To Harry's relief, everybody was still at dinner and the halls were empty. On the ground floor, Severus motioned him to the secret passage behind the suit of armour across the Transfiguration classroom. It led to the seventh floor and ended in a hidden alcove a little further down from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry remembered the passage well, as it helped to coordinate the DA meetings immensely during his fifth year.
He cautiously peeked out from the alcove. The corridor was equally deserted, with Mrs. Norris II as their only witness. She gave them a disdainful glance before walking away with her tail held high. Turning to Severus, Harry suddenly became aware of how close they were standing. He could smell the herbal scent of some potion Severus had likely been brewing earlier today together with something subtle and masculine that was unique to Severus. Harry unconsciously licked his lips and caught Severus's dark eyes tracing the movement.
As he caught himself leaning forward unconsciously, there was the sound of steps from the corridor. Severus stiffened, his whole posture changing, and Harry turned away with regret. He cast non-verbal Disillusionment and silencing spells, aware that Severus beside him was doing the same. His magic washed over Harry, even more intoxicating than the scent.
Looking out again, Harry saw Richardson passing in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirement with a large parcel in his hands. Soon, the door appeared, and Richardson stared it for a moment before putting his hand on the handle.
Stalking Malfoy back in the sixth year taught Harry the hard way that he wouldn't be able to access the Room while it was occupied by someone who didn't want to be found. Which meant they had to move fast. As soon as Richardson opened the door, Harry cast a stunner and stepped inside quickly, holding the door open to make sure disillusioned Severus entered as well.
Visible again, Severus levitated the unconscious man, who now sported a big bruise on the cheek, and propped him against the wall with slightly more force than it was strictly necessary. Harry shot Incarcerous, wincing slightly. He didn't like to attack people in the back, even when he knew those same people would not hesitate to do the same to him.
"I have some Veritaserum," Harry said, taking out his assortment of gel pens from his pocket and picking one that was seemingly empty.
"Of course you have." Severus snorted. "However, I'm the Potions Master here." He produced a small vial of clear liquid. "We don't need this buffoon poisoned or, worse, able to resist the serum."
"Oi! My Veritaserum is very good, I'll have you know. Got it from a very reliable brewer." Romilda Vane became one of the youngest Potion Masters in Britain, second only to Severus himself, and was perfectly happy to supply Harry even with restricted and not-quite-legal potions. Yet despite her talent and success, Romilda still gave Harry the creeps, if only because she tried to get some of his hair every time he visited her lab. Although her products were top-notch, he avoided going to her unless he absolutely needed to.
Severus looked at the pen doubtfully.
"Besides, if anything goes out of hand, I thought it would be better if I was the one in possession of... You know." Harry made a broad gesture. Severus certainly didn't need any more legal troubles.
"Let me be the judge of what risks I take," Severus said in a clipped tone, eyes narrowing dangerously. "And potions are certainly not the area I'm willing to compromise on. So put that… thing away, Paul."
Harry sighed but complied. He looked through the parcel that predictably contained the Wasps uniforms, while Severus was measuring three drops of Veritaserum into Richardson's slack mouth and casting Ennervate.
Richardson drifted back to consciousness, looking around with a dazed expression. As soon as he noticed Harry and Severus, it turned furious, and he began thrashing around, but the ropes held tight.
Severus conjures two chairs and sat down, wand trained on their captive.
"What is your name?" He asked.
"Alfred Gaius Richardson." The question was answered in a monotone, even though Richardson was glaring daggers.
"Date of birth?"
"6th of April, 1952."
"Why did you leave the DMLE?"
"I owed 6,000 galleons to Corban Yaxley. He was getting impatient, so I had to lay low."
"Why did you owe him?"
"I lost some bets at the underground duelling circuit run under his protection at the time."
So Dean had been right, not that there was any doubt. Glancing at Severus, Harry saw that he didn't seem to be surprised either.
"Where did you get those Wasps uniforms in your parcel?" Harry interjected.
"Felix Pucey got them for me."
"Why?"
"I have some dirt on him."
"Why did you need the uniforms?" Harry asked again.
"So the Talbott boy could tell me who's going to win and I'd bet on that team."
Severus looked at Richardson in confusion, but Harry shook his head before he could ask further questions.
"What do you know about Alexander Rowle's disappearance?" He asked instead.
"The boy had it coming. Good riddance, I'd say."
"How are you connected to Alexander Rowle's disappearance? Where is he?" Severus restated the question.
"I'm not. I made him a target in my class because students must have a natural order, to prepare them for the real world. Builds character," Richardson said with a gleam of smug superiority in his eyes, even though his voice was still flat and uninflected. "They need to have someone like Rowle to feel better about themselves, but also to keep them disciplined. Nobody wants to take his place on the bottom of the pecking order. Little snots mustn't forget that I'm the one ultimately in charge. Maybe that contributed to Rowle's decision to leave, spineless brat. I have no idea where he is now."
