Breakfast in the Great Hall was coming to an end, with the sound of cutlery and lively voices filling the air heavy with the smell of bacon and toast. Filius Umbra rose from his chair at the teachers' table with a fluid elegance that silenced any noise in his immediate vicinity. His silver eyes briefly scanned the hall before turning to Ada Wong, who was already standing beside him, so synchronized with his movements that she seemed an extension of his own shadow.
They left the hall, entering a less busy side corridor. The smooth stone wall seemed to recognize them, silently rearranging into an archway that led to a private office. The space was minimalist, with dark walls that absorbed light, a large enchanted window showing the Black Lake under the morning light, and an immaculate ebony desk.
Filius approached the desk, his hands resting on the polished wood as he mentally reviewed the plan for the inaugural lesson for the first years. His introductory classes would focus on fundamentals—body awareness, emotional control, and the philosophy of magical conflict, not spells.
As he concentrated, Ada approached from behind. Her hands found his shoulders, massaging with a knowing pressure that closed his eyes for a moment. But she did not stop there. Her hands slid down, unbuttoning his garments with precise movements until the upper part of his torso was exposed. She then moved forward, kneeling between his legs while he remained seated.
Their eyes met—a deep understanding passing between them. Unhurried, her hands opened his pants, freeing his erection. She did not hesitate, taking him deeply into her mouth with an experienced motion that made Filius arch his back slightly, his hands gripping the edges of the desk.
As Ada worked with her mouth and tongue, Filius allowed part of his mind to remain focused on the lesson plan. The duality was natural for him—while pleasurable physical sensations enveloped him, his mind organized the concepts he would present to the students. The sight of her head moving rhythmically between his legs, her eyes closed in concentration, was both an act of service and intimacy.
After several minutes of steady motion, his breathing deepened. A low moan escaped his lips as he reached climax, his body tensing before relaxing completely in the chair. Ada stayed where she was until he was fully satisfied, only then pulling back and discreetly wiping the corners of her mouth.
"Thank you, my dear," he whispered, his voice a little huskier.
"Always," she replied, her own face showing a calm satisfaction as she composed herself.
Filius stood, stretching slightly. The quiet of his private office was refreshing. He looked out the window at the night view, seeing not only the lake but the reflections of the possibilities the year would bring. Then, with a determined step, he left the office, Ada following a step behind, ready to face the first class.
The Duel and Magical Battle room was not the main hall used for the Duel Club. It was a smaller, circular room with bare stone walls that seemed to absorb sound. The floor was polished wood, resilient and marked by generations of use. There were no seats; the students would stand or sit on the floor. Filius believed comfort was a distraction in the early stages of training.
One by one, the first years of 1992 entered, their faces a mixture of curiosity, anxiety, and excitement. Ginny Weasley entered with hesitant steps, her red eyes hidden beneath her eyelids, still recovering from the summer trauma. Luna Lovegood floated in, her dreamy gaze scanning the room as if seeing things others could not. Colin Creevey seemed about to trip over his own feet, his pale face anxious. And so on, the entire year gathered, a mass of young witches and wizards on the threshold of a new understanding of their world.
Filius stood at the front, an imposing figure in his dark robes. Ada stood to his right and slightly behind, watching the room with her sharp eyes, an ebony staff held firmly behind her back.
"Welcome," Filius's voice cut through the murmur without needing to raise. It was a voice that carried authority but no threat. "I am Filius Umbra. This is my assistant, Ada Wong. This is your first introductory class in Duel and Magical Battle."
He paused, allowing his words to sink in.
"During this first semester, we will not teach spells. We will not cast curses. We will not duel." Several faces visibly fell. "Instead," he continued, "we will work on the foundation upon which everything else will be built. Your body. Your mind. And today, your understanding of the tool you all possess."
He raised his hand and, with a fluid movement of his wand, a scroll and a quill appeared before each student.
"You have ten minutes," he declared. "There is only one question. Answer it. There is no right or wrong answer. It can be an essay. It can be a sentence. It can be a single word. What matters is that it is your truth."
He made another gesture, and the words shone in silver light in the air above his head:
What is Magic?
