Chapter Text
The numbers didn't lie. If this worked, even if each witch only produced two offspring, that was still eight per house, per year. Three years of students, twenty-four. Four houses, forty-eight potential offspring every three years. That was only at a minimum! She smiled, closing her book. This would work perfectly, she only wished she had started sooner.
Still, no one else had caught the trend, seen the dwindling population. She had, had realized what it had meant. Twenty years, she'd been harvesting for nearly twenty years. She potentially had a way to save the wizarding world at large, to restore dead bloodlines.
She knew they'd reject her idea, that she was crossing some imaginary line. She didn't care. Poppy brewed the potions herself, created the charms she needed, the ones that would ensure the next generation. She smiled, looking at the results. Albus had always muttered about 'the greater good', and after all, wasn't that exactly what she was attempting here?