Chapter 13

With most students already on their way to the castle, the platform had finally cleared out. Only the Head Boy and Girl remained behind, plus the group of first years clustered together at the far end of the platform, waiting impatiently to be escorted down the lake trail.

Standing still without doing anything felt terribly neglectful in the current situation, but the Head Girl had insisted on gathering to organize and discuss how to proceed, so here they were. Rubeus had also caved in to Grant's annoyed complaints and stopped yelling his throat raw in vain, reluctantly agreeing in that there was no point in calling for kids who either didn't want to come or couldn't answer the call for some reason.

"Might be hiding somewhere in the train," he mused out loud for the third time.

"Already checked it thrice head to Block and Block to tail," growled old Mr. Hobbs. The gruffly train conductor had already been in a bad mood because of that weird trouble with the doors everyone was talking about. This additional delay had frayed his temper even more. "No locked doors. All the bathrooms cleared. Nothing but luggage on board. They went ahead with the rest, if you ask me."

"I was keeping watch by the carriages," repeated Grant. "I would have seen any first years walk past."

"Not necessarily," said Lottie. "There was much more confusion than usual tonight, and children can easily blend into a crowd when they're all dressed the same."

"Ordinary children might be able to blend in," argued Grant disdainfully, "not highborn children. I certainly would have noticed Lucius Malfoy's Heir strolling by even if I hadn't been keeping an eye out for him especially."

Rubeus gritted his teeth. He could admit that Grant wasn't the worst Slytherin he had come across, but he was nasty enough, a half-blood just as arrogant and scornful as Snape had been as a student. Which was no doubt why the boy was a favourite of his Head of House —that, and the unconfirmed rumour that Grant was the bastard son of William Wilkes, who had been close friends and partners in crime with Snape. Just like that lying scum Lucius Malfoy.

And now Grant had been made Head Boy. What was Dumbledore thinking? Rubeus knew that the Headmaster trusted Snape, and that he often allowed him to get away with highly questionable things, but giving so much power to one of his slimy snakes... Grant had perfect grades and a sparkly clean record, sure, but so had You-Know-Who as a student, and he had been rotten to the core. Wilkes' bastard not only had a suspicious background too, it was obvious that Lucius Malfoy had the boy neatly tucked in his pocket, and yet Dumbledore had given him full authority over all the students, access to the other Common Rooms, freedom to come and go as he pleased at any time of the day...

"How many are there missing, Hagrid? Five?" asked one of the train stewards, breaking through Rubeus' indignant thoughts.

The question brought worry and dread back like a tidal wave.

"Aye," he rasped through his tight throat. It wasn't really his fault that a bunch of students had never made it from the train to his side, but he still feared the Headmaster would fire him if something happened to them. "Five, or maybe four."

"Maybe? Didn't you count them?"

"'Course I counted them," said Rubeus defensively. "Four times I counted them, and each time got the same number just so you know. There's five missing from the list, but Harry's not coming so-"

"Who's not coming?" interrupted Grant sharply. "Harry who?"

"You mean Harry Potter?" asked Lottie in shock. "I heard talk in the train during my rounds, but no one seemed to have seen the boy. I never imagined he might not be coming, though-"

"Harry Potter not coming to Hogwarts? Impossible!" exclaimed a steward.

"What do you mean that Harry Potter is not coming?" demanded the Head Girl. "I know he's enrolled, Professor McGonagall showed me the list last year, and we've been preparing the Prefects..."

Rubeus cursed himself and his big mouth. Dumbledore had told him not to say anything. Not that he knew much to say, of course, and what he knew everyone else would find out soon enough, but he really should keep his mouth shut. Especially in this company. He trusted all the people from the train, and the Head Girl too, but not Grant, who no doubt would be reporting anything he learned about Harry Potter to the likes of Lucius Malfoy. The Slytherin definitely looked too interested in the subject, his calculating eyes too alert, visibly hungry for information...

"I just know that he's not expected," growled Rubeus. Edwards opened her mouth to insist, but he cut her off, "You can ask the Headmaster later, maybe he'll explain. The thing is that without counting Harry we should be only four students short, but the kids are reporting five. The one named Evan Roberts is not in the list, but that girl over there swears he's missing too, so I dunno."

