Vincent nodded, smiling. "Of course, Professor."
Whatever people said about Dumbledore's supposed cunning or need for control, one thing was undeniable — the man was, in the truest sense, genuinely good.
Vincent said, "I'm hoping to push through Ministry legislation that reaches as many people as possible."
Dumbledore frowned. "And you're certain this will actually strengthen your magic?"
Vincent thought it over. "You could think of it this way — my magic needs to be built on a foundation of rules or order that I've established myself. The more people it affects, the more people follow it, the stronger my magic becomes."
"Truly..."
Dumbledore sighed softly. "Remarkable magic."
"Heh. Hard to believe I'm hearing that from you, of all people."
"I've always considered myself, in the world of magic, nothing more than an apprentice — there's still so much unknown left for me to encounter and learn."
"If you're an apprentice, what does that make everyone else?"
"Everyone is an apprentice to magic. Some have simply traveled further down that road than others, who are only just starting out."
Dumbledore seemed to consider something, then added, "If you run into any trouble 'establishing rules,' feel free to let me know."
"Will do."
As they spoke, Fudge's little performance had wrapped up. Just as abruptly as he'd arrived, he departed — one moment showering Sirius with warmth, the next simply walking off, leaving him behind entirely.
Every bit the callous, love-them-and-leave-them type, leaving poor Sirius standing there, utterly bewildered.
Vincent stepped over and patted him. "Wake up, big star. Time to head back."
"What..."
Dumbledore gave him a playful wink. "Welcome home, big star."
Sirius: "???"
...
The moment the three of them arrived back at Hogwarts's headmaster's office, they found Harry and Lupin seated on opposite ends of the sofa, both looking distinctly uncomfortable.
Harry knew Mr. Lupin had once been one of his father's closest friends, and though he had a thousand questions swirling in his head, the man didn't seem inclined to engage, so Harry hadn't dared speak up first.
As for Lupin — at this point in the timeline, the Wolfsbane Potion hadn't yet been perfected, and years of living in isolation because of his lycanthropy had left this already introverted man even more withdrawn than ever.
Between them sat the little black cat, staring fixedly at Lupin, its wide eyes flickering between confusion and a dazed, almost human expression.
The moment Sirius appeared, Lupin shot to his feet. "Sirius."
"Remus."
Overwhelmed, Sirius rushed toward his old friend, arms open for an embrace — only to be met with a fist instead. "Sirius, you absolute bastard!"
Taking the punch, Sirius lowered his head. "Yeah. I'm a bastard. If I hadn't been so clever, handing things off to Peter..."
"You were clever, sure, but that's far from the only thing. There's also how you willingly took on the label of Death Eater, let yourself get thrown into Azkaban, and then—"
Lupin, furious, launched into a full recounting of his "crimes," every word dripping with disappointed frustration: How did James end up with the three of us as friends? One's a werewolf, one's a traitor, and the one he trusted most turned out to be an absolute idiot!
Vincent exchanged a look with Dumbledore, then gave Harry — who was glancing over for help — an apologetic smile, clearly unable to intervene, and turned to leave the office. The little black cat gave Lupin one last look, then leapt down and trotted after him, scrambling up his trouser leg and onto his shoulder, deftly pulling out paper and pen from its stash and writing: "That guy's weird."
"Oh, Lupin? He's a werewolf."
"A werewolf?"
The little black cat glanced back once more, scratched its head with a front paw, then tucked its writing supplies away.
"Oh, Professor Snape's here too? Not going in?"
Vincent had barely made it down the stairs before spotting Snape, standing there wearing his signature deadpan expression.
"..."
Snape flexed his fingers, half-tempted to storm in and hit both of them with a Killing Curse, in payback for the humiliation they'd once put him through.
But he knew better than to actually try it, swallowing the impulse whole, stewing in silent frustration. In the end, he simply gave a snort and tossed over something wrapped in cloth. "Dumbledore asked me to give you this."
"What is it?"
Snape had already transformed into his signature giant-bat silhouette and swept off.
"Huh."
Vincent shrugged, unwrapped the cloth bundle, and found inside a crystal-clear red stone about the size of half a palm. He blinked, surprised. "Is this... the Philosopher's Stone?"
He pulled the red stone free, watching its shifting glimmer, and felt, for a moment, as though an entire lifetime had passed. He remembered — months ago, the day before his first swap with Bernadette, his whole goal had still been simply securing a teaching position at Hogwarts, then finding some way to get his hands on this very stone.
Then, that whole string of events had happened.
By now, he'd nearly forgotten this had ever been his original objective at all.
A flicker of surprise crossed Vincent's face — because he'd just realized something he'd apparently overlooked entirely, since swapping back: something that should have mattered a great deal.
Since returning fully to his own body, he no longer felt that lingering weakness, that sense of a fractured soul. His "illness," it seemed, had simply healed.
Was that because of how Bernadette's soul had influenced him, during her time controlling the body? Or had his own advancement to demigod, gaining divine power, allowed him to self-repair?
Vincent remembered discussing the soul-fracture issue with Bernadette specifically before — and Bernadette herself had raised a question at the time: if it really were a fractured soul, then during the periods when she controlled the body, the problem should have vanished entirely on her end; conversely, even after Vincent went to the Lord of Mysteries world, the fracture should have persisted there too.
But in reality, once Vincent had arrived in the Lord of Mysteries world, he'd genuinely still felt that weakness — though it had eased somewhat the moment he first entered Beyond the Grey Fog, and eventually, as he advanced in Sequence, healed entirely without him even noticing.
Meanwhile, Bernadette, back in the Harry Potter world, had continued feeling that same "fracture and weakness" the whole time — which was, on its face, inconsistent. And now, having swapped back, his body's own "fracture and weakness" had healed completely and immediately.
So why had Bernadette continued sensing something off, the entire time she was in control of the body?
And the next question that followed naturally: if he killed someone right now, devouring their soul — would he go back to feeling weak, the way he used to?
Vincent shook his head quickly, forcing the thought back down: at his current level, even devouring the souls of top-tier wizards like Voldemort or Dumbledore probably wouldn't meaningfully boost his strength anymore.
No point courting death over that.
Though — if he could use this "ability" back in the Lord of Mysteries world, that would be a different story entirely.
He held the Philosopher's Stone up toward a candle flame, examining it, murmuring, "I wonder... is this thing even useful to me anymore?"
Poke, poke.
Just then, the little black cat perched on his shoulder suddenly reached out and poked his cheek with a soft paw.
"What—"
Vincent turned his head and found the little creature staring, wide-eyed, fixated on the Philosopher's Stone in his hand, radiating pure, unfiltered longing — practically drooling...
Drip.
A drop of drool landed on Vincent's shoulder.
To be continued…
Guys, kindly support me on Patreon as it helps me in buying the chapters and also it helps me alot.
Advance 100 Chapters are up on my Patreon!
pat reon.com/AlphaSenatus