The crisp morning air of June 20th, 1937, carried the bittersweet scent of damp earth and distant, blooming wildflowers as Marcus Starborn made his final exit from Hogwarts Castle. The usual boisterous energy of end-of-term departures was tempered by the lingering anxiety of the news from Switzerland, but for the graduating sixth-years, there was also a profound sense of anticipation. One more year stood between them and the tumultuous world outside, and for Marcus, that year held a new, chilling significance.
His trunk, perfectly packed and secured with subtle Draconic wards that whispered of protection and secrecy, floated effortlessly behind him, a testament to his refined wandless magic. Hedwig, perched serenely on his shoulder, occasionally ruffled her feathers, her golden eyes scanning the bustling grounds. The carriages pulled by the skeletal Thestrals stood waiting, their unseen forms shimmering faintly in the sunlight, taking students to the Hogsmeade station.
Marcus found his usual companions gathered near the carriages, their faces a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and the familiar, underlying worry. Eleanor Crombwell, ever composed, ensured her luggage was securely stowed. Edgar Selwyn was deep in conversation with a professor about a complex theorem, while Elara Croft stood apart, gazing wistfully at the castle. Henry Potter and Leo Lionsguard were in a heated discussion about Quidditch strategies, a momentary distraction from the grim realities, while Elizabeth Blackwood simply observed the departing crowds, a cynical smirk playing on her lips.
"Finally free!" Leo roared, spotting Marcus. "Another year survived! Though, I half expected Grindelwald to send a flying army of gnomes to invade during our Charms exam. That would have spiced things up, wouldn't it, Marcus?"
"Perhaps a touch too much, Leo," Marcus replied with a faint smile, joining the group. "Though it would certainly have been a memorable conclusion to the term."
"Memorable, yes, but hardly conducive to passing N.E.W.T.s," Eleanor interjected dryly. "Honestly, I thought my brain would melt trying to remember all those Counter-Transfiguration theorems. I just hope all that cramming paid off."
"I'm sure it did, Eleanor," Marcus reassured her, a subtle warmth in his tone. "Your precision is unparalleled."
"Indeed," Edgar chimed in, breaking away from his professor. "The examiners will be hard-pressed to find fault with your Runes interpretations, Eleanor. And as for you, Marcus, I have no doubt your Arithmancy paper was nothing short of brilliant. Your unique approach to multi-variable causality always leaves me… pondering." He gave Marcus a knowing look, a quiet acknowledgement of their shared intellectual pursuits beyond the curriculum.
Henry, however, looked less confident. "I just hope I passed History of Magic. Dates and names always get me. And I'm pretty sure I accidentally turned my cauldron purple in the Potions practical."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Typical, Potter. Don't worry, if you can avoid turning yourself into a newt, I'm sure you'll be fine. My biggest worry is that the Ministry will try to recruit us all into some crackpot anti-Grindelwald task force the moment we leave these gates."
Elara, who had been quiet, finally spoke, her voice soft but filled with a thoughtful intensity. "It's not just about the exams anymore, is it? It's about what we do with what we've learned. With Grindelwald, and now the 'Acolytes' stirring… the stakes are higher than ever before."
"Exactly, Elara," Marcus agreed, his gaze sweeping over his friends. "Every lesson, every skill, every bit of knowledge we've gained, will be put to the ultimate test in the coming years. Hogwarts has prepared us, but the real learning, the real application, begins now."
The time for farewells came swiftly. Promises to write were exchanged, along with heartfelt wishes for a peaceful, if unlikely, summer. Marcus bid farewell to his friends, a quiet sense of camaraderie strengthening the bond forged over six years. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him, that their paths would inevitably cross again, not just in school, but in the unfolding conflict.
He chose to walk the short distance to his cottage in Hogsmeade, rather than take a carriage. The familiar village, usually bustling with students on their way to Zonko's or Honeydukes, was quieter now, a subdued reflection of the wider world. The scent of butterbeer and licorice waffled from the closed shops, adding a nostalgic pang to the solemn departure.
His cottage, nestled on the outskirts of the village, welcomed him with its quiet solitude. It was a haven, a place where he could continue his Untethered Will and Draconic studies undisturbed. He spent the remainder of the day meticulously organizing his things. His trunk was unpacked, clothes neatly folded and put away with subtle Anti-Wrinkle Charms. His school books were sorted, stacked according to subject and level of relevance to his deeper magical research. The books on advanced Runes and Arithmancy, those that delved into the fundamental fabric of magic, were placed in a separate, more accessible pile. His Draconic journals, filled with his esoteric notes and theoretical commands, were secured in a hidden compartment within his desk, warded with complex, self-repairing protective spells.
