Chapter Text
Chap 1:
Quite some time ago, there was a genetic shift. Perhaps it was the result of a vaccine dealing with MRNA. Perhaps humanity had simply reached a point in which an evolutionary mutation across the species was needed. Perhaps the situation with Climate change and other global disasters had made the universe decide that something needed to change. No matter what the cause, however, the shift happened. And with it, emerged Quirks. Quirks, similar to the X-Men of pre-quirk literature, are genetic, and they present in the form of powers. An erasure quirk may brainwash those it’s used on into believing they don’t have a quirk, forcing them to be unable to use theirs. An exploding quirk may affect the biological make-up of a bodily component -- sweat for instance -- allowing it to combust. An invisibility quirk may affect light refraction. These powers are all parts of a singular person. No two are exactly alike, even if said quirk is a stockpile quirk.
The development of quirks is completely genetic, and over the last few generations it has been found that they act like any other hereditary and recessive trait. A child’s quirk is most often directly related to their parent’s, with notable exceptions being Quirkless children and rare mutation incidents.
However. There is an exception to these rules, and that is the Wizarding community. Across the globe live communities of people who have ‘magic’ running through their veins. This magic is different from the witches one may encounter throughout their journeys, and in fact, the fact that the wizarding community uses the terms ‘wizards’ and ‘witches’ is incorrect. The two are genderless terms on their own, and the wizarding community are, well, wizards. Magic users who study academically, at a magical institution and depend mainly on spells and potions.
For these wizards, magic is essentially their quirk. It’s presence in their veins prevents the existence of a quirk factor -- a fact which has unfortunately caused much sorrow in slightly prejudiced non-magical folk, being biased against the idea of a quirkless child, until their child started showing signs of magic.
Interesting enough, however, the Wizarding community of Britain -- of which this story shall focus on -- is a bit behind the times. Having been isolated from the magical world for so many generations, it’s rather magic-prejudiced society has completely missed the Shift. Any student exposed to the non-magical world decided to not inform their fellow students about the Shift, not wanting to even attempt to explain what they really, really could not understand in the first place.
Of course, the absence of spread of knowledge led to the society in Britain (for other Wizarding Societies are completely aware of the Shift, with quirked individuals and magical individuals working together, especially in underground operations) becoming even more insular. Perhaps this is the reason why, when Voldemort appeared, so many members of the wizarding community were so quick to share the man’s prejudiced ideas. Very few wizards had been truly exposed to a non-magic individual in the form of any sort of intelligent conversation, and so it was very easy for prejudiced ideas to seep in. You hear too many ‘single stories’ about a group of people and suddenly that becomes your only perception of them.
But as with most things, there is a turning point where a method or practice is named ‘outdated’, ‘flawed’, and ‘unhelpful’. Which is exactly what happened in a meeting between several very powerful individuals when they learned of Voldemort’s revival.
Inside a sparsely decorated room sat a gathering of people, all present to discuss what they had heard via the gossip of the world. Each and every one there had their own informats, some better known than others.
A woman with her hair in long braids dotted with gold spun a dagger around her fingers as she stared down the other occupants of the room. Her dark eyes burned with power, and she wielded strength with a ferocity that could bring even the most powerful of beings to their knees. The head of Italy’s magical government stood as one of the most respected individuals in all of the world’s wizarding community -- anyone worth their salt knew to not get on her bad side.
A small bear/rat-like creature observed the room with all-knowing eyes, provoking fear in each person he gazed at. He held a tea cup -- filled to the brim with nearly boiling liquid -- and held an unnerving smile of sorts upon his face.
To his right sat yet another powerful individual. Their hair was long, tied back in a ponytail, with their wand stored behind their ear. Support gauntlets graced both of their wrists, a defence and a threat to those who knew to look. The leader of Japan’s magic community was well acquainted with the being next to them, and the two exchanged looks before focusing back on the other inhabitants of the room.
A man wearing a rather swanky cloak -- featuring spiraling purple patterns -- leaned forward on his arms, peering at the room from violet-tinted glasses. The Minister of wizarding France was an enigma to many, and an individual that not many were aware of -- one certainly to be feared.
The last being in the room was one Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of the British Wizarding school: Hogwarts. The reason for the gathering, in a way. Subjected to many a stare from the other occupants of the room, he was disliked by many, yet respected in equal measure.
“So, Albus,” the lone woman in the room -- Zeta, head of Italy’s wizarding government -- spoke up, shattering the silence as if with a mighty blow, “You’ve gathered us here because of your little problem, no?”
The man’s glasses glinted as he pushed them back. “Well, I wouldn’t say a little problem, my dear.”
She bristled.
“However, yes. That is why I invited you all. Voldemort has returned, despite the Ministry’s denial of this fact. His return was witnessed by two of my students, one of whom died during the encounter.”
Nedzu’s nose twitched in displeasure.
