HP: Man of Archives

The flight to France was relatively smooth. Isolde had a decent broomstick, but it couldn't compare to the ones Hermione, Fleur, and I had. It wasn't as fast or as comfortable as one might like. But that wasn't much of an issue—aside from our trio, I was also "responsible" for a hundred eager Veela dancers, all desperate to return to mainland Europe.

Hermione accompanied me to France because the situation in England was uncertain. Besides, I didn't want her studying at the same school as Potter—he was just too unpredictable. I had already sent a letter to Dumbledore informing him of my decision. His response was positive, so this year, she would be homeschooled—or rather, tutored by me.

Meanwhile, Marie, still in figurine form, had long since revealed the locations of numerous demons. With the help of the Auror Office and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, they were all captured in a single swift operation. Afterward, I led a large-scale demon purge. The wizards were surprised by my intelligence sources, but I simply claimed I had interrogated one of the demons during the Tournament.

Upon arriving in France, we made our way to Paris, where the Veela parted ways with me to handle their own affairs. Naturally, they invited me to visit their school, somewhere in the south of France, and provided me with apparition coordinates.

"Glad to see you, Timothy," Amel said with a nod when we finally met. "And I'm pleased everything turned out well for you."

"Likewise," I replied, nodding back. "I see things have been eventful here too."

"You could say that," Amel chuckled. "Ever since I became the new Minister of Magic, I've had my share of unpleasant incidents. Just recently, there was an attempt on my life, but fortunately, it failed."

"Any idea who was behind it?" I asked.

"Yes," he said with a nod. "The opposition. They don't see a future for me and are trying to seize any opportunity to reclaim the power they had under the previous Minister."

"And they're willing to resort to direct confrontation?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes, because my hold on power isn't as strong as I'd like it to be."

It was clear that Amel didn't particularly want to discuss this, but he was making an effort to be as honest with me as possible. And for that alone, I could give him a few extra points in my book.

"Well, that's for now." I smirked. "What's the plan?"

"I need you to make a public statement in support of me," he said after a brief pause for thought.

"I can't just go out there and say something like that," I mused. "There has to be a good reason."

"No need to worry about that," Amel said with a pleased nod. "As the French Minister of Magic, I want to offer you a permanent contract as Headmaster of Beauxbatons, along with increased funding for the school's needs."

The last part was said with a hint of amusement, as if he thought I would funnel most of the money into my own pockets—and possibly his as well. The problem with that assumption was that I had no need for Ministry funds. I already had more than twenty million Galleons, plus the ability to create gold myself—gold that the goblins would gladly exchange for a hefty sum.

Actually, I was curious about how the investigation into the attack on their banks was progressing. By now, they should have at least hinted at a suspect. There was no way they'd simply forget and forgive such an insult to their faces. I'd have to find a way to discreetly inquire about the case.

"Alright, then we can make a public announcement and allow a few questions from the press," I agreed. "Will that be enough to sway the opposition? Or would you prefer a little demonstration?"

"Let's save the demonstration for later," he drawled. "For now, we'll stick to sending signals. If they refuse to acknowledge them and decide to take action instead, I'll have to ask you to quiet them down. I can count on you for that, right?"

"Of course, no problem," I said with a nod.

"And one last thing," Amel said, pulling out a tube of some sort and handing it to me. "My part of the deal."

I quickly and discreetly checked the tube for any dangerous or unwanted magic before opening it. Inside was a rolled-up document. Instead of taking it in my hands, I simply levitated it into the air. As I unrolled it, I noticed engravings along the edges, elaborate script, and signatures and seals from the French Ministry of Magic, the President of Muggle France, and several other officials from both the magical and Muggle governments.

It was a deed granting me ownership of the island of Corsica, with inheritance rights for my children. De facto, it was recognition of the island's magical sector as an independent entity and my official appointment as its ruler. Naturally, I would still have to establish my own authority there, but that wouldn't be much of a challenge.