No one seemed to want to drop the Harry Potter subject —Grant looked particularly frustrated—, but Rubeus made clear that he wasn't going to say more about it so they all reluctantly agreed to let it go for now.

"If Harry Potter is still in the list but he's not coming, then the list clearly hasn't been updated," reasoned out the Head Girl after a pause. "That kid Roberts must have been admitted in his place at the last minute."

Rubeus grunted his agreement. It made sense, but he didn't like it. Dumbledore had said Harry might come to Hogwarts at some later time, but if his place had been given to someone else then the Headmaster must not really expect that to happen. Maybe Harry had been admitted into another school? Why would Dumbledore make such a decision? And where would he send him? Beauxbatons? Ilvermorny? Those bloody Americans would jump at the chance to lay claim on the Boy-Who-Lived and try to make him one of their own.

This was so wrong! The son of James and Lily Potter should come to Hogwarts, not go to some foreign school where they would make him forget his roots. He should learn to be a wizard here, like his mum and dad, be sorted into Gryffindor like them, get to know the place and people he belonged to...

Rubeus' eyes roved once again over the group of first years, knowing very well that Harry Potter wasn't amongst them but still hoping to see him, regretting to have missed the chance to meet the kid in person. He was supposed to escort Harry to Diagon Alley for his birthday, but the Headmaster had cancelled at the last minute, leaving Rubeus to eat the cake by himself. It had been disappointing, but he had been comforted by the thought that he would meet the kid here at Hogwarts, maybe invite him for tea one afternoon and tell him the story of how they had flown together across half the country when he was just a baby. Some parts of the story would be too painful to tell or hear, but no doubt the kid would like to know about the flying motorcycle —although that might lead to questions about Sirius Black, and Dumbledore had said not to mention anything about that filthy traitor...

Shaking his head, Rubeus forced himself to focus on what was important right now. Harry might not be coming, but he was safe wherever he was, while the other missing children...

He surveyed the line of trees bordering the platform, looking for moving or broken branches or any other signs of recent trespassing.

"We should search the forest," he said, interrupting the argument that had erupted between the Head Boy and Girl about admission quotas and possible circumstances why Roberts might not have been included in the original list.

"That would take forever," objected Grant lazily. "There's trees in all directions, we wouldn't even know where to start looking."

"Fang would find them in no time. I could send someone to fetch him."

"And that would be so much faster," drawled the Slytherin, his tone and expression so eerily reminiscent of Snape at his most unhelpful that Rubeus couldn't help wondering —not for the first time— whether the rumours might be mistaken about whose bastard Grant actually was.

He knew that Snape couldn't be the father, though. The boy didn't have his nose, for starters, nor his eyes, or hair, or physical built. He only resembled the Potions Master in attitude and personality, and that was probably because they were both Slytherins and Grant had spent a lot of time under the acerbic influence of his Head of House. Besides, Rubeus had already done the maths, and to have a kid that age the professor would have had to be spreading his seed around when he was a third year, which seemed highly unlikely —not the least because the young Severus Snape had not seemed interested in planting his seed anywhere other than Lily Evans' garden.

Forcefully pushing that disturbing image out of his mind, Rubeus tried to focus again on the problem at hand. It would take some time to get Fang here, that was true, but they could start searching while someone went to fetch him. He had considered sending Grant, who could probably run faster with his longer legs, but Edwards might be more willing to go, and Fang liked her better than Grant. Rubeus could give her the key and-

"It'd be wasting time, I say," growled Mr. Hobbs. "The little buggers must be already up in the castle, and old McGonagall is going to be pissed by the delay. You should take the others and go, Hagrid. And tell Dumbledore to come fix the bloody doors, will you. Everyone says it should wear off on its own, but I have a feeling it won't. Weird stuff tend to stick."

"I agree," said Lottie. "About the missing students, I mean. They're most likely on their way up already. It would hardly be the first time first years give us the slip and get into the carriages."

