Chapter 5

So, picture this: Albus Dumbledore, the wizarding world's very own master of subtlety (or so he'd like to think), is lounging in his high-backed chair, surrounded by more candles than a gothic teenager's bedroom. He's staring at a parchment detailing the big, dramatic exodus of some of Britain's most important wizarding families. Yeah, it's like the magical equivalent of a VIP guest list, and apparently, someone hit "return to sender" on that invite.

Dumbledore's brain is spinning faster than a Quidditch Seeker with a snitch in sight. He's all worried because a bunch of prominent families, including the Potters, decided that Britain was a bit too "dark and stormy" and hightailed it to America. Talk about a bad Yelp review.

Let's rewind to the night that really got things cooking. Halloween 1981—the night Voldemort decided to crash Lily and James Potter's party. Except, plot twist: instead of going out with a bang, Voldemort ended up with a whimper, and the Potters survived. Cue Dumbledore's internal meltdown, because his perfectly orchestrated plan of "orphan Harry, hero me" got derailed faster than a broomstick in a thunderstorm.

So, here's Dumbledore, frustrated that his intricate plans were unraveling like a cheap sweater. He was all set to frame Sirius Black for the Potters' betrayal, which would've been a solid power play. But nope—Sirius wasn't having it, and Dumbledore's plan fizzled out. It's like he ordered a magical pizza with extra manipulation, but it came with a side of failure.

With Voldemort defeated, Dumbledore saw an opportunity to shine brighter than a Lumos spell. He wanted to parade the Potters around as symbols of hope while he quietly pulled the strings behind the scenes. But in his quest for control, he forgot one crucial detail: people don't like being used as pawns in someone else's chess game. Who knew?

The Potters, along with a bunch of other families, decided to hit the road and find safety in America. Dumbledore's plans were about as useful as a chocolate teapot, and now he's stuck scratching his head, trying to figure out how to get them back under his thumb.

Enter Remus Lupin, Dumbledore's loyal sidekick with a heart of gold (and a few werewolf-related issues). Dumbledore's thinking, "Hey, if I can convince Remus to persuade the Potters and Sirius to come back, maybe I can salvage this mess." It's a bit like trying to use a broomstick to fix a broken wand—good intentions, questionable execution.

On one hand, Remus could be the hero Dumbledore needs. After all, he's trusted by the Potters and Sirius. But there's a catch. Manipulating Remus could turn him from a loyal ally into a resentful pawn. If the Potters and Sirius see through the scheme, it could ruin everything. And let's be honest, no one wants to see Dumbledore's master plan go up in smoke.

So, there you have it—Dumbledore's big, tangled web of manipulation, where every thread he pulls seems to unravel another part of his grand design. Stay tuned, because if there's one thing we've learned, it's that this magical soap opera is far from over.

---

Imagine, if you will, the scene: Albus Dumbledore, in his cozy, candle-lit office, flipping through a parchment that reads like an overgrown shopping list for potion ingredients. Just as he's about to zone out and daydream about his next grand plan (probably involving more elaborate traps or magical chess games), the door creaks open with all the subtlety of a dramatic stage entrance.

In sweeps Severus Snape, the Potions Master and resident brooding expert, looking like he's just walked off the set of a Shakespearean tragedy. His entrance is so smooth and dark it might as well come with a fog machine.

"Dumbledore," Snape's voice slices through the quiet like a spell gone wrong—sharp, cold, and not at all warm and fuzzy.

"Severus," Dumbledore replies, his voice as calm as a Slytherin trying to hide a sneer, "What brings you here at this ungodly hour?"

Snape, clearly in no mood for pleasantries, slams a parchment onto the desk. "Headmaster," he drawls, with the sort of patience that could rival a saint's, "I've come to submit the list of potion ingredients required for the coming year."

Dumbledore glances at the list as if it's the magical equivalent of a grocery receipt. "Ah, thank you, Severus," he says, voice dripping with practiced politeness. "I trust everything is in order?"

Snape, clearly done with small talk and ready to get to the point, mutters, "I need a bigger budget. Most of the students are dunderheads who could ruin a potion if it were served to them on a silver platter."

Dumbledore raises an eyebrow, making a mental note to appreciate how Snape manages to complain in such an elegant manner. "I understand your concerns, Severus. However, we must make do with the resources we have," he replies diplomatically, though the look in his eyes suggests he's plotting some sort of compromise or at least a strong cup of tea.