"Well?" he asked.

"This is an excellent gift," I said with a nod.

"The Governor of Corsica has been informed of the decision," said Fleur's father. "And there's a slight issue. We've received a formal protest from him, in which he refuses to acknowledge the new ruler of Corsica and has even made threats to eliminate the 'impertinent usurper.'"

A small smile crept onto my face.

"That won't be a problem for me at all," I smirked.

A plan was already beginning to take shape in my mind. I would involve Marie to gather intelligence. Coincidentally, Beauxbatons was planning to hold a student tournament around this time. Since the Triwizard Tournament was no longer happening, I would most likely have the opportunity to conduct a little pacification of the island.

"Perfect," Amel said with a nod.

At that moment, Apolline, Hermione, Fleur, Gabrielle, and Isolde joined us. The Delacours were eager to meet my other students, especially since the Marigold family was well known to them—though they had yet to have any direct dealings.

"How is Fleur doing?" Apolline inquired. "How's her training coming along?"

"Quite well, actually," I mused. "If she keeps up the same pace, she'll reach mastery within the next few years."

"Timothy, have you considered working toward your next rank?" she asked.

"I have," I said with a nod. "And, to tell you a little secret, I'm currently working on a project, but it's nowhere near ready to be presented yet."

"Do you need any additional resources?" Amel asked.

"Resources aren't the issue," I replied. "Time is. There just aren't enough hours in the day."

"So it's time you need," he said thoughtfully. "Unfortunately, that's something I can't help with, no matter how much I'd like to."

"I understand," I said simply.

Ideas were already forming on how I could, if not solve this issue, then at least work around it. I could use Marie for that as well. Of course, she was currently a complete novice when it came to local magic, but with my abilities and her completely open mind, I could quickly teach her some essential skills. And if that didn't work out, I'd have to leave Isolde and Hermione with someone I could trust.

I needed to finish analyzing the data I had extracted from the Flamel estate. It was long overdue.

"How about taking Gabrielle as your student?" Apolline asked.

I looked at the little Veela, who was undeniably cute. She blushed slightly and tried to hide her face. It was clear she hadn't expected such a question from her mother, and I could understand why.

"Well, what can I say," I said after a moment. "For now, I don't have the time to train her. Once Isolde or Fleur complete their studies and reach mastery, then we can revisit this discussion."

"Alright," Apolline said with a nod. "Then we'll put this matter on hold."

The rest of dinner passed peacefully, without any complicated or important discussions—just casual conversation among wizards.

That evening, after everyone had gone to bed, I stepped outside and transfigured Marie back into her normal form. She instantly dropped to one knee, awaiting my command.

"Alright, Marie, I have your first task."

"I will carry it out, my lord," the demoness responded.

"I need you to go to the island of Corsica… You know where it is, right?"

"Of course, my lord," she said. "What am I to do there?"

"I need you to identify all the wizards who are hostile toward me," I told her calmly. "Make a list."

"What should I do with them?"

"Nothing," I replied. "They must not know that you belong to me. Ideally, they shouldn't even be aware of your presence."

"May I use my body to gather information?"

"No," I answered firmly. "That is strictly forbidden. But you may use any other methods to obtain intel. Just don't get caught."

"Understood, my lord," the demoness said. "It will be done as you command."

I reached into my bag and pulled out a spare wand I had lying around. Handing it to Marie, I allowed her to take it.

"Give it a few swishes," I ordered.

She did as instructed, and red-and-white sparks shot from the tip of the wand. Perfect—she could use a wand. I wasn't sure to what extent, but even a minimal level of proficiency would help solidify her cover as a witch.

Next, I delved into her mind and simply transferred a handful of basic spells—ones that any wand-wielding wizard would know.

"Cast a light spell."

"Lumos," she said quietly, and a steady glow illuminated the tip of the wand, lighting up the surroundings. "Nox."

