Harry Potter: The art of divination

*Narrator pov* 

The heavy doors of the Wizengamot chamber creaked shut behind Lord Lestrange and Mulciber as they strode into the shadowed corridor. The tension that had lingered throughout the trial still clung to them, and their expressions betrayed simmering frustration.

"That arrogant fool," Lestrange muttered, his voice sharp and low. "He played them all like puppets, and they danced to his tune."

Mulciber's jaw tightened, his heavy steps echoing on the stone floor. "We had the votes. Everything was in place. How did he twist this in his favor?"

Lestrange slowed his pace, his eyes narrowing. "It wasn't just words. He must have Tampered with something Heir Ralis shouldn't have had the mark no wonder he was so-"

He stopped abruptly, his sentence unfinished. Mulciber turned to him, confused, until he followed Lestrange's gaze.

At the far end of the corridor, shrouded in the dim glow of the enchanted torches, stood Morpheus Everglade.

His posture was relaxed, his dark robes immaculate, as though he hadn't just endured a grueling trial. The faintest smirk curled his lips, and his emerald eyes gleamed with triumph. He looked every bit the predator who had just outmaneuvered his prey.

"Gentlemen," Morpheus greeted smoothly, his voice cutting through the silence. "Leaving so quickly? Surely you'd want to bask in the aftermath of your… efforts."

Mulciber instinctively reached for his wand, but Lestrange shot him a warning glance. They both knew this was not the place—or the time—for violence.

Lestrange stepped forward, his expression twisted in a sneer. "Enjoy your victory while you can, Everglade."

Morpheus tilted his head slightly, his smirk growing. "Oh, I will Lestrange I might even open a bottle I've been saving for some time, perhaps even invite some friends to play chess. How about you hopefully your failure didn't displease someone?" 

Mulciber growled low in his throat. "You think this is over? You may have swayed the Wizengamot, but you've made enemies today, Everglade. Powerful enemies."

Morpheus took a step forward, his presence suddenly more imposing. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across his face, emphasizing the cold gleam in his eyes.

"Enemies?" he repeated softly, as though tasting the word. "Oh, Mulciber, don't flatter yourselves. You're not my enemies. You're nuisances that are beginning to bore me."

Lestrange's hand twitched toward his wand, but he stopped himself, his teeth grinding in frustration.

Morpheus continued, his tone light but laced with steel. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to attend to than indulging your petty threats. Run along, gentlemen. Do let your master know that I look forward to our next… encounter."

He swept past them without another glance, his robes billowing like a dark cloud in his wake. Lestrange and Mulciber remained frozen in place, their hands clenched into fists as they watched him disappear down the corridor.

When he was gone, Mulciber spat, "We should have killed him in that chamber."

Lestrange's expression darkened further. "Trust me the day he dies I will celebrate until the next year."

They turned and walked away, their footsteps heavy and minds clouded with the impending disaster that was going to befall whoever had to break the news. 

The next day came swiftly and the papers were relentless, owls flew tirelessly through Britain delivering the hot news of Morpheus Everglades trial. 

The students inside Hogwarts were gorging on the breakfast selection when the owls arrived swooping down and dropping the papers. 

The students eagerly grabbed them devouring the first page, 'LORD EVERGLADE INNOCENT!' the papers declared detailing the trial and highlighting the important pieces of information. 

The students who were in Morpheus's divination class couldn't wait until the next day for electives.

*Morpheus pov* 

"You worked fast," I noted with a grateful grin as I poured my two companions a glass 

Arcturus scoffed, "It's too early for wine, don't you have any tea." I rolled my eyes, "No, I have whisky?" 

"Wine is fine," he grunted taking his glass 

Cassiopeia grinned taking her glass, "Well it was fun, I haven't had to use my network in a while. Well, my network in the ministry anyways." 

"Honestly that whole thing was obviously a set up did they really think you would lose?" Arcturus asked in disbelief and I couldn't blame him I was in disbelief when I saw it too

"Well, they had a good plan. Killing the Duskborn and Quill heirs and seeing if it swayed their ideology into the dark faction with the mask vote was a win for them no matter how small, if Aurors aren't careful their families will be targeted. Then used ng the heir Ralis to frame me was decently thought out, who would kill their own son to possibly imprison one man?" 

I scoffed, "But then you dig deeper, Heir Ralis was a fuckup a major disappointment to the family and his father had been looking to replace him with his brother without making the house seem incompetent. Just a simple poke in the Duskborn and Quill family deaths was enough for them to connect the dots throughout the trial. Honestly in a different political climate it would have worked." 

Cassiopeia nodded, "It would have, except whoever came up with the plan forgot to account for important factors. The grey families are taking a stronger stance than ever before, truly they are beginning to look like a real faction and not just fence-sitters. Then there are the dark families like ours who are playing a conservative role, with the light pushing so hard and the last Wizengamot votes being so close. The plan was poorly thought out." 

Arcturus laughed, "They are far too used to getting their own way, the possibility of failure never entered their minds. Truly the height of arrogance." 

I paused mid-step, the wineglass slipping from my fingers and shattering on the floor. A sharp, searing pain bloomed behind my eyes as my vision blurred, the room around him fading into a swirling haze.

Then, it came.

The Forbidden Forest stretched out before me, but it was no longer as I remembered, consumed by tongues of fire that roared like a living beast, devouring the ancient trees with terrifying speed. The thick canopy, usually impenetrable, was torn open, exposing the chaos beneath to a sky stained with blood-red clouds.

I saw figures running-centaurs, their powerful legs pounding the scorched earth, their expressions twisted in fear and fury. Arrows loosed from their bows fell uselessly against hulking shapes emerging from the smoke. Werewolves, their eyes glowing with feral hunger, lunged forward in coordinated packs, their claws tearing through fur, flesh, and muscle.

A terrible scream echoed through the forest, not human, not beast—a sound of pure agony that sent a chill racing down my spine. I turned to see a massive centaur fall, a werewolf latched onto its neck, blood pooling beneath its collapsed form.

My vision snapped to see Voldemort standing proudly his soldiers taking over the forest. 

My sight cleared and I saw my two guest looking at me in concern giving them a sheepish smile I uttered, "Looks like I'm going to have to cut this short." my alliance with the centaurs still stands 

A/N: I can't believe I have been writing this story for a year now.