Rubeus considered that. It had happened a couple times that disoriented or mischievous first years had gone with the older students instead of following Rubeus to the boats. In those occasions he hadn't even noticed they were missing until Professor McGonagall had greeted him up in the castle with extra first years standing by her side, since no one had reported their absence and he didn't usually count them —he had stopped worrying about first year muggle-borns disappearing from the train after a few years of peace.

In this case there were students worried about the missing kids and insisting their friends should be here, though. Too reminiscent of war times for Rubeus to be able to shrug it off and go ahead without them.

"This time is different," he said worriedly, glancing at the group of first years again. "That girl over there says Neville and the other kid, Evan Roberts, ran into trouble with some bullies in the train. Someone locked them up in a compartment, she says. There's also a Weasley with a broken lip saying that Malfoy and his friends went around the train beating people for no reason. And now they're all missing together. I don't like it."

He had a very bad feeling about this. There was too much bad blood between Longbottoms and Malfoys, too many grievances and unresolved conflicts. It would have taken just a couple words from either of the pureblood Heirs to stir up serious trouble, and after hearing about Malfoy's behaviour in the train Rubeus feared it would be little Neville the one to end up hurt. Or that kid Roberts, whose last name suggested he might be a Muggle-born.

"For your information," said Grant, his voice cold and hard, "it was Cormac McLaggen —a Gryffindor— who locked those boys up. Percy Weasley —a Gryffindor Prefect— reported so to me. I was also informed that the Weasley twins —more Gryffindors— were seen casting spells at the sealed doors around the time the Block was put in place. McLaggen was seen with them, and the three are reported to have spent most of the trip roaming the train, chasing first year students and barging into people's compartments without permission."

"That's true," admitted the Head Girl. "I heard the same reports. But Malfoy-"

"Meanwhile," cut her off Grant, "no official complaints were filed against Malfoy, and there are no reports about any Slytherins going about the train beating up first years. For all we know, that Weasley of yours punched himself in the face and is telling everyone it was Malfoy to justify going after him later. Gryffindors love to make up justifications. Or he might have been the one to start the fight and he's now taking advantage of Malfoy's absence to spin the facts a different way. McLaggen was also injured, by the way, and I'd bet my badge that he started whatever fight he got himself in."

"You talk as if Slytherins never started any fights," said Edwards angrily. "Or as if you lot didn't make up stories all the time to excuse what you do. And it's not true that there're no reports about Malfoy. Hagrid has just reported that he was attacking people in the train-"

"That's not a report," said the Head Boy dismissively. "That's hearsay. Hagrid didn't see anything with his own eyes, and Weasley didn't report any attacks to us, did he?"

"He reported to Hagrid-"

"Hagrid is not the correct authority to report train incidents. We are."

"The kid is right there, I can call him over and have him repeat his report directly to you, since you fancy yourself the only authority around."

"Don't bother. Nothing the Weasley kid says can be trusted now. If he had truly had something to report, he would have done so in the train. But he didn't, did he? Or did you hear any Prefects say anything about Malfoy?"

"No, but I bet you did," said the Head Girl scathingly. "The Prefects trapped in the rear half of the train were both Slytherins, how convenient is that? Of course they had a lot to report about the Weasleys and McLaggen, and nothing about Malfoy!"

"In case you have forgotten, we heard about McLaggen from Weasley, your Prefect. And there was an entire compartment of Ravenclaws corroborating what Farley said about the Weasley twins."

Rubeus let them bicker. Part of him was thinking that at least Dumbledore had done something right choosing a Gryffindor as Head Girl, and that maybe he had done it on purpose to keep Grant in line. Edwards wasn't the best female student in her year, nor did she have the cleanest of records —Rubeus had supervised several of her detentions—, but unlike the Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw candidates she could be counted to stand up to her male counterpart and call him out on his Slytherin bullshit.

Another part of him was struggling with the doubt that Grant had planted in his mind. Not so much about the Malfoy kid —he was certain that the new Weasley was telling the truth about him—, nor about the Weasley twins —they were pranksters, and probably responsible for sealing the doors, but Rubeus couldn't imagine them going about the train beating people—, but about McLaggen. That kid should be in Slytherin, nasty little snob as he was, and Rubeus had caught him stuffing a Ravenclaw boy inside a broom cupboard last year so it wasn't hard to believe he had locked some first years in a compartment.

