MetaFic

Albus Dumbledore sat in the ornate centre chair at the Hogwarts staff table surveying his students as they filed into the Great Hall. He was wearing one of his more festive robes, bright gold stars and brilliant silver moons resplendent against a rose background. Despite the merry nature of these robes, he was barely able to keep a grim expression off his face. It was not often he found himself at a loss for an answer, but these past two years had been the most trying times in a decade, and he was at a loss to understand why.

The previous year Voldemort himself had made an attempt to regenerate from whatever state in which he now existed. That the vile man would possess one of his own professors and was here at Hogwarts, unknown, for an entire school year was extremely disturbing to Albus. Fortunately, Voldemort had not been able to regain a corporeal form. Unfortunately, as with anything involving that wretched excuse for a person, the cost of victory had been exceedingly high. This time Voldemort’s defeat claimed the lives of a promising young teacher and Dumbledore’s oldest friends, the Flamels. How their passing would affect his efforts to rejuvenate magical education, only time would tell. It had survived the death of Lily Potter and the incapacitation of Alice Longbottom, so he supposed it would survive this, too. Once again he felt a familiar pang of grief; he sorely missed the quiet counsel of his mentors and the exuberant optimism of his protégées.

Since Halloween a series of mocking messages left on the castle’s walls indicated that the Chamber of Secrets - the oft rumoured, never found Chamber - once again was open and unleashing its horror upon innocents. It had been opened only once before that Albus knew of. That was fifty years ago, when a student had been killed and Hogwarts nearly closed for the first time in its thousand-year history. Since October three students, an animal, and a ghost had been Petrified. What possible magic was so Dark it could harm the dead? Who had opened the cursed Chamber and left taunting messages with each attack? These were questions he had been unable to answer.

After the discovery of poor Quirinus’ possession and death, the Hogwarts Board of Governors, goaded by Lucius Malfoy, had taken an increasingly invasive attitude toward the running of the school. The Malfoy family were prominent members of the Pure-blood Faction regarding Wizarding education. That alone should have raised alarms within and without the Ministry. But Wizards remained a remarkably incurious folk, willing to believe anything so long as it didn’t harm their own interests. The Malfoy family, and their moneyed pure-blood ilk, were masters at keeping the appearance of status quo while making radical changes from which only they benefited. Albus did grimace as he pondered the sheep so willing to let the wolves be their guardians.

Two days ago another attack by the so-called Heir of Slytherin had left a third student Petrified. Now, in addition to the Board of Governors, the Ministry, parents, and the press were clamouring for action against whatever was attacking and Petrifying students who were not pure-blood. They were demanding that something, anything, be done or that he should resign and a new Headmaster be brought in to solve the problem. To his everlasting chagrin, he was unable to resolve this crisis in the school he was so personally associated with. Albus also knew that unless this monster was stopped and the so called Heir discovered and punished it was only a matter of time before students started to die.

That was why Albus Dumbledore now sat in the Great Hall early on a Thursday afternoon when, in his opinion, the castle should have been busy with students bustling about or in classes. Instead he watched sombrely as those students nervously filed into the Great Hall. The latest attack and the Board’s demands had forced him to take this drastic measure. The day’s classes had been cancelled and the students called to their respective houses for a roll call after breakfast. This cleared the hallways for a careful and unobstructed search but did nothing to calm students’ fears.

Minerva McGonagall followed the last students in, sealed the doors to the Great Hall, and moved toward the Head Table. When she reached Albus, she leaned near his ear and whispered softly. "These are all the students that are not Petrified in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey has joined us for the afternoon. With her aid, we have checked every student for Polyjuice and have verified no one is missing." Albus nodded as she took her seat next to him. Despite the residual headache from his argument with her last night, he was extremely grateful for the presence of the stern witch who was such a capable Deputy Headmistress.

Deciding it was time to explain the purpose for this emergency assembly, he rose to his feet. "Students! Your attention please," he called out. The random whisperings and nervous fidgeting of bodies quickly ceased, and he waited for the silence to become complete. Each house table was completely bare; no plates, cutlery, books, parchments, or quills. The staff table was similarly free of objects.

"Given the latest round of attacks and our difficulties in tracking their source, I have reluctantly called in Dark Magic Specialists to help us search the castle." Albus paused here and cast a quick wandless spell which caused the door to the anteroom behind the staff table to fly open dramatically. Twelve Aurors walked out of the room and into the Great Hall, stationing themselves three to each of the walls. The nervous students watched the Aurors fan out across the Hall and began to murmur anew amongst themselves. Several were trying to look into the anteroom. The door remained open, but the interior of the room was hidden in gloom and shadows.