"Excellent." I smiled in satisfaction and uploaded another dozen spells that might come in handy for her.

"Thank you, my lord," the demoness said. "I deeply appreciate your gift."

"Marie," I addressed her. "Go and carry out your mission to the best of your ability."

"Everything will be done at the highest level, my lord," she assured me. "I will not disappoint you. In fact, you'll be pleasantly surprised."

"Excellent. Then safe travels."

With that, the demoness disappeared into the night, swiftly moving away from the Delacour estate. As she distanced herself, I was surprised to find that my mental link with her didn't weaken at all. It seemed to operate on a different principle than Legilimency or traditional Mental Magic.

After standing there for a little while longer, I headed back inside and went to sleep.

The last few days before the start of the school year passed in a relaxed manner. Of course, I moved back into the headmaster's apartments, bringing Hermione and Isolde with me. Fleur, however, would be arriving the usual way along with the rest of the students—she insisted on it.

I was the only one truly resting. Isolde was deeply engrossed in a book I had transfigured for her, while the Beauxbatons administration, professors, and their assistants worked tirelessly to prepare for the year ahead. Hermione spent most of her time familiarizing herself with the school since she would be attending certain lessons with other teachers.

Both Isolde and Hermione would be living in my quarters. Setting up separate rooms for them was a simple matter, and the house-elves, with a single snap of their fingers, arranged them exactly to the girls' liking.

The school year began in a fairly straightforward and ordinary manner. The student sorting ceremony was conducted under the watchful eyes of myself and several other professors. At Beauxbatons, sorting was done with an enchanted pendant that glowed in a specific color to indicate the student's house. Gabrielle, for whom this was her first year, was placed in the same house as Fleur.

Once the sorting was complete, the students, already seated at their tables, waited for me to formally open the school year.

Seeing that everything was in place just as I had intended, I rose to my feet. The students immediately stood as one in response.

"Good afternoon, students," I addressed them.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster Jodie," came the choral response. The previous headmistress had certainly trained them well.

"Students," I continued, "I hope you all had a wonderful summer. I trust that you learned something new and made progress in your magical skills over the break. Of course, you all remember the tournament scheduled for September. While the future of the Triwizard Tournament remains uncertain, that does not mean your preparation was in vain. No. If the tournament is canceled due to the events in England, you will still receive valuable rewards."

I paused for a moment, allowing the students to process what I had just said. The approving nods from some of them pleased me.

"I have nothing more to add, so I wish you all an enjoyable meal and a school year filled with new discoveries and magic."

Returning to my seat, I allowed the house-elves to begin their work. In an instant, food appeared on the tables, filling the air with delicious aromas. Like everyone else, I started eating, occasionally chatting with the professors to catch up on news—and, of course, rumors.

Overall, it was quite an engaging conversation.

For Beauxbatons students, the school year began rather calmly. The teachers conducted initial assessments to determine each student's skill level and identify areas that needed more focus to ensure no knowledge gaps. If anyone thought the students would be immediately buried under piles of homework, they would be mistaken.

One night, I was woken by an unfamiliar Patronus staring at me with curious eyes. Gently moving Fleur's arm aside, I looked at it.

"Timothy, we need your help," Amel's voice spoke. "Our home is under attack by rebels."

That snapped me awake instantly. Fleur, still fast asleep, hadn't heard a thing, which was just as well. It seemed Amel's situation had taken a turn for the worse. It was understandable—not everyone would be pleased with his rise to power, and an attempt to remove him was inevitable. The real question was, which group was the most invested in this attack?

"Where are you going?" a sleepy Fleur mumbled.

"Go back to sleep," I told her. "Something urgent has come up that needs my attention."

"Mmm… okay," she murmured before drifting off again.

If someone was seriously planning to take out Amel, they must have factored in that I would help him. It was no secret that Fleur was studying under me, and our relationship was a bit deeper than it might seem on the surface. That meant either they had a way to delay me or they had a weapon dangerous enough to make rushing in with a wand drawn a bad idea.

