Harry Potter: MageX

Xavier's office had the distinct vibe of a war room, if war rooms were equipped with leather chairs, polished oak desks, and the occasional cigar smoke floating lazily in the air. Harry had just finished his latest Danger Room session, and the rest of the team was buzzing with energy. They were trying to figure out what kind of mutant they had on their hands—because, honestly, Harry was a walking, talking, super-powered mystery.

Logan—who was never one to back down from a good mystery or a bad cigar—was slouched in his chair like he belonged there. A half-lit cheap cigar dangled from his lips like he didn't have a care in the world, but Harry knew better. When Logan didn't care, that's when things were about to get ugly.

"Kid's got potential," Logan muttered through a cloud of smoke that could've probably choked a whole army. His gravelly voice had the kind of texture you'd expect from a guy who'd been through a hundred battles and was still going strong—mainly because no one had figured out how to kill him yet. "He's got a healing factor, same as me. Maybe more. Could be he's got a whole arsenal of powers waiting to be unlocked. Healing, strength, maybe even agility... the guy could end up being like a mutant Swiss Army knife. And we've barely scratched the surface." He took a drag of his cigar, then flicked the ash off like it was the most casual thing in the world. The dude was basically a walking paradox: rugged and rough-around-the-edges, but also somehow terrifyingly intuitive.

Hank McCoy, on the other hand, wasn't the type to sit back and relax while others threw around guesses. The man practically oozed intelligence, and with his sharp blue fur and thick glasses, he looked like he could've been teaching quantum mechanics at a prestigious university… or wrestling a mutant bear in a cage match. Probably both.

"Logan's not wrong," Hank chimed in, tapping his pen against the notepad with a thoughtful expression. His words always carried a hint of academic flair, even when discussing things that involved punching things to death. "If Harry's mutation includes a healing factor, it would stand to reason that he might possess enhanced strength and agility as well. Picture Captain America—only, you know, with Wolverine's tenacity and a side of... whatever other crazy powers he's hiding in there." Hank flashed a smile, as if he had just solved the mystery of the century. "The boy could end up being a human blender of raw power."

Ororo Munroe—Storm, as she was more famously known—sat at the table, her gaze serene but intense. The air around her seemed to hum with the power of a storm waiting to happen, her control over it just as effortless as her composure. She looked like she was about to float off her chair at any moment, ready to command the skies with a flick of her hand.

"I agree with Logan and Hank," Ororo said, her voice as cool as a calm before a hurricane. "If Harry's mutation includes all these elements, we should proceed carefully. It's not just about healing or strength; we need to understand the full range of his abilities. We should consider all possibilities. And we do not want to miss anything." She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locked on Xavier. "For both his safety and the safety of others."

Charles Xavier, who had been quietly absorbing the conversation with his usual patience, finally spoke. His voice—calm, measured, and authoritative—carried the weight of a man who had dedicated his life to understanding the complexities of both mutants and humanity. If anyone could guide Harry through the labyrinth of his evolving powers, it was Charles.

"We must approach this with caution," Xavier said, his tone both resolute and compassionate. He folded his hands in front of him, eyes focused on the team. "Harry's mutation could be far more multifaceted than we initially realized. If we want him to truly understand his powers—and more importantly, control them—then we need a solid strategy." He paused, as though weighing the next step. "We will continue to observe, document, and train. But we must also give Harry the time and space to grow into the hero he is destined to become."

Everyone nodded, and even Logan, who never really seemed to have a problem with anything unless it was getting in his way, grunted in agreement. "Yeah, fine. Just don't take too long. The kid's got potential, but we all know how fast things can go south when people don't know what the hell they're dealing with."

Hank laughed—because that was Hank's thing: the guy had a laugh that could probably get him out of a tight spot if he needed to. "I think we can manage a few controlled explosions without causing the building to implode, Logan," he said with a wink. "But I'll make sure we keep Harry from accidentally turning a coffee mug into a deadly weapon."

Harry stood there, listening to the discussion with a grin plastered on his face. He had to admit, there was something oddly comforting about hearing the team strategize over his future as a superhero. It made everything feel more... official. Like he wasn't just some mutant who was going to burn out after one good round of Danger Room training. He was going to be someone—someone big.