Minerva gave Albus a very sharp look. He closed his eyes and winced momentarily at the memory of the previous night’s argument over introducing the ‘Specialists’ to the school at large.

“Albus, are you really sure this is necessary? Is this wise?” she asked him and Alastor Moody point blank.

“Minerva, you are perhaps the last person I expected to fall for that trap,” he chided sharply. “I am only human. I do, unfortunately, make mistakes. I cannot solve everything on my own. It is imperative that Hogwarts remains safe and open. So when all else fails…” He held his hands at his sides, palms up.

Despite Minerva’s grave misgivings, they had reluctantly agreed that this course of action was the best of a bad set of options. Every possible precaution against an unsupervised exposure to the Specialists was taken. The largest step had been sequestering the students and school staff to allow the Specialist team to move freely, hence his ordered restrictions to the house common rooms in the morning and the Great Hall gathering this afternoon.

Watching the students anxiously looking at the Aurors, Albus did his best to wear a comforting smile. "Before the castle at large is searched, I want you to know you are safe in this room. I ask each of you to place your bag under your seat and your wand on the table in front of you. I ask the staff to do this as well." Placing his own wand on the table in front of him, Albus gestured to the Aurors and continued, "These Aurors are here to ensure nothing untoward happens while we all have our wands out of our hands."

He waited while the students slowly complied, but he looked sharply up and down the staff table as most of his professors clearly lingered at placing their wands out of immediate reach. His famous eye-twinkle was nonexistent as he gestured impatiently with one hand for them to hurry up and place their wands on the table. Minerva had placed her wand on the table at the same time as he had; she sat and watched him with an odd mixture of disapproval and concern.

After everyone, including his recalcitrant staff, had complied with his instructions, he walked over to the open doorway of the shadowy anteroom. Turning back to face the students, Albus felt all of his age bearing upon him for the risk he was about to take. One mistake, one slip of a tongue or cloak, and all he sought to accomplish would be imperilled. He hoped that in the end, Minerva would not be proven right.

With an uncharacteristically melancholy voice he addressed the students. "I have asked a team of Dark Magic Specialists to assist in our search for the Chamber and its monster. The Specialists will now walk among you. If you are asked anything, please answer the question fully. I require that everyone else maintain silence during this time." Dumbledore swept his arm out in a gesture of invitation. Despite his admonition for silence, a great gasp arose as four figures slowly entered the Great Hall.

The lead figure was rather short, possibly less than five feet tall; a black hooded cloak, with the hood drawn fully over the face, rendered any recognition impossible. The shape under the cloak was sufficiently ambiguous that no outside observer could recognise that the figure was human, much less whether it was male or female. The black gloves and simple boots further hid all identifiable marks. The figure did not carry a wand.

Immediately behind and to either side of the leader were two more figures who wore similar black hooded cloaks, gloves, and boots. Both were substantially taller than the lead figure; the one on the right appeared to be solidly built, over six feet in height, and it carried a small box. The one on the left was slighter and somewhat shorter. It carried rolls of parchment and quills with a small hard board like a lapdesk. Like the leader, neither of these two openly carried a wand.

The last figure to appear was an Auror that many people raised in a Wizarding household knew on sight and all knew by reputation. He was obviously getting on in years, but his magical eye that turned in seemingly random directions, his wooden leg, and his disfiguring collection of scars marked him as none other than the retired Master Auror ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody. Moody did carry a wand and was obviously ready to use it without hesitation.

The quartet stood in the doorway to the Great Hall until the Leader made a short ‘follow-me’ gesture and started walking toward the staff table. The students began to murmur softly and tried to look around each other to catch a glimpse of the three strange figures. Regardless of their contortions, they were unable to see into the deep shadows provided by the cloaks. It almost seemed that the cloaks were magically impenetrable masks over the faces of the trio. As the group paused on the end of the staff table by Rubeus Hagrid, Albus returned to his seat and waited patiently. His infamous eye-twinkle, although subdued, was back as he watched the quartet prepare to examine his staff.

The Specialists slowly walked down the staff table, and then the Leader stopped directly in front of the school’s Potions professor, Severus Snape. The Leader raised its left arm and, with a black-gloved and overly long index finger, pointed in silent accusation at Snape's left arm. Moody immediately trained his wand on the man.

Albus and Minerva shared a look with the old Auror. This development was entirely expected, but all three knew it would once again cause problems that Dumbledore must smooth over later. The cloaked figure with the roll of parchment stepped closer and seemed to peer at Severus.

"Name?" it asked quietly.