I Apparated near the Delacour estate and saw a full-blown magical battle raging. Spells and bursts of light flew in every direction, slowly reshaping the landscape. Mounting my broom, I soared into the sky, casting concealment spells over myself. Once I reached an optimal level of stealth, I began carefully approaching the house.

On the ground, I spotted a small elevated position that was shielded from nearly all sides—except from above. Several wizards were stationed there, clearly waiting for something. Descending slowly, I started reading their surface thoughts, piecing together the bigger picture.

The first thing I realized was that these wizards were observers sent by a faction that wanted to overthrow Amel. They represented a politician in the Ministry of Magic known for extreme xenophobia—someone who despised anyone with even a drop of non-human blood. Besides their hatred for magical races, they also harbored deep disdain for Muggles—and, in particular, for me.

Being an Englishman, I was a thorn in their side, one they desperately wanted to remove. Tonight was supposed to be their opportunity. Their plan wasn't necessarily to kill me outright but to cripple me enough that I'd be forced to leave France.

According to their strategy, I was expected to Apparate directly into the house, which would serve as the signal for their mercenaries to eliminate Amel. At that moment, they would activate their combat artifacts—unregistered magical devices designed to exert a mental influence on the attackers. These artifacts would erase any sense of self-preservation from the mercenaries' minds, pushing them to recklessly unleash dark and forbidden magic. Once the battle reached its peak, the artifacts were set to detonate, triggering Hellfire—a magical blaze that would consume everything and everyone inside.

They calculated that I might survive the explosion, but that would only lead to further pressure to drive me out. They had a few backup plans as well, but they were more far-fetched and unlikely to succeed, so I paid them little attention.

To avoid alerting them, I cast illusions over the area, making it seem as though everything was proceeding as expected. Let them believe their plan was still on track—for now.

I flew toward the house and quietly incapacitated a few wizards stationed on the outer security ring. Then, slipping inside, I continued to knock out attackers and disable the artifacts they were using to besiege the office where Amel and Apolline were holed up.

Scattered across the floor were bodies—both attackers and defenders. I recognized a few familiar faces among the fallen, though none I knew particularly well. Faces I had seen somewhere before.

"Who th' hell are you?" a deep voice rumbled.

I turned to see a tall, dark-skinned wizard with strange yellowish eyes. He held a wand in one hand—and in the other, a Muggle revolver.

"Look, I am your grandfather," I replied. "It's time to sleep."

The wizard collapsed, unconscious.

I walked up to the door he had been trying to break down and simply knocked.

"Who's there?" came a cautious voice from the other side.

"Timothy Jodie," I answered calmly.

"How do you prove it?"

I just sighed and, with a flick of my wand, transfigured an entrance for myself. It wasn't particularly difficult for me. I was sure that for most other wizards, such a trick would have been a challenge, since the protective spells, if not properly adjusted, could react in completely unpredictable ways against attackers.

Inside, Amel stood shielding Apolline with his body, his wand raised, ready to unleash a fierce spell in a final stand. His eyes burned with the determination to fight to the very end. Apolline, for her part, was just as prepared—her wand was also aimed at the passage.

But no attack came. They recognized me.

"It's really you, Timothy?" Amel asked.

"Yes."

Lowering my wand, I waited for his next move. I didn't have to wait long. He holstered his wand, and his wife did the same.

"Thank you for coming to help," he said.

I simply nodded, accepting his gratitude.

"What's happening out there?" he asked, already trying to formulate a plan. His mind was clearly kicking into high gear.

"I knocked out the attackers," I told him. "Their handlers are under an illusion that makes them believe everything is going as planned."

"Perfect," he nodded.

"Thank you, Timothy," Apolline said, her voice filled with gratitude. She was just beginning to process everything that had happened, though she was still clearly shaken.