A perplexed silence fell over the room. Then the sound of quills scratching parchment filled the air. Some students, like second-year Hermione Granger who was helping as a monitor, began writing furiously, their analytical minds grasping the question. Luna Lovegood took the quill, her head tilted as if hearing an answer in the hum of the lights. Ginny Weasley looked at the question with raw pain in her eyes, her pen trembling slightly before she began writing with sudden determination.
Filius and Ada slowly walked around the room, observing. He saw the seeds of the future in those young minds—the academic sparkle, the strange intuition, the resilience forged in pain. Neville wrote a single word before blushing and almost crossing it out.
When the ten minutes ended, the quills disappeared and the scrolls rolled up and flew into Filius's outstretched hands. He did not read them immediately. Instead, he held them, feeling the collective weight of their answers.
He then began to walk slowly in front of the room, his gaze meeting each student's.
"Magic," he began, his voice softly echoing on the stone. "For many of you, it is a tool. Something to clean, cook, fix. It is useful. It is common. It is the fabric of your daily lives." He paused. "For others, it is irrelevant. What matters are the galleons it can earn, the status it can confer. Magic is a means to an end, an asset to be exploited."
He stopped, his gaze becoming more intense.
"Some of you, the ambitious, the clever, see magic as a key. A key to unlock the secrets of the universe, to open the doors of power, to unlock a life of meaning and achievement. It is a path to greatness, whatever form that greatness may take."
He paused again, longer this time, and the air in the room seemed to grow colder.
"And then," he whispered, "there are those who understand a deeper, darker truth. Those like Lord Voldemort."
A collective shiver ran through the room at the name.
"For him," Filius continued, his voice clear and impartial, "magic is power. Pure, simple, and absolute. It is the ultimate instrument of will. The tool to shape the world according to his desire, to subjugate, to dominate. He sees magic not as a service, or a currency, or a key, but as a hammer. And for him, the world is an anvil."
He looked at the pale, frightened faces before him.
"And he is not wrong."
Whispers filled the room. Even Ada, behind him, kept her neutral expression, but her eyes shone with understanding.
"He is not wrong," Filius repeated. "Because magic can be all these things. It can be a tool. It can be a path to wealth. It can be a key. And it can, undoubtedly, be power."
He closed his hand, and the shadows disappeared.
"Because at its core, in its purest and most untamable essence... Magic is Freedom."
The word hung in the air, heavy and laden with meaning.
"Freedom from the limitations of the physical body. A Healing Spell can repair what is broken. An Animagus can transcend human form." He pointed to Neville's leg. "That is freedom from pain, from weakness."
"Freedom from the limitations of distance and space. An Apparition can take you anywhere in the blink of an eye. A Patronus Charm can carry your voice across a continent. That is freedom from the chains that bind us to a single place."
"Freedom from the limitations of reality itself!" His voice took on a tone of passion. "Transfiguration defies form. Enchantment spells defy will. Through magic, a wizard is no longer a slave to the world as it is. He is an architect of the world as it could be."
He looked at Ginny. "Freedom from those who would try to control you, possess you, define you." His gaze passed to Luna. "Freedom to see the world not as others say it is, but as you know it to be."
Finally, he looked at the entire class again, his presence filling the room.
"A wizard with a wand is the freest person who has ever existed. He can create light in darkness. He can find water in the desert. He can defend himself from predators. He can fly. He can hide. He can defy death. He can shape his own life, his own destiny, with nothing but his will and his understanding as fuel."
"Do you want to be a blacksmith? Magic is your tool. Do you want to be a banker? Magic is your currency. Do you want to be a scholar? Magic is your key. Do you want to be a god? Magic is your power."
"But without first understanding that it is your fundamental freedom, you will always be a slave. A slave to tradition, a slave to fear, a slave to greed, or a slave to someone like Voldemort, who promises power in exchange for your freedom."
He paused, allowing the silence to settle, allowing each word to take root.
"Your first lesson today is not about posture, or movement, or a spell. It is about a shift in perspective. From today on, when you take your wand, I want you to think: this is not a tool. This is not a key. This is not power."
"It is the breath of freedom in your hand. And it is up to you to decide what to do with it. Class dismissed."
