It must have been around midnight when we heard sounds on the first floor. Severus and I had checked out the place very carefully earlier that evening, and we were almost as familiar with its lay-out as Aberforth. The sounds were those of the portrait in the sitting room, Ariana's portrait, opening slowly.

Silently, Severus and Aberforth moved from behind the bar to the main area. Whoever had entered the place would come down the rickety wooden staircase behind the bar. It was surprising that Pettigrew, if it was Pettigrew, would come from the corridor to Hogwarts, rather than from outside. Surprising and worrying.

Had he been present, in rat-shape, during the afternoon? Had he managed to sneak upstairs, in the heat of the party, and used the corridor already? If so – what about Victoire? Was Pettigrew returning from whatever he planned to do – and what would we find at Hogwarts?

We did not have to wait long for an answer. There were footsteps on the staircase – two pair of them. Very soft and muffled, as if the intruders had taken off their shoes.

And sure enough we saw two pairs of legs. Clad in socks and blue jeans. And far too skinny to be Pettigrew's.

Students!

Severus quickly threw a wordless camouflage spell and withdrew into the furthest shadows, and I jumped silently off the table I had been sitting on and hid underneath. Students might recognize my Animagus form – I use it in class, and it is always a moment when everyone pays attention.

Aberforth struck the pose of a publican who unexpectedly hears intruders in his house, and very convincing he was.

And then the students were fully visible.

I almost gasped.

Victoire Weasley and Teddy Lupin!

The very last ones we wanted to see here.

Aberforth, like the experienced fighter he was, instantly did the right thing. He drew his wand and threw a Petrificus Totalus. The miscreants went down like logs. He then cast a Mufflatio around them, so that we could speak freely.

"There," said Aberforth. "Nothing odd about a man petrifying an intruder. Headmistress won't cut up roughly with me for doing that to students – not when I thought there was danger."

"Nor will the parents; I'll see to that," I said, having Transfigured back as soon as the children went down. "Quick thinking, Abe. Now what shall we do?"

"Pettigrew may still come in," said Severus. "This may just be a coincidence."

"True," I said, "but …"

There was no need to spell it out. All along we had told each other that, while everything fitted the Pettigrew scenario (except for that one detail of the sweet snacks), everything still fitted the Teenage Prank case, too. Was this the solution of the mystery? Could we take the risk?

"If Pettigrew shows up, " I said, "he'll most likely come from outside. And while he will probably slip in as a rat, for convenience sake he'll Transfigure as soon as he sees the coast is clear. Rats don't have opposing thumbs."

"At which point I can Petrify him," said Severus. His camouflage spell was outstanding – Pettigrew wouldn't be able to spot him.

"Meanwhile," Severus continued, "Aberforth can Levitate these two upstairs and undo the Petrificus. He'll then question him – as he would, had he found them by accident. That way we'll know what their story is, and Minerva can listen in."

"Aye," said Aberforth. "She'll be comfy enough under the sofa."

Given the proverbial lack of cleanliness in the Hog's Head, that seemed highly debatable. But I've fought in three wars, and I've known worse. We fell in with Severus's suggestion readily enough, and Aberforth and I Levitated the students to the sitting room. I took up my position under the sofa, and Aberforth broke the spell.

"And what do you think you're doing?" he shouted, as soon as Teddy and Victoire had struggled to an upright position. "Sneaking out at night? Up to no good, you are." And he Accio'ed their wands.

"We … we … we …" stammered Teddy.

"We were … we were just …." added Victoire.

"Just what, exactly?" thundered Aberforth.

"Doing a kitchen raid," said Teddy, with the look of someone who thinks he sees a small ray of light at the end of a tunnel.

"Kitchen raid?" said Aberforth. "This is Hogwarts' kitchen? This is where all those Elves cook dinner for a few hundred people? Fancy that. And I never noticed a thing. Must be my old age."

"Yes … No … Well … Yes …" said Victoire. She took a deep breath and confessed, "Neville's – Professor Longbottom, I mean – his party. For the book. We've heard all about it. From our parents."

"And from Harry," said Teddy, as if that justified their situation. "And we thought …"

"You thought you'd come here and steal my food," said Aberforth. He said it in a perfectly calm voice, but with such a well-pitched inflexion that the two children suddenly fully realized that what they had been doing was, in fact, stealing. Not a prank at all, but theft. Something to be ashamed of.

And ashamed they were.

I was, once again, strongly aware of the resemblance between the Dumbledore brothers. In exactly such a tone Albus had made generations of miscreants aware of their deeds, whenever a prank crossed the line to a serious misdemeanour.

Albus would then assume the students' mistake had been a genuine one. That they had truly not realized how unfunny their so-called prank had been, and that, now that they had a more grown-up insight, they were sorry and would never do it again. For they were not, of course, the kind of people who would intentionally commit a despicable deed.

Albus's skills in achieving a true learning moment for the students had been honed in decades of teaching, but the way Aberforth spoke and looked at the now very red-faced children showed the innate talent that clearly ran in the Dumbledore family.

