Changes 1.1
"Did you find anything, Einar?" asked McGonagall upon seeing him arrive with firm steps.
"Yes. It seems like there were two groups," he replied, crossing his arms gravely. "Some were sent specifically to silence him… and the others, I have no idea."
"Silence him?" repeated Flitwick, surprised. "Why would anyone want to do that?"
"I have my suspicions," said Einar calmly. "But I won't make any claims without proof."
"Let's go to the infirmary. Let's see if Crouch can say anything," ordered McGonagall at once, as she set off with Einar and Flitwick toward the Hogwarts infirmary.
There, nurse Poppy Pomfrey was carefully examining Barty Crouch. Harry had already been sent back to his dormitory, unharmed. But Crouch… was a different story.
After a preliminary check-up, Poppy frowned deeply.
"We need to transfer him to St. Mungo's immediately. His body shows signs of having been subjected to multiple curses, and his mind… his mind is collapsing. Imperius, Cruciatus… too long under their influence. I don't think he can recover. He's completely lost in madness. Nothing he says can be trusted."
Einar nodded silently, saying nothing. Then, with an unreadable expression, he turned and walked toward his quarters.
But his mind kept working.
He was thinking about the mark. That cursed mark he had felt on the attacker's body.
A mark he knew well. Karkaroff had it. Snape too.
And each day, it seemed more vivid.
The first time he saw Snape, he could barely sense it… like a faint shadow in the wind.
But now…
Now, he felt it clearly.
As if something were awakening.
...…
The next day, Einar was summoned to the headmaster's office. He had been a direct witness to the attack on Barty Crouch and to the few enigmatic words he managed to say before completely losing his mind.
Upon arrival, he found Dumbledore waiting alongside a short, chubby man with a rather ridiculous bowler hat and a gaze full of ambition. That expression was all too familiar to Einar. One look was enough to read him: a man who wouldn't hesitate to betray you if it meant climbing one more rung on the ladder. He had met many like that… and they all ended the same way.
Einar crossed his arms, not bothering to hide his indifference.
"Why did you call me, Headmaster?" he said, getting straight to the point.
"Einar, this is the Minister for Magic of the United Kingdom, Cornelius Fudge. He's here to hear what you managed to catch from Crouch," explained Dumbledore evenly.
Fudge, with a gaze full of skepticism and arrogance, barely turned to Einar.
"Crouch is completely insane. Whatever he said about Berta Jorkins is irrelevant," he declared, dismissing the matter before it even began.
"I see… The same useless man who tried to silence Sirius Black to cover up the Ministry's incompetence. And the one who approved this stupid tournament," Einar replied with contempt, his voice as sharp as steel, his gaze piercing behind the mask.
Fudge turned abruptly, red with rage.
"Watch your tone, boy!"
"Oh yeah? Or what?" Einar shot back, as his eyes turned golden and an overwhelming, invisible pressure fell like an avalanche on the minister.
One wrong move… one more word… and the whole room would know Fudge wasn't up to facing the threat before him. Fudge's instincts told him as much"instincts that had helped him rise so high in the Ministry.
Seeing the minister's face pale, Einar smiled disdainfully. Typical: fear the strong, crush the weak. That brief confrontation told him everything he needed to know. Cornelius Fudge was nothing but a coward with power. And the Ministry under him seemed useless.
Einar withdrew the pressure and returned to his usual calm.
"Crouch said 'Berta dead,' and he also mentioned his son. He said he made a mistake… I assume he meant releasing him. I'm convinced he was manipulated. Probably under control."
"How do you know that?" asked Fudge immediately, surprised. He himself had ordered that information covered up.
"Because I caught him," replied Einar coldly. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll return to my class. I don't have time for your political games."
Without waiting for a response, Einar turned and left the office, feeling Fudge's burning glare on his back.
As soon as he crossed the door, he heard the minister begin ranting at Dumbledore, demanding that Einar be fired before he "committed some crime."
That made him smirk. If only they knew…
When he arrived at his office, he noticed someone was waiting for him.
A young woman with shifting hair sat in front of the door, lost in thought. Every gesture seemed to tint her strands with a different emotion. When she saw him, her surprise was so great that her hair turned white… before changing to a bright pink.
"Hi! Nice to meet you. I'm Nymphadora Tonks, Auror. But call me Tonks, please. I'm here to speak with the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor about the attack on Barty Crouch," she said with a slightly nervous smile.
"That's me. Einar Dovahkiin," he replied calmly.
"Dovahkiin… Wow, looks like I'm not the only one with a weird name," Tonks joked, although Einar's steady gaze made her cough awkwardly. "Anyway… I'd like to hear what happened, as well as any clues you might have about the attackers. Don't worry, we know it was self-defense."
"Go ahead," said Einar, inviting her in.
After all, Aurors were something like the military of this world. Reporting the incident accurately was the best course. Though honestly, he didn't expect much from them.
He calmly explained how he defended Harry and Crouch, detailing every move, every enemy taken down.
"You used a bow? And arrows?" asked Tonks, surprised. "Why not your wand?"
"A spell in the middle of the night is easy to detect and dodge. An arrow… not so much," Einar replied, raising an eyebrow as if the answer were obvious.
