OH Bloodstained star

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore traversed the terrain in pursuit of a rumor. Despite being the headmaster of Hogwarts, chief warlock, and supreme Mugwump, he had forsaken all his duties in pursuit of this rumor.

The town through which Albus wandered lay barren, devoid of life. The desolate human constructs, coupled with the absence of wildlife, only served to enhance the eerie ambiance.

A vacant town that materialized out of thin air mere days ago. A ghost town that emerged at the very spot where the alleged star plummeted.

The scale of the event was too vast, too unforeseen to conceal entirely. It was now too late to ensure that the Muggles remained oblivious to the phenomenon.

All the magical community could do was impede the Muggles and divert their focus temporarily, with the hope that Albus, the designated investigator tasked with addressing the anomaly, would have sufficient time.

It evoked reminiscences of simpler times when Albus's days were consumed by the pursuit, exploration, and comprehension of magic in all its manifestations.

It summoned memories of the halcyon days he shared with his companion before everything spiraled into chaos.

It brought to mind the halcyon days he once enjoyed before acquiring and subsequently losing everything. Indeed, was he not truly advancing in years? Lost in ruminations, ensnared by memories of irretrievable moments.

Perhaps, one day, he would find solace, far removed from his transgressions, far from the darkness he had unleashed, and free from the burdens of duty.

Coming to a halt, Albus reached the precipice's edge. His gaze ascended to behold the unmistakable source of the anomaly.

Perhaps those who claimed a star had plummeted from the heavens were more accurate than they dared to comprehend.

Above, he beheld her—a vision of unparalleled beauty and ethereality. Adorned with hair as crimson as freshly spilled blood, skin as pristine as alabaster, and a countenance that could be deemed divinely crafted.

She appeared too flawless, too otherworldly. In his centuries-long existence, Albus had never witnessed a sight comparable to this.

Gradually, she opened her eyes, their frigid emerald hue nearly blinding him, as a surge of magic, more potent than any he had ever experienced, radiated from her being.

With alacrity, Albus conjured a shield with the Elder Wand. The earth surrounding him disintegrated into oblivion as her unleashed magic commenced its inexorable march toward annihilation.

From his peripheral vision, he witnessed the city being obliterated, erased from existence. His decision to embark on this endeavor alone had been vindicated. Had he brought others, it would have culminated in a massacre.

The Elder Wand pulsated warmly in his grasp, almost sentient. It communicated with him, transmitting concepts rather than words. Flee, it conveyed.

Flee, for even death shall not shield you from her wrath. Despite this, a smile graced the countenance of the venerable wizard.

Albus Dumbledore had not harbored fear for his life in over half a century! He would not capitulate, not here, and if this marked his demise, so be it.

To most, his actions would appear madness, an encounter with a force deemed too perilous to engage. However, Albus Dumbledore perceived an opportunity.

Albus locked eyes with the celestial being above, for what else could she be? A falling star? A visage so captivating as to render a Veela unremarkable?

“I bid you greetings, Morningstar,” Albus exclaimed. It could be none other than Venus, or at the very least, a celestial entity affiliated with the archetype represented by the planet.

She shifted, seemingly dissipating from reality to materialize directly in front of his barrier—a barrier he knew she could dismantle effortlessly, yet her restraint served as an auspicious sign.

“I stand before you,” he persisted, “to extend an offer to Your Highness—the role of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor.”

“Albus Dumbledore,” she intoned, her voice both mesmerizing and hollow. He refrained from inquiring how she had acquired knowledge of his name. “Do you perceive my identity? Do you comprehend my essence?” she queried.

Wings unfurled upon her back, expanding until they spanned dimensions vast enough to eclipse the sun.

“Someone whom I aspire to regard as a friend one day,” he avowed earnestly. For the most compelling arguments were those grounded in truth.

“Would you dare befriend a monstrosity? Would you dare invite an aberration into your domain?” her hands coiling around his neck, the barrier he erected disintegrated before he could react.

“Yes,” he confessed without reservation. “Though you may be deemed monstrous, you have possessed the capacity to obliterate me from the outset. Your might could have exterminated us upon your arrival. Yet you refrained. Thus, I would extend a cordial invitation, and I would gladly entertain a monstrosity within my stronghold.”

“You harbor intentions of exploitation,” she asserted.

“Yes,” Albus acknowledged unapologetically.

She withdrew her hands from his neck. “I shall accompany you,” she declared. “Let us witness the unfolding of your machinations with my presence.”

“By what title may I address you, Your Highness?”

“Here, I am but… Rias,” a melancholic smile graced her visage, as though reminiscing upon a poignant memory. “Refer to me as Rias.”