"Did you take anything from me?" asked Aberforth.

"No, we didn't. Truly we didn't," said Teddy.

"We didn't have time," added Victoire. "We came for the party food and …" she stopped suddenly. And for the picture of Harry, of course.

"Good," said Aberforth, and paused briefly. "Only I'll have to check that. Can't really trust you, can I? Get up."

The two children scrambled to their feet. They were positively puce by now, realizing they were the kind of people whose word one cannot trust.

"Accio," said Aberforth, with a disdainful flick of his wand. I could not see what came out of their pockets, but I heard the crackling of a piece of parchment.

"Is this note a private one, or does it have to do with you being here?" asked Aberforth.

I could practically hear Teddy swallow, and then I heard him say, "It has to do with us being here. Sir." Clearly Aberforth's lesson was working.

I heard further crackling as Aberforth unfolded the note. "The ScAvengers were here," he read out loud. "The ScAvengers? You two are behind that business? Best tell me all, then."

I heaved a deep but noiseless sigh. The Scavengers! A teenage prank, after all. I must admit that my first reaction was to be right royally pissed off. There are no other words for it. All that work, all that anxiety we had suffered, our fears that we would be too late, that we would end up investigating a real crime, perhaps even a murder. And it was a teenage prank after all.

As I had said from the beginning.

Damn Severus!

My only consolation was that Severus, standing at the bottom of the staircase, listening with all his might, would feel as bad as I did. If only I could throw him the look he so very much deserved. It would be a Look with a capital L, as soon as I would have the chance, I promised myself.

"Come on," said Aberforth. "Out with it." And the children began their tale.

"It was just a joke," said Victoire.

"Or we thought it was," added Teddy.

"Like a kitchen raid, you know, Sir," said Victoire. "The first one was after Elphias Doge's birthday party at the Leaky. We all went there. All the Weasleys, I mean. And Teddy, of course. And we were hungry and we felt like a bit of fruit cake and we went down together."

"And then we took the cake," Teddy continued, "and we looked around a bit. And we saw that picture of Harry. And he hates those pictures, really, he does. He hates that everyone always goes on about the Battle and him being The Chosen One. He doesn't want to talk about it."

"But everyone always does," Victoire added. "Not just to Uncle Harry. To us, too, all the time. And we hate it. I mean, I know it was very important, and that everyone was very brave, and that we live in a safe world because of them. We know that, Sir, really we do. But …"

"You don't want to hear about it all the time." Teddy had taken up the story again. They reminded me of the Weasley Twin cross-talk act I had heard so often during their Hogwarts years, and I realized how strong the bond between these two must be.

"I mean," Teddy continued, "It's not … I don't know how to explain, but … You see, my parents died in that battle. That's a big thing. And then people go and say things like, 'how dare you climb that tree – that's dangerous, and your parents died to make the world a safe place.'

"And that's just it, see? They died for a big thing. For freedom. It wasn't about me climbing a tree or flying a broom."

"And I get the same," said Victoire. "Like, 'your Uncle died to keep you all safe'. And I know it's terrible that he died, and that Granny never really got over it, because Mum says it's the very worst thing in the world to lose a child. But my Uncle Fred didn't die to stop me from pulling pranks, I don't think!"

She was absolutely right there. Fred Weasley might have died of shame, had the Art of Pranking died out with the next generation. As to this whole ScAvengers thing, he would have held their coats and cheered them on.

"And then we took the picture. And we left the note." Teddy's turn again. "I said we were scavenging, and then Victoire said, no, we were Avenging Harry. And Uncle Fred and my parents and everyone who … who … well, Harry didn't fight to get his portrait on Tom's wall."

I began to feel a warm sympathy for these children. They couldn't quite put it the way they wanted to, not yet, but they objected to both the use of war heroes for people's personal glory, and the abuse of their sacrifice for unworthy things.

I remember an occasion during the year Remus Lupin held the DADA post. He informed me that Harry had sneaked out of the castle, despite orders to the contrary, to go out on Hogsmeade Saturday. And he, Remus, had brought up the topic of Harry's parents and their sacrifice when berating him.

Remus was seriously concerned whether he had done the right thing. "James would have approved of Harry," he said. "Normally, he would have been all for it. I mean, if it was just those guardians of Harry not signing the note, and him getting out regardless, James would have approved. Hell, he would have given him the … never mind … he would have been fine with it. But now …"

I had to suppress a smile. And at the same time, I had to swallow. That 'never mind' of Remus – what was it that James would have given him? Something to do with the Marauders, something Remus had nearly given away. But a Marauder doesn't grass. For one brief moment, I saw young Mr Lupin and Mr Potter.

Remus was right: James would have approved of Harry sneaking out. In normal circumstances. But in normal circumstances Harry would have grown up with his parents and …

The waste of it all. The sheer, bloody waste.

But Remus had been right, too, in bringing up James and Lily when he did, and I told him so. For the circumstances weren't normal: there was a killer out there, and Harry didn't risk a mere detention, he risked the very life his parents had died for.