He cleaned his wand with a soft cloth, its smooth holly wood warm beneath his fingers, a silent extension of his will. He polished his prefect badge, its gleam a subtle reminder of the responsibility he carried, even outside the school walls. Every action was deliberate, methodical, a physical manifestation of his mental organization, preparing himself for the intense training that lay ahead. The simplicity of the task was calming, a grounding ritual amidst the storm brewing in the world. He stocked his pantry with simple provisions, ensured his fireplace was ready for floo calls, and performed subtle diagnostic charms on the cottage, ensuring its wards were fully active and impenetrable.
As twilight deepened into night, Marcus sat at his study desk, not with textbooks, but with ancient tomes that whispered of forgotten magic. His first day of summer break was not a day of rest, but a day of quiet preparation, a prelude to the relentless pursuit of mastery that would define his next two years. He retired early, the peaceful silence of his cottage a stark contrast to the anxiety he had witnessed in the Great Hall, a brief respite before the true work began.
The second week of Marcus's summer break arrived with a familiar flutter of wings. It was a Tuesday morning, bright and sunny, when a particularly large, official-looking owl descended from the sky, carrying a thick, cream-coloured envelope bearing the distinct crimson seal of Hogwarts. His sixth-year end-of-term results.
A flicker of anticipation, quickly superseded by a calm certainty, passed through Marcus. He took the envelope, feeding the owl a piece of bacon. He knew, with absolute clarity, what the contents would reveal. Months of unwavering dedication, rigorous self-study, and the integration of his Untethered Will and Draconic insights into his academic performance had ensured it.
He broke the seal. The parchment inside was crisp, adorned with the Hogwarts crest. He scanned the results, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips.
TRANSFIGURATION: O (Outstanding)
POTIONS: O (Outstanding)
CHARMS: O (Outstanding)
ANCIENT RUNES: O (Outstanding)
ARITHMANCY: O (Outstanding)
DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS: O (Outstanding)
Six Outstandings. A perfect sweep. It was precisely as he had expected. His rigorous self-training, which involved applying his unique magical understanding to the curriculum, had not merely prepared him to pass; it had allowed him to master. In Transfiguration, his understanding of form and substance through Draconic Verth (create/shape) had given him an intuitive grasp beyond textbook theory. In Potions, his comprehension of flow and essence (Nahl and A'kren) allowed for unparalleled precision in brewing. His Charms work was imbued with pure intent, making them exceptionally potent and stable. Runes and Arithmancy, the grammars of magic, were deeply intertwined with his Draconic language, allowing him to decipher and manipulate magical structures at a fundamental level. And in Defence Against the Dark Arts, his ability to sense, adapt, and counter threats with his Untethered Will had made him virtually untouchable in practical sessions.
He placed the results down, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling over him. This was not about pride, but about validation. It confirmed that his unique path, his secret studies, were not only effective but were elevating him to a level of magical proficiency that few could match. This mastery was crucial now, more than ever.
His thoughts then turned to his friends. He knew how much these results meant to them, how hard they had worked. He picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and began writing out the letters meant for his friends. He decided to start with Eleanor.
Dearest Eleanor,
I hope this letter finds you well and enjoying a well-deserved respite from the rigours of sixth-year exams. As anticipated, the owls have brought our results. I trust yours reflect the exceptional effort and meticulous precision you always bring to your studies, especially in Transfiguration and Runes. I found the final Arithmancy paper particularly engaging, though I'm sure it vexed many. Let me know your thoughts on Professor Vector's final question – I found her approach to recursive probabilities quite insightful.
On a more serious note, the news from Switzerland continues to be… unsettling. Edgar's assessment of Grindelwald's strategic aims seems increasingly accurate. It reiterates the importance of mastering every facet of our magical education. Our final year will not just be about passing N.E.W.T.s, but about truly preparing for the challenges that undoubtedly lie ahead.
Do write back when you have a moment, and perhaps we can discuss these matters further. Your insights are always invaluable.
Warmly,
Marcus
He sealed Eleanor's letter and set it aside. Next, Edgar. His letter would delve deeper into the theoretical aspects of their results, perhaps even pose a new, complex problem.
Edgar,
The results have arrived. Unsurprising, I trust, given your usual academic prowess. I imagine your scores in Runes and Arithmancy are, as always, beyond reproach. I received 'Outstanding' in all my subjects, affirming the efficacy of our shared theoretical pursuits. I found Professor Babbling's final Runes practical particularly stimulating – the need for precise temporal alignment in multi-layered enchantments was a fascinating challenge. I wonder if you noted the subtle parallels between her recursive binding sequences and some of the more advanced concepts we've discussed regarding causality manipulation?
The ongoing situation with the 'Acolytes' in Switzerland underscores the immediate relevance of our studies. Grindelwald's tactics are evolving, shifting from overt conquest to insidious destabilization. This requires a counter-strategy rooted in an equally profound, yet subtle, understanding of magical influence and disruption. I have been contemplating the application of non-verbal, wandless counter-charms against large-scale propaganda-based enchantments. Your thoughts on the theoretical frameworks for such an undertaking would be greatly appreciated.