Snape's face remains a mask of calm detachment, but his frustration is as clear as a freshly polished cauldron. "As you wish, Headmaster," he says curtly, before turning on his heel and leaving the office with all the grace of a bat out of hell.

Dumbledore, left alone with his thoughts and the faint echo of Snape's retreating footsteps, leans back in his chair. He's pondering the enigmatic Potions Master, whose motives are as tangled as a bowl of magical spaghetti. Snape's role in Voldemort's defeat is clear, but Dumbledore can't help but wonder if there's more simmering beneath the surface.

Dumbledore's mind drifts to Snape's complex past—his guilt over the prophecy, his unrequited love for Lily Potter, and the ever-present question of his true allegiance. Dumbledore knows he must tread carefully around Snape, who, despite being an essential piece in the grand chess game, might have a few hidden moves up his sleeve.

As the night deepens and Dumbledore contemplates the layers of Snape's character, he realizes that navigating this delicate dance of trust and suspicion might just be the trickiest part of his grand plan. After all, when dealing with someone as unpredictable as Severus Snape, it's wise to keep a wand—and a few backup plans—handy.

---

So there Dumbledore was, contemplating the twists and turns of his master plan—because, of course, being the grand wizard of Hogwarts means you're always scheming about the next big thing. He was staring at parchment like it was the last slice of chocolate cake, trying to figure out how to leverage this year's Hogwarts enrollment to his advantage.

The big move? Getting Nymphadora Tonks—a name that sounds like a spell gone wrong—to join the Hogwarts crew. Why? Because apparently, enrolling her could open the floodgates for other kids, like me, who've been hanging out in the States or wherever. You'd think Dumbledore was trying to run a secret Hogwarts recruitment drive on the sly.

Anyway, he calls for Mipsy, one of the many overworked Hogwarts house-elves. Mipsy shows up with a pop, looking like she's on high alert, which she probably is considering the amount of magical mischief happening around Hogwarts.

"Mipsy is here to serve, Professor Dumbledore," she says with a bow, her ears flopping in a way that makes you wonder if they're always this expressive or if they just get bored.

"Thank you, Mipsy," Dumbledore replies with that signature twinkle in his eye. "I need you to summon Professor McGonagall to my office immediately."

Mipsy's eyes practically bug out of her head—probably not literally, but it's a close call. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore! Right away, sir!" With a snap of her fingers, she disappears in a pop. If I had to guess, she probably reappeared somewhere with a cup of tea and a good book, waiting for her next call.

A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall marches in with the kind of efficiency that could give a Swiss watch a run for its money. She's all business as usual, knocking on the door like she's delivering an important memo from the Ministry.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" she asks, her voice as crisp as a freshly cast charm.

"Yes, Minerva," Dumbledore replies, finally looking up from his parchment. "I need you to visit the Tonks family personally. Convince young Nymphadora to come to Hogwarts this year. It's crucial not just for her education, but to help bring back families like ours who've been scattered across the globe."

McGonagall nods, understanding the gravity of her task. "Of course, Headmaster," she says with a decisive nod. "I'll make the arrangements and visit the Tonks family immediately."

Dumbledore gives her a thoughtful look, as if he's mentally ticking off items on a very long to-do list. "Thank you, Minerva. Your help is invaluable."

With that, McGonagall turns on her heel with a determined stride, ready to dive into yet another mission that probably involves more than just a friendly visit. She's got to charm a young witch into joining Hogwarts and, by extension, help Dumbledore's grand plans unfold—because, you know, it's always about the grand plans.

So there you have it. Dumbledore's up to his old tricks, McGonagall's off on another covert operation, and somewhere in the mix, the fate of Hogwarts and maybe a few wayward wizarding families hang in the balance. Just another day in the magical world, where nothing is ever quite as simple as it seems.

—

So, imagine Professor McGonagall, our no-nonsense Transfiguration teacher, showing up at the MACUSA office the next day, as if she's about to drop the ultimate magical mic. The MACUSA representative, probably wondering what Hogwarts could possibly want with the American wizarding establishment, greeted her with that mix of curiosity and formality you only get from people who work in big, important offices.

"I'm here on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," McGonagall announces, her tone firm as if she's giving a pop quiz. "I need to speak with the Tonks family about an important matter concerning their daughter, Nymphadora."