He raised his hand sheepishly, interrupting the discussion. "Uh, guys?" The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. "Can we maybe, like, skip the 'intense research' phase? I mean, it's cool and all, but I kinda just want to... use my powers. Like, for real. I've spent my entire life feeling like I wasn't good enough for anything, and now I've got all this stuff I'm still figuring out. But I'm ready to dive in. Let's make sure I'm not accidentally causing a crater next time, yeah?"

The team exchanged glances, and Charles gave Harry a reassuring smile. "We will help you learn, Harry. Every step of the way."

And that was the moment Harry knew that this whole superhero thing wasn't just about saving the world. It was about discovering who he was—and maybe, just maybe, starting to enjoy the ride while it lasted. Because if there was one thing he'd learned by now, it was that things were bound to get even crazier than they already were. But with people like Xavier and his team on his side, he felt ready to face whatever came next.

"Well, I guess I'll go prep for some 'controlled explosions'," Harry muttered with a grin, and everyone in the room chuckled.

—

The air hummed with a strange kind of magic as Dumbledore arrived at the Boundary of the Ossuary. The Bones Family Estate loomed ahead, its ivy-clad walls so ancient, they might as well have been scribbling their own memoirs in forgotten tomes. Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon spectacles, which, let's be honest, weren't doing much to help him see through the fog of impending drama.

"Ah, Madam Bones, I see you're as punctual as ever," Dumbledore said, his voice warm but carrying that heavy weight that seemed to settle around him whenever he had to deal with something...well, complicated. He flashed a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts—if only people weren't so busy hiding their secrets.

Madam Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, stood just a few feet away, her hands clasped firmly behind her back, her posture stiff as a broomstick after a good cleaning. She was the kind of person who didn't need a wand to command authority. Just a glare would do the job. She looked him up and down, giving him that "don't-screw-this-up" look. The one you'd get from your mother before she handed you the family heirloom and told you not to drop it in the lake.

"Dumbledore," she said, her voice crisp and direct. "I'm glad you could make it. Though, frankly, it's hard to say 'glad' when we're talking about Sirius Black and his escape from Azkaban."

Ah, yes. Sirius Black. The name that was basically a lightning bolt to the entire wizarding world. Dumbledore rubbed his chin thoughtfully, making sure not to accidentally slip into a dramatic "I'm pondering something significant" pose.

"I must say, Madam Bones, I'm not thrilled to be involved in this...mess," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling slightly. "But I do believe we're all facing something rather... unsettling."

"Unsettling?" Amelia raised an eyebrow, making it clear she was not one for euphemisms. "I've mobilized the Aurors. They're out there hunting him down like he's the last chocolate frog in a box. But I need someone who knows the wizarding world inside and out. And, let's face it, you're the go-to guy for sorting out this particular nightmare."

"Ah, always a pleasure to be called in for a crisis," Dumbledore said with a mock bow. "What exactly have we discovered so far?"

Amelia leaned in, lowering her voice, like she was about to share a scandalous secret. "This is where it gets strange. As I was going over Sirius Black's case files—again, because, you know, new clues—I came across something I didn't expect. Sirius never had a trial. He was just... convicted."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up, as if they had their own personal escape plan. "Never had a trial?" he repeated, looking genuinely surprised. "Now that's...most irregular."

"That's an understatement," Amelia muttered, her gaze hardening. "When Sirius was supposedly tried, I was a Senior Auror. Barty Crouch Sr. was running the show, and even then, we knew there was something off about the entire thing. No trial. Just a conviction. It's like being told you're a Quidditch superstar and then being benched without explanation."

"Hmm," Dumbledore said, tapping his fingers together like he was trying to work out a particularly tricky spell. "That's deeply troubling indeed. You know, if there's one thing we know about the Ministry, it's that they tend to... rush things. And we must not forget, the Ministry has a history of making decisions that are, shall we say, less than transparent."

"Less than transparent?" Amelia snorted, her lips curling into a half-smile. "That's putting it mildly, Albus. The Ministry's as transparent as a Niffler's pockets. Full of shiny distractions and impossible to keep track of."

