not safe. Your perceived neutrality is a weakness, not a shield.'"
Henry, however, looked more bewildered than angry. "But why Switzerland? I mean, besides the money. What's his long-term game here? Just chaos?"
Marcus finally spoke, his voice measured, carefully choosing his words to convey his understanding without revealing its true, deeper source. "It's about undermining the existing order from within. Austria was a direct conquest, a declaration of intent. Switzerland is a more subtle approach. It's about eroding trust, creating internal divisions, and demonstrating that his influence is everywhere. He's not just building an empire; he's systematically dismantling the foundations of the old world."
"So what do you think he'll do next?" Elara asked, her eyes fixed on Marcus, recognizing the depth of his analytical thought. "After Switzerland, I mean."
"He'll likely consolidate his gains in Austria further, exploiting their magical infrastructure and resources. And he'll continue to use these… 'Acolyte' actions, perhaps escalating them, in other bordering nations or key financial centers. He wants to show the ICW that they are powerless to stop him, that their diplomatic talks are meaningless. He's creating a new reality through force and fear," Marcus explained, his gaze distant, as if seeing the geopolitical chessboard in his mind.
"Speaking of which," Eleanor interjected, her expression grim. "My father mentioned that the ICW is planning another emergency summit this summer. They're calling it the 'Geneva Protocols' in light of… well, this." She gestured to the newspaper. "They're hoping to finally form a unified front."
Leo scoffed. "A unified front? They'll talk for weeks, issue strongly worded condemnations, and Grindelwald will probably conquer another country while they're debating commas."
"A cynical, but perhaps accurate, assessment, Leo," Elizabeth conceded with a wry twist of her lips. "The magical nations are too fragmented, too obsessed with their own internal politics and ancient rivalries, to truly unite. They'll bicker over troop contributions, over who leads, over who gets credit, while Grindelwald, ironically, operates with ruthless efficiency precisely because he has eliminated dissent within his own ranks."
"But if they don't unite, then what hope is there?" Henry asked, his voice tinged with despair. "We're just… sitting ducks? Two years from now, when we're out there, will there even be a stable world to join?"
This was the core question, the one that gnawed at Marcus every night. "The official channels may be slow," Marcus said, looking at each of his friends in turn, his voice holding a subtle, unyielding strength. "But that doesn't mean hope is lost. It means the burden falls on individuals. On those willing to act, even if the system fails."
Elara's gaze was particularly intense. "Act how, Marcus? We're just students. Even if we're about to be N.E.W.T. graduates, what can six people do against a force like Grindelwald's Acolytes?"
"We refine our skills," Marcus replied, his eyes briefly flicking towards his own wand, which lay on the desk. "We learn every possible counter, every strategic maneuver. We become more than just spell-casters. We become thinkers, tacticians, individuals who can adapt to a world that defies all traditional rules. We learn how to protect not just ourselves, but those who cannot protect themselves."
"And what about our careers?" Eleanor asked, her practical nature asserting itself. "The Ministry will be looking for new Aurors, new administrators… will it even matter what we specialized in if the world is in chaos?"
"It will matter more than ever," Edgar asserted, picking up his paper again, his eyes scanning the details of the article. "Every field will be affected. Runesmasters will be needed to counter dark enchantments. Arithmancers to decipher enemy strategy and secure communications. Charms masters to devise new protections. And yes, Aurors, more than ever, will be on the front lines. But it won't just be about brute force. It will be about intelligence, precision, and understanding the enemy's mindset."
"So, no more dreams of professional Quidditch, then?" Leo grumbled, though his expression softened into one of reluctant understanding. "Looks like I'll have to settle for being the best bloody Auror the Ministry's ever seen."
Elizabeth gave a faint, cynical smile. "And I suppose I'll be busy devising counter-propaganda charms to make Grindelwald's speeches sound like a particularly flat Fizzing Whizbee."
The conversation continued for another hour, a sober discussion of their futures, of the grim reality that awaited them, and of the unique skills each of them possessed that might contribute to the fight. The air of maturity was palpable, a stark contrast to the carefree spirits they had been only a few short years ago. The world was forcing them to grow up, and rapidly.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dusty classroom, they finally decided to disperse. The weight of the world, though acknowledged and dissected, was still heavy.
Marcus returned to his private dorm room. The quiet solitude was a welcome relief after the tense discussions. He placed his trunk at the foot of his bed, the simple act of preparing for departure for the summer break feeling oddly significant. This summer would not be a time for relaxation, but for intensified training, for delving deeper into the abyss of Untethered Will and Draconic magic, for becoming the unseen force Slytherin had envisioned.
He laid out his favorite set of robes for the next morning, packed his last few remaining books, and then sat on his bed, simply staring at the window. The thought of leaving Hogwarts, even for the summer, felt different this year. It was no longer a break from studies, but a transition to a new phase of preparation. He was not just going home; he was stepping into a world that was rapidly descending into chaos, a world that needed more than just conventional magic.
He thought of the headlines: "Acolytes Strike Switzerland." It was a chilling declaration. Grindelwald was stirring, testing, preparing. And Marcus, in the quiet of his room, felt the profound responsibility that settled upon his shoulders. He would not just be a wizard. He would be a shield, a spear, a hidden hand in the coming storm.
He turned from the window, and with a quiet resolve, climbed into bed. Sleep came, but it was not the easy slumber of a carefree student. It was the sleep of a warrior, haunted by the grim promise of the future, yet resolute in the face of it.