And I have to admit that, on this occasion, I felt those two children were right. Bringing up the death of relatives for no better reason than tree-climbing, forbidden broom-flying and other childish pranks is emotional blackmail, nothing less.

I happen to think that blackmail is more despicable than theft.

Meanwhile the Teddy and Victoire cross-talk had gone on to the subject of the clock. It was as I had thought as soon as I heard who was behind the ScAvenger business: they had taken the clock because it might give away Victoire. True, there was no spot saying up to no good on that clock. I suspect Arthur's influence there. A clock to warn for danger, yes. One to warn for pranks – no. Arthur has strong and occasionally quite unorthodox ideas about what freedom means, especially where his children are concerned.

But the children had not taken the risk and removed the clock. It was in the Weasley's attic, they explained, in an old trunk, safely wrapped in a sheet. They had justified that particular theft to themselves not just by the risk for Victoire, but because Harry hated the clock. Or rather, the monitoring of his children that was the result.

Of course they used the word 'hated' the way teenagers do: for everything from mashed swedes to the Voldemort years. But keeping in mind what Ron had told me about his and Harry's feelings on that clock, Victoire and Teddy were probably right.

I decided then and there to take up the subject of the clock's whereabouts with Arthur, not with Molly. Arthur would deal with it in the right way.

Meanwhile the children had reached the end of their story.

"Well," said Aberforth. "I'll say this for you: I can see your point about those things you took and how Harry feels about them. But they must be returned. If you had realized it was theft, you wouldn't have taken them."

The spitting image of Albus.

Victoire and Teddy nodded as if their heads would fall off.

"You two go back and you never say a word about being here. I'll deal with it. Make sure those things get returned. With the help of Headmistress McGonagall – I'll have to tell her."

A wail rose up. "No, Sir, please, no. Not McGonagall, Sir, please. She'll ground us, like, forever. Please, Sir."

"That's Headmistress McGonagall to you," said Aberforth, sternly. "And she may surprise you yet. Just leave it all to me. We're old friends, the Headmistress and I."

I could not see his face from where I was hiding, but I'm certain a conspirational wink was thrown in.

"Now, one more thing before you go," said Aberforth. I saw his feet turn around. "Accio pitcher and plate!" he called. I heard the faint whiff of things floating through the air.

"Here's a plate of cold ham and some pumpkin juice," he said. "You'll need something to build up your strength, after this adventure."

No mean feat to Accio those things up a winding staircase without spilling. People often think of Aberforth as less powerful, but they forget he is less powerful only when compared to Albus, not to the average witch or wizard.

"Give me your word of honour you'll stay quiet about all this," he continued. The children both promised.

"Now off you go. And if you get caught at the other end, remember your word," Aberforth told them.

"We will, Sir."

"We never went here."

"We went to raid the Hogwarts kitchen."

"And then we went to the Room of Requirement to eat the things. Which we'll do, Sir."

"So that's why we were caught on the way from the Room to our dorm, see?"

An excellent, on-the-spot fabrication of lies. There is more than a hint of the Weasley Twins in those two, and I will watch them sharply from now on.

Teddy and Victoire left, and Aberforth put the portrait back behind them. Silently, we both descended the staircase. Severus was waiting for us at the bottom, and I am pleased to say that, when I looked at him, he actually stared at the ground.

"Not our most glorious moment," he said.

I continued to Look.

"Not my most glorious moment," he amended.

"The less said about it, the better," I said, and there was a hint of eagerness in his nod.

We took our leave of Aberforth and went behind the back of his pub – a safe place for Severus to Disapparate, well out of sight.

"In the end, of course, it's a good thing Pettigrew wasn't involved," I said.

"So it is," said Severus. "All these years I was convinced he was dead. It was just … The case against it …"

"The case against it was a believable one," I agreed. "So believable that we didn't pay enough attention to the one element that didn't fit – the snacks. We both thought it was odd, but we felt there was no time to go into it. What if it had been Pettigrew, and what if he had struck again, and quickly?"

I didn't like admitting it, but it hadn't been just Severus who was at fault – I had accepted his ideas readily, and I had been as convinced as he was that there was something serious going on.

"I assume," said Severus, casually, "that people will not want to read a case as insipid as this one."

So much for being my faithful side-kick.

So much for out-cosying Kipper Malfoy.

I had admitted that I, too, had thought there was a case to investigate. And I had already shown my willingness to let bygones be bygones. In fact, I think my restraint on the subject was verging on the saintly.

But there are limits.

"I can't see Flourish and Botts rushing in to print it, true," I told Severus.

He nodded. "The plot just isn't good enough," he said, for all the world like a man who has published several Cases himself.

I let him believe in his good fortune for a few seconds.

Then I mentioned that there were, however, other ways of publication. "It's really too bad that a detective story starring 'Monsieur Dupont' won't sell anywhere," I said. "But I promise you this, my friend, if this story finds an audience, I will do full justice to the cosiest side-kick a spinster could have."

And on that pleasing prospect the case of if Minerva McGonagall and the Business of Ferrets came to an end.