"True," Dumbledore agreed, his eyes narrowing with the kind of intensity that suggested he was ready to solve the mystery of the century. "So, if Sirius Black was denied his trial, it stands to reason that there's far more at play here than we initially thought."

Amelia crossed her arms, giving him a look that could cut through stone. "I'll make sure every stone is turned. I'm not just after justice for Black—I'm after the truth. And I won't rest until we get it."

Dumbledore gave a solemn nod. "And I will do whatever I can to assist you, Madam Bones. This is only the beginning, I fear. There are many layers to this mystery. Like an onion, but more... unsettling."

"Well, Albus," Amelia said, uncrossing her arms with a sharp exhale. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us. I don't care if we have to rip apart every piece of parchment in the Ministry. We're finding out the truth. No matter what."

And with that, the two wizards set off into the darkness of the Bones Family Estate, ready to uncover a conspiracy that might very well shake the foundations of the wizarding world. If only they knew how deep the rabbit hole went. But as Dumbledore always liked to say, "There's no better time to start than now... preferably before it all goes terribly wrong."

—

As Dumbledore and Madam Bones moved through the eerie corridors of the Ossuary, the air seemed thick with secrets. The walls seemed to whisper, as though the house itself had seen too much and didn't want to tell anyone. Dumbledore, though, didn't need to hear whispers—he was already listening to his own gut, which, for once, was telling him that something smelled fishy. And not the kind of fish you find in a fancy wizarding restaurant—more like the fish that's been left out in the sun for a week.

"So, what are we looking at here, then?" Dumbledore asked, his voice echoing off the stone like it was too dramatic to be ignored. "Sirius Black's supposed to be the bad guy, but this whole no trial business feels like the Ministry dropped the ball... or perhaps just chucked it into a very suspicious-looking pond."

Madam Bones gave a sharp nod, her expression like someone who'd just been handed a particularly gnarly puzzle and was absolutely determined to solve it. "That's exactly it. There's something off about the whole thing, Albus. Sirius and James were practically brothers. James trusted him with his life—and Harry's life. You don't just throw that away, no matter how much someone might look like the bad guy."

Dumbledore, ever the philosopher, stroked his chin as though pondering the meaning of life itself. "Indeed. If Sirius was truly guilty, it would be like having a loyal hound suddenly turn on you. But we're talking about someone who had no reason to betray his best friend. And then there's Harry... Sirius's godson. If he'd had any malice toward Harry, it would have shown through at some point. But that's not what we're seeing, is it?"

Madam Bones's eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. "If Sirius is innocent," she said slowly, the words almost tasting like acid in her mouth, "then he's spent twelve years rotting away in Azkaban. Twelve years of hell, while the real culprit is still out there, free to roam."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed with a sudden understanding, the gears in his mind whirring as if he'd just realized he was holding the last piece of a puzzle. "Precisely. And that is the true tragedy, isn't it? An innocent man imprisoned, and the real criminal continues to walk the streets, unchallenged."

Madam Bones clenched her fists, her jaw set with the kind of determination that could break rocks. "And don't get me started on Barty Crouch Sr. and his prejudices. That man had more than a few ideas about who deserved to rot in Azkaban. And I'll bet my last Galleon that he saw the Black family name and immediately decided who was guilty. Never mind evidence. Never mind due process. It's like he thought the entire family was born with a Dark Mark."

Dumbledore's expression darkened, the twinkle in his eyes replaced by something more akin to a storm cloud. "Crouch Sr. was nothing if not zealous. He had his own definition of justice, which often involved a great deal of inflexibility. If Sirius Black was the target of that... it's no wonder the trial was a sham."

"Exactly," Madam Bones said, pacing now, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor. "This whole mess stinks to high heaven, Albus. And if we don't find out what happened, then we're not just letting Sirius down—we're letting the whole wizarding world down. There's something bigger going on here, and I'm damn well going to figure it out."

Dumbledore's eyes softened as he watched Madam Bones, the fierce leader he'd always respected. "And I'll help you," he said, voice firm. "We may not know the whole story yet, but we have a responsibility to uncover it. For Sirius. For Harry. For everyone."

