Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

Chapter 25

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry
Scotland

30 January 1960

The old and ancient matriarch of the elf settlement of Hogwarts, Dinty, was ordering the crew to begin the process of cleaning up and move on to the preparation of the next meal. The several ovens were always kept burning, the kitchen only slept for a few hours at night. She could hear the pitter-patter footsteps of the hundreds of students from above and the sliding of the benches of the log tables. It goes without saying that right below the Great Hall the huge kitchen of Hogwarts was built.

"It's Hogsmeade weekend. The students would go down to the village supervised by a handful of teachers," she reminded the elves around her. And it meant apart from personal elves being summoned by the remaining professors and members of the staff for afternoon tea, nothing much needed to be done as far as the kitchen duties were concerned.

Then, of course, elves were never without work were they! The dorms were in a horrid state, there were piles of students' laundry to be washed and ironed. The weekly thorough cleaning services to be commenced. The elf matriarch had drawn several deals with the headmasters of Hogwarts whenever the necessity demanded of her. Like for example, the upkeep of the portraits and the decor, the general cleaning services, and the upkeep of the classrooms- everything was put on paper signed and agreed upon. The elves tolerated the ghosts and hated Peeves, the poltergeist.

It was Peeves who had appeared from the sink filled with unwashed utensils. It took little care as it upset the washed pile and scattered the dirty ones all about the floor, drenching the working elves with murky water, soap, and slim. Barreling right up to the Matriarch Elf, it had prostrated at her feet wailing like a frightened child. Dinty had little patience for the upstart. She was about to chastise, when the castle shook at its ground, roared, rumbled, grumbled, and huffed.

Peeves had wound itself around her wrinkled body in fright. Through chattering teeth, the poltergeist managed to utter," I have nothing to do with this, trust my Madam Dinty, it's awake the castle roars and speaks in whispers, it is awake. Awake. Wide awake." Dinty had heard the old tales and the myths. But the pestering poltergeist had no business in knowing about that. Old magic lost and forgotten was once again miraculously waking up. This was an event every elf desired to be a part of. The call of the Old brethren. Snapping her fingers, she had summoned a handful of elves, who were prepared with heavy rolling pins. In no time the poltergeist fled through the lower corridors situated close to the Hufflepuff dorms and staff quarters yelling on top of its lungs. The batting rolling pins were not meant for the students' eyes. As for the sneaky Peeves, the elves always made sure to get back to him for upsetting any student.

Indeed the day turned to be a dreary one. The students were tense, the staff of the school clueless and on top of that, the Ministry of Magic and the Board of Governors made the whole thing grow out of proportion. The kitchen and the elf quarters below that were buzzing with speculations. But one look from the iron-handed Dinty made any group disperse in seconds. She had called Tuny the elf serving the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore on the sides, and gave her stern orders, " Don't utter a word, keep your eyes and ears open and your head bowed. Not a word, if Dumbledore says you anything with that goofy smile and twinkling eyes. He has to call me. And he will."

Tuny had diligently returned and narrated what all had transpired in the Headmaster's office and several other elves had kept her abreast of all the kinds of ridiculous rumours that the wild imagination of the student body could give birth to. Dinty had arched her wrinkled brows when Pasty and Pons told her how Minerva McGonagall and Madam Sprouts chanced upon Peeves, but she kept quiet. When Sobs and Fostie told her of Filius Flitwick uncharacteristically going round and round the castle, stroking his bread and humming to himself, the old elf too had hummed in reply. She had only contributed three words, "Oh! I see," when the personal elf of the transfiguration Professor finally reported serving late-night refreshments to both the charms professor and the Gryffindor head in her quarters.

