Diagon Alley...
Cauldron and Charm Apothecary...
Afternoon sunlight filters in through lace-curtained windows, casting warm patterns across the tea table where five women gather.
Bella leaned back in her chair, swirling her teacup gently.
"Honestly, ever since Leo started teaching at Hogwarts, he's been in the spotlight more than I expected. Every student seems to adore him — and don't even get me started on about the Gryffindor's head."
Andromeda raised a brow.
"Are you surprised? A Morningstar, charming, powerful, with a lion for a Patronus? It's practically a walking fairytale."
Eileen gave a rare, amused smirk.
"____"
Smirk~
She had listened to everything Bella had recounted that had happened there at Hogwarts.
"It's not just Hogwarts. This shop's been thriving. Since word spread that Leo owns this shop and the quality of the product is excellent, it's become a hotspot for curious witches and starstruck little kids."
"Especially the Pygmy Puffs,"
Kejoro added as she gently brushed her long hair over her shoulder.
"We've had three mothers just this morning ask if their daughters could name one after Leo."
Hagoromo Gitsune chuckled softly, sipping her tea with grace.
Chuckle~
"It's amusing how something so small and fluffy is causing such a stir. But it speaks volumes..."
As the conversation carried on,
Bella's eyes drifted to the folded newspaper resting beside Hagoromo Gitsune's elbow.
"____"
The front page was still visible, its bold headline glaring up at her —
"Morningstar Subdues Dark Wizards – Tames a Lethifold in Front of the World."
Sigh~
She let out a soft sigh and picked it up, shaking her head with a smirk.
Smirk~
"Well, it seems our dear Leo is flexing his power before the whole world now."
That made the others laugh.
"Flexing?"
Andromeda chuckled.
Chuckle~
"He walked into a death trap, saved a dozen officials, and walked out like it was a morning stroll. If that's flexing, I'd like to see what he does when he's actually showing off."
Eileen raised her cup slightly.
"Still, it's only a matter of time before some idiots start panicking. They don't take well to people rewriting the balance of power."
Just then, the soft squeak of wet floor and rubber soles made them pause.
"____"
Mr. Mime, the silent yet ever-diligent shop assistant,
was humming as he swayed side to side, scrubbing the floor with his mop in cheerful rhythm.
His face beamed with satisfaction at the spotless tiles.
Kejoro glanced at him and chuckled,
"And to think… that happy-harmless creature is the current nightmare of Voldemort himself."
Hagoromo Gitsune stifled a laugh behind her sleeve.
"A Dark Lord tormented by a mime. Now that's poetry."
"Poetry?"
Bella grinned.
"It's divine punishment."
As the women shared another round of soft laughter, the peaceful atmosphere of the Cauldron and Charm Apothecary remained untouched.
After a round of laughter and light conversation at the Cauldron and Charm Apothecary,
Bella glanced at the wall clock and stood up, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear.
"Well, ladies, as fun as this has been, I think it's time I go back to Hogwarts after this little visit,"
She said with a smirk.
"With Leo off playing bodyguard for Jenkins, I've got nothing else tying me down. Thought I'd drop by and surprise my dear sister."
"Tell Narcissa I said hello,"
Andromeda said with a smile, sipping her tea.
Bella gave her a mock salute and left the shop, Apparating with a small crack.
At Hogwarts, the corridors were quieter than usual —
It was a study-heavy day with exams approaching.
Bella, dressed casually but still commanding attention with her presence, strode through the castle halls like she owned them.
A few students whispered as she passed, curious about the infamous Bella who now worked closely with the Head of House Dragon.
She eventually found Narcissa, sipping coffee in the great hall.
"Sister,"
Bella greeted with a warm, teasing tone.
"Still brooding over Leo's theatrics?"
Narcissa raised an eyebrow.
"Brooding? I was actually laughing. Jenkins will have to double her security now. Everyone's watching him."
The two sisters exchanged a hug and sat down together, catching up for a while.
They discussed students, House Dragon's progress, and the chaos Leo somehow always drew to himself.
After an hour or so of conversation, Bella rose from her chair.
"Well, this was refreshing,"
She said, stretching.
"But I'd better get back. Hogwarts can't run without at least one Morningstar ally keeping the chaos in check."
Narcissa smirked.
"Tell Leo I expect a full retelling of the Lethifold incident next time."
Bella winked and left the lounge, vanishing into the torch-lit corridors of the castle.
As Bella made her way through the quiet halls of Hogwarts, she casually greeted a few portraits that recognised her.
But just as she was about to exit the corridor and descend the stairs,
she overheard two younger students from House Dragon whispering excitedly near the stairs.