Madam Bones nodded, her expression steely. "I'm already mobilizing the Aurors. Every available resource is being poured into finding Sirius. We'll find him, Dumbledore. And we'll get to the truth—whatever it takes."

The gravity of the situation hung between them like an invisible weight. Dumbledore gave her a solemn nod, though his mind was already racing through possibilities. "Let's keep the pressure up, then. We'll find every lead, every scrap of evidence. I'll see to it that no stone is left unturned."

Madam Bones looked at him, her lips curling into a rare, satisfied smile. "And if someone tries to get in our way?"

Dumbledore smiled back, a glint of mischief flickering in his eyes. "Then we'll deal with them the way we always do: with a touch of grace... or, if need be, a very well-aimed hex."

With that, the two of them continued down the shadowy corridors of the Ossuary, their minds aligned on the same goal. They might not have all the answers yet, but with their combined resolve, there was no way they wouldn't uncover the truth—and possibly knock a few heads along the way. After all, there was no shortage of dark magic in the world, but there was always room for a little light—especially when the world needed it most.

—

As the flickering torchlight threw eerie shadows across the stone walls, Dumbledore and Madam Bones walked in near silence through the ancient halls of the Ossuary. You could cut the tension between them with a knife. Dumbledore, ever the calm, collected figure, felt the creeping weight of something terribly wrong. Sirius Black, allegedly one of the most dangerous wizards in history, with no trial? That was enough to make anyone's eyebrows rise into their hairline.

"So, Madam Bones," Dumbledore started, attempting to break the silence with his trademark twinkle—though it wasn't quite working. "How is Susan? I trust she's making the most of her summer in the lovely countryside, away from the usual hustle and bustle of her duties?"

Madam Bones gave him a tight smile, but there was something more guarded in her expression than usual. "Yes, Susan's spending time with the Abbotts. The fresh air seems to be doing her good," she replied, her voice a touch more clipped than Dumbledore was used to. She was clearly distracted.

Dumbledore's mind was buzzing with the unsettling news of Sirius's case, but he didn't let it show on his face. "I'm sure that's exactly what she needs. A break from the madness of the world, right?" He shot her a sideways glance, fully aware that the conversation wasn't quite on the right track.

Madam Bones's jaw tightened as she glanced at him, a flicker of unease darting through her usually steadfast gaze. "Actually, there's something you should know about Susan. Something… troubling," she said, her voice low as if she didn't want to be overheard.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Troubling?" He gave her a look that said, 'You have my attention now.'

She sighed, crossing her arms as she gazed at the path ahead. "Susan's been exhibiting strange magical occurrences lately. It's like—well, it's like she's regressing. Accidental magic, like when witches and wizards are young. But Susan's no baby."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed in genuine concern. "That's highly unusual. For someone as focused as Susan, this kind of thing shouldn't be happening. Have you any idea what could be causing it?"

Madam Bones hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking to the side, as if trying to decide whether or not to say more. "That's just it. I don't know. But whatever it is, it's not… normal."

Now Dumbledore's mind was in full-on problem-solving mode. "Something else is at play here," he murmured, more to himself than to Madam Bones. "And we need to figure it out."

"I agree," Madam Bones said, her tone firming up again. "And I need your help. I'm worried that Susan's problems are only the tip of the iceberg. I think there's something more behind this—something bigger."

Dumbledore nodded, a serious glint in his eye. "You're right, of course. We'll figure this out together. But I have a few ideas—ideas I can't quite explain yet, but they involve some... unusual possibilities."

Madam Bones gave him a skeptical look. "Unusual possibilities? Albus, we're talking about Susan Bones here, not some dark prophecy."

"I know, I know," Dumbledore replied, giving her a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But the truth is, I've seen things. There are... other types of powers out there. Different kinds of power. Not all of them are purely magical, strictly speaking."

At that, Madam Bones's eyebrows knitted together. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement. "I'm saying we might be dealing with something beyond our usual understanding of magic. I've recently learned about... mutants. People born with abilities that go beyond typical wizardry. I think Susan might be manifesting traits similar to those of mutants."