He did not wait for questions. He turned and left the room, Ada following him, leaving behind a silent group of first-years, their eyes wide with a new and revolutionary understanding, the concept of 'freedom' burning in their young minds like a spell they could barely comprehend but felt resonate in their very souls. The scroll with their answers now seemed insignificant in their hands, for he had given them an answer that transcended all others. Magic was Freedom. And for eleven-year-olds just beginning to learn who they were, there was no greater gift, nor more daunting responsibility.
The Protection of the Owl
Dumbledore's office was particularly busy that afternoon. All the Heads of House were present - Minerva McGonagall with her rigid posture, Severus Snape with his usual air of disdain, Filius Flitwick swinging his feet in his chair, and Pomona Sprout with robes still stained with soil from the greenhouses. The air smelled of lemon and ancient parchment, and the portraits of former headmasters pretended to sleep in their gilded frames.
Filius Umbra remained standing near the headmaster's desk, his dark robes forming a stark contrast with the vibrant colors of the surroundings. His silvery eyes observed the meeting with apparent disinterest, but no detail escaped him.
"Albus, might we know why we have been summoned to receive the new Defence Professor?" asked McGonagall, adjusting her glasses with an impatient gesture.
Dumbledore smiled from behind his half-moon spectacles. "Soon, Minerva. Believe me, the situation justifies everyone's presence."
At that moment, the fireplace flames erupted in emerald-green and a female figure emerged with precise, military movements. Catarina Volkova straightened her impeccable navy-blue robes before greeting those present.
"High Counselor Umbra," she said, bowing her head first to Filius with genuine respect. "High Counselor Dumbledore." Then, she turned to the others, "Counselors."
Snape arched an eyebrow. "What excessive ceremony."
Dumbledore raised a hand. "Severus, everyone here is a valuable member of the Court of Owls, even if at different levels of involvement." He turned to Catarina. "But here, among colleagues, titles can be dispensed with."
Catarina kept her serious expression. "With all due respect, the hierarchy of the Court exists for important reasons. And I have come to replace Professor Lockhart, who is... unavailable."
Flitwick shook his head. "The Ministry revoked his license, then? The investigations into his stories finally bore fruit?"
"Indeed," confirmed Catarina. "The Court offered my services as a permanent replacement."
As the introductions continued, the fireplace flames glowed again and a second figure emerged. Ororo Munroe arrived with the grace of a contained storm. Her long white hair fell like a cascade over her shoulders, and her blue-silver eyes seemed to contain the very essence of the skies. She wore white robes reminiscent of clouds, and small silver jewels shimmered in her hair.
"My loves," Ororo greeted, her exotic accent enriching each word. She carried a carved oak case etched with complex runes that seemed to move slowly.
Filius approached her. "Ororo. Did you bring what we need?"
She opened the case, revealing an intricately wrought silver pendant. In its center, a pale blue gem pulsed with contained energy.
"The Curse-Breaking Amulet," Ororo explained, her voice echoing softly in the room. "Created by the Research Division specifically to counter the curse plaguing this position."
Snape examined the artifact with professional interest. "And how exactly does it work?"
Ororo made the pendant float to her hands. "The curse is not merely mental, Severus. It is a parasitic magical entity that attaches itself to the very position through a specific energy pattern. The amulet creates a variable magical signature that confuses the curse, preventing it from anchoring itself."
McGonagall looked impressed. "Interesting. So instead of blocking the curse, you trick it?"
"Exactly," confirmed Ororo. "It's like offering a moving target to a blind arrow. The curse cannot fix itself because the target is constantly changing."
Catarina put on the pendant, and immediately a subtle aura of blue energy enveloped her briefly before disappearing. "I feel... a slight magical vibration. As if enveloped in a gentle breeze."
Dumbledore watched, fascinated. "Extraordinary. And this protects against the full curse?"
Filius studied the amulet with his silvery eyes. "The Court would not fail us, Albus. Our researchers have studied the curse for months, analyzing its patterns through every professor who held the position."
Sprout, who had remained quiet until then, spoke: "But how did you obtain samples of the curse?"
Ororo exchanged a look with Filius before answering. "The Court has its methods, Pomona. And its resources. The important thing is that this time, the curse will meet its end."