It wasn't McLaggen who had gone missing along with two possible victims, though. Perhaps if only Neville and Roberts were missing Rubeus might consider the possibility of McLaggen having lagged behind to drag them into the woods and beat them up, but the accompanying disappearance of Malfoy and his friends made that possibility unlikely.

The most suspicious element in all this, though, was Grant. It had taken Rubeus half a lifetime to learn to mistrust anything Slytherins like him said or did, but he had learned. He hadn't understood at first, after the incident with the Chamber of Secrets, how Riddle had used him; how the charming Slytherin Prefect had deceived him and pretended to be his friend just so he could win his trust and later set him up. It had been many years later, when Tom Riddle had become You-Know-Who and Dumbledore had shared with Rubeus his suspicions about who had been truly responsible for killing Myrtle, that he had understood. And he hadn't trusted another Slytherin after that. Even Snape, whom Rubeus trusted not to do anything Dumbledore would disapprove of, always made him feel the need to watch his back and check for traps, and Grant... he didn't trust him to any degree. The new Head Boy was a lot like Snape, in many ways —which wasn't exactly trust-inspiring—, but in other ways he was a lot like Riddle had been: too neat, too careful, too good with words. Always with a ready argument to counter any accusations and a ready witness to corroborate anything he said. Always sticking to the rules and keeping his hands clean. Perfect on paper. Technically blameless in all the incidents he found himself involved.

So of course Rubeus suspected him.

Everything Grant said about Gryffindors, McLaggen and the Weasleys might be true or valid, but that didn't mean he was right. And it didn't mean he wasn't lying or hiding something. The Slytherin sounded certain that no first years had slipped past him and gotten into the carriages, so he must believe the missing kids were still around, and yet he didn't seem in any rush to find them. Grant was just standing there, bickering with Edwards, plainly not worried about the disappearance of the Malfoy Heir even though he had admitted to have been looking after the kid. And he had opposed the idea of searching the woods...

"We'll search the forest," he decided, not a single doubt inside his mind. "Lottie, you stay watching the others, the rest spread out. Grant, you come with me."

"You can't order me around, Hagrid," said the Head Boy haughtily. "You don't have authority over me, on the contrary: you have to follow my orders now."

"Grant!" admonished Edwards.

"What?" said the boy defensively. "It's true. He's just the Gamekeeper, not a proper member of staff. He's below us."

"Don't be a prat!"

"I'm just stating the facts. Hagrid is not even a proper wizard. I won't follow orders from someone who couldn't transfigure a teapot even if he were allowed to carry a wand."

Rubeus felt his face burn with humiliation, but he didn't let his shame distract him. It was obvious to him now that the slimy Slytherin was playing for time, baiting them into arguments so they would forget what they should be focusing on. Snape often distracted Professor McGonagall that way, when he wanted to avoid a subject long enough to be saved by the bell, and Rubeus would bet his crossbow that Grant was doing the same now, delaying the search on purpose so they wouldn't be able to catch Lucius Malfoy's heir in the act of doing whatever nastiness he was doing. He probably knew exactly where the missing kids were, but he was giving Malfoy time to wrap things up and wash his hands before strolling back on his own as if he had just gone to the bathroom.

"You," growled Rubeus moving to loom over the corrupt Head Boy, who just glared up at him in challenge, knowing himself untouchable. "You'll come with me if you don't want to lose that badge. And you better start pointing in the right direction, you nasty piece of scum!"

"Hagrid!"

"He knows something!" he snarled, barely resisting the urge to throttle the boy. Snape had threatened to burn his house to the ground with Fang still inside if he put a finger on one of his precious Slytherins ever again. Rubeus didn't think Snape would actually hurt Fang —the professor seemed to have grown reluctantly fond of the hound over the last month— but he wasn't about to risk some other form of retaliation by harming his favourite student.

"No, Hagrid, look!" said Lottie urgently. "Isn't that one of the missing students?"

Rubeus swirled wildly around, his heart giving a jump when he saw a small boy stumbling his way towards them along the platform. He came from the direction of the carriages, so it couldn't be one of the already accounted students that had strayed from the group, and he was holding something that might be the toad the bossy girl had mentioned.