“His Death Eaters are back and his influence is spreading like a wildfire. I have my own people working on it, however --”
“Your own people?” Fujihara Hikari scoffed lightly. “If I remember correctly, your Order of the Phoenix isn’t nearly enough to go to war. Especially after having so many members taken out of action last go around.
“That is quite right, Fujihara-san. However these are difficult times, and we’re working as hard as we can to recruit.”
The Minister of France blinked his purple eyes in a slow bat. “Oh? Then why exactly have we been called? I assumed that meant you were desperate. But it seems I was incorrect~”
Dumbledore shook his head. “No. You unfortunately are correct my boy.”
The endearment obviously did not please the man, as he narrowed his eyes at it.
“Many do not believe Harry, myself, or the order. The Papers have decided to slander us, and many have lost faith in the school’s ability to protect their students. As such, I find myself in a position where I need increased security for Hogwarts -- A situation which I never thought to find myself in.”
Fujihara smirked as they turned to the being next to them. “Say, Nedzu, don’t you have some people perfect for this? It is why you requested to come along, of course.”
The principal’s eyes lit up, and he sipped his tea for a moment before setting it down. “I’m assuming you mean 2A?” At their inclined head, he continued. “Well, it would certainly be a good experience for them. I’m sure they’d enjoy some of the classes as well, such as Potions, Arithmancy, Divination, Ancient Runes, etc. And of course we couldn’t have them slacking off their coursework, so we’d need to send Eraserhead as well. I’m aware he and Mic will object to being separated for such a period, but they’re both fully aware of their professions.”
Fujihara grinned. “And the League has stopped being as much of an actual National danger, so we have less to worry about on that front as well.” They were highly relieved when the League had turned back to more petty crimes and the occasional arsons. Sure, there were still murders, but upon further observation, all of their victims seemed to be abusers, sexual predators, or related to human trafficking. As such, their priority level had dropped, to the immense relief of the entire government -- except the Commision, suspiciously enough.
“Excuse me, Fujihara-san? I appear to be a bit lost.”
They fixed Dumbledore with a piercing stare. “UA’s principal has just offered you the temporary use of UA’s top second year heroics class. These kids have been through battle and will go through thick or thin for each other. It would be... quite unwise for you to decline.”
Eyes widened in surprise. Albus Dumbledore had barely been exposed to Quirks within his life, but he knew of their existence. “Their presence…”
“Could turn the tide of the war? Yes, I’m well aware.” Fujihara grinned.
“Oh! Those kids?” Molly -- The French Minister -- smirked. “They’re so chaotic, I adore them. I think they may be exactly what Wizarding Britain needs, what do you think Zeta?”
Zeta bit the tip of her knife in contemplation for a second before responding. “Oh, I think it’s a damn brilliant idea. Hopefully this could even serve as a vacation for them.”
“Oh, I’m sure it won’t.” Nedzu piped up. “My staff call them Problem Children for a reason you know. However, this will be good for them~”
“Perfect!” Fujihara clapped their hands together -- the sound thunderous within the small room -- and stood. “Nedzu. Inform your staff and students. Dumbledore- san and I will arrange everything, now won’t we .” their eyes flared with power.
“Yes, of course.”
“ Of course . The British School year starts in September, and I do hope they manage to not cause any more national incidents between now and then. Yes I’m aware that’s not completely realistic but I can wish. The commission is a bitch to deal with, and I’d just rather not. I’m sure you understand.” They slid their coat over their shoulders and plucked their wand out from behind their ear, waiting for the others to follow their lead.
Molly pulled up his hood and stood, casting a glamour to set his purple skin to a shade of bronze so as to not draw unwanted attention upon himself. “I’ll be interested in seeing how events go down this year, Albus. And no, I’m not lending anyone to be your Defense teacher.”
Dumbledore’s jaw dropped slightly, obviously he hadn’t expected to be called out so frankly. “I hadn’t even thought of bringing the subject up my boy--”
“Don’t call me your boy, Albus. I’m not a child. And you definitely had thought of it, don’t even try to convince me otherwise. You ask every year. The answer is still no. Even if I had wanted to accept, you make a fairly fierce argument about the position being cursed, and I’d really rather not subject any of my people to an untimely death or worse. Most people enjoy stable employment with a hefty salary, and that position doesn’t guarantee either.”
“Yeah, Not from me either. Draw from your own people if you can.” Zeta frowned. “If you let your Ministry in, you know it won’t be pleasant. I understand it might be a calculated risk, but I advise against it.” She draped a shawl over her arms and stored her blade in it’s halter. “I’m glad we so quickly resolved this. You know how to contact me if we must reconvene.”
Nedzu stood as well and joined Fujihara. “We’ll be off then. One of us will contact you soon.” They both bowed, and then, in a twisting of the space around them, they vanished, having apparated back to Japan.
And so -- with a series of polite, formal, and informal goodbyes -- the meeting came to a close, leaving the Headmaster of Hogwarts with a plan that even he did not truly know the specifics of.