As the other professors began to leave, Filius, Dumbledore, Catarina, and Ororo remained in the office. The storm that had been brewing outside began to dissipate under Ororo's silent command.
"It seems this year we will have more than just a new Defence Professor," commented Dumbledore, observing the amulet glowing softly on Catarina's neck. "We will have a change in the very destiny of this position."
Filius kept his gaze fixed on the new professor. "The Court protects its own, Albus. And Hogwarts is under our protection."
Catarina adjusted the amulet. "I am ready to assume my responsibilities. And with the Court's protection, the curse will not be a problem."
Ororo approached the window, watching the last rays of sunlight dispersing the clouds. "The storm has passed, but the protection remains. As it always should be."
As the three figures remained in the office - the Lord of Shadows, the Commander of Storms, and the new Defence Professor - the castle itself seemed to sigh with relief. For the first time in decades, there was real hope that the curse haunting the Defence Against the Dark Arts position might finally have met its end.
And in the dark corridors of Hogwarts, something ancient and malevolent felt the change in the magical balance, and grew restless.
The Three Brides
Filius Umbra's private office in the teachers' wing was a sanctuary of silence and shadows. The dark stone walls seemed to absorb all sound, creating a bubble of absolute quiet. In the soft light of the floating orbs, three figures occupied the space with the familiarity of those who had shared it for years.
Filius was sitting in his ebony chair, fingers interlaced as he watched Ororo Munroe pace the room with her feline grace. Ada Wong remained reclined on a dark leather sofa, her posture relaxed but her attentive eyes following every movement. Even at rest, there was an inherent sensuality in her presence - the way her fingers traced patterns on the leather, how her robes fitted her curves perfectly, how her half-closed eyes still captured every detail.
"The reports from the Research Division are promising," Ororo commented, her voice a melodious contralto that carried echoes of distant storms. "The work with ancient Norse runes is yielding interesting results. We've stabilized the protection matrix of Catarina's amulet for longer than projected."
Filius nodded slowly, but his mind was already wandering beyond the words. The presence of the two women - Ada as the silent sword, Ororo as the controlled storm - awakened memories that few in the wizarding world would dare to recall.
He remembered clearly the day the Court of Owls completed its global expansion. Members on every continent, representatives in every significant magical community. It was his greatest achievement, the realization of a vision that had begun as a study club at Hogwarts. But with growth came complexities that not even his foresight had fully anticipated.
Knowledge, as he discovered, was rigidly controlled by the great wizarding families. Even with the inclusion of brilliant Muggle-borns - the best among the best - most influential members still came from ancient lineages. And behind the facades of progressivism, many still held in their hearts the same rotten seeds of blood supremacy that had contaminated the wizarding world for centuries.
He had watched, patient, while the purist faction organized in the shadows. He let them think they were hidden, that their conspiracies went unnoticed. It was a calculated strategy - let the snake grow to cut off its head all at once.
The climax came during the Winter Solstice Meeting, in the main hall of the Court's headquarters. The three most powerful families of the faction - the Romanoffs of Russia, the Wongs of China, and the Monroes of Kenya - made their move. They surrounded him with the arrogance of those who believe they've won the game before it even begins.
"Lord Umbra," Ivan Romanoff had said, with his carefully trimmed beard and cold eyes. "The Court has grown beyond its origins. It needs leadership that represents its true roots - the great families that sustain this organization."
And then they presented their solution: three women, one from each family, standing like living trophies. Natasha Romanoff, with her deadly beauty and eyes that promised challenge. Ada Wong, with her lethal elegance and intriguing silence. Ororo Munroe, with her royal dignity and power she could barely contain.
"Choose one," insisted Li Wei Wong. "Unite your lineage with one of ours. Secure the Court's future under the proper leadership."
Filius remembered looking at each of the three women, seeing not just superficial beauty, but the spark of unrealized power in their eyes. They were pieces in this game as much as he was, but in a different way.
He had laughed, a soft sound that echoed in the silent hall. "An interesting proposal," he had said, his voice calm but sharp as a blade. "I will give my answer after considering all the... implications."
