83 Turbulent Times

(Another chap for you lads, enjoy yourselves!)

'I don't like this.' Magnus thought for the seventh time in a row.

Life treated him well these days, there was no dark lord trying ridiculously convoluted plans for world domination one after the other, no fraudulent teachers whose life he just had to ruin, nor was there anything resembling a challenge in the near future.

His Newts would soon come back, and according to a few of Minerva's friends in the ministry, they had been quite impressed with his work. Unless someone pulled some very costly political machination to keep him down, there was no way he'd fail.

Sirius was hard at work trying to appear more mature than he truly was, while also keeping the wizarding government from screwing itself any more profoundly than it already did.

Nymphadora was apparently working on her first solo cases as a junior auror, even though it was mostly paperwork and petty thefts.

Ted was enjoying life, the Ravenclaw still had trouble believing that the jolly honest to merlin good man was actually a lawyer.

'They are supposed to be magistral sleazebags, like me!'

His sweet aunt Andy, when she wasn't trying to glean some information about his date from any source she could manipulate, extort or otherwise bully into giving in *cough*Sirius*cough*, was busy working her potion labs to the bone.

'I didn't understand why at first, but that's actually a pretty wise decision.' Magnus thought grimly, his back against the cushion Fleur summoned a while ago, her magic was as comforting as ever. 'She's preparing for war, once the real conflict starts Voldemort will strike strategic locations to dwindle the resources: Ingredient Reserves, Potion Shops, Magical Farms and Greenhouses…we'll be lucky if we found a single bezoar once the bloodshed begins.'

He didn't like that his dear aunt was taking such measures, it went against his repeated pleas to leave the country as soon as the un-nosed magical nazi started making waves.

It was their right too!

No one in Britain has done more to stop him than the House of Black.

Sure, they were also some of his staunchest supporters in ages long gone, but it was all in the past. Magnus was a man of the future, so what if his kinsmen funded a terrorist?

Two destroyed horcruxes, one captured and sealed so thoroughly the SCP foundation might just recruit him if they found out…or try and contain him too.

Another two were identified, and would soon be captured or destroyed. It only left the obviously magically empowered snake maledicus, and his pseudo-cousin who only seeks him out when he's in deep shit.

'I'd rather avoid destroying Rowena's diadem if I can help it…but I can't seem to get through those enchantments, I hate old magicks.' Magnus mumbled a curse so entirely innocent it would make Fleur coo at the cuteness of it all.

'Oh and Harry too.'

Magnus might think that, but deep down he knew he'd cast the killing curse himself if it meant safeguarding his family and freedom.

Harry Potter, was unfortunately for him not that part of that highly selective group of possibly mentally deranged magicals.

Beyond the soul shards of the functionally immortal dark wizard rotting somewhere in Albania, there was precious little keeping Magnus awake at night.

His attempts at creating the perfect shield were advancing at a snail's pace, but advancing nonetheless, he had already decided on which element he'd use to counter all the troublesome curses known to wizardkind and found a way to program it with some success.

It was far from functional, but he still had time.

The offensive spectrum was fortunately much easier to navigate, he was as close to controlling Fiendfyre as he'll ever be. The collection of unfriendly spells he knew was expanding nicely, every night was an opportunity to explore more combinations and have some fun mangling Lockhart to kingdom comes.

'I wonder if he's still alive, probably got mangled by some vampires at this point.' He thought, nearly pitying the plum-robed mind rapist…nearly.

As for his relationship with Fleur, it was not yet where he wanted it to be. His time with her was sweet and plentiful, though that annoyance of a tournament kept cutting in his flower time.

He liked her, and was nearly absolutely certain she reciprocated those feelings. He had long since given up on understanding women, per the advice of the women in his life.

In that regard he felt lucky to have found someone up to his abnormally high standards, even as friends with emotional baggage; they did not toy with each other's feelings, respected the boundaries and duties, communicated most of the issues they experienced (He was still working in that one.) and weren't afraid of some displays of affection that would outrageous for mere friends according to the more restrained members of society.