"What's the plan?" I asked Amel.

He glanced at Apolline. Understanding his intent, she covered her ears and shut her eyes.

"I want a Night of the Long Knives for everyone involved in this—or anyone who supported it," the wizard said. "That includes the entire opposition, the journalists, and all the other filth."

"Hmm…" I murmured thoughtfully.

"In short, I want a real bloodbath," he confirmed. Then, with a wave of his hand, Apolline uncovered her ears.

"Timothy, do you stand with me?"

I took a few seconds to think, then nodded.

"Yes. I'm with you."

"Excellent," he nodded back. "But first, I need to finish things here. Can you gather everyone for me?"

"Why not."

All the wizards I had stunned or put to sleep were gathered outside in one large group. Apolline had left, already understanding what was about to happen next. I also had a pretty good idea of what Fleur's father intended to do.

"Wake them up, please," Amel requested.

With a snap of my fingers, they all began breathing heavily, trying to make sense of their situation.

"Good evening," Amel addressed the mercenaries. They slowly came to their senses, realizing the position they were in. "Although I wouldn't exactly call this a 'good' evening. Thanks to you, this night became a living hell for many people."

"We had our orders," said the dark-skinned wizard I had knocked out last.

"You mean your contract," Amel corrected him. "In any case, I have no interest in talking to you. I believe my decision will serve as a lesson to others—that taking contracts against me and my family is a bad idea."

"Hah," the same wizard chuckled. "If it weren't for him"—he nodded toward me—"we would've wiped you out."

"Yeah, I know," Amel agreed. "But I do have his support. And you don't."

"Maybe we can buy our lives?" the wizard suggested. "What do you say, Minister? A thousand Galleons for each member of my strike team?"

Amel hesitated for a brief moment, but I knew it wouldn't change his decision. These mercenaries were about to be executed.

He pulled out his wand and cast a spell.

"Fié!"

A stream of fire erupted from his wand. The spell was identical to the English Incendio. Flames engulfed the wizards, their screams of agony filling the air as they desperately tried to escape the searing pain.

The sounds of burning flesh, the stench, the sheer terror—it would be enough to break most people. I wouldn't say I particularly enjoyed watching Amel burn living men, even if they had tried to kill him. So, I simply stepped aside, transfigured a chair for myself, and sat down with a book I had brought along.

Meanwhile, I absorbed the souls of the mercenaries as they escaped their bodies. Sealing myself in a small dome to block out the noise and smell, I waited.

About half an hour later, Amel had finished his grim task. Now, a large pile of charred, blackened corpses lay on the ground. I looked at him and saw that his face was slightly pale. There was an emptiness in his mind, a void that threatened his mental stability.

I just hoped I wouldn't have to be the one to permanently silence him in the end.

"What's the next move?" I asked. "There are still wizards under the illusion. They still think the battle is going on."

"Slaughter them," Amel said calmly.

"Then let's go."

"Yes," he confirmed.

Our first target was the home of Amel Delacour's main political rival—the man who saw himself as the next Minister of Magic. His estate was located in northern France, and every day, he commuted to work either by Floo or Apparition, depending on his mood.

The house stood on a small hill. A single window glowed with a dim yellow light—it seemed the owner was still awake. With a quick spell, I determined that aside from the owner, there was also one child and one woman inside. In the same room as the owner, there were four other men, all of whom were awake.

Since the distance was too great, I couldn't fully read their minds, only their surface emotions.

Fatigue. Impatience. They were waiting for results.

"There's one child, one woman, and five men inside," I told Amel. "What's your next move?"

"Wipe them all out," he replied.

"Even the woman and child? They might be innocent," I asked. "Are you sure this is the right thing to do?"

"Yes," he nodded. "They all must cease to exist. They pose a threat to me."

"Amel, don't you think this is going a bit too far?" I asked, drawing my wand. "Let's take them prisoner instead. You can decide what to do with them later."

