Albus Dumbledore sat in his chair at the staff table in the Great Hall, fuming behind a pleasantly neutral façade. He was unused to being ignored - in any way, from the carefully chosen bright robes he wore to any of his positions in society - and especially not in his own school.

But those Muggles - the Alpha Primes - had come with a commission signed by Her Majesty herself, and there was nothing to be done in the face of that ancient magic, so here he sat with the rest of the staff and the students, kept in place while those same Muggles led a handful of others deeper into his castle.

It was maddening, not knowing what was going on and being unable to leave the room to find out. There were only two of the Alpha Primes' escort left, but Albus had no doubt they would be formidable to overcome even without the protection granted by the Primes' royal commission.

So he sat, and waited, and fumed, his lemon custard dessert untouched before him.

"I do hope I have the chance to speak with Cursebreaker Jones before she leaves," Flitwick murmured. He and Minerva had been chatting quietly the last few minutes, with Albus only catching a few words. "Her work at Glastonbury Tor was fascinating."

Albus bit back a scowl. Trust the others to be thinking of their own petty desires rather than the bigger picture, which was: what did it mean that Her Majesty had taken an interest in the magical world?

And why had she done so now, when Harry Potter had just returned to the magical world?

A commotion at the far door interrupted Albus' musings. He turned to see the Alphas and their party returning - and, with them, bound and presumably silenced, Professor Quirrell, stumbling along.

He rose to his feet. "What is the meaning of this? How dare you bind a Hogwarts professor like a common criminal?"

"That's hardly correct," Holmes countered. "Quirrell isn't a common criminal. He is currently hosting a terrorist."

Holmes nodded and the two of his companions who were helping Quirrell brought him forward and turned him so that Albus could see the back of his head - where another face stared back at him, eyes narrowed in anger, and mouth moving in what was certainly an outburst that would scald Albus' ears if it weren't silenced.

"What - who is that?" Minerva asked.

One of the men cast, "Finite," then "Sonorus," and a thin, high-pitched voice filled the hall.

"Albus Dumbledore!" the face said. "Do you not recognize me, your greatest enemy since Grindelwald?"

Albus could only stare at the face, shocked not just that Quirrell had allowed himself to be possessed, but also at the clearly unstable nature of the possession.

"No?" the face said. "Perhaps it is not surprising, as weak as I am. I am Lord Voldemort!"

Scattered screams and shouts arose from the students, and before Albus could say anything, the men had turned Quirrell so that his … passenger … faced the students.

"Yes!" the voice - Voldemort - cried. "You see? The Potter bitch and brat failed to kill me! I am Lord Voldemort, and I shall return!"

The man nearest Albus cast a Silencing Charm, muttering, "You're a loony, you are," after the spell settled.

"Hot chocolate for the students, please!" Minerva called, and it snapped Albus out of his shock.

He glared at Holmes. "You needn't have traumatized the children."

"To the contrary - I believe it quite important that they know precisely what you allowed into their school," Holmes said coldly. "And equally important that their parents know."

"In my world, what you call the Muggle world," Granger - the father, not the daughter - began, "you'd be arrested for allowing a terrorist into the school."

"Fortunately for me, then," Albus said, "we are not in the Muggle world."

"Unfortunately for you," Barnaby said, "thanks to Her Majesty's commission, it is within my remit to arrest you."

"Arrest me?" Albus repeated, too startled to do anything else. "On what grounds?"

"Reckless endangerment and negligent endangerment," Barnaby replied.

"For a start," Holmes said. Then he smiled a predator's smile. "I've been collecting evidence for ten years, simply waiting for a reason to use it."

Albus shuddered to think what evidence he might mean. Still, "I must protest - I've done nothing to endanger anyone."

"Aside from allowing a teacher possessed by a terrorist into the school," Harry Potter said, his expression more fierce than any eleven-year-old should be capable of, "you have a three-headed dog, a troll, and a series of deadly poisons with absolutely nothing preventing any students from getting hurt by any of them. And in fact, my Guide was hurt - a broken leg."

"Since healed - but, Harry," the Granger girl said. "There was minimal security - a locked door."

"Anything that can be overcome by a simple Unlocking Charm isn't protection," Harry said, his gaze never leaving Albus' face. "You're a threat to my Tribe, Headmaster."

"Now, Harry-" Albus began, only to be cut off by six voices saying, "Sentinel Potter."

Albus scowled but did his best to recover his best grandfatherly expression. "I assure you I am no threat."

"If you're not, then you're incompetent," Harry declared. A gasp from the students told Albus the boy's voice had carried.

"Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere," Albus said.

"Perhaps the students should know what you allowed to happen," Harry shot back. "All those traps, guarding something that lured Voldemort into the school you're responsible for."

"That doesn't make me a threat nor incompetent," Albus pointed out.

"Doesn't it? Either you placed it there, or someone got past your security and wards to put it there. Either way, you're a threat."

"I must protest-" Albus began, but was cut off.

"Protest all you want," Ben Jones said. "The fact is an Alpha Sentinel has identified you as a threat to his tribe, and appropriate measures will be taken."