Snape turned and glared at Albus. “What is the meaning of this, Headmaster?” he asked in a loud growl.

“Answer the question, Professor. I do not wish to have these Specialists here any longer than necessary,” Albus replied curtly.

Snape appeared taken aback at his Headmaster’s tone of voice, and the Hall went dead silent. Turning back to the trio, he stared intently into the Scribe’s shadowed hood and frowned. "Professor Snape, Potions Master," he replied with a sneer.

There was no apparent reaction to his sneer from the cloaked trio. Moody merely smiled and pushed his wand forward slightly, pointing it at the centre of Snape’s chest.

The tall Specialist reached into its box, pulled out a card, and showed it to the Scribe. It looked at the card briefly, made a notation to one of the scrolls it carried, and nodded to the Tall One. The tall Specialist promptly handed the card to Professor Snape, and the Scribe said, “You're number ten.” Both Albus and Minerva blanched as it said this.

The Scribe told Professor Snape to hold on to the card until he was asked to return it. The Leader also whispered a few comments to the Scribe, who apparently jotted them down while nodding.

The Specialists resumed walking down the staff table slowly, and Dumbledore was confident that nothing else would happen. He paled again when the Leader stopped and pointed at the neck of the second to last professor at the table.

"Name?" the Scribe quietly asked.

"Professor Sprout, Herbology Master," she replied hesitantly.

The Tall One handed her a card while the Scribe said, "You're number eleven."

Once again a whispered conversation was transcribed before the Specialists finished walking the length of the staff table. Dumbledore was shocked to realise that somehow Professor Sprout was using Dark Magic. What little twinkle that had returned to his eyes vanished quickly. He suddenly feared that this would be a long afternoon, without even considering all the risks that it entailed.

The Leader spent a considerable amount of time regarding the school nurse, although nothing was pointed out. It muttered something to the Scribe, which shook its head. They whispered a bit longer and then moved on.

The Specialist team headed towards the students and slowly walked down the far side of the Slytherin house table. Halfway down the long table they stopped, behind one of the younger years, the Leader pointing at the student’s book bag and robe.

"Name?" the Scribe asked once again.

With a haughty expression, a platinum blond boy replied, "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He looked at the three Specialists, expecting them to be impressed. His smug smile slipped as there was no response, and Moody seemed completely unimpressed as he pointed his wand at the boy.

"My father is a Governor of this School. He will hear of you holding your wand on me!" Draco continued with a sneer.

Moody clearly found the outburst amusing. "I'll look forward to chatting with him again, little boy."

The Malfoy child stood quickly, his flushed face contorting in anger, and opened his mouth to reply. A cough from the Scribe caused Malfoy to look back just in time to have the Tall One hand him a card. “You’re number twelve,” the Scribe told him.

The Slytherin boy was clearly surprised to be summarily dismissed. It took a shove from Moody to put him back in his seat, mouth gaping.

Dumbledore no longer feared that this was going to be a quite depressing afternoon, he knew it. There was clearly more Dark Magic at Hogwarts than he had been aware of. He looked at McGonagall and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging grin, trying to convey that progress was being made. At her return glare he merely sighed, silently contemplating just how many students might be called out.

After whispered conversation about the Malfoy boy, the Specialists resumed their walk. They had barely taken several steps when the Leader pointed at a young girl.

“What?” she exclaimed in a slightly impatient tone.

The Scribe ignored her outburst and calmly asked, “Name?”

“I’m Pansy Parkinson,” she called out as if shocked that not everyone knew who she was. “You can’t treat me like I’m some sort of criminal! And don’t point that wand at me,” she lectured Moody.

Moody snorted in disgust. The Tall One handed Parkinson a card as the Scribe said, “You’re number thirteen.”

Two more Slytherin students, Higgs and Flint, were pointed out and handed cards. There were no further repeats of the Malfoy and Parkinson histrionics, suggesting that the students were learning that it made no difference. Albus glanced over at Snape, the Slytherin Head of House, whose jaw was clenched tight. The professor was staring at the castle wall about five feet above the entrance to the Great Hall. Albus removed his glasses for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was having a difficult time maintaining his bland smile. In his days as a student, Slytherin House had been admired for its work ethic and cunning in getting all assignments, even detentions, completed early and beyond expectations. In the spirit of challenge, not animosity, Slytherins had taken every opportunity to tweak any Ravenclaw’s nose as much as possible. “After all,” the Slytherins of his day used to taunt, “What use are brains without ambition?” When had they gone so Dark? Albus silently fretted.

The Specialists and Moody toured the Ravenclaw table next. By the time they were through, one of that House’s prefects had been assigned a card. Filius Flitwick, Ravenclaw Head of House, appeared visibly devastated by this.