The MACUSA rep relays this through a Floo message, which is just a fancy way of saying they've sent a magical letter in a green fire. Moments later, a man, who looked like he'd just stepped out of a comic book, arrived. He had that sheriff swagger going on—polished boots and all.

"Good day, Professor McGonagall," he said, extending his hand like he was greeting the Queen or a very important wizard. "I'm Wizarding Sheriff Smith. How can I assist you today?"

McGonagall shook his hand firmly, probably thinking that shaking hands was the international language of "I'm here on business." "Good day, Sheriff Smith," she replied. "I've come on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We need to discuss a matter concerning the Tonks family, particularly their daughter, Nymphadora."

Sheriff Smith's brow furrowed in that classic "I'm intrigued but I've got a poker face" kind of way. "Ah, I see. Please, follow me to my office in Smallville via Floo. We can discuss the matter there."

Fast forward to Smallville—yes, that Smallville, where superheroes probably eat lunch and the most exciting thing that happens is when a cow gets loose. They both Floo in, and Sheriff Smith gestures to a chair as if he's inviting her to a very exclusive party.

"Thank you, Sheriff Smith," McGonagall says as she sits down with the grace of someone who's definitely not used to sitting in chairs like this. "I've come to extend an invitation to young Nymphadora Tonks to join Hogwarts this year."

Sheriff Smith's eyebrows do a little dance of surprise and interest. "An invitation to Hogwarts? That's quite an honor," he says, leaning in like he's about to hear the best plot twist ever.

"Yes, indeed," McGonagall confirms, nodding as if she's just revealed a major plot point. "We've heard of Nymphadora's magical talents and believe she would benefit greatly from a formal education at Hogwarts."

Sheriff Smith, looking like he's trying to process this new piece of information without breaking into a dance, says, "I'll make sure the Tonks family gets your invitation. Is there anything else you need from us?"

McGonagall shakes her head, her expression one of polite determination. "No, Sheriff Smith, that will be all. However, could I possibly meet with the Tonks family?"

"Of course, Professor McGonagall," Smith says with a nod, as if he's now in charge of the Hogwarts recruitment department. "I'll arrange for you to meet them. They live just outside of town, on the outskirts of Smallville."

"I would appreciate that very much, Sheriff," McGonagall says, her gratitude practically glowing. "Thank you for your assistance."

With everything settled, McGonagall is off to meet the Tonks family, while Sheriff Smith probably goes back to his usual superhero-shining duties. As McGonagall prepares for her visit, there's a sense of anticipation in the air. Because, of course, Hogwarts and its shenanigans are never far behind.

—

So, picture this: Professor McGonagall, our favorite stern-yet-kind teacher, stepping off a dusty road in Smallville with Sheriff Smith by her side. Now, this is no ordinary field trip—it's a magical mission to recruit young witches and wizards. But here's the kicker—just as they approach the Tonks Farm, who should they bump into but the notorious Sirius Black himself. And yeah, he looks just as surprised as you'd expect when your old professor shows up on your doorstep in the middle of nowhere.

"Professor McGonagall!" Sirius exclaims, sounding like he's just seen a hippogriff at the breakfast table. "What brings you here all the way from England?"

McGonagall, never one to waste time, says, "We've come to speak with the Tonks family, Sirius." She pauses, her gaze sharp enough to cut through the most well-crafted of defenses. "Is everything alright?"

Now, Sirius hesitates—a rare moment for the guy who's usually as cool as a cucumber. "Yeah, everything's fine," he finally says, trying to sound casual, but let's be honest, he's about as subtle as a basilisk in a pet store. "Come on, I'll take you to them. The Tonks family is over at the Potter Farm with my wife Marlene and the Longbottoms. We're celebrating Dora's birthday."

Yeah, you heard that right. This is a crossover event where all your favorite characters are hanging out in Smallville. It's like the ultimate magical team-up, but with cake and presents.

McGonagall nods, falling into step beside Sirius as they head toward the Potter Farm. The Professor, ever the professional, keeps her cool, but you know she's mentally adding this whole situation to the "Things That Are Totally Unplanned But I'm Rolling With It Anyway" list.

But before they get too far, Sirius stops and turns to McGonagall with that kind of seriousness that only comes when you're about to drop some serious knowledge. "Professor, I have to warn you," he says, lowering his voice like they're about to discuss top-secret plans. "Do not, under any circumstances, call Dora by her full first name. She absolutely hates it."