"Ah… Well, that makes sense," admitted Tonks, scratching her head, still intrigued by how he could read expressions behind a mask. But in the magical world, objects with such powers weren't exactly rare.
"Did you find out who the attackers were?" Einar asked, changing the subject.
"Most of them were hired assassins with warrants on their heads. Don't worry, it's unlikely there will be any retaliation. Other members of their group disappeared months ago. These were the last ones. But... one of them might be problematic. He belonged to a pseudo-noble English family. Though it seems he was a rejected son, so I don't think he'll cause us much trouble."
"Are you talking about the one with the tattoo?" asked Einar.
"Tattoo? We didn't find any," Tonks replied, slightly confused.
"I see," Einar murmured, understanding instantly. It wasn't an ordinary tattoo. It was a cursed mark… connected to something, or someone. And upon death, that connection simply vanished.
"That's all, Professor Dovahkiin. If I need anything else, I'll send an owl, alright?"
"Of course."
"Then, goodby"ah!"
Before she could finish her farewell, her foot caught on one of the chairs, and she stumbled forward. Instinctively, Einar raised his arm and caught her by the wrist, preventing her fall.
"Sorry... Thanks for that," Tonks said, recovering with a nervous laugh as her hair turned a deep red.
"It's alright," Einar replied with a calm smile.
After Tonks left, a pair of firm knocks at the office door caught Einar's attention.
"Come in," he said in a composed voice.
The door opened, revealing Harry Potter. His expression was tense, his eyes slightly downcast, as if he were carrying thoughts far too heavy for someone his age.
"Professor Einar... do you have a moment?" he asked, a bit uncertain, though there was a flicker of contained determination in his gaze.
"Of course," Einar replied while organizing some papers on his desk. He looked up with interest. "What's going on?"
Harry entered and closed the door behind him, took a deep breath, and approached.
"I was in the headmaster's office..." he began in a low voice, and Einar raised an eyebrow, listening. "There... there was something called a Pensieve. I was able to see some of the headmaster's memories. I saw Karkaroff being judged as a Death Eater… how Dumbledore defended Snape, saying he was a spy. I also saw Ludo Bagman judged for passing information to Voldemort, though he swore he didn't know who he was helping. The trial of Barty Crouch Jr. and other Death Eaters… they were the ones who tortured Neville's parents until they were broken…"
Harry swallowed. His voice trembled, but he didn't stop.
"After that… Dumbledore appeared. He told me he believes the things with Berta Jorkins and Crouch are connected to Voldemort. That something is moving..."
Einar watched him silently, stroking his chin. Then, without a word, he raised his wand and cast a gentle calming spell on Harry. The tension in the boy's shoulders eased slightly.
Harry took a deep breath. The spell helped, but his mind was still a storm.
Something didn't add up. From the name in the Goblet of Fire to Bagman's actions, Snape's silent role as a former Death Eater, Dumbledore's calculated words… it was all too much. Too precise, too orchestrated.
He felt like a leaf blown by the wind, unable to choose his own fate. A leaf thrown into a storm he couldn't understand.
A puppet with strings pulled far too well.
"It's frustrating, isn't it?" said Einar, as if he could read every thought crossing Harry's mind. "That everyone seems to have control over you… and you can't do anything to stop it."
Harry raised his head. For the first time, his eyes burned. Not with confusion. Not with fear. But with a silent, steady, fiery rage.
"Yeah… it's really frustrating," he said hoarsely. He was no longer a child crying in the dark. He was someone ready to light his own flame.
Einar stared at him, and for a moment, his own memories pulled him back. He remembered the day he broke the chains binding him to an imposed destiny. He fulfilled that destiny… but in his own way.
And in that moment, he saw in Harry a reflection of the young man he had once been.
"Professor..." said Harry, with a look no longer shaped by circumstance, but by choice. "I want to be strong. Just like Neville asked you.
I don't want to train just to survive the tournament…
I want to train so I won't have to depend on anyone.
I want to fight for myself… for what I believe in."
"Of course," said Einar with a faint, sincere smile. There was pride in his eyes. "But I warn you… it'll be much harder.
And possibly more painful than any training you've had before."
"I don't care," said Harry firmly. "I… want to be like you."
Einar let out a short, powerful laugh, remembering the times he'd heard those same words in Skyrim… from his children, before they became the little monsters he himself had trained.
"Like me? Hahaha… you have no idea what you're getting into, Harry Potter."
He stood up, his imposing figure stepping forward.
"Your training starts tomorrow at dawn. Along with Neville. Be ready.
You will no longer be a leaf in the wind."
Harry nodded. For the first time in a long while, he felt he was taking a step of his own will. A step toward his true self.
And Einar… smiled.
"-------
Harry has finally taken the reins of his own destiny! 🔥 From the very beginning, Einar wanted him to fight for himself, to not let anyone else dictate his path... and now, that moment has finally arrived.
But of course, there's no rest for the brave. The next chapter is all about training! Because if there's one thing we've learned, it's that magic without preparation is only good for accidentally setting the curtains on fire. 😆
And then... the third task. That's where everything is going to go haywire. Prepare for madness, chaos, and a show worthy of Dragonblood: 👀✨
Get ready, because this is just the beginning!