"Did you hear? Professor Morningstar is back! I saw him go into the common room earlier—he looked tired."
Bella's steps paused.
"____"
A small smile crept onto her lips.
'So, the hero returns.'
She didn't need directions.
She knew exactly where he'd be.
Without hesitation, Bella turned and headed toward the House Dragon common room, her boots making soft thuds against the stone floor.
The enchanted flame sconces along the corridor flickered in acknowledgement as she passed, almost as if they, too, knew who she was going to see.
She murmured the passphrase at the entrance—
a benefit of her trusted status among the staff—
and stepped inside the cosy, firelit common room.
It was quieter than usual, the students likely in class or library sessions.
Without pause, she ascended the spiral staircase leading to the private quarters of the head of house.
Bella knocked softly but received no answer.
"Of course you'd be passed out after raising half the wizarding world's blood pressure,"
She muttered with a smirk and gently pushed the door open.
There he was—
Leo Morningstar—
sprawled comfortably across his bed, still in travel robes, one arm hanging off the edge, hair slightly tousled, and deep in sleep.
The late afternoon light filtering through the enchanted windows cast a warm glow on the room.
Bella leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, her usual playful smugness softening.
'You really never stop, do you?'
She quietly stepped inside, picked up a blanket from the nearby chair, and laid it gently over him.
She brushed a bit of his hair from his forehead, her gaze lingering for a moment.
"Sleep, hero. The world can wait a few more hours."
Click~
With that, she turned and left the room silently, letting the door close behind her with a soft click.
After four days...
It had been four days since Leo returned to Hogwarts,
and life within the ancient castle had gradually returned to its familiar rhythm.
Classes resumed,
Students chattered in the corridors, and the atmosphere, though still buzzing with whispers about the events at the Magi-Mundane Concord, had begun to settle.
Leo himself remained outwardly calm, teaching his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes and fulfilling his duties as Head of House Dragon.
But beneath that composed surface, something gnawed at him.
Late one evening,
As he sat alone in his office, candlelight flickering over old parchment and magical maps,
he stared at the headline clipped from a wizarding paper:
"Gellert Grindelwald Escapes Nurmengard Prison — Global Alert Issued."
Leo leaned back in his chair, brow furrowed.
Frown~
'This wasn't supposed to happen. This never happened in the original timeline.'
His mind raced through possibilities.
Was it his involvement that shifted the course of events?
Had his presence and influence somehow disrupted the expected canon?
Still, there was no time to dwell too long.
Across the sea, another set of loose ends had been tied.
Harold Mitchum and his followers —
The ones who had dared to orchestrate a kidnapping of Muggle representatives —
had been swiftly and quietly transported to Azkaban.
There was no trial, no press, no room for the pure-blood families to twist the narrative.
It had all gone according to plan —
Jenkins and Leo had made sure of it.
They didn't need a court to pass judgment.
Harold and his ilk were already serving the consequences… just not in ways the world would see.
Behind Azkaban's walls, something darker awaited them.
Something tailored.
Far from public view,
In the cold, cursed walls of Azkaban…
Harold Mitchum and his followers lived through something far worse than death.
There were no court trials, no newspapers reporting their confinement —
only silence.
A silence that screamed in their ears every night.
"____"
Leo had made sure of it.
Before leaving MACUSA, he had sent an order through the system to her—
Valac.
The message has one line:
"Take care of them in your own way, Sister."
And she did.
The Nun, the shadowy figure whose real name sent shivers down several exorcists in her universe.
Now, she was the silent warden of Azkaban's deepest wing, enjoying her show—
A part of the prison where even Dementors hesitated to hover.
No light existed there, only whispering winds and memories twisted by guilt.
Harold and his men were not merely imprisoned —
They were stripped of identity, minds weighed down by illusions that made days feel like years.
The Nun didn't use pain or direct violence.
She used silence, shadows, and a mirror that showed them everything they feared most on repeat.
Each time they closed their eyes, they saw the consequences of their actions in the most painful way, which showed them pain.
Not in grand, defiant terms, but in the raw, personal cost.
Harold, once proud and arrogant, now muttered in his sleep, waking with a scream lodged in his throat.
His followers?
Some begged for death.
Others forgot who they were.
And all of them learned quickly…
Azkaban –
Midnight Hour...
"____"
Screech~ Screech~
Screech~ Screech~
The silence of the prison was unbroken, save for the occasional distant screech of Dementors circling their eternal patrol.
Deep in the lower levels, a single guard stood stiffly under a dim, flickering lamp, hands trembling slightly as he re-read the letter in his grip.
"____"
It bore the seal of the Minister for Magic, and the message inside was brief —
But chilling in its implications.