'Cuddles are justice, bite me.'

Magnus would die on that hill with no hesitation.

The tournament was but a formality, helping her win it didn't require a sliver of his attention, that did not qualify as trouble as much as it was some recreational planning mixed in with a bonding opportunity.

Days went by without so much as a minor issue to deal with, not one blight on his nearly perfect routine. One could get used to it, and revel in it as the rest of the wizarding world did so eagerly in periods of peace.

Life was quiet and peaceful.

'Like hell it is.' He shook his head, 'Something's coming, I just know it, my intestines have never lied to me before.'

One could say he was worrying too much, they could also say Dave Chapelle wasn't hilarious.

In both cases, they'd be wrong.

"Constant vigilance."

…

In his study, Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody, also known as the living nightmare of all dark wizards and other unsavory fellas, felt a shudder of satisfaction running through him.

He smiled, the sight would have made Longbottom faint in terror.

'Good, at least someone remembered my lessons.' He nodded with satisfaction.

How did he know?

He was Alastor Fucking Moody.

He had put a taboo on these words years ago!

Constant Vigilance indeed.

"Now let's figure out what on earth this grindset is, and whether or not it is a menace to magical Britain and her people. "

He'd soon realize he was in something way above his paycheck.

…

January passed by, and the novelty of foreign students had long since faded. Some people were still enthusiastic about the tournament, of course, but most students had almost forgotten about it.

It mattered not to Magnus, or at least not at this instant. Though he might've been awfully…intense, with his feelings concerning a certain Champion, he still had an extremely troublesome life to live.

So what if Diggory was about to become a living disco ball? Magnus was here for the magic!

More importantly, Fleur understood his need for some loneliness every now and then. Or maybe she simply thought she had no right to complain, given their lack of an official relationship? She did have many insecurities about the most random of things…

'Nah, I'm sure she'd tell me.' He dismissed those thoughts as soon as they came, Fleur knew he'd drop everything if she needed him.

He couldn't afford to waste his brain power in useless doubts, there was too much at stake.

Continuous peace and his hormones acting up almost made him forget, and the looming dangers had become nothing but ongoing projects in his mind palace.

'That, I cannot allow.' He decided, walking forward with purpose.

His dragonskin boots clicked against the cold stones, the floor was older than his most ancient ancestor yet still stayed strong.

In his hand was an envelope, the ministerial crest on it.

Magnus had a few nods from passing students, and fewer smiles still. His reputation as a legendary loner with potential madness had done much to make him even more unapproachable, yet some couldn't help but try to 'look underneath' and 'see it for themselves' before being pleasantly surprised.

It was the 'I can fix him' mentality in all its glory.

'The only reason I've accomplished so much was the sense of urgency, without it, I am nothing but a curious wizard with clinical antisocial behavior and some knowledge.' His grip on the envelope tightened, he knew he should be feeling victorious, but he only felt empty.

How could he feel content when the same owl bearing the proof of his achievements had brought him news so dreadful?

Dumbledore would say she should savor the joys of life for they were blessed to taste them, but Dumbledore was also a half-senile humanoid goat with a morality as straight as he was.

No, Magnus did not forget the episode with the mirror of Erised.

He still thought about it, dreamed about it. Sometimes he felt the stone so close that he could almost taste it, and he regretted not taking it for himself that fateful night.

Lately the figure by his side was crowned with silver and had sapphires for eyes, but the lure of eternity was still too strong for him to care.

"Magnus…" A boy from Hufflepuff waved at him, he was one of the kids blessed with his old school notes.

"Later." He said, not stopping.

He'd curse the size of this castle if he did not love it so greatly, who thought a medieval fortress of gargantuan proportions was a practical school? No amount of shortcuts and secret passages could make it anything less than excruciatingly bothersome to go from one end of the castle to the other.

He'd fly off, but fortune did not favor him today. There were many students all through the halls, and many more outside walking in the school grounds.