What they didn't know - what no one knew - was that he had already spent years secretly training these three women. While their families saw them as mere political pawns, he had molded them into living weapons, teaching them not just magic, but philosophy, strategy, and the true meaning of power.
The night of the reclamation was etched in his memory as a historic event. On three different continents, almost simultaneously, the three women moved against their own families.
Natasha Romanoff challenged and defeated her own uncle in a duel that lasted three hours, her shadows dancing through the ancient family mansion in Moscow as she applied everything she had learned from Filius.
Ada Wong executed a silent coup in Shanghai, removing her cousin from leadership with surgical precision, her magic as discreet as it was deadly.
Ororo Monroe summoned a storm over the Kenyan plains that witnessed her ascension, the power of the elements serving as witness to her victory over the elders of her family.
When the dust settled, the three women not only took control of their respective houses, but delivered to Filius all the information needed to purge the Court of the seeds of the purist faction. It was a complete, meticulous cleansing that restored the Court's original vision while reminding the wizarding world that Filius Umbra was not just a visionary - he was one of the great wizards of his era, on par with Dumbledore and Grindelwald, but operating on a level beyond most people's comprehension.
"Filius?"
Ororo's voice brought him back to the present. She was standing before his desk, an expression of understanding in her stormy eyes.
"You were reliving that day again," she said, not as a question, but as a statement.
Ada moved on the sofa, a slight smile touching her lips. "He always does that when we're all together. He's nostalgic."
Filius stood up, walking to the window overlooking the Hogwarts grounds. "It was the day the Court truly became what it was meant to be. The day three pawns became queens."
Ororo approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "And it was the day we earned our nickname. The Three Brides." Her eyes sparkled with humor. "Though no wedding ever took place."
"The wizarding world loves a good nickname," Filius commented dryly. "And it's better they think it's about romance than what it really was - a carefully orchestrated power grab."
Ada rose and joined them by the window. "It worked. The Court is stronger than ever, and the purist factions learned their lesson."
After a few moments of shared silence, Ororo announced her departure. "I need to return to the Research Center. We have experiments with elemental magic that require my attention."
When the door closed behind her, Filius turned to Ada. "And you?"
"I'll inspect the Aegis defenses in Hogsmeade," she replied, her fingers tracing a pattern on his arm before she turned to leave.
Alone again, Filius remained at the window watching the students on the castle grounds. His mind was already working on the next moves, the pieces he needed to move on the great chessboard that was the wizarding world. The past was full of lessons, but the future... the future was full of possibilities. And he intended to shape every one of them.
The First Practical Lesson
The morning sun bathed the extensive lawns of Hogwarts with a golden light that promised an exceptionally clear day. In the fields specifically designated for Dueling and Magical Battle classes, the second-year students were already gathering, wearing their training uniforms - the boys in sports shorts and long-sleeved shirts of technical fabric that wouldn't hinder their movements, the girls in leggings reaching to the knees covered by a functional skirt, all pieces displaying the Hogwarts crest and their respective house colors.
Harry Potter adjusted the collar of his red and gold shirt, feeling the breathable fabric adapt to his body. Beside him, Ron Weasley seemed somewhat more comfortable in his uniform, though still skeptical about the class they were about to have.
"At least it's not like last year with Wong," Ron commented, doing some basic stretches. "Remember the endurance exercises she made us do?"
Hermione Granger, already performing her stretches with precision, corrected: "She was preparing our foundation, Ronald. And it worked, didn't it?"
Before the discussion could continue, Filius Umbra appeared on the field. He didn't arrive by the castle road, nor by the stairs - he simply emerged from the shadows under a nearby large tree, as if he had always been there.
"Greetings," his voice reached every student without apparent effort. "Five laps around the perimeter. Stretch properly before and after. Begin."
There were no questions. The previous year with Ada Wong had taught them the importance of physical discipline. The students quickly formed rows and began running around the demarcated field, their footsteps creating a synchronized rhythm on the lawn.
Harry felt his muscles burning pleasantly on the third lap, remembering the exhausting sessions from the previous year. Draco Malfoy, ahead of him, maintained an impeccable posture even while running, his green and silver uniform seeming as pristine as at the start.