"Proceed with Phase Two. Irritate the targets. Trigger the escape. Let the plan unfold. — M.J."
The guard slowly turned his gaze toward Cell 13 —
The reinforced chamber holding none other than Tom Riddle, the man once feared as Lord Voldemort, now diminished but still dangerous.
Then he looked to Cell 16,
where Harold Mitchum lay curled on the floor, twitching under the weight of endless hallucinations and shadow-born whispers from the Nun's cruel designs.
Thud. Thud.
Taking a deep, nervous breath, the guard stepped into the corridor, the sound of his boots deliberately loud as he stopped between both cells.
Then, with a sneer plastered on his face, he spat on the stone floor and began.
"Well, well… The great Voldemort, rotting in a cell like a rat. Tell me, how does it feel knowing the world doesn't even remember your name anymore?"
He taunted.
Inside his cell, Voldemort's eyes slowly opened.
Red and venomous.
"____"
Silent.
The guard turned now toward Harold.
"And you… Harold bloody Mitchum. Thought you'd start a revolution, did you? Even a Crup pup has more bite than you. While Leo Morningstar's out there shaking hands with ministers and taming Lethifolds, you're here soiling yourself in a corner."
Harold's fists clenched.
Huff~ Huff~
His breath grew rapid.
The mocking words weren't just insults —
They were the exact triggers Jenkins and Leo had predicted.
Pride and ego, once stoked, would light the fire they needed.
The guard smiled faintly and continued his venom-laced mockery, walking back and forth.
"I wonder what it feels like… knowing you're both forgotten, abandoned by your followers… while Leo Morningstar becomes the face of a new era."
A low, animalistic growl came from Harold's cell.
Growl~
In Voldemort's, the silence was colder.
Calculating.
The guard took one last look,
Then turned sharply on his heel and walked away —
His part is done.
He did not see Voldemort's lip curl slightly, or Harold sit up in his cell, face twisted in rage and determination.
The seeds were planted.
And soon, by Merlin's blessing… they would break free, just as Minister Jenkins and Leo planned.
The cold stone corridor echoed with silence once more.
From inside his cell,
Harold Mitchum let out a string of vicious curses under his breath, his face contorted with rage.
The guard's words had hit him deep —
Every word dripping with truth and humiliation.
Hahaha~
Just across from him, Voldemort's laughter suddenly pierced the silence like shattered glass.
It was unhinged —
A sharp, dry rasp echoing unnaturally in the cursed air of Azkaban.
"Oh, Harold…"
He drawled mockingly,
"So brave, so bold… yet look where your rebellion brought you. You wore my mask — pretended to be one of mine — but refused my invitation when it mattered."
His voice turned venomous.
"Now you rot beside me. How pathetic."
Harold's temper snapped.
"Shut up, you asshole! If I had known you'd fail this hard, I'd have killed you myself!"
The walls practically trembled as the two traded insults, their voices rising like duelling storm fronts.
But eventually, both fell silent, the fatigue of Azkaban creeping back in.
After a beat, Harold turned toward Voldemort.
"Why didn't you escape?"
He asked bitterly.
"Didn't my men come for you? I sent for help. What happened to them?"
Voldemort went silent for a second longer than expected.
"____"
"I did send for them,"
He finally said, his voice hollow.
"They promised they would come. That they had a plan. That I should wait…"
He trailed off.
"…And I have waited. All this time."
His voice was now laced with quiet fury.
"But no one came."
A bitter silence followed.
"____"
Then Harold snarled with hatred,
"Leo Morningstar will die. I swear it… I curse him — to suffer a death more painful than any living creature has ever known. May he scream as the abyss claims him!"
Suddenly—
"NO!"
Voldemort's voice shot out, laced with pure panic.
"You fool—"
But it was too late.
Harold had already finished speaking the curse aloud.
For a moment, nothing happened.
"____"
"____"
Then…
The torches along the prison corridor flickered violently, casting wild shadows.
An unnatural cold swept through the air —
not from Dementors, but from something else.
Harold's breath caught.
He felt it.
Something was watching him.
Not from outside… but from inside his prison cell.
Inside the dark.
Something that he heard him.
A gaze. Predatory.
Unseen.
And in that moment, for the first time in his life, Harold understood fear not born of logic or reason —
But of a primal, spiritual instinct.
Even Voldemort, from his cell, had gone silent.
"____"
"...You shouldn't have done that,"
The Dark Lord whispered hoarsely.
And somewhere, far away, as if carried by the wind itself, came a whisper, soft and mocking:
"You called for it… Harold."
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(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review and power stone!!! It will Motivate Me.