Transforming here was a surefire way to get his ability discovered, enjoying a mild scandal and adding illegal animagus to his ever-expanding list of not-so-nice public attributes.

So he had to walk like a plebian, that alone made him reconsider not going public with his animagus statue.

'After the war.' He thought, but even that was unlikely.

Magnus was much too cautious to ever reveal such a card, though any foe too foolish to know that he of all people might be versed in this art could hardly be considered a danger.

The son of an animagus, nephew and mentee of an animagus who freed his animagus father by finding his animagus supposed victim.

What being could be so clueless that they wouldn't at least consider that he was an animagus himself?

'Wizards, here's who.'

The answer would be comedic if it wasn't his entire kind he was referring to, the people he had no choice but to support and contend with in the uncertain future waiting for them.

'Is it too late to put my lot with the muggles?' He thought, seeing the distinctive form of Malfoy through an Arrowslit, the pitiful thing was antagonizing a group of Gryffindors. 'I mean, human experimentation and possible slavery can't be that bad, Dobby turned out perfectly well.'

It was a good mile away, there was no way a normal human could see them as anything but some ant sized dots, much less recognize that piss-blonde scalp drenched in sleekeazy.

Seeing the world through eagle eyes had many perks.

'Of course Potter's there.' He wasn't even being sarcastic, that was a fact of life.

Snape was a brooding ball of depression.

Dumbledore was completely crazy.

McGonagall could eat iron and spit out nails.

'And Potter and Malfoy will always find each other like a pair of star struck lovers.'

Magnus knew enough about the internet to realize that somewhere, somehow, a mentally challenged teenager had written a fanfiction about it.

He snorted, imagining what kind of hell would be unleashed if he released such foul darkness into the wizarding world.

He took a moment to enjoy seeing Moody scaring off the wannabe death eater without so much as a word, unfortunately he did not turn him into a ferret this time, that was an artistic liberty taken by Barty Jr.

'I'd pay him a drink for that one, pity he's dead.'

Magnus went on his way, knowing full well that Draco's father would hear about it now that had recovered enough genital matter to show his glorious hairline and iconic sleazebag personality in public.

The stunt in the World Cup had been a wake up call for the dark faction, who thought they could get away with some recreative muggle baiting and perhaps even mess up a few blood traitors and other mudbloods for old times sake.

They were met by a giant eagle who was very much eager to try out that ever expanding arsenal of his, but Magnus knew nothing about that.

Lucius Malfoy had been among those who escaped safely, which was most of the death eaters and actually useful subordinates, that was something else Magnus did not know.

Lately, the lord of bad faith had started moving considerable amounts of money. He was growing his power base more aggressively than ever, yet took the time to consolidate his gains. That was something Magnus Black was very much aware of, on all relevant accounts.

Even without his time in the fancy lordly chair of great grandpa Arcturus, Magnus had been a Black for long enough to recognize what this meant.

'It smells like crap.' Was his considerate and deeply thought out conclusion, he shared his thoughts when he answered his father, and Sirius was understandably of the same opinion.

He reached his destination, in the annexe of the Ravenclaw tower where all heads of house since Rowena herself resided and received their guests since ages long gone.

He grabbed the bronze door knocker, this one was not sentient for obvious reasons and knocked three times until the startled yet weary voice of his teacher bid him to enter.

'At least, I can make some progress with my spell.'

Hey guys! It's Uncle sheo!

Here's another long chapter for you, one that heralds a return to the more serious times of Eagle Soars. Of course there will still be some humor, plenty of fluff and Dobby Tate is too powerful to be restrained, so we'll have to deal with him occupying some of the space.

The chapter was long, filled with foreshadowing, and very fun to write. Hope you'll have fun reading it.

If you want to support your cheesy author, for free because he's that awesome, go read ahead in sheo.bio (My official platform.).

Tune in next time for another chapter of HP: Eagle Soars, and don't forget...

Peace and Cheese!