McGonagall gives a small nod of acknowledgment, mentally bookmarking this crucial piece of info. "Thank you for the warning, Mr. Black," she says, the corner of her mouth twitching in what might be the closest she gets to a smile during this whole trip.

And with that, they continue on to the Potter Farm, ready to face whatever magical shenanigans lie ahead. Because let's face it, when you've got the Potters, Blacks, and Longbottoms in one place, things are bound to get interesting.

—

So, here we are, stepping into the Potter home—a place that, to be honest, smells like a bakery collided with a party store. The air's thick with the aroma of freshly baked goodies, and there are more colors in the room than a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Seriously, it's like a celebration bomb went off in here, but in the best way possible.

And who's at the center of all this? None other than Nymphadora Tonks, though, seriously, don't call her that unless you've got a death wish. Dora's got this bright, contagious smile plastered on her face as she tears into presents like a kid on Christmas morning (which, let's be real, she basically is). There's cake, there's candles, and there's a whole lot of joy flying around. Not to mention Marlene, Sirius's very pregnant wife, who's practically glowing with that "we're about to add another Black to the family tree" kind of happiness. She's working the room like a pro, despite probably wanting to put her feet up and relax.

Professor McGonagall, the queen of stiff-upper-lip propriety, is soaking in all this warmth and camaraderie like a sponge. And honestly, who wouldn't? Even though she's far from the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, it's obvious that the magic of family and friendship is thriving right here in the middle of Kansas. Who knew Smallville could feel so, well, magical?

"Sirius, my congratulations," McGonagall says, surprising us all with a warm smile. Yep, you heard that right—warm and smile in the same sentence as McGonagall. "I see your family is growing. What wonderful news."

Sirius, of course, is beaming like he just found out his broomstick goes faster than a Firebolt. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall," he replies, his hand resting proudly on Marlene's shoulder. He's clearly trying to keep his cool, but let's be honest, he's probably about two seconds away from shouting it from the rooftops.

Marlene, despite looking like she's about ready to pop, gives McGonagall a radiant smile. "It's been quite the journey, but we're looking forward to welcoming our newest addition soon," she says, and you can hear the excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. The woman's practically glowing with anticipation, even if she's probably daydreaming about a nice, long nap.

McGonagall nods, clearly pleased by all this domestic bliss. "Indeed, it's a joyous occasion," she remarks, her eyes scanning the room like she's mentally filing away every smile and laugh for later. "And what better way to mark it than with family and friends?"

Enter Lily Potter, the woman who could light up a room with just a smile. She's got that mix of warmth and joy that makes you want to just bask in her glow for a bit. "Professor McGonagall, it's wonderful to see you," she says, pulling McGonagall into one of those hand-claspy greetings that's just shy of a full-on hug. "What brings you all the way from Hogwarts?"

And here's where the plot thickens. McGonagall, always one to get straight to the point, says, "Lily, it's a pleasure as always." Her eyes soften as she looks at Lily, probably remembering all the trouble she and James got into back in the day. "I've come on behalf of Hogwarts to extend an invitation to young Nymphadora Tonks to join us for the upcoming school year."

"Oh, that's fantastic news!" Lily says, but there's this split-second pause, like she's trying to keep her voice from cracking. The enthusiasm's there, but it's a little too polished, if you catch my drift. 

Now, McGonagall isn't one to miss the finer details, and she definitely clocks that slight hesitation. She's like a Seeker zeroing in on the Snitch—something's off, and she's not about to let it slide. But for now, she's all smiles. "I'm glad to hear that, Lily," McGonagall replies, her voice smooth as butterbeer. "It's always wonderful to see our young witches and wizards eager to embark on their magical journey at Hogwarts. I'm sure Nymphadora will thrive in our esteemed halls."

Lily nods, the smile still plastered on her face, but there's this undercurrent of tension that even the best illusion charm couldn't hide. She excuses herself and heads over to where Andromeda Tonks is standing, whispering something in her ear. Whatever she says, it's enough to make Andromeda's expression shift from party mode to serious business. Andromeda gives a subtle nod, like they've just exchanged some high-level, top-secret intel.

McGonagall watches this little exchange, and you know she's already three steps ahead, trying to piece together what's going on beneath the surface. But for now, she's playing it cool, biding her time.