"Fine, have it your way," he said.

Accepting his response, I unleashed a powerful magical strike, shattering the flimsy protective enchantments and blowing a massive hole in one of the walls. Panic erupted inside—none of the wizards had expected an attack.

Amel shot forward on his broom, eager to engage first. I followed closely, determined to keep him in check so he wouldn't forget his decision to interrogate the captives first instead of slaughtering them outright.

The first spells fired at Delacour were absorbed by his defenses before he landed. A red spell shot from his wand, cutting through the dust and darkness like lightning—but from what I could sense, it didn't hit anyone. A bit of a misfire, honestly.

After his attack, he had to focus on defense—deflecting five simultaneous spells was no easy feat. Deciding to help, I clapped my hands. Instantly, six wands appeared in the air before me. Another flick, and the swirling dust settled to the ground, revealing our opponents.

At last, Amel saw his enemies. Of course, he still intended to take them prisoner.

The woman among them was short and slightly plump, but not unattractive. Her daughter, wide-eyed with terror, stared at me and Delacour. It was obvious she had no idea what was happening. Fear twisted her perception, making Amel and me appear as demons in her mind.

Delacour bound them all and forced them to their knees in a single line before him. First were the four unknown wizards, then the woman, followed by the little girl, and finally, his primary target.

He paced in front of his political rivals, savoring the power now in his hands.

"Well, my friends," he began, "it looks like your political careers have come to an end."

"Bastard!" the opposition leader spat. "If you think that by seizing power through force, and with the help of this English scum, you can suppress the free spirit of France, then you are gravely mistaken. I have already reached out to Otto VI, requesting him to send troops to crush your illegal coup."

Otto VI—King of Germany and Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. The fact that he had reached out to him raised several questions. First and foremost: the internal conflict in France had now begun to spill onto the international stage.

"And what did he say?" Amel asked.

"He's interested," the wizard replied with a smug grin. Even a blind man could have seen the shocked expressions on his comrades' faces—they clearly hadn't been informed of this. "So, your reign and your pathetic plans won't last much longer."

"Incredible," Amel drawled. "Selling out your country to a German just like that."

Delacour shook his head, then added, "Good thing you mentioned it. Now we know, and we'll be ready."

"Your hopes are in vain!" the man sneered, laughing. "Otto has three Magisters who will wipe the floor with your English bastard. So don't even bother hoping."

The most interesting thing was that he truly believed what he was saying. He genuinely thought that Otto VI would be willing to start a war with France over some fleeting chance to restore real power to his empire. Of course, Otto could make such a foolish mistake, but he would pay dearly for it.

Amel stepped aside and stopped in front of the first wizard in line. Raising his wand, he fired a spell. The blast took the man's head clean off, sending his body collapsing backward, blood spilling onto the ground.

"Anything to say?" Delacour asked the next wizard, aiming his wand directly at the man's forehead.

"Monsieur," the man stammered, "I never supported the attack on your home! I always said political conflicts should remain political!"

A lie.

Mentally, he was desperate to survive by any means necessary. He was willing to do anything—anything—to stay alive. In fact, he had been one of the first to support the opposition leader's plan to eliminate me and Delacour physically.

Amel glanced at me. Seeing my slight nod, he beheaded the man just the same.

"I hate rats," he muttered before moving to the third wizard.

"Minister," the third wizard said, remarkably calm. "I curse you to a thousand years of suffering. May you—"

He never finished. Amel blasted his head off before he could utter another word.

The fourth wizard looked terrified, but Delacour didn't even give him a chance to speak—he executed him just like the others.

Then, he turned to the woman. She was barely holding back tears, paralyzed with fear, with only one desperate wish—to save her daughter. She was praying mentally, pleading with every god she knew to spare the girl's life. She was willing to do anything—literally anything—to make that happen.