Their walk down the Hufflepuff table exposed two more students with Dark, or at least questionable, objects. The Leader and Scribe had a prolonged, whispered conversation about a boy next to the sixth year girl holding card eighteen. In the end they did not hand him a card.

Albus heard Minerva’s gasp as the Specialists stopped before a group of students at the Gryffindor table. The Leader pointed at twin red-haired boys. It began to move away but stopped and seemed to ponder a girl sitting across the table from the twins. Again there was a quick conversation between the Leader and the Scribe, whereupon the bushy-haired girl was handed card twenty-one. The Leader ignored a gangly red-headed boy but stopped before a very pale and petite red-haired girl, obviously a sister to the other boys in this group. It pointed at her, too, and then began a prolonged discussion with the Scribe, apparently concerning this girl. The Scribe consulted several other parchments as it answered the Leader’s questions. Eventually the Scribe took card twenty-two, handed it to the girl, and made a note on its parchment.

As the Specialists identified each successive person, Albus’ forced smile grew ever harder to maintain. By the time this last Gryffindor girl was handed a card, Albus knew he was actively frowning but was unable to stop himself.

After one final glance through the Great Hall, the Specialists returned to the anteroom. Moody soon came back into the Great Hall with a second squad of Aurors. Several of the new arrivals joined the Aurors on the Hall’s perimeter, and then all of those Aurors left through the Hall’s main doors before closing and sealing them. One of the remaining Aurors approached each Witch or Wizard given a number, collected their wands, and remained standing at rest behind them.

After a considerable effort to re-school his features into a bland smile, Albus rose and announced that the Aurors and Specialists were conducting a sweep of the school itself. At this, the stunned silence of the Hall erupted into a babel of voices. A number of Slytherin students nervously denounced having their possessions violated and unsuccessfully attempted to get the attention of their Head of House. The upper-form Hufflepuff girl smiled weakly as the boy next to her asked why she had been singled out. The Ravenclaw prefect replied to questions with a curt “I don’t know” and stoically ignored the piercing glare from Professor Flitwick.

Albus chose to ignore the byplay between his Heads of House and their students. He did notice Minerva garner the attention of the red-headed twins, who merely smiled sheepishly in return. Their smiles were replaced by alarm as they glanced significantly down the table toward their young sister. She remained unusually pale and appeared to be on the edge of panic. The twins, along with their skinny brother, gave Minerva a pleading look, but she only pursed her lips and shook her head as she gave Albus a sidelong look that mirrored their concern.

Surrounding these mini-dramas, the other students obviously attempted to figure out what had just happened. Some looked towards the now-closed anteroom door. Many looked at the Aurors guarding their school-mates or the Hall itself. For the most part they merely wished to discuss this strange turn of events with their friends. They fell quiet as Albus rose again and called for their attention.

“I kindly ask that everyone who was handed a card,” and he looked pointedly at Professors Snape and Sprout, “collect your belongings and proceed to the anteroom, where you will receive further instructions. Everyone else, remain here until I have received word that the school-wide search is complete. Please feel free to relax and talk in safety here. I do understand how tiring being still and quiet is for those your age.”

With this he smiled, held his arms out to his sides, and brought his hands together with an exaggerated clap. Instantly the tables were filled with platters of sandwiches, flagons of pumpkin juice, pudding plates, utensils, goblets, and napkins.

“Do tuck in,” Albus beamed. “I find a meal a most satisfactory way to pass the time.” He resumed his seat and watched as the thirteen carded people were taken into the anteroom by their Auror escorts. Once in the room, Albus knew they would be relieved of their possessions, which were to be separated and placed neatly along one wall. Several Aurors stood guard over those possessions. Two more guards had been ordered to block the doors, solely to prevent anyone from leaving.

Severus Snape sneered at the Aurors, irritated by the Headmaster’s refusal to warn him of what this day would bring. The man had been far too secretive of late, and it was making problems for how Severus carried out his life. He and Sprout were each shown to a desk at opposite ends of the room. After a moment’s confusion, the students sat in desks opposite the wall lined with their possessions. The desks were placed so that each person was isolated from all of the others. A tall, dark-skinned Auror entered the room and was handed the collected wands. Severus remembered him as a Gryffindor underclassman from his own school days here, and he glowered at the man as the Auror surveyed the occupants silently.

Severus began to rise from his desk but stopped as several Aurors tensed and reached for their wands. Settling back into his seat and properly rearranging his specially-crafted robes, the professor peered at the tall Auror. He knew he had to take control of this situation, and quickly. He did not want his four students witnessing him being humiliated in any way. The repercussions from that were painful to contemplate.