"Mutants?" Madam Bones repeated, the word rolling off her tongue like it was some bizarre foreign language. "Is that what you think's happening to my niece?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "It's possible. Mutants are individuals born with genetic mutations that give them powers—things that wizards and witches don't usually experience. And I think Susan may be... evolving in a way we haven't accounted for."

Madam Bones exhaled sharply, a mixture of disbelief and concern flashing in her eyes. "Are you telling me that Susan might be a mutant?" she asked, incredulous but intrigued. "This is beyond anything I ever imagined."

"I know it sounds strange," Dumbledore said, his tone soothing as ever, "but I think it's something worth investigating. There's a man—Professor Xavier, of the Xavier Institute for Mutant Education and Outreach. He has a great deal of experience with these kinds of things. If Susan's developing abilities like this, he might be able to help us understand what's going on."

Madam Bones considered this, chewing on the thought. "I'll contact him immediately. We can't take any chances with Susan's safety. I'll get in touch with him first thing."

Dumbledore smiled, his usual twinkle returning. "I knew you'd be on top of it. As always, Amelia, your commitment to Susan's well-being is exactly what's needed."

"Well," Madam Bones said with a wry smile, "it's not just Susan I'm concerned about. If this mutant business is as serious as you say, there might be others out there we need to be aware of. We can't afford to ignore it."

Dumbledore nodded, his mind already racing through the endless possibilities. "Exactly. And we'll do everything we can to get to the bottom of it."

With that, the two of them continued down the dark corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. There were mysteries to unravel, lives to protect, and a whole new world to explore—if only they could find the right answers.

As Dumbledore prepared to contact Professor Xavier, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much bigger. The world was changing, and it was up to them to figure out how.

—

The Hogwarts grounds were bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, and Albus Dumbledore, despite his usual serene demeanor, was in full-on crisis mode. He was practically buzzing with urgency as he clutched Fawkes—his ever-loyal phoenix—by the talons, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "We need to get there, now, faster than a Hungarian Horntail on fire."

And with that, the world was enveloped in a burst of flames, and Dumbledore was gone.

A minute later (or maybe it was five, time always seems to blur when you're traveling via phoenix), he arrived at a sleek, polished door with a plaque that read, Professor Charles Xavier – The Man Who Knows All. Okay, it didn't say that last part, but it should have.

Dumbledore knocked, loud and unrelenting. He wasn't the kind of man to make subtle entrances when he was dealing with matters of life and death.

The door swung open to reveal Professor Xavier, seated comfortably behind a desk that looked like it belonged in a swanky coffee shop in Manhattan. Xavier looked up with that practiced calm he always had, like he had been expecting Dumbledore's arrival from the moment he had made the decision to come. Which, knowing Xavier, was probably true.

"Ah, Albus!" he said with a warm smile, waving the old wizard in. "What brings you by? I hope it's not the usual The Wizarding World is Falling Apart news. Or worse, the We Need More Chairs in the Foyer complaint. I'm afraid I can only handle so much of that these days."

Dumbledore, who had spent the last several minutes trying to calm his whirling thoughts, gave a tired but affectionate smile. "Sadly, it's neither of those, Charles," he said as he stepped inside and shut the door with a decisive click. "I come bearing matters of utmost importance. The kind that may shake the very foundations of both our worlds."

Xavier raised an eyebrow, always one for drama, even when he knew a crisis was coming. "You've piqued my curiosity, my friend. Please, do sit. I'll fetch us some tea, though I suspect we may not have time for it."

Dumbledore, uncharacteristically serious, perched himself on the edge of one of Xavier's plush chairs. "You're right. I'll take the tea another time." He paused for dramatic effect. "Sirius Black. The man has escaped from Azkaban. But here's the kicker, Charles—he never had a trial in the first place."

Xavier's eyes widened, but he remained cool and collected. "No trial? That's... suspicious, to say the least."

Dumbledore's eyebrows furrowed. "That's putting it mildly. There's been no proper legal proceedings, and yet his escape has created more chaos than a Boggart in a classroom full of first years."

Xavier nodded gravely. "I can see why you'd be concerned. But that's not all, is it?"

