Seeing Wyzett trapped within the shimmering magical barrier, Albus Dumbledore paused, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. With a gentle wave of his wand, he conjured a far more formidable energy field, its magic weaving tightly around Wyzett and sealing him in a cocoon of light.
Even in his meditative state, Wyzett could sense the difference. The magic in this new barrier was leagues above what the other wizards had managed—vast, steady, and almost overwhelming.
"I seem to have arrived at a rather awkward moment?" Dumbledore surveyed the devastation that littered the room, his tone light but his gaze sharp.
"The Book of Admittance recorded a new name and address," he continued, "so Minerva asked me to come and verify it myself."
"A new student's name and address…" A tall, bald Black wizard stepped forward, his voice deep and steady. "Headmaster Dumbledore, are you here to find a soon-to-be first-year?"
"Precisely." Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. "If the Book of Admittance hasn't erred, then this child before us is Hogwarts' newest student."
From Wyzett's perspective, Dumbledore couldn't have chosen a better time to appear. Not only was he buying precious minutes for Wyzett to finish absorbing the Obscurus, but he'd also brought incredible news—he would be able to attend Hogwarts.
He remembered a question from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: Which is the world's best wizarding school? Newt's answer had been exactly as Dumbledore claimed—Hogwarts.
In that film, Newt's brilliance had left a deep impression, reinforcing the truth of his answer.
As a student, if there was any chance to study magic, Wyzett naturally yearned to go to the very best.
He still couldn't speak, but if Dumbledore could stall just a little longer, he'd be able to use the meditation technique to absorb the Obscurus and regain his normal form.
The Black wizard looked troubled. "Headmaster Dumbledore, if he's meant to start this year, he must already be over ten…"
"Obscurials rarely live past ten—you know that as well as I do. Maybe there's been an error? No matter how you look at it, this Obscurial has lost control."
Dumbledore's gaze swept over the gathered wizards, fully aware of their concerns.
"Kingsley, I understand your worries," he said calmly. "But there are always exceptions, aren't there? I've met more than one Obscurial who lived past ten."
"Why not give me and this child a few more minutes? If anything goes wrong, I'll take full responsibility. And I'll give Cornelius a proper explanation."
With Dumbledore speaking so firmly, Kingsley could hardly refuse. "All right, then. We'll repair this place within ten minutes, and after that, we'll Obliviate any nearby Muggles."
Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Splendid! Thank you all for your help."
Kingsley led the other wizards as they began their work. Under their combined magic, the ruined house seemed to rewind through time—broken stones and splintered beams danced through the air, walls and ceilings knitting themselves back together, the fireplace rising from the ashes.
Dumbledore turned his gaze to the magical barrier, a hint of curiosity in his expression. "What a fascinating magical display… Is he actually gathering the Obscurus's power?"
"An eleven-year-old who can accomplish something like this… No wonder the Book of Admittance glitched."
But Wyzett barely heard him. All his focus was on the Obscurus.
At last, the wild magic was fully absorbed. Most of its power condensed in his chest, forming a swirling core of black and crimson.
Silver-blue chains wrapped tightly around the core, pulsing like a living heart.
For the first time, Wyzett could truly feel his body again. He reached out, hands trembling, and grasped the core.
In that instant, the Obscurus merged back into him.
Dumbledore noticed immediately. The black mist inside the barrier faded, and a thin, pale boy tumbled from midair.
His hair was dull and black, and his dark eyes—finally free—gleamed with a fragile peace.
With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore dissolved the magical barriers in a breath.
Suddenly, a phoenix the size of a swan materialized, swooping in to catch the boy before he could fall.
Warmth and softness cradled Wyzett. He couldn't help but smile. "I did it…"
He blinked, noticing that the once-ruined house was now perfectly restored. "So this is magic? It's… amazing."
"You did wonderfully, child." A gentle, kindly face appeared above him. "To break free from such dangerous power… You're more remarkable than most children I've ever met."
Almost without thinking, Wyzett asked, "Are you… Albus Dumbledore?"
"You know me?" Dumbledore looked mildly surprised. "If you're aware of magic, why do you fear it?"
Wyzett hesitated, then turned his head away, mumbling, "That lunatic who experimented on me… he sometimes cursed your name."
"Experimented on you?" For a split second, anger flashed in Dumbledore's eyes. "You've suffered greatly, then. No wonder you'd hate magic. That's not your fault."
"Listen to me, child. You are an Obscurial. What happened today could happen again. You need to learn to control the Obscurus inside you."
Wyzett followed his lead. "What should I do?"
"You need to attend Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, his voice and gaze heavy with meaning. "That's why I came."
A shadow crossed his face. Old, hidden memories stirred—Ariana, her story, everything he'd locked away for years.
"No more innocent lives lost. Such mistakes must never be repeated." His tone was ironclad. "Whatever happens, you must come to Hogwarts."
After so much upheaval, Wyzett felt his eyelids droop. He could only manage a faint hum in reply.
Dumbledore noticed at once, his tone softening. "Rest now, child. You're safe tonight. There'll be no more danger."
Wyzett nodded weakly, exhaustion washing over him.
For reasons he couldn't explain, Dumbledore's presence filled him with a profound sense of safety. At last, he let go and drifted into sleep.
"Poor child. Sleep well." Dumbledore noticed the many wounds marring Wyzett's body—each a different shape and size.
"It seems the Hogwarts acceptance letter will have to wait a bit longer," he murmured, recognizing the scars of dark magic experiments.
He gently lifted Wyzett in his arms. "Fawkes, this child has endured more pain than anyone should."
"Trill!" The phoenix, Fawkes, let out a soft, mournful cry, hovering close to Wyzett.
Gazing at the wounds, Fawkes's eyes shimmered with tears.
Pearl-like drops spilled down his feathers, falling onto Wyzett's battered body.
A miracle unfolded. Every wound closed, every scar vanished without a trace.
Color returned to Wyzett's cheeks, and even his tight lips softened into a faint smile.
Kingsley and the other wizards returned, astonished. "Professor Dumbledore, has he really recovered?"
"Yes. He's strong—and gifted," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "He'll need some time at St. Mungo's, though. I'll have a word with Cornelius."
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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