With a commanding and slightly condescending tone, Severus told the Auror, “I demand to speak to the Headmaster. I am a Master at this school and will not be treated as a common criminal or a child. This is an outrage! Who do you think you are that you can order us about? I will report your actions to the Board of Governors and your superiors at the Ministry.”

The Slytherin students began to smirk. Professor Sprout grimaced, clearly not agreeing with his attitude, but Severus cared not at all for her opinion.

“I am Auror Shacklebolt. You may use my name in any protest you wish to file,” the Auror replied politely in a smooth, deep voice. “Understand that this search was planned by the Headmaster, Minister Fudge and Madam Bones. They had the search approved by the Provost of the Board of Governors himself.”

The Malfoy boy’s face flushed with anger at this statement, but it was nothing compared to the rage Severus felt inside. He had been deliberately set back in front of his own students and knew that would cause severe problems within his House later. What was Dumbledore playing at, to humiliate him this way? Unfortunately the damage to his reputation among those in his House could not be undone. His best course of action now was to hold his scowl and silently plot ways to mitigate the damage and foil the coming attempts to further weaken his influence.

“Your attention everyone,” the Auror continued. Severus saw everyone else in the room look to the Auror, except the pathetic Weasley girl. She kept her head down while wringing her hands in her lap.

Auror Shacklebolt remained polite, but his firm voice brooked no further interruptions. “Until you are questioned and released you are to remain in this room. While waiting here you are to sit quietly and not communicate with each other. Those not following these simple rules will face additional isolation. Food and drink will be provided. At each desk you will find a selection of books and periodicals to pass the time.”

The Auror paused as several of the students looked down at their desks to find reading materials aplenty. Severus flicked through the piles rapidly, his disdain for the paltry selection fuelling his anger the situation. “Hogwarts, a History;” “Quidditch through the Ages;” an unfamiliar text book entitled “The Theory of Magic”; “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them”; plus several editions of Witch Weekly and that day’s editions of the Daily Prophet and Quibbler. Surely the Headmaster with his cruel sense of humour was behind such a limited set of choices.

“You will continue to wait here until the school search has been completed. The more Dark objects found, the longer your wait, obviously.” He stared at Severus briefly before he did the same for Sprout and the four Slytherin students. “After the search is over you will be recalled to the Great Hall, one at a time, for questioning.”

With that the Auror gave his wand a twist and a flick; as he stepped out of the anteroom, food and drink appeared at each desk. Severus privately raged, ready to kill. Perhaps, he thought, it was wise that their wands had been removed from them after all.

Albus felt tired as he surveyed the Great Hall, knowing the Aurors would have those called out well in hand by now. After food was served to the students, the professors also began to eat, albeit at a much slower pace. Students would occasionally glance up at the two empty professors’ seats and the various empty places along the house tables. For the most part they were distracted by the meal, eating and trading rumours. The remaining professors at the staff table seemed to ignore the empty chairs and also ate and talked quietly.

As soon as he saw Kingsley return from the antechamber, Albus motioned for the tall Auror to join him at the staff table. When the Auror got to the table, Albus made a circular motion with his wand, encompassing himself, Minerva on his left, and Kingsley and Filius on his right within the arc.

Looking at the others near him Albus said, “We will have a modicum of privacy now, but keep your voices quiet. Are things quiet in there, Kingsley?”

The Auror handed him the wands collected from the detainees and grimaced for a moment. “That man is every bit as unpleasant as when he began teaching here. But he cannot bully himself through the Ministry or the law.”

Minerva gave Albus an indecipherable look, and the table settled into an awkward silence.

Kingsley broke the silence, asking, “Do you know how long this will take? Scrimgeour was not pleased to have nearly the complete Auror corps away on what he thinks is a wild goose chase.”

“Let me take care of Rufus if he makes this difficult for you. It was my request, after all. Besides, you saw the number of people in the room, including two professors,” Albus said, knowing he had lost the battle to avoid looking like he had swallowed something infinitely sour. “I am very disturbed by the number of Dark Magic items and traces found today. Perhaps I have become too familiar with the currents of magic here. The Specialists started Severus off with a card numbered ten, which is troubling. They made a general sweep of the castle and ground this morning, but I have yet to discuss their results with them.”

The diminutive Charms professor looked over at Dumbledore. “Is that why you cancelled classes today and had the students confined to their house common rooms?”

Minerva answered solicitously. “We’re sorry, Filius, but we wanted to make sure there was no warning or suspicion before the search. We are also trying to limit the chance of exposure to the Specialists. It is in no one’s best interests to be allowed near those types.” She shot Albus another scathing glance.