Andromeda, Ted, and Dora make their way over to McGonagall, and you can feel the mood shift. This isn't just a casual chat about school supplies—there's something serious brewing. Ted's the first to speak up. "Professor McGonagall," he begins, his voice steady, "we understand the importance of the opportunity Hogwarts presents for our daughter. However, we have some concerns that we would like to discuss with you."

McGonagall's got her Serious Face on, but there's a hint of empathy in her eyes. "Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Tonks," she replies, her voice gentle but firm. "Please, share your concerns with me. I assure you, I am here to listen and offer whatever assistance I can."

Ted glances around the room, clearly weighing his words. "Professor McGonagall," he says quietly, "we appreciate your willingness to listen. However, I believe it would be best if we continued this conversation in private."

Dora nods, her eyes a mix of determination and nerves. "Yes, Mum, Dad, and I have some concerns that we'd like to discuss with you," she adds, her voice echoing her dad's resolve.

McGonagall, ever the professional, gives a brief nod. "Very well," she agrees, her tone matching the gravity of the moment. "Let us adjourn to your home then, where we can speak freely and address any concerns you may have."

And with that, the Tonks family, led by McGonagall, make their way out of the Potter home. There's a heaviness in the air, the kind that makes you wonder what's really going on beneath the surface. And as they walk, McGonagall's mind is already racing ahead, trying to anticipate the challenges that lie ahead and how she can best support this family in the face of whatever's coming. 

Because in this world, whether you're a wizard, a witch, or even a Kryptonian-wizard hybrid like yours truly, family is everything—and McGonagall knows better than anyone how far she'll go to protect the ones she cares about.

—

So, here's the scene: Lily Potter, the supermom who can out-charm a Veela and out-duel a Death Eater before breakfast, is watching the Tonks family walk out with Professor McGonagall. But let's just say that warm, fuzzy feeling? Yeah, it's not there. Instead, it's more like that moment when you realize you left the oven on, but you're already halfway to Diagon Alley. Because here's the thing—Lily knew Dumbledore was up to his old tricks, and this time he was playing a game of "Get the Wizard Kids Back to Britain" using Hogwarts as the ultimate shiny lure. Clever, but also a little bit shady.

Now, imagine Harry and Lana standing nearby, their eyes sparkling with that look kids get when they hear about their parents' epic school days. James and Sirius were like the magical rock stars of their time, and you just *know* those stories were the kind that involved near-death experiences, secret tunnels, and a healthy disregard for school rules. Naturally, Harry and Lana were all in. They wanted to be at Hogwarts, where magic happened and where, apparently, every day was an adventure waiting to explode.

But here's where things get complicated. A year ago, Lily and James, along with their besties Sirius and Marlene, decided it was time to spill the Kryptonian beans. That's right—Harry's not just your average wizard. He's also the last son of a doomed alien planet (because, you know, being a regular wizard wasn't complicated enough). They let the Tonks and Longbottom families in on the big secret, because let's be real, with Dumbledore on the prowl, they were going to need all the allies they could get. 

This little get-together was less of a "Hey, how's it going?" and more of a "So, about that intergalactic space baby we've been raising…" kind of chat. Reactions? Oh, they ran the gamut—from the classic jaw-drop to that spark of determination that says, "Okay, so our godson is half alien. We can work with that."

With everyone now on the same page, the gang decided on a game plan. Step one? Get Nymphadora Tonks—who, by the way, is like the coolest cousin you could ever wish for—into Hogwarts. But she wouldn't just be there to learn how to Transfigure teapots. Nope, she'd be there on a secret mission. Dumbledore wanted to reel them back in? Fine. Let's see how he likes it when they're already five steps ahead.

Nymphadora was basically their inside woman, tasked with keeping her eyes and ears open, while also, you know, getting through her O.W.L.s without blowing up any cauldrons. (Well, maybe just a few.) She'd be their first line of defense, a trailblazer for the next generation of wizards who'd been raised on alien tech, magical duels, and probably a few too many superhero comics.

The goal was simple: make sure Hogwarts was still a place where their kids could grow up safe, strong, and ready to take on whatever crazy challenges came their way—preferably without becoming pawns in some grand, bearded chessmaster's game. 

Dumbledore thought he was the only one playing? Surprise, surprise, the Potters and the Blacks had been stacking the deck all along. And as Harry would say (if he weren't too busy being a pint-sized wizard-Kryptonian hybrid), "Game on."

---

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