When the five laps were completed, Filius guided them through a series of complex stretches that worked muscles most didn't even know existed. Only then did he approach the center of the field where several moving targets already waited - small enchanted wooden spheres that floated erratically in the air, similar to the practice balloons used in advanced training.
"The Impetus Spell," Filius declared, without need for introductions. "Show me you've mastered the technique before we proceed."
Wands rose almost in unison. "Impetus!" echoed across the field, with red jets shooting from the students' wands. The spell they had learned in first year - not the true Stunning Spell, but a basic version with mainly a light impact effect - was familiar to everyone.
Harry felt his wand vibrate comfortably in his hand, the spell coming out with almost instinctive naturalness. His aim was remarkably precise, his red jets hitting the moving targets with impressive consistency.
Draco Malfoy, a few meters to the right, demonstrated a different technique - more calculated, more precise, each movement economical and efficient. His spells hit the targets with surgical accuracy.
Hermione Granger and Daphne Greengrass showed another approach. Both waited patiently, studying the movement patterns of the targets before casting their spells, rarely missing, but at a slower pace.
Filius watched everything with his silver eyes, analyzing each student. His attention turned particularly to Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley.
Neville, sweating slightly, showed notable improvement since the previous year. His spells had adequate strength and trajectory, but his lack of confidence still made him hesitate at crucial moments. His father's wand seemed to respond better to his commands, but the doubt in his eyes still hampered his performance.
Ron, on the other hand, had a natural talent that he himself underestimated. His spells were powerful and well-directed, but his tendency to doubt himself between casts created inconsistency.
"Interesting," Filius murmured to himself as he walked among the students.
Harry Potter fought with pure talent and instinct - his body understood combat magic in a way his conscious mind didn't always follow.
Draco Malfoy represented the product of years of family training - impeccable technique, but perhaps lacking the spark of instinctive genius.
Hermione and Daphne showed that the cerebral approach had its value, but in the speed of a real duel, hesitation could be fatal.
And Ron with Neville... Filius saw the unrealized potential there. Both had what was needed - Ron with his raw talent, Neville with his newly discovered strength - but held back by their own insecurities.
After an hour of intensive exercises, Filius called everyone's attention.
"Results," he announced, and an ethereal screen appeared in the air, showing the class rankings.
1. Harry Potter - 92% accuracy
2. Draco Malfoy - 88% accuracy
3. Daphne Greengrass - 85% accuracy
4. Hermione Granger - 84% accuracy
5. Neville Longbottom - 78% accuracy
6. Ron Weasley - 76% accuracy
Whispers ran through the group. Neville's placement in fifth surprised many, as did Ron's consistently good performance.
Harry seemed slightly embarrassed by first place, while Draco was clearly irritated at not being on top. Hermione seemed to be mentally processing how someone with "inferior" technique could have done better.
"Potter," Filius called. "Your instinctive talent is remarkable, but relying solely on instinct will leave you vulnerable when facing opponents who study patterns."
Turning to Malfoy: "Excellent technical precision, but lacking adaptability. In real combat, your opponents won't follow predictable patterns."
His attention then turned to Neville and Ron. "Longbottom, Weasley - stop fighting your own wands. Magic responds to confidence. Both of you have more than enough talent, but your true enemy is in your minds."
To the whole class, he announced: "Your task is to practice aiming. Each of you will take your training target. In the next class, I expect to see improvements not only in accuracy, but in understanding your own capabilities."
With a gesture, the targets became disenchanted and landed softly on the ground, each waiting for its owner.
As the students collected their equipment and began to disperse - some toward the castle, others toward the lake to rest - Filius remained on the field, watching them leave.
His mind was already working on the individual approaches he would take. Harry needed to learn to complement his instinct with strategy. Draco needed to discover how to go beyond methodical training. Hermione needed to find the balance between planning and spontaneous action.
And Ron with Neville... they needed the most difficult thing to teach: genuine confidence.
Each student was a unique set of strengths and weaknesses, a magical puzzle that needed solving. And Filius Umbra, Master of Magical Battle and Lord of Shadows, was more than willing to spend the necessary time to unlock each one's potential.
The future of the wizarding world depended on it - and he never failed in his investments.