“If there is nothing further,” Kingsley said, dismissing himself from the table, “I will return to my post.”

Albus shook his head. “No, go ahead and return to your station. You are doing a good job, especially with a… difficult situation. I will make sure Rufus and Amelia know of your actions here today.” As Albus removed the privacy spell, Kingsley nodded his thanks and walked back to the anteroom door.

Nearly two hours passed before the sound of the Great Hall doors opening caused the students to go very quiet and the professors and Aurors to reach for their wands. An audible sigh of relief was heard as Moody, the mysterious trio of Specialists, and a number of Aurors filed into the Hall. Moody caught Albus’ eye as he moved toward the staff table. The Aurors with him joined their comrades on the Hall’s periphery, their faces suggesting nothing. Moody escorted the Specialists to a bench along the wall behind the staff table and stumped over to Albus’ side. Hoping the retired Auror was going to brief him about the results of the search, Albus quickly renewed his privacy spell, this time excluding all but himself and Moody.

“I don’t know whether to be appalled it took so long to sweep the common rooms or pleased you were barely gone two hours by my watch,” Albus offered warily.

“When I was here as a student, it was a badge of honour to see how many forbidden items we could hide in the Slytherin common room and our dorms,” Moody replied, and Albus was disquieted to see the disgust on the man’s face. “However, we never would have left them about where our Head of House could find them through even the most cursory of inspections.”

“What are you implying, Alastor?”

“I imply nothing, Albus. We found far more than merely school-banned items in the Slytherin rooms. Many of the things we found are illegal in England, some are illegal period, and several have no purpose whatsoever except Dark Magic. I don’t know what Snape considers proper decorum in his house, but some of these,” and Alastor pointed to a list of items on a parchment, “would warrant an immediate sentence to Azkaban!”

“Perhaps Professor Snape was unaware -”

“Unaware my arse, Albus,” Moody interrupted impatiently. “There was no attempt to conceal these items, none at all. Either Snape never inspects his House, or he isn’t very particular about what is legal, or even what is Dark. Additionally, his quarters and classroom were very borderline, as though he dared the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to question him. I don’t know that he’d get away with some of this.”

“Now Alastor, Severus is a Potions Master. He can legally buy, own, make, or use anything that is not expressly Dark. Did you find anything like that in his rooms?”

“No. But with his background, and there is something odd about his Mark -”

“I trust Severus -”

“Yes, Albus, so you have said many a time. But I am not you, and I don’t trust him. Do you intend on keeping the rest of the students here to spy on our little confab?”

Albus looked out over the Hall and noticed a great amount of interest is his conversation. The fact that there was a privacy spell around him just made more grist for the rumour mill. Removing the spell, he stood, smiling upon his charges.

“As you are no doubt discussing, the Aurors have completed their search of the school. While all appears safe at this time, I will not take chances. Prefects, please take your housemates back to your common rooms. They are to be taken straight back to their rooms. I must impress upon all that no side trips will be tolerated. Auror Moody will detail a squad of Aurors to escort each House back to their dormitories. All entrances to your rooms will be sealed for the night, and Aurors will guard the entrances — even those you think are secret. Those of you who might try some after-hours castle excursions to satisfy your curiosities, I warn you not to do that. From now on all post-curfew rounds will be conducted by the staff with Aurors augmenting our numbers. Anyone caught out of bounds will be expelled, no questions asked. I direct you to focus your curiosities on your classes and your homework while we finish our preparations for securing the castle. Prefects? You have your instructions. Please see to them now.”

Albus gave a small wave with his wand, and the Hall doors opened wide. After a quick conversation, the Head Boy and Head Girl told the Slytherin students to leave first. Several Aurors took places at the front and the rear of the student group. The House prefects stayed at the edges and made sure no one strayed from the group. Gryffindor house was told to prepare for leaving next, but a tall red-headed prefect called out to the staff table.

Several of the professors looked toward him. Minerva replied, “Mr. Weasley, you have a question?”

“Professor, what of my… I mean what of the students taken into the anteroom? Will we be able to see them again? Tonight?”

Albus’ voice resonated comfortingly through the Great Hall. “That is an excellent question, Mr. Weasley. Everyone, your attention again.”

All of the students, including those Slytherins massed at the Hall’s door, stopped and turned toward the staff table.

“A small number of your colleagues have been detained for questioning. Once we are sure you have safely arrived at your common rooms, we will ask them a few questions in private. So I ask that you all expedite the return to your rooms; the sooner you are there the sooner we can begin to return your friends and classmates to you. I have also been informed that the house elves have prepared a truly noteworthy meal tonight, which will be served in your common rooms. So, again, prefects, you have your instructions!”