Harry looked at him, appalled. He'd thought the ex-Auror was a simple bully, spiteful but not very self-aware, but apparently, there was this whole disgusting philosophy behind his behaviour. However, despite Harry and Severus's expectations, he seemed to have nothing to do with the disappearance.
"Do you know who has or could have anything to do with it?" Harry tried again.
"No. I suppose Cal Talbott could, but I sincerely doubt that. He turned out to be a wimp just like Rowle. Doesn't have the balls for any serious business for all that he is a Gryff."
"Bugger," Harry said with a sigh. "I was so sure it's him."
"Still, it was not completely in vain." Severus accompanied that mysterious remark by an odd gesture with his left hand that was resting on his lap.
Before Harry could ask what he'd meant, he remembered something else. "Who is the man Talbott warned you about and why did he try to curse you?"
"Michael Corner. I turned in his Mudblood girlfriend to Rowle's father when we were in hiding during the war. I don't see what he has to be mad about. The bitch is apparently alive and well."
Harry shuddered. Beside him, Severus sat absolutely still, his face full of contempt.
"Did you do anything to Michael?"
"Nothing much. Had a couple of old friends detain him as a prime suspect in an illegal potions ring investigation. With those new laws Shacklebolt pushed through, they couldn't even shut him in Azkaban before trial. Probably out already."
"What are the names of those friends of yours?" Harry asked. He had a couple of candidates in mind.
Richardson opened his mouth before closing it forcefully and struggling against the ropes.
"Let me go, bastards! You'll pay for this!" he shouted, spit flying everywhere. "They'll finally shut you down for the vermin you are, Snape! You can forget about your cushy job here! And you, Cassandra? Who do you think you are?"
"Even if you don't have anything to do with missing Mr. Rowle, after all of your revelations today, it's your job prospects that are debatable," Severus said, his voice cool and flat.
Richardson barked a laugh. "And who would believe you?"
"Well, Minerva McGonagall, for example. The Headmistress is currently watching our… conversation in her office as we speak." Severus's long fingers caressed something small and invisible on his lap. Squinting, Harry recognized the shape of a disillusioned snowball.
"Pull the other one! That's impossible," Richardson spat despite the look of alarm on his face.
A silvery cat appeared in front of him, ears flattened as it opened its mouth. "I assure you, it's very much possible, Alfred," it hissed in McGonagall's voice before turning around. "Severus, Professor Thompson, please, bring this… individual to my office immediately."
Severus stood up and fired another stunner at Richardson.
"Can you erase the questions about Michael Corner from his memory?" Harry asked. Both he and Severus could protect themselves, but he didn't want any retribution against Talbott for speaking up. "You are better than me at Mind Magic." Damn, Polyidus Tompson shouldn't have known that. "From what I heard," he added hastily.
Severus gave him an indecipherable look and raised his wand.
"Obliviate."
Their meeting in the Headmistress's office lasted until long after midnight. In the end, Richardson was fired but otherwise didn't face any repercussions. However despicable his actions were, there wasn't much chance he could actually be charged with anything, a fact he was well aware of. The idea of scum like that walking free unearthed the feelings and thoughts Harry usually kept buried deep down and made his fingers itch for his wand to fire Bombarda Maxima at the nearest wall. But loath as he was to admit it, trying to haul Richardson to the DMLE wouldn't do any good except create problems for Talbott, while Richardson himself would be out by the morning.
Harry insisted, however, that McGonagall make a public announcement to The Daily Prophet. The Headmistress's first impulse, probably ingrained by Dumbledore, was to cover everything up as "Hogwarts's internal business", but both Harry and Severus were having none of it. People needed to know about Richardson, since what he'd revealed earlier was obviously only the tip of the unsavoury iceberg. Who knew, maybe a condemning article would encourage other victims to speak up. Otherwise, it would be just a repeat of the Lockhart situation. It had been an eye-opener for Harry to learn, some years after the war, that most of the Wizarding World still believed in every word that fraud had written. As far as the general public knew, he had ended up in St. Mungo's doing one of his many courageous deeds.
McGonagall was also none too pleased by Harry's role at Hogwarts that he had no choice but to reveal. He was vague when asked if he was really a Seer, and carefully omitted any mention that his identity might not be entirely true either. He would come clean to McGonagall after finding Rowle, but for now, Harry decided to keep his cards close to the chest. He caught Severus sending him increasingly speculative glances, though.
And not only Severus. He was pretty sure Dumbledore, who was pretending to be asleep in his portrait throughout the whole conversation, winked at him once, and Phineas Nigellus Black was leaning onto his frame with a faintly amused expression, having obviously recognized Harry. His was the only portrait at Grimmauld Place that Harry hadn't moved to the attic.
