Magical Journey in HP * DXD

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, his fingers steepled together, his piercing blue eyes unusually dim. A deep sigh left his lips as he stared at the growing pile of letters on his desk—letters that had started arriving with the first light of morning and hadn't stopped since.

He had expected some unrest after the fight, of course. Quidditch brawls weren't unheard of. But this?

This was beyond anything he had anticipated.

The Light faction was pressing down hard.

Dozens of letters from Gryffindor parents had poured in overnight, demanding answers, demanding justice. Many were furious that their children had been expected to apologize to Draco Malfoy after he had used the slur. Some had outright questioned Dumbledore's leadership.

And the parents of the Gryffindor students involved in the fight? They had made it abundantly clear—they were coming.

But it didn't stop there.

The Dark faction was moving as well.

The parents of the Slytherins—wealthy, influential figures, many of whom still held considerable power in the Ministry—had caught wind of what had happened. Some were concerned about their children's treatment, others were furious that their heirs had been attacked.

And now, this afternoon, they would all be gathering at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose. This was precisely the kind of house divide he had spent decades trying to prevent. And the one at the center of it all?

James Dawson.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. The boy had stood his ground. Even in the face of his authority, James had not flinched, had not wavered.

Even now, with the weight of this situation crashing down, Dumbledore could picture the boy's face—calm, unwavering, utterly undeterred.

Perhaps…

Perhaps this explains why the Hat put him in Gryffindor.

James sat on his bed, his wand lazily spinning between his fingers. The sunlight filtering through the window painted streaks of gold across his dormitory, but his mind was elsewhere.

This meeting… was going to be interesting.

He hadn't expected things to spiral this much. Sure, he had planned to stir trouble in Hogwarts—Slytherin had been getting away with too much for too long—but this had spilled out beyond the castle walls.

And that?

That wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

One of his first goals in this world had always been to weaken the Dark faction.

The war had ended, and yet the Death Eater families still thrived.

Sure, some of their most vocal supporters had been thrown behind bars, but many still held major positions in the Ministry. They still walked around with their heads held high, still instilled the same toxic ideology in their children.

And that?

That disgusted him.

All of this—all of it—could be traced back to Dumbledore's failure.

The man has become or was too soft. Too idealistic. He wanted to believe that these children could grow up untainted, that the sins of their parents wouldn't bleed into them.

And so he allowed them to roam free, heads held high, unpunished, untouched. Snape to shield them .

All because he wanted to avoid planting seeds of hatred.

James scoffed.

Naïve.

Even after knowing—after realizing—that the Dark Lord would return one day, Dumbledore still did not push back.

And who paid the price for his inaction?

The Light Faction.

The Ministry was destroyed in a single night.

The Order of the Phoenix suffered countless losses.

All because Dumbledore had refused to act when he had the chance.

And now?

Now, he wanted peace with the Dark families? Wanted to rebuild ties with the very people who had supported a man that murdered innocents, tortured families, and committed genocide?

Pathetic.

But James?

James wasn't going to be complacent.

He would bury the Death Eaters so deep that they would never dare rise again.

And with Sirius Black, the true Lord Black, back in play?

Oh, it was only a matter of time before things changed.

James smirked to himself.

He could already guess what Dumbledore was using as his leash—Harry.

Dumbledore wanted Sirius to stay put.

And what better way to keep him in check than through his godson?

"Stay quiet, Sirius. Behave. If you don't, Harry might suffer."

He wasn't an idiot—he saw the game for what it was.

Dumbledore would be using Sirius's love as a leash. His guilt as a collar.

Well.

James had wanted Harry to not become blindly loyal to Dumbledore. That had been his original goal for this year.

But now?

Now, he had done one better.

Chaos.

Beautiful, uncontrollable chaos.

And he loved it.

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