A few strides and seconds later Rubeus was kneeling and fussing over the boy, who indeed had a toad clutched against his chest —and who bore such a strong resemblance to sweet little Alice on her first day of school that it was almost painful to look at him.

"Aye, it's Neville, I'm sure," he said in response to the Head Girl's pressing inquiries. "He looks just like his mum, bless her. Neville, can you hear me? Are you hurt? Where are the others?"

Rubeus checked the kid for injuries head to toe, but to his immense relief he didn't find any blood, pain or signs of hexing. The boy was clammy cold, though, and shaking like a leaf.

"What's wrong with him?" whispered someone behind him.

"He's in shock, obviously," drawled Grant derisively, although there was worry in his voice.

"Lottie, go fetch something sweet from your cart," ordered M. Hobbs. "The lad looks as if he had just seen a Dementor."

"Neville, can you hear me?" asked Rubeus again, idly noticing that the boy had his father's eyes, not Alice's like he had thought at first. "What happened? Where are the others? That friend of yours, Evan, where is he?"

"He's not my friend," mumbled Neville as tears streamed down his face.

"Where is he?" insisted Rubeus. "Is he hurt? Where are the other boys, Neville?"

"I-I can't... He..." the kid choked down a sob and hugged his toad more tightly. "He... he told me not to tell. He'll hurt me..."

Rubeus cursed all the Slytherin scum in the world under his breath. Malfoy's evil spawn hadn't even been sorted yet and he was already terrorizing and threatening his schoolmates.

"No one is going to hurt you, Neville," he assured him. "I was friends with your mum and dad, you know. I'll make sure you're safe. But you have to tell us where the others are."

The boy was well and properly terrified, though. Rubeus had never seen a kid so scared. Nor so haunted. Just when he was about to give up and go search the forest blindly, however —at least now he had an idea of which area to search—, Neville spoke.

"He... he said he's getting what he deserves," he whispered. "But it's not... it's not right to hurt people... I think."

"Course it's not right," agreed Rubeus impatiently. "Tell me where they are, Neville, so I can go help your friend."

More tears escaped the boy's eyes, and he began to shake his head.

"Are they in the woods?" insisted Rubeus, jiggling him a little to snap him out of the shock. "Tell us where, Neville!"

"You're scaring him, Hagrid," scolded Edwards, stepping between them and trying to push him aside. Rubeus reluctantly moved out of the way, and watched as the Head Girl knelt in front of the kid and spoke to him in a gentle voice. "Neville, can you look at me? Everything is going to be all right, I promise. But we need you to help us now. I heard your parents were Aurors, very brave ones. Aurors help people, you know? They protect them from getting hurt." The boy choked down a sob and nodded slowly. "Can you be brave like them now, Neville? Can you help us find the other boys before anyone gets hurts?"

Rubeus had never pictured Edwards like the maternal type, but plainly she had the instinct lying in wait just beneath the skin, like most females of most species. And it worked like a charm on little Neville, who relaxed visibly under her gentleness and stopped trembling almost completely in the course of seconds. By the time Lottie rushed back carrying a selection of sweets and drinks to help with the shock, the boy looked much more composed and was brushing away the tears with his sleeve.

"You should hurry," he croaked urgently, looking at the Head Girl with big imploring eyes. "I think... I think they're going to kill him."


Grant was hard on his heels.

The Slytherin's lazy attitude had been replaced by focused determination the moment the possibility of dead children had been suggested, no doubt aware that no amount of influence or wealth would be enough to save the Malfoy Heir from the consequences of killing a fellow student. If someone died, the young criminal would be expelled before he could even get sorted, no question about it, and the incident would stay in his record forever, affecting his entire future the way Myrtle's death had affected Rubeus'.

While the Head Boy was likely worried about the would-be-murderer, Rubeus could only think about the impending victim. He had never met Evan Roberts, nor anyone with that last name that he recalled, so he couldn't imagine what the boy looked like, but he pictured him inside his head like another Neville, the image constantly flicking to memories of all the dead people —too many of them barely more than children— that he had seen through his life. Praying he would not get there too late. Praying he would not have to carry a lifeless child all the way up to the castle, like he had carried so many dead bodies during the war.