Dumbledore's gaze darkened slightly. "No. There's another matter. Susan Bones, Amelia's niece—she's been displaying erratic bursts of accidental magic. And not just the usual 'Oops, I turned my broomstick into a giant carrot' type of magic. We're talking full-blown, unpredictable incidents. It's completely out of character for her."

Xavier's face shifted from concern to deep thought. "Accidental magic can happen at any age, but something tells me this isn't just growing pains. It sounds like Susan may be dealing with something... more." He leaned forward, his hands steepled together. "Something mutant."

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with a mix of excitement and worry. "Exactly what I thought. It's a possibility. There's a connection, Charles. Susan might be exhibiting abilities that go beyond mere magical accidents. Something more in line with the mutants you've taught me about."

Xavier's expression softened, but his voice took on a more serious tone. "A new mutation, perhaps, or a dormant trait triggered by something she's experienced? Either way, we'll need to investigate this with the utmost care."

Dumbledore nodded, his thoughts racing. "That's why I'm here. I need your help. If anyone can assist in understanding what Susan is going through, it's you. Your experience with mutants—individuals with extraordinary gifts beyond what we consider normal magic—may offer insight into her condition."

Xavier smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. "Well, Albus, you've come to the right place. Let's pool our knowledge. We'll sort this out together."

For a moment, the two friends simply sat there, exchanging a look of mutual respect. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled slightly, and Xavier's smile widened as they began to dig into the puzzle before them.

Dumbledore leaned forward, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "The situation with Sirius Black, however, is just as pressing. We need to figure out how to prove his innocence, or at least clear up the mess that was made."

Xavier nodded, thinking deeply. "And if Susan's powers are connected to a mutation, we need to be ready to support her, make sure she's not overwhelmed."

They began talking, strategizing, and working out plans. Ideas flowed fast and thick, each one building on the last. Dumbledore's usual calm was replaced with a sense of urgency that was contagious. Xavier, ever the patient strategist, didn't let the pressure get to him.

"We'll have to be careful," Xavier said after a while, tapping his fingers on the desk. "Mutants like Susan could be targeted, misunderstood. The same way your magical community has been known to mistrust or fear those who are different."

Dumbledore's face hardened. "I know. And that's why we can't fail her."

The clock ticked on, but neither of them noticed. In that moment, they were two old friends, united in a cause that transcended their worlds. They had work to do, and no amount of time—or misfortune—was going to stop them.

Finally, Dumbledore stood, a sense of resolve settling over him. "I'll contact Amelia Bones and let her know what we've discussed. You and I will begin laying out a plan. Together."

Xavier gave him a sharp nod. "Together," he echoed, his voice steady.

—

The Ossuary was quiet, too quiet for Amelia Bones' liking. The high stone walls echoed every footstep as she paced back and forth in her study, a stack of papers in front of her threatening to topple over at any second. The trial for Sirius Black was still nowhere near the top of the to-do list, and it felt like the entire Ministry was holding its breath, waiting for her to make a move. But before she could make any decisions, there was something more urgent to handle.

"Honestly," Amelia muttered to no one in particular, "if I have to deal with one more bureaucrat telling me to 'hold off,' I'll personally Hex their paperwork." With a quick flick of her wand, she summoned the Floo powder and tossed it into the hearth, the flames instantly turning an emerald green.

"Abbott family home, please," she ordered, not bothering to wait for the usual smoke signals to clear. She was in no mood for pleasantries today.

A moment later, the smoke swirled and condensed into a familiar face—Susan Bones, her niece, looking a little too chipper for someone who was supposed to be hiding out from the chaos of the Ministry. The girl had the same fiery red hair as Amelia, though hers was a shade lighter, and those unmistakable eyes—full of sharpness and wit that could cut through any problem, even if she didn't always recognize it herself.

"Aunt Amelia!" Susan greeted her, leaning in to get a better look. "You've barely checked in since you left for work. You sure you're not using those reports as an excuse to avoid the family reunion?"

"Reunion? Oh, no, no. I'm avoiding it like a Quidditch match against a Bludger with a vendetta," Amelia replied dryly, shooting Susan a pointed look. "But I am calling to check in on you, dear. And to remind you not to get caught up in any drama while I'm running around with my head buried in paperwork. You know how I get with trials."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Drama? Aunt Amelia, you do realize I'm currently being surrounded by the most boring people imaginable, right? The Abbotts are nice, but they don't exactly spice up the conversation. It's practically a crime against humor."

