Harry Potter: The Last Heiress of The White Family

At Hogwarts, in the dimly lit office of the Headmaster, the warm crackle of the fireplace cast flickering shadows along the curved stone walls. The scent of aged parchment, lemon drops, and wood polish filled the air. Albus Dumbledore sat behind his intricately carved desk, his fingers steepled in thought, his half-moon spectacles catching the golden glow of the fire.

Across from him sat a long-time friend—Elphias Doge, a senior official at the Ministry of Magic. The lines of age traced his face, but his eyes still held the same quiet loyalty Dumbledore had known for decades.

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly.

"So, Elphias," he said with a calm yet probing voice, "tell me—how is the investigation against the pure-blood families progressing?"

Elphias sighed, rubbing his temple. "Not well, I'm afraid. There's been significant resistance. Most of them claim it's a disgrace—an insult to their ancient lineages. The pressure on Minister Millicent Bagnold is increasing. She's doing her best, but it's not easy."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "She's brave. Stubborn too. The kind of stubborn we need."

Elphias glanced toward the fireplace. "Indeed. She may be young, but she's got steel in her spine."

Elphias hesitated for a moment, then said softly, "White Manor was attacked yesterday. The Dark Mark was seen above it."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "Death Eaters?"

Elphias nodded. "We believe so. The Aurors weren't permitted to investigate. Elijah White allowed only the Minister herself to enter. She spoke with him—alone—for nearly an hour. When questioned afterward… she said nothing."

A long silence fell over the room, broken only by the occasional pop from the hearth. Dumbledore's gaze drifted to the tall wall of portraits behind him, filled with former headmasters and headmistresses.

He stood and walked slowly to a particular painting high above the rest—a portrait of a stately older woman draped in flowing white and silver robes. Beneath her was a brass plaque engraved with "Headmistress Elisha White."

"Headmistress White," Dumbledore said gently, "do you have any insight from within the manor?"

The woman in the portrait, regal and commanding, turned her gaze toward him. Her voice was cool and composed.

"The attack was indeed carried out by Death Eaters. We do not yet know the leadership behind it, but over twenty dark wizards entered. The manor's wards and defensive enchantments were disabled from the inside."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "Internal conflict, then."

"I believe so," she replied. "There was strife within the White family. The previous lord and his wife were both killed during the assault."

"And the brother?" Dumbledore asked.

She nodded slightly. "Yes, the previous lord had a younger brother. But he was disowned a year ago and exiled from the family estate. A rift that never healed."

Dumbledore exhaled slowly. "Elijah, then…"

"Yes. Elijah White returned yesterday. He has claimed lordship once more, at least until an heir is determined."

Dumbledore's voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with memory. "He was my student. Ambitious, calculated, and precise. But not cruel. He was never fully aligned with the extremist views of his kin."

Elphias nodded in agreement. "When he led the family, he was one of the few to extend support to the Ministry. His relationship with the French Ministry was instrumental in repairing diplomatic damage after Grindelwald's attack on Paris. Thanks to him, trade and magical cooperation began to recover."

"And now," Dumbledore murmured, "he returns to the ashes of his home. We must watch him closely."

The portrait of Elisha White spoke again. "He has already spoken with the Minister. She agreed to his temporary reinstatement as Lord of House White."

Dumbledore looked up at her, his expression distant. "Send him my condolences, if he'll accept them. I may visit him in person if time allows."

"He was always… unpredictable," the portrait added.

A sudden bang! echoed through the office. The heavy doors flew open, and Professor McGonagall burst in, breathless and pale, her hands clenched at her sides.

"Minerva?" Dumbledore said, rising swiftly. "What's wrong?"

Her voice was shaky. "It's the Potters, Albus."

Dumbledore's heart stopped. His hand trembled against the desk. For a second, he closed his eyes.

"So, you chose him, Tom," he whispered bitterly under his breath. "You finally chose him…"

He turned sharply to Elphias. "Inform the Ministry—now. I'm going myself."

Without a word, Elphias stood and hurried out of the office. Dumbledore scribbled a message on a scrap of parchment and handed it to McGonagall.

"Take this. Prepare what must be done."

She nodded grimly.

Dumbledore turned to the golden perch beside the fireplace, where Fawkes, his majestic phoenix, waited silently. "Come, old friend. We have no time to waste."

In a flash of fire and flame, they were gone.

⸻

Somewhere Else – In the Space Between Worlds

Beyond all known existence, where time was nothing and space had no shape, two lights flickered in the void.

One burned brightly—radiant, vast, eternal. The other was much smaller, fainter, curious.

A voice, warm but powerful, echoed from the larger light.

"Are you a god?" the smaller asked timidly.

The larger light chuckled. "A god? No. I am the Will of this world."

The smaller light quivered. "Then… why am I here? Why did you show me that child's life for a whole year?"

"Because you will be that child," the Will said simply.

The smaller soul pulsed. "But that child… she died. Her body was already dead."

"Her body was nearly lost, yes," the Will replied. "But I preserved what I could. Her soul was shattered by the Killing Curse. I gathered the remnants and fused them with you. Now, your soul carries both strength and magic. Enough to survive here."

"So… the girl's soul is inside me?"

"Fragments, yes. They made your foreign soul strong enough to take root in my world. You now carry magic, bloodline, and memory."

The smaller light hesitated. "I feel a strange… attachment to her mother. Why?"

"Because you carry echoes of her daughter's soul. Her grief is yours, now. She will be like your mother, in this new life."

The small soul was silent. Then softly: "Is she… at peace? I mean her mother "

"She is. Somewhere safe. Somewhere beyond even my reach."

Another pause. "Why me? Why bring me here?"

The Will replied, almost amused, "Because you were the only soul that drifted close enough. And because I cannot speak directly to those born in my world. I needed a voice from the outside. A wild card in case of something unexpected happening in my world ."

"So I'm just a contingency plan," the smaller soul muttered. "A backup."

"Yes," the Will admitted. "If the threads of fate twist too far, you will help restore them."

"But I remember things… about this world. From books, stories. The future…"

"That will be taken care of," the Will said calmly. "You won't remember enough to damage the timeline. You'll recall fragments. Feelings. Nothing more."

The smaller light grumbled. "That's cheating."

The Will laughed, a sound like sunlight through leaves. "Perhaps. But necessary."

"What's my mission, then? My purpose? I don't think it's a free gift to me right?"

"Live. Grow. Be normal. Unless a task is given, your only duty is to live."

"What kind of task?"

"You'll know when it arrives."

Then, the larger light added gently, "You won't be alone. I'm sending a helper. A guide, of sorts. Something that will help you grow faster . This helper will assist you, smoothly ."

The smaller light brightened slightly. "I see… Alright then. Let's hope my new life isn't as miserable as the last."

"Be careful, little one. Don't return too soon," the Will said.

And with that, the smaller light began to drift, pulled into the swirling current of creation. The void darkened again, save for a single star-like spark that followed quietly behind.

"This," the Will whispered into the silence, "will be your helper, little one. May your second chance be worthy of you."

Then all was still once more.