"It's in your best interest to cooperate," Rhiannon Jones put in. "In addition to the protections extended to Sentinels and Guides internationally, the magic powering the Alphas' commission is quite … robust. Though," she added thoughtfully, "I almost hope you don't cooperate. Purely out of professional curiosity, you understand."

With great difficulty, Albus controlled the urge to glare the woman into submission. She was, after all, nearly his equal in power and apparently very close to his age. It wouldn't do to be seen as a bully.

Albus wanted to lash out at them all, not just her. But with two of the quasi-military men stationed at opposite ends of the room, there was no way he could take them all down before he himself fell - and with military men, there was no guarantee they wouldn't use lethal force.

"Surely this is unnecessary," he said finally, and as calmly as he could. "But if it will reassure you, of course I will accompany you."

He rose from his seat and grandly rounded the table, only to jerk with surprise when the nearest of the military squad grabbed his wrist and slapped some kind of bracelet on it.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"Standard procedure," the man replied as one of his fellows did the same to his other wrist. "Magic-suppressing handcuffs, including a portkey block."

"Completely unnecessary, I assure you," Albus said, only to be met with Holmes' disdain.

"Her Majesty doesn't care about your assurances," he said, then turned back to the rest of the staff still seated at the table.

As Albus was led away, he heard Holmes saying, "While not part of our original remit, these circumstances warrant a full audit of the school. I understand if you want to wait for the official paperwork before it begins."

"No, Alpha - Holmes, is it?" Minerva McGonagall said, and Albus couldn't help feeling betrayed. "Please begin immediately."

= HP = HP = HP = HP =

Ben waited until Dumbledore was out of the room before turning to Harry and Hermione. "All right, then - off to the infirmary."

"But he didn't hurt me," Harry protested at the same time Hermione said, "You already healed my leg, Guide Jones."

"I healed the obvious break," Ben replied, "but you still should be examined properly. And you," he added with a stern look at Harry, "know better than to protest a checkup after a fight."

Harry heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned to Hermione. "You might as well give in. He won't budge on anything to do with health."

"Nor should he," Wendell put in. "You may be a witch and a Guide, but you're not invincible."

Minutes later, they were in the infirmary and a woman with a pleasant, yet no-nonsense, demeanor was casting several charms over Hermione - Harry had insisted she go first, claiming he had no injuries worth the matron's time.

"Excellent basic healing," she murmured, and Ben simply nodded an acknowledgment. "A little fine-tuning won't hurt, though."

A few more waves of her wand and she turned to Harry. He received similar treatment and within just a few minutes, both children were cleared to leave.

"A moment, please, Madam," Ben said when the matron turned to go. "We'd like to have a few words with them before we leave. May we speak here, in private?"

To her credit, she didn't hesitate. "Certainly. Simply draw the curtains - they're charmed for privacy."

"Thank you," Ben said, and waited until she'd returned to her office before drawing the curtains.

"Are - are we in trouble?" Hermione asked softly.

"No, Princess," Wendell replied. "At least, not with your mum and me."

Harry looked up at Ben with a resigned expression. "How much trouble am I in?"

"Tons," Ben replied as seriously as he could. "Your da and I were right there, and you ran off without a word."

Harry looked away, and Ben could feel the embarrassment rolling off him - but only for a moment before Harry got himself under control.

"I - I hadn't realized the territorial impulse would be so strong," he said quietly. "I mean, it's been a week. Less."

"That's not-" Wendell broke off, shaking his head. "I was going to say that's not enough time for the territorial imperative to develop, but maybe it is for Alphas?"

"The opposite, actually," Ben said. "Alphas generally have larger territories, and it takes them time to suss out the boundaries. We knew Hogwarts would be his territory while he's here, but I don't think it was a territorial impulse at work today."

"What else could it have been?" Hermione asked, and Ben saw the question echoed in Harry's expression.

"I think you recognized your enemy - a threat to the Tribe and to your Guide, yes, but mostly the threat to you." Ben met Harry's gaze steadily as he explained his theory. "I suspect you came online when your mother died, and in the seconds before Voldemort attacked you, you were aware of him with a Sentinel's senses."

"At fifteen months?" Harry sounded dubious.

"I'm not saying you knew what your impressions meant then - just that you were aware of him - you saw him, heard him, smelled him. Those impressions registered, even if you weren't old enough to sort them out."

"Then when I met Quirrell," Harry said slowly, "those memories started to come forward, at least in emotional impressions."

"Exactly," Ben said. "And?"

"And when I saw that Quirrell was gone, I somehow knew it was Voldemort, and the thought of him threatening the school pushed me over the edge."

"That's what I think, yes," Ben said. "So you're not in trouble, no. It just raises the question of whether you feel comfortable remaining at Hogwarts knowing that Voldemort was here?"

Harry blinked up at him. "Why wouldn't I? He's not here anymore, is he?"

"No." Ben smiled. "He's not. But the question had to be asked. You heard what Gran said - that he might have split his soul more than once."

"I did," Harry said simply. "But if she can't find more of his soul-pieces and he somehow comes back, we'll be there to stop him."