The Slytherin group quickly cleared the doorway, followed by the Gryffindors, then the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. As the last Aurors left the Hall, Albus asked that Minerva and Alastor stay with him, but he dismissed the other professors to begin irregular patrols of the passageways about the castle.

In the relative solitude of the Hall after the students left, Alastor looked to the Specialists on the bench behind him and jerked his head toward the near end of the Hufflepuff table. He sat with the Specialists, across from the two professors, and picked up the conversation thread from before the students’ dismissal. “We still have to talk before we start questioning the detainees.”

Albus glanced at Minerva and then grimaced. “We noticed you started the card numbers here at ten.”

“Yeah. Well, several signatures are probably safe, a couple are more your bailiwick, there are the usual stupid items, and then -” Alastor looked over at the Scribe, who nodded. “And then there are some that seem to be linked, but we don’t understand how or why.”

Albus sat back, clearly troubled.

Minerva swept her cool gaze across the Specialists. “Indeed, Alastor. Perhaps you would like to explain?”

“Indeed, Madame Deputy Headmistress,” Alastor repeated with a nod. “Let’s start with the easy ones first.”

The Scribe pushed a pile of parchment across the table to the Auror. “These are in an order you will find useful,” he said softly.

“All right. Card one, the Forbidden Forest,” Minerva rolled her eyes, and Albus’ mouth twitched into the first genuine smile that day, “is so full of conflicting signatures we didn’t even try to decipher them.”

“As it was in your day, Alastor, there are still reasons the forest is forbidden,” replied Albus. “Though thankfully, few students have your desire to explore there.”

“Right. I’ll skip card two for the moment. Card three, that thing Peeves has an unusual signature -”

“I dare say he does,” Albus interrupted. “A poltergeist is a most unusual type of spirit, but he is neither Dark, nor is he the source of our troubles today.”

“Card four, the Bloody Baron, has the remains of a powerful Dark signature -”

“A spirit is not the source of our problem, now or 50 years ago,” Albus said, growing frustrated. “Why did you waste time with him?”

“You asked us to be thorough, Albus. We were,” chided Alastor in response.

Albus glanced at the Leader Specialist and then gave Alastor a sour look. “You have a point. I appreciate your diligence, all of you. I will talk to them both, although I don’t expect to get much from Peeves.”

“Card five will be discussed with cards two, eight through ten, and twenty-two.” The two professors cast concerned glances at each other.

Albus said, “Fair enough. They are all related I take it?”

“Very much so, or so we think,” replied the Scribe.

“Cards six and seven were similar signatures, both of a Dark creature. We found a very faint signature – card six – in a tunnel below the Whomping Willow. The signature became progressively stronger as this tunnel approached the Shrieking Shack outside of Hogsmeade. Card seven is an identical signature, much stronger and more recent, in the dungeons of a tower no one seems to realise is on the school grounds.”

“Really? How unusual,” Albus deadpanned, while Minerva pursed her lips.

“We think these, at least, can be explained adequately,” the Tall One added with a touch of humour.

Alastor frowned slightly and then continued. “I think this is a good point to bring up our results in the various house common rooms and dormitories. As far as discovering illegal and outright Dark objects, the Slytherin rooms were the worst.” He had to pause, his magical eye glaring at the Tall One, who interrupted with a faint snort of disgust. “But we found some Dark, or at least questionable, signatures elsewhere, too. The search of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff common and dorm rooms revealed nothing more than some common apothecary love potions, self-answering quills, and a significant number of items I am certain are on Filch’s banned list from both Dervish & Banges and Zonko’s. We have made two lists, one for your records and one to provide to each respective Head of House to handle as they please.”

Albus nodded, the twinkle in his eyes coming back.

“The Gryffindor common and dorm rooms,” Alastor continued, “had similar minor contraband. However, umm…” Moody shifted uneasily. “Minerva, don’t you complain that those Weasley twins have barely passing grades in Potions?”

“That is one of the classes Molly is constantly after them about, yes. Why?”

“It is odd, then, that the fourth year Gryffindor dorm has the second best stocked Potions cupboard in the school. They also own a Potions library that possibly rivals what is in this school’s library.”

Minerva’s lips pursed into a razor-thin line, and her voice was ice cold. “What sort of Dark items do they have?”

