Last of The Fae

Chapter 116: The Fallout



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"Breaking News: Lord Thane Fae, Founder and Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Fae, has been found not guilty!

According to multiple certified sources, the young Lord successfully argued that his use of Soul Magic, rather than violating wizarding law, was solely intended to benefit the British wizarding community—thus constituting no crime.

However, what has truly shaken the political landscape is what followed immediately after the trial. Lord Fae carried out his plan of introducing a revolutionary piece of legislation, now officially known as the "Bill for Magical Enrichment," during the latest Wizengamot session. The bill passed with overwhelming support from both the Light and Dark courts, marking a historic moment of rare unity within wizarding governance.

The Bill for Magical Enrichment introduces sweeping reforms to magical research and development, primarily focusing on the exploration of new applications of magic by significantly reducing or eliminating restrictions previously imposed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The bill's stated purpose is to, quote,

"Accelerate the processes of magical innovation by providing ample opportunities and funding, in hopes of improving the universal quality of life and accelerating the growth of a magical nation."

While many within the Wizengamot have hailed this as a new era for magical progress, not all are convinced. Some voting members, along with concerned citizens, have expressed deep apprehension, warning that the bill's sweeping changes may open the door to dangerous experimentation that could cause more harm than good without strict oversight.

Among the bill's most vocal critics is Minister Cornelius Fudge, who has publicly condemned both the legislation and Lord Fae himself. In a strongly worded statement, the Minister remarked:

"While young, Lord Fae is a dangerous individual with radical ideas that threaten to disrupt the peace the Ministry has fought so hard to establish and maintain over the past decade after the Wizarding War."

As debates over the bill's long-term consequences continue, one thing is certain: Lord Thane Fae has cemented himself as a rising and highly controversial figure in the future of magical Britain.

This has been Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet, stay tuned for further updates as this story develops!" 

Evaline smiled as she folded the newspaper shut, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. "I told you he would pull through."

"I never doubted the boy's abilities," Cedric replied, his tone calm but edged with disapproval. "What I disagreed with was your decision to use our daughter as a bargaining chip."

Evaline sighed, understanding her husband's moral stance yet unable to ignore the practical reality that had driven her decision.

"You saw what that boy has planned. He's going to change the world, Cedric. And our family will be at the center of it—ready to profit from every galleon and sickle."

Cedric's expression remained unreadable as he countered, "He was already going to marry Daphne as his first wife. How much more 'centered' do you need to be?"

Evaline's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Five percent of all Fae Inc. shares 'centered.'" She let the number linger, letting him grasp the sheer weight of their positioning. "That's not something I even anticipated, but the Fae boy understands the value of leveraging our network and connections."

Cedric exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "And how does Daphne feel about us turning her fiancé into a power grab?"

"She should appreciate and understand our position. She knows what's at stake and what we stand to gain," Evaline said smoothly, without a hint of hesitation. "Until they walk down that aisle, she is a member of House Greengrass first and foremost."

"I just hope she doesn't grow to resent us," Cedric muttered, his voice quieter now, a flicker of genuine concern slipping through his composed exterior.

Evaline waved a dismissive hand, "Please. She'll be fine. Though I fully expect her to spare no expense on her wedding in order to even the score."

She smirked, already envisioning the obscene number of galleons their daughter would siphon from the family vaults on that fateful day.

--- 

Dumbledore stared at the newspaper spread open on his desk, Thane Fae's face plastered across the front page. The headline declared his acquittal and the passage of his revolutionary bill, but Dumbledore's eyes remained fixed on the photograph—on the young wizard standing before the world, victorious.

"How did I let this come to fruition?"

He had seen all the warning signs. A Muggle-born wizard with immense magical power, highly intelligent, but without the loving and stable environment necessary for him to mature into a well-adjusted individual.

The same cycle. Over and over again.

But this time… this time was worse.

"How has he learned so much?" Dumbledore wondered, his fingers tapping absently on the desk. "I ensured every book on Soul Magic was removed, even from the Restricted Section. And yet… not only has he begun to master it, he has created something entirely new—something even I cannot understand."

With a measured breath, Dumbledore reached into his desk and retrieved several bank sigils and cornerstones, each in various states of disrepair from when he had painstakingly dismantled them, trying to uncover their secrets.

Among the ruined artifacts, one element stood out—the thin sheet of crystalline metal embedded at the center of the sigil. The moment he had discovered the intricate etching carved into its surface, he had known.

This was the conduit.

The very thing Thane had claimed could capture an image of the soul.

Even after reading the young Lord's dissertation, Dumbledore had needed proof. Cold, irrefutable proof.

So, holding a sigil between his thumb and forefinger, he sent a pulse of mana into the enchanted metal, watching as it rebounded, its energy returning to him like an echo.

Dumbledore had spent decades refining his craft, and in that time, he had learned to sense his own soul—the source of his magic. He understood its presence, but never its true nature. Despite his best efforts, it had always remained a vague, distant thing, an enigma even to him.

And yet, as he studied the etching within the sigil, he found a revelation staring back at him.

At first, it seemed like nothing more than an amorphous sphere—a nebulous shape suspended in the crystalline sheet. But the longer he stared, the more he saw. The sphere was surrounded by an impossibly thin lining, an intricate web of compounding fractals and infinite spirals, twisting upon themselves in an endless cascade of complexity.

For a long moment, Dumbledore simply stared.

And he understood.

"Limitless possibilities."

He tore his gaze away, his breath slow and measured, his fingers curling over the edges of the newspaper once more.

He knew this story.

He had lived it before.

Perhaps, if this had been the first or second time he had encountered a young wizard with a vision of grandeur, a magician who spoke of reshaping wizarding society and wielded the power to bend the masses to his will, he would have been more willing to believe in hope.

But it was not the first.

And it would not be the third.

Dumbledore exhaled, folding his hands before him, his mind already moving toward what steps he would need to take, precautions he would need to implement. 

"History will not repeat itself again."


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