He had prepared himself for the worst while he ran, but he was still not prepared to see what he saw when he turned the far corner of the old building station. Of course he had seen much worse during the war, horrors too gruesome to describe, but it had been a long while, and somehow the fact that they were all children on their first day of school made the sight a lot harder on the eyes.

The first detail Rubeus managed to register, after trying in vain to take in the whole scene, was the odd angle of one of the arms. Normal arms couldn't flex that way, he was sure, so it must be broken or dislocated. The second detail he noticed were the limp feet, which belonged to a small body currently lying on the ground, bloody and unmoving. There was a burly boy on top of it, both hands closed around the slim neck in an ongoing attempt to choke the life out of his victim.

Close by stood another stocky boy, holding a knife in one hand if Rubeus' eyes didn't fail him.

"Expelliarmus!" yelled Edwards behind him before he could react in any way.

The knife flew past his head as he rushed forward to disentangle the kids. The one straddling the inert boy was too occupied strangling him as to notice anything else, so he didn't react to Rubeus' approach until he was upon him, and then his only visible reaction was to tighten his grip on the kid's throat, as if determined to finish suffocating him no matter what. Rubeus indeed had trouble breaking his hold on the victim, but he managed, and next moment he was dangling the perpetrator in midair, trying hard not to send him crashing against a tree. He heard Edwards shout another disarming spell, and a wand came flying from the left, but Rubeus barely registered the presence of a fourth boy crouching defensively by the tree line, occupied as he was staring down at the strangled child in search of any signs of life.

"Fuck," swore Grant next to him, throwing himself over the unconscious kid. "Malfoy! Can you hear me? Malfoy! Draco!"

Rubeus staggered in confusion. Malfoy?

"That's Malfoy?" asked Edwards in shock, giving voice to his confusion. "Is he-?"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," kept swearing the Head Boy as he fussed over the blond boy trying to reanimate him. "Yes, it's fucking Malfoy, and he's not breathing!" Grant put two fingers under the kid's jaw and seemed to hold his own breath. "He doesn't have a pulse either, fuck!"

Frantic, the Slytherin began to push down with both hands on the small chest, pumping the heart from the outside in a desperate attempt to restart it. Rubeus recognized it as a muggle resuscitation technique, and despite knowing that Grant was a half-blood he was rather shocked to see another Slytherin using it. He also didn't have much faith in the resurrecting method. The only time he had seen Snape trying to save someone that way, the victim had stayed dead, and while that had been somewhat expected —it had been a DADA teacher at the end of the school year— the failure had confirmed Rubeus' serious doubts that Muggles could restart hearts with just their hands.

He had tried it himself anyway, one time when his desperation had been stronger than his skepticism, but the old Thestral had stayed dead too, and the stupid hope had only made harder to accept it.

Hope was all they had now, though. The only other thing Rubeus could think of doing was to snatch up the kid and run as fast as he could up to the castle, to Poppy, but he doubted she would be able to do anything if he brought to her a patient that had long stopped breathing and beating. Besides, Grant seemed to know what he was doing, and the Head Girl hadn't objected to the manoeuvre, so Rubeus figured he should just wait and hope Professor Burbage was right in that Muggles could do without magic things that most wizards couldn't.

"What do I do, Grant?" was asking Edwards anxiously, sounding on the verge of hysterics, "How do I help? I've never- I don't really know CPR, what-?"

"You can help shutting the fuck up!" snapped the Head Boy. "And watching my back. Don't let any of those murderous kids stab me or curse me while I do this!"

Grant interrupted his pumping of the chest and moved to loom over the blond head instead. Someone —most likely the little ruffian Rubeus was holding, judging by his bloody knuckles— had broken the kid's nose, so there was blood everywhere, but that didn't put off the businesslike Slytherin, who simply brushed away some of the blood before pinching the nose shut and leaning over to breathe some air into the boy's mouth. He did that twice, then took a moment to fix the broken nose with a flick of his wand and resumed the furious chest pushing, seeming to count the compressions under his breath.