The Leader specialist spoke to the group for the first time in a quiet voice. “There was nothing we found that could not be purchased through regular owl post. But if they’re such poor Potions students, why do they have a well-stocked personal apothecary? They were assigned cards because one had an overly concentrated potion while the other carried an unusual, and possibly dangerous, substance on his person. Better safe than sorry. That girl sitting across from them was assigned a card because she carried most of the ingredients to make Polyjuice Potion.”

“I will most certainly ask them about this!” Minerva declared.

“That’s not all, though,” said the Scribe, reluctantly. “The first year girls’ dorm had a powerful Dark signature, the same signature that came from the red-haired girl’s robes.”

Minerva sat with her mouth agape in shock. She looked at Albus with disbelief on every part of her body. “Ginny Weasley involved with Dark Arts?! How can this be? No. There was nothing from any of her family that leads me to believe she is.” She stood and began to pace furiously near the table.

Albus sighed and tried to find the words to soothe his Deputy’s nerves. “Miss Weasley has no more a knowledge of Dark Arts than I do, Minerva.” Minerva stopped her pacing, her face gone pale, while Alastor and the Specialists all turned and stared at him, too.

The Scribe coughed softly and said, “That’s not exactly reassuring, Headmaster.”

Albus stared at him in confusion for a moment and then grinned sheepishly. “Ah, yes. I see where that can be construed as a less than reassuring statement. Let me say that Miss Weasley could no more be a practitioner of Dark Arts than I am.”

There was a moment of deep sighs and a few snorts, but the brief humour faded quickly. “Right,” Alastor said. “The Slytherin rooms have been discussed already, and there is more information on the individual students who received cards. So,” he continued, “now is a good time to discuss cards two, five, eight through ten, and twenty-two. They all have a signature similar to the one in the first year Gryffindor girls’ dormitory.”

Albus glanced grimly at Minerva, and they both nodded to Alastor.

“Okay,” said the old Auror with a look toward the Specialists. “These cards are focused on a signature we found. It appears to be a unique signature concentrated in several places, with traces that range from very weak to overpowering. Card two is for a very strong signature by the second floor bathroom where the first attack occurred and where the messages were left on the wall. The signature is quite fresh there. Interestingly, there is a faint trace of the signature on the seventh floor, near the portrait of the idiot teaching trolls to dance. We assigned that card five, but there isn’t any specific source for that one, right?” Alastor asked the Leader Specialist, who nodded. “Card eight is for a similar signature we found again near the third-floor corridor you placed off-limits last year.”

“You think it’s him?” Minerva asked, obviously aghast.

“Impossible,” stated Albus. “What is left of Voldemort has fled to somewhere in the Balkans. He is not in England, let alone Hogwarts.”

“And again,” Alastor said, “card nine is assigned to this signature in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom -”

“That is to be expected,” Albus sighed.

“There is no trace of the signature on that buffoon you have teaching this year. However, the signature is also in the Defence professor’s office and personal quarters. Card ten, assigned to Snape -”

“Professor Snape,” corrected Albus absently.

“To Snape,” continued Alastor, ignoring the correction, “is also the same signature, and it is fresh and quite strong on your Potions Master.”

Albus sat upright and stared at the Leader Specialist. “How strong?” he asked insistently.

“It covers most of his left arm,” offered the Leader.

“I will handle this when he is questioned here in a few minutes,” Albus decided after a few moments of contemplation.

“Finally,” interjected Alastor, “this is same Dark signature detected in the Weasley girl’s dorm room and on her person. That is the reason we assigned her card twenty-two. The signature on her person is more powerful than the one on Snape.”

“I’m not sure if it’s really her personally,” added the Leader. “It’s a bit confusing, actually. I get two distinct signatures, one about her alone and one that seems to flow from something in her robes. We must be very careful with this. I don’t know if she is in danger or if she is the danger herself.”

Minerva sat down again, and Albus looked at each of them, suddenly feeling wan and very old. After a few moments he faced the Specialists, taking a deep breath. “You have provided Hogwarts with information on the infractions within each house, and we have the information on the individual students who received cards. I will forward copies of these parchments to Madam Bones and Auror Scrimgeour for their action. Thank you for your help. I am not sure your services will be needed for the individual subject questioning, but during this next phase of the investigation I would like you to remain here, seated on the bench you were on. Try to stay as inconspicuous as possible. If I need your assistance, I will call you.”

Standing, the Tall One spread his arms wide and bowed deeply. “We remain at your service, Headmaster,” he said with a hint of mirth. The other two Specialists nodded silently and also rose from the table. All three quickly moved back to the bench along the wall behind the staff table. A wand appeared, as if by magic, in the hand of the Tall One. He waved it before himself and his two companions, and they became nothing more than shadows along the wall.