I look forward to your detailed response. This summer will be crucial for our further intellectual development.
Regards,
Marcus
He continued, writing to Elara with a focus on the broader implications of magic and the world, to Henry with encouragement and a shared sentiment on the practicalities of History of Magic (though Marcus secretly found the political history fascinating), to Leo with a direct, almost challenging tone about the coming fight and the need for honed skills, and to Elizabeth with an acknowledgement of her keen political mind and a subtle hint at the deeper machinations at play. Each letter was tailored, personal, reflecting the unique bond he shared with each friend.
Once all six letters were carefully sealed, Marcus took them to the public owlery in Hogsmeade. The small, usually bustling, building was quieter than usual, a testament to the fewer students remaining in the village during the summer. He selected healthy-looking, reliable owls for each letter, ensuring they knew their destination, and watched them take flight, tiny specks against the vast blue sky. It was a simple act, but it connected him to his friends, a lifeline in a world that felt increasingly isolated.
Returning to his cottage, the satisfaction of his results and the completion of his correspondence allowed him to briefly shift his focus. He sought out a particular tome from his specialized collection, a weighty, leather-bound volume titled, 'The Serpent's Eye: Ancient Treatises on Magical Combat and Diplomatic Deception'. It was not a Hogwarts textbook, but a rare, powerful work that delved into the dark, strategic underbelly of magical conflict, emphasizing cunning, misdirection, and the manipulation of power dynamics rather than just spell-slinging. Salazar Slytherin's advice on strategy and subtle influence had led Marcus to seek out such works.
He opened the book, settling into his favourite armchair by the window. The chapter he chose was titled: 'The Art of the Unseen Hand: Treaties and Tactics of Magical Combat in Eras of Hegemony.'
The words on the page absorbed him entirely. It was a complex, dense piece, dissecting historical magical conflicts not as clashes of armies, but as intricate dances of magical treaties, clandestine operations, and psychological warfare. It spoke of how powerful wizards, when seeking to establish dominance, would exploit existing treaties to their advantage, twisting legal loopholes, or simply disregarding them when expedient. It detailed tactics of magical combat that went beyond curses and shields, delving into methods of economic sabotage through enchantment, political assassinations achieved through subtle curses that mimicked natural causes, and the systematic demoralization of a populace through orchestrated magical 'accidents' and widespread, insidious propaganda.
Marcus read about the 'Veiled Hand' strategy, where a powerful magical entity would subtly manipulate events from the shadows, using proxies and false flags to achieve its goals, never revealing its true power until the moment of decisive, undeniable impact. He recognized the chilling parallels to Grindelwald's actions in Austria and Switzerland. Grindelwald was not merely a wizard; he was a strategic genius, employing these very tactics, updated for the modern age. The installation of a puppet government, the 'Acolyte' attacks – these were the 'unseen hand' at work, eroding stability, sowing doubt, and positioning Grindelwald for the final, devastating blow.
The text spoke of anti-treaty charms, ancient forms of magic designed to subtly weaken the magical bonds of alliance between nations, or to subtly influence decision-makers towards self-interest and division. It discussed psychic warfare, not just the Imperius Curse, but more nuanced methods of sowing discord, paranoia, and fear within enemy ranks or civilian populations. It detailed the use of environmental magic to disrupt supply lines, create natural disasters, or simply make life unbearable for a targeted community, forcing their surrender without direct magical combat.
Marcus absorbed every word, his mind linking these historical tactics to his own rapidly developing Draconic magic. His Untethered Will was the perfect tool for such 'unseen hand' tactics. He could project subtle influences, disrupt magical bonds, and even create localized, temporary environmental shifts far more effectively than traditional spell-casting. The sheer precision and non-verbal nature of his magic made him uniquely suited to becoming a 'hidden variable,' a force that could operate behind the scenes, counteracting Grindelwald's machinations.
The book reinforced Salazar Slytherin's advice: don't fight on Grindelwald's terms. Strike at the foundations. Be the scalpel, not the hammer. This was not a war that would be won by massed Auror charges. It would be won by strategic brilliance, by dismantling the enemy's plans from within, by manipulating the very currents of magic and human intent.
As the last light of day faded, and the cottage plunged into shadows, Marcus closed the heavy book. The weight of its knowledge, combined with the news of the 'Acolytes' and his own confirmed magical prowess, settled upon him. He was no longer just a student preparing for exams. He was a force being forged, a secret weapon in a war that was rapidly escalating. His perfect scores were not just academic achievements; they were a testament to the power he was honing, the power that would be desperately needed.
He retired for his day, the silence of the cottage a stark contrast to the tumultuous thoughts in his mind. The summer had just begun, and the world was already demanding everything he had. But he was ready. He had spent years preparing for this, for the moment when the unseen hand of darkness would demand an unseen, equally powerful, counter.