"And what do you have to say?" Amel asked, shifting his wand to the little girl.

The child was frightened but didn't fully understand what was happening.

"Monsieur," the woman pleaded, her voice trembling. "Please! I knew nothing of their plans! Spare my daughter! Please!"

And she was telling the truth. Neither she nor the girl had any knowledge of the opposition leader's plot. So, in my opinion, Amel shouldn't execute them.

He looked at me, waiting for my reaction. I shook my head, signaling that she wasn't lying.

With a scoff, he moved his wand away from the girl and back to the opposition leader. Pressing it firmly against the man's forehead, Amel's lips curled into a sinister smirk.

"Well, Vleri, looks like your time is up," Delacour mocked. "Any last words?"

"Go to hell! You pissy, cocksucking, retardational fucking roach—"

"Wrong answer."

The spell blew the wizard's head apart, killing him instantly. I absorbed his soul, just as I had with the four before him. Overall, this night had been quite profitable for me in terms of increasing my personal power.

"We need to keep moving," Amel said. "Since you spared her, she's your responsibility now."

The woman who had survived clutched her daughter tightly, staring at me with the same fearful gaze. She knew perfectly well that she stood no chance against me. The only thing keeping her going was the faint hope of survival.

"Name?" I asked.

"Therese, and this is my daughter, Amélia, Headmaster," the woman answered immediately. She chose a different approach—showing me as much respect as possible.

"Alright." I nodded and tossed her a pouch with twenty Galleons. "Go to the Rizotto Hotel. Wait there. We'll decide what to do with you later."

"Yes, Headmaster," she said, allowing herself a small moment of relief. The joy of having survived the night was plain on her face.

We moved on to the next target, where Amel once again unleashed his fury, wiping out everyone who stood against him. I, on the other hand, acted as the battering ram, the primary combat force, and the one ensuring we reached our targets. The executions, however, were all his doing.

Over the course of three hours, we raided five more houses and one apartment.

Amel Delacour had completely let loose, methodically and coldly eliminating his enemies and those who opposed him. Meanwhile, I ensured that no innocents or children were executed. Instead, I handed them money and ordered them to go to Rizotto. If they failed to show up there, that was no longer my problem. But as long as they obeyed, I intended to help them.

"Amel, maybe that's enough for tonight?" I asked, nodding toward the rising sun. "It's already morning. You need to rest and pull yourself together. This night hasn't exactly been easy for you."

"You're right," the man exhaled, running a bloodstained hand through his hair. Thankfully, it wasn't his blood.

The immense emotional strain had aged his face by decades. I was certain that carrying out all these executions in a single night had deeply affected him, and if necessary, I'd have to step in.

We returned to the partially destroyed house, where Apolline and a few of her friends were actively working on repairs. While they hadn't participated in the battle and weren't particularly strong combat mages, that didn't mean they were useless.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Could be better," Amel replied. "I need at least a few hours of rest. I have a very difficult week ahead of me."

"Did you solve the problem?" she asked.

"For the most part," the man answered. "But this also revealed a number of other issues that will need to be dealt with."

"Alright," she sighed. "Then get some rest. Meanwhile, my cousins and I will finish the preparations for the house's restoration."

"Let me help," I offered. It wouldn't be difficult for me.

Apolline stepped aside, giving me space to work. A sharp flick of my wand, a massive surge of magical energy, and the house began to rebuild itself, the process accelerating with each passing second.

Within five minutes, everything was restored to the way it had been before the attack. Almost.

Now, I just needed to reestablish the protective enchantments and anti-Muggle wards. On top of that, there was still the issue of what to do with the bodies of the fallen defenders, which lay on the ground beneath white sheets.

"Incredible power," the Veela murmured. "This would have taken us days. Thank you, Timothy. Would you like some tea or coffee?"

"Thank you, but no," I replied. "I need to return to the school. The school day is starting, and I need to make sure there are no unexpected incidents."