On his way from the Headmistress's tower, Harry made sure to sneak to Richardson's office to get the snow globe. The place was in disarray, though thankfully Complete History of Early Byzantine Curses was left intact. Richardson himself was heard from his quarters, stomping, muttering and shooting random hexes at the walls.
Severus was waiting for him outside.
"I wish we could do more to punish him," Harry said, brow furrowed. "And we're no closer to finding Rowle than we've been before."
"Still, the bastard is out of Hogwarts now, which I count as a victory."
"Didn't take you for an optimist."
"Merlin forbid. I'm just used to expecting the worst, and my expectations are usually met. But we got rid of Richardson, and soon everybody will see him for what I always knew he was. Even if they need a big article on the front page of the Prophet to form an opinion. On the other hand, with Longbottom as the new Head of Gryffindor, I expect to start missing Richardson very soon."
Harry smiled despite himself.
"Go get some sleep, Severus. Unlike me, you must have classes first thing in the morning," he said. After a brief hesitation, he put his hand on Severus's arm.
Severus tensed but didn't protest. "I'm used to sleeping very little."
They stood like that for a moment, Severus searching Harry's face.
"Good night… Paul." With a curt nod, Severus left for the dungeons.
The next morning, McGonagall gathered all the teachers, House ghosts and Filch in the staffroom before breakfast to make a brief and highly edited recounting of the events of the night before. Reactions seemed to vary from disbelief to outrage. Professor Bell seemed torn between betrayal and disappointment she felt for Richardson and silent accusation of Harry and Severus for daring to smash her illusions. Babbling suggested that the old curse on the Defence position was acting up again. Hooch said she knew Richardson was bad business since she'd seen for herself how small his Beater bat actually was.
All throughout the meeting, Severus was sitting silently in his corner with a slight sneer on his lips. Harry wished he had sat next to him, but by the time he came, the staffroom had already been full. That meant he was sitting next to Priscilla Doge instead, who seemed to be completely disinterested in the subject. The only time she frowned slightly was when McGonagall announced that other Professors would have to take on Richardson's classes before she could find a substitute. The Headmistress made it sound like everybody would have to share them while giving Harry a long calculating look.
Hearing Doge complain that she didn't have time for that made something in Harry's brain click. Like a Lumos flashing through his brain, he finally realised what the photo of a webbed hand in Rowle's box reminded him of.
McGonagall reluctantly ended the meeting as the students couldn't come to breakfast to find the staff table empty, but scheduled another one for the afternoon. While everybody was leaving, Harry turned to the woman next to him.
"Can I ask you a question, Professor Doge?"
"Yes?" She answered with a polite smile on her face.
"I've seen you reading a book on marine creatures, and I heard you asking Severus for Gillyweed—"
"Yes, this is my particular area of interest. I study underwater Transfiguration."
"Oh, that must be really exciting."
Apparently not the one for small talk, Doge just looked at Harry expectantly.
"Right. My reputation of Seer somewhat precedes me, you know. Maybe I'm not the best out there, but I try to use my talents to help others," Harry let out a small self-deprecating chuckle. McGonagall had revealed that he was the one along with Severus to expose Richardson, but didn't elaborate further than that. He reckoned he could play up his bubbling fool persona just a little bit longer. "Recently one of the students came to me with this photo." He paused.
"A photo?"
"A photo of that missing boy, Alexander Rowle. It was a strange one, with his hand all webbed, like some sea creature's. My third eye was silent that day, but maybe you have some idea about what he was doing with that? Perhaps you've had him help you in your research?"
"No, I've never spoken to him outside classes. I suppose he just swallowed some Gillyweed. Teenagers are always trying what they shouldn't." Her eyes were cold.
"Where would he find it? I gathered the boy wasn't very well-off."
"Some of my supply went missing in November," she said thoughtfully. "He probably was the one to steal it."
"So you don't—"
"Excuse me, Thompson, but I have to go to the Hospital Wing to see to the possible Transfiguration mishap. I really don't have time for this conversation right now," Doge interrupted. Her thin lips pursed into a straight line.
"Of course. Thank you for your help." Harry gave a bright smile to the Transfiguration Professor who turned her back on him and walked away briskly.
Looking around, he saw that Severus had already left, as had all the other Professors. Harry had a couple of questions, but they could wait, as the warning bells in his mind were chiming madly.
Acting on a hunch, he took a battered piece of parchment out of his pocket.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he muttered, touching the parchment with his wand and spreading it out on the staff room table impatiently.
Two minutes later, he found precisely what he was looking for. A dot labelled Alexander Rowle in Pricilla Doge's office.