The moment Wyzett heard the words Obscurial and Auror, his attention sharpened instantly.
Whether for the sake of safety or simply to ensure a smooth journey, it never hurt to keep up with the latest news about one's destination.
He tipped his head, straining to catch every word from the neighboring table.
Luna noticed his sudden focus and quietly set down her fork, tilting her head in silent curiosity.
…
"Where'd you see that? Don't tell me you're quoting some tabloid."
"The Odin Daily, Sweden's biggest magical newspaper. Care to question that?"
"Well, hard to argue with that… Still, I thought Sweden had a real Seer. Why are they so on the back foot?"
"Who knows? Anyway, they found one of the dark wizards—drowned in a river."
"Drowned in a river…"
A string of sharp intakes of breath rippled from the table.
"Who'd be so brazen? Was it the Grindelwald crowd? After all, only their leader was ever put on trial—none of his followers really paid the price."
"Or maybe it was You-Know-Who? That English terrorist—weren't there rumors he was hiding out in the Albanian forests? Maybe he's already fled to Sweden!"
"That's possible too… After what that leader did, the pure-blood families left standing all back You-Know-Who…"
"Exactly. Pure-bloods know all sorts of deep magic—who's to say they couldn't help You-Know-Who survive?"
"You really believe he was killed by a baby? I don't! That's just the English Ministry's way of keeping people calm. Otherwise, what's Cornelius Fudge got to show for himself?"
"Right… All he does is brag about how peaceful things are, as if it's thanks to him."
…
Judging by their accents and topics, neither of the wizards was from England.
Their conversation soon turned to mocking the British Ministry of Magic, mostly making fun of Cornelius Fudge and his muddling, do-nothing administration.
After finishing their meal, Wyzett and Luna packed up plenty of food and returned to their cabin.
Xenophilius had just woken up and eagerly devoured everything they'd brought back.
While Luna sketched in her notebook, Wyzett made a point of asking the crew for recent issues of The Odin Daily.
Sure enough, everything those two wizards had mentioned was right there in print.
He even found copies from a month before, comparing reports about dark wizard activity.
Previously, the Swedish Ministry of Magic had a reputation for swift action. No matter what tricks a criminal wizard used—potions or magic—if they lingered in Sweden, the Aurors would catch them, rarely taking more than a week.
But after the Obscurial attack on the Ministry, that famed "swift action" seemed to vanish. Even the dark wizard they'd been tracking was only found after his death made hiding impossible.
As Wyzett read, a sense of uneasy familiarity crept over him—memories of the Gringotts break-in from last year surfaced.
But this time, the Obscurial had succeeded—stealing something vital from the Swedish Ministry and even slowing their pursuit of other dark wizards.
After gathering all the information he needed, Wyzett set the newspapers aside and shook his head, a vague anxiety stirring in his chest.
Whether it was Gringotts or the Ministry of Magic, both were supposed to be among the most secure places in the wizarding world. Yet both had suffered the unthinkable.
In a world where magic granted unimaginable power, the phrase "the safest place in the wizarding world" was little more than a comforting illusion.
Any truly powerful witch or wizard could break through those defenses if they wished. Even lesser criminals, with the right mix of magic and potions, could slip away and evade justice.
Places like Knockturn Alley were practically made for those on the run.
Wyzett let out a long breath. "The wizarding world is far more dangerous than I imagined. Only by growing stronger myself can I ever feel truly safe—only then can I protect the people I care about."
For now, he saw two paths to greater strength: first, learning at Hogwarts; second, the mysterious Wizard's Practical Combat Guide that lived in his mind.
Exploring the castle was important, but venturing beyond its walls was just as necessary.
Of course, outside the castle, danger lurked everywhere—he'd have to weigh every step against his own abilities.
By comparison, Hogwarts itself still felt much safer.
At least within its grounds, he could call on Fawkes through the connection in his palm. If trouble found him near Hogwarts, he'd have an extra layer of protection.
With that in mind, Wyzett stood and stretched.
He planned to explore every inch of this great ship, hunting for traces of Ancient Magic hidden within its hull.
Once he'd gathered enough, he hoped to unlock at least two more pages of the guide—maybe find some new defensive spells to help face whatever dangers lay ahead.
It was a small hope, but the pages appeared at random—there was no telling what he'd get or how soon it might prove useful.
Ancient Magic: Refinement was the same. There seemed to be hidden limits to it; not every spell he learned could be improved.
…
After Wyzett left, Dumbledore strolled to the same spot and picked up the neatly stacked newspapers.
He waved his wand, sending a faint glow to settle over a few of the pages.
Reading the headlines, Dumbledore smiled in quiet satisfaction. "It seems… for one reason or another, they're on high alert now. That's good."
He murmured softly: "The new star bearing the four-leaf clover will one day reach the ancient altar. The gears begin to turn the course of fate. The interwoven triangle shrouds everything in mist. The path of destiny grows ever more obscure…"
"If the new star means Wyzett, then what's the ancient altar? Some lost wizarding site? And what are the three points of that triangle?"
He recalled his recent visit to the Department of Mysteries, where he'd happened to witness new prophecy orbs being catalogued in the Hall of Prophecy.
Only prophecy orbs collected by the Department were considered true prophecies.
This latest orb bore the name Wyzett Lovegood.
After signing a magical confidentiality contract, Dumbledore had gained the right to request information from the Department. As soon as the ink dried, he'd applied to hear the contents of Wyzett's prophecy orb—only to receive those two cryptic passages.
He shook his head with a soft sigh. "Prophecies are always so elusive… Who can ever truly interpret them?"
"I never imagined Trelawney would make another real prophecy about Wyzett. I wonder when I'll finally be able to retire, like Newt…"
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