The whole day long the castle grumbled and huffed. The elves keeping the several greenhouses came back frightened out of their wits," The forbidden forest is awake, the creatures are restless, Hagrid's tamed ones are too knocking at the bars!" Raising her hand, Dinty had reassured, and allowed her voice to run through the crowd of gathered elves, "We serve magic old, we will serve Hogwarts and its occupants like we also have. We will serve magic old. It breathes again. Keep your vows to Hogwarts in mind always. And say or hint not a word about it to anyone." The crowd had backed away because the matriarch had an unsettling rueful smile on her wrinkled face. Fostie had whispered into Tuny's ears, "She smiles, not a good sign, the castle not just breathes, it talks now, not a good sign."

Ministry of Magic

Ignatius Tuft, the Minister of Magic started late into the night. His wife had floo called twice, his children had sent an owl before, reminding him of the cousin's birthday party, which Tuft was too happy to miss. It was Hogwart's business. It was something that even the high and mighty Albus Dumbledore as the rumour went, was unable to explain. He was least interested in finding out the validity of the letter that Abarax Malfoy had produced. If it could bring Dumbledore down even by a couple of notches, Ignatius was prepared.

He had made in-depth research before appointing Rayn Crickerly as his secretary. The man had every characteristic that defined a consummate Slytherin and above all even as a youngling in the cruel world of politics, he was shrewd as a fox. Being charismatic and having oratory skills, he was good at attracting the young and naive men with his vitriolic words. If Ignatius could not tame Hogwarts, he would rather allow Rayn to influence the young group of witches and wizards to parrot the ministry doctrines and forgo the free spirit presumed by the Hogwarts Alumni.

After his unsuccessful meeting at Hogwarts, after glaring at the pompous Malfoy, Ignautis has bellowed at every ministry official on the floor for one whole hour. He sent people running down to the archives, hunting for the oldest registered manuscripts, scrolls anything, that spoke at length about the History of Magical Britain. Every single one returned with scrap.

"Yes, all of these all of these are trash useless, they are just copies made from the History of Hogwarts, nothing else," he flung a bunch of parchments at the tabletop, where almost every edition of Hogwarts: A History was open, marked and alas, dog-eared. Ryan Crickerly winced by just nodding in agreement.

Keeping his tone subservient, he coaxed the fuming man, "Sir, new day, fresh eyes, why, why don't we leave it today and come back tomorrow and start afresh." The Minister gave him a hard look in return and finally heaved a sigh. "Yes, Crickerly, you may be right, you may be right. Please breathe heavily on those whelps you have posted in Hogwarts. Anything they see, hear or feel, I must know before it reaches that twinkled eyed man, Dumbledore, do you understand."

"Most definitely Sir, I will make certain of that."

"Very well, my wife will be cross enough, my kids will be sulking, but I have to run the ministry here! Marlin's show me the way," grabbing his coat before the secretary could help him with it, the heavy man had flung his office door open and marched out. Crickerly grimaced and followed. He had to tolerate the minister's many moods, because one day, that copious seat must belong to him. Chanting that like phrase under his breath the young secretary ran to pick up with the storming man ahead.

The elevator took the tried men up and side-along many rounds till the door slid back to show them an utterly empty Atrium, with only the patrolling night watchers at the station. Of course, the night shift attending Aurors were still in their departmental offices. The two men walked out one after the other, listening to their own footsteps echoing through the length and the breadth of the grand hallway. They had reached almost near the magnificent Ministry fountain when the entire building shook for the first time.

Eyes wide the men exchanged worried glances, even the guards at the station were alert looking around. Some of them were coming towards the minister and his secretary. In no time they formed a circle around, they wands pointed outwards. The building shook and hummed, groaned and huffed, rumbled and roared. As if its bricks were brushed against each other, its many pipelines and glass windows and tables and chairs, wardrobes, and brooms, every single item had found a mouth and voice to use for the first time. The cacophony lasted only for a single minute. It was not an earthquake and not a familiar kind of magic. When Ignatius was about to feel his heart climb up his throat, the sounds stopped. The minister knew then and there because his bones were still vibrating on their own, this was not the doing of Albus Dumbledore. This was not a ploy of the sneaky bastard, Abraxas Malfoy. This was something that the press will feast on and if he was not going to find a quick answer to all of this, his career was ruined.