Amelia snorted. "I'd say that's a blessing, not a curse. Just don't get any bright ideas about adding 'spice' to the mix. The last thing I need is a family member getting mixed up in something ridiculous."

Susan gave her a look that Amelia recognized all too well. A mix of mischief and defiance that screamed, You're asking for trouble, Aunt Amelia. "You know I'm perfectly capable of handling myself, right?" Susan said, leaning against the fireplace as if she was lounging in an armchair. "But, okay, I promise I won't accidentally blow up the house or anything."

Amelia was about to fire back with some cutting remark about accidental magic—and how Susan should know better—when her niece's face went serious, the easy smile fading from her features.

"Actually, Aunt Amelia," Susan said quietly, "there's something I wanted to tell you. Something... strange has been happening lately. And I'm not sure what to do about it."

Amelia's eyebrows shot up. "What sort of 'strange' are we talking here? The kind where your hair goes pink for no reason, or the kind that makes the walls shake when you get angry?"

Susan shifted uncomfortably. "More like... sudden bursts of magic. I'll be reading a book, and suddenly the pages start flying out of my hands. Or I'll try to cast a simple Charm, and it goes completely haywire. It's like my magic's... out of control."

Amelia's heart dropped, and she frowned deeply. She'd noticed it in the reports, of course. Susan had been struggling with bursts of magic in recent weeks, but hearing it from her niece made it all too real. "Susan," she began, her voice soft but serious, "you know you need to let me know the moment something feels off. Don't wait for it to get worse."

Susan rolled her eyes. "It's not like I can stop it, Aunt Amelia. It just... happens. And I have been trying to figure it out on my own. But nothing's working."

"Typical," Amelia muttered, as if the universe had a personal vendetta against her. "Right when things seem like they couldn't get any worse." She ran a hand through her hair, feeling the weight of her responsibilities bearing down on her. Sirius Black, Susan's magic, the trial, the Ministry...

"You know, if you wanted to stop it," Amelia said, straightening, "I'd say it's time for us to start figuring out what's triggering these bursts. We can't just let it keep happening, and we can't risk it getting worse. If you're starting to manifest unpredictable magic…" She trailed off, not needing to finish the thought.

Susan's expression was a blend of frustration and uncertainty. "I know. But Aunt Amelia, it feels... different. Like something's... changing in me."

"Then we'll get to the bottom of it, won't we?" Amelia said, her tone firm as steel. "I'll figure out how to deal with Sirius Black, but you—" She pointed a finger at Susan, who looked far too guilty for Amelia's liking. "You're going to let me know the second anything else happens. Understood?"

Susan hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Fine. I promise. But I'm not going to blow up anything, okay?"

"Good." Amelia gave her a look that said, If you do, I'll be the one to clean it up. Then, with a heavy sigh, she turned back to her desk where the papers were stacked like a grim reminder of everything that needed her attention. "Now, I've got a trial to prepare for. A very long-overdue trial."

Susan's expression softened. "Right. Sirius Black. You've been trying to get that sorted for ages, haven't you?"

"Eleven years, dear. Eleven long, frustrating years of bureaucratic nonsense." Amelia's voice took on a slightly bitter edge. "And now we're stuck in a Ministry that doesn't want to get its hands dirty with the truth. But I'm not going to back down."

"Of course not." Susan smiled, her eyes lighting up with admiration. "You never do."

"That's right. And neither should you," Amelia added. "You've got your magic under control, and we'll handle this together."

Susan's expression flickered with a mix of gratitude and determination. "I'll keep my end of the bargain, Aunt Amelia."

"Good. Now, get some rest, and don't go messing around with anything you shouldn't." Amelia's gaze softened, even if only for a second. "I'll handle the mess at the Ministry. But remember, family always comes first."

With a final wave, the Floo call ended, and Amelia was left standing in her study, the silence pressing in around her. There was still so much to do—so much to fix. But at least she had one thing figured out. The truth was closer than ever.

---

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