For endless minutes, Grant seemed to be the only person alive in that nightmarish scene, everyone else standing quiet and still while he struggled to bring a dead child back to life.

Rubeus felt numb. Part of his brain was trying to make sense of the situation, wondering how the Malfoy kid had ended up being the victim, who were the boys that had attacked him, how had Neville managed to escape unscathed... He kept an eye on the redhead that stood frozen at the edge of the forest, in case the boy tried to bolt —his stance was very reminiscent of a unicorn about to take flight—, wondering if that one could be Evan Roberts and why wasn't he the one lying broken on the ground.

He couldn't really process any of those conundrums, though. As he watched the increasingly agitated Slytherin alternate between chest pushing, mouth breathing and angry swearing, his only clear thought was that the blond kid lying on the ground didn't have a pulse, and any moment now Grant would have to accept that, just like Rubeus had had to accept the death of that old Thestral.

"Maybe I should go get help," suggested Edwards hesitantly when the tension became unbearable.

"No," rasped Grant, sounding out of breath, "I might need you to switch places with me."

"Grant..." tried Rubeus, feeling suddenly sorry for the nasty Slytherin, who despite everything was still just a kid. Too young to understand about death. "Maybe you should stop that. Sometimes people just die. You can't save-"

"Shut up, Hagrid!" snarled the Head Boy without stopping what he was doing. "Why don't you do something useful instead of just standing there? Run up to the castle and bring Pomfrey here, fast! Professor Snape too!"

Rubeus hesitated. He liked the idea of running to fetch Poppy or Dumbledore —not so much Snape, who was going to go berserk when he learned about the Malfoy kid—, but he wasn't sure he should leave all these students here alone. Grant looked unhinged to say the least, and while the boy didn't have a violent record Rubeus knew that he was just as ill-tempered as Snape, with a tendency to take out his frustrations and anger on whoever was unfortunate enough to be around when something flipped his lid. Edwards could handle herself, but she might not be able to take down Grant if the Slytherin lost it and tried to harm everyone involved in Malfoy's death —which was likely to happen when he finally accepted that the Malfoy Heir was in fact already dead.

Rubeus was still trying to decide what to do when the Head Boy paused again to breathe more air into the kid's mouth. The small chest rose and fell like in a normal breath, but it was like inflating a balloon, one made of flesh.

"Damn you, Malfoy!" growled Grant as he pulled back. "You're a bloody wizard, you can't die like this!"

The Slytherin leaned over the unresponsive boy again. This time, though, he seemed to breathe in more than just air, judging by the burst of white light that brightened the gloomy scene when their mouths connected.

And the resulting gasp was the closest thing to a miracle Rubeus had ever witnessed.

"Oh, thank God," exhaled Edwards with relief when the resurrected child let out a low groan. "Bloody hell, Grant, what did you-"

"Not now, Edwards," growled the Slytherin, who had also sagged in relief and was checking the boy's pulse again. "Malfoy, can you hear me? Draco?"

The Malfoy kid whined in response. He was breathing on his own now, moving his limbs, a living heart no doubt beating inside his chest. Rubeus couldn't believe it. So many times he had wanted to bring back people that were beyond saving... this was the first time he saw it happen. Of course he had seen Poppy and Dumbledore —and Snape— save people from the brink of death, but never like this. Never someone who had already passed over to the other side.

It didn't seem fair that it was the rotten spawn of a Death Eater who had been brought back while so many better people were still dead, though. And, impressed as he was by the miracle Grant had pulled off, Rubeus felt simultaneously indignant at the absolute certainty that the new Head Boy would not have fought half so hard to save the kid if it had been little Neville the one lying on the ground without a pulse. Slytherins were fiercely protective creatures, but they only looked after their own. They were willing to go to any lengths to shield or avenge someone under their protection, but they would hardly move a finger to help a random person they had no personal interest in.

Selfish bastards, the lot of them.

"Don't move another muscle," hissed Grant suddenly, his tone dangerous. "No one goes anywhere until this situation is clarified."

The warning had been addressed to the redhead boy, who —probably guessing that the time for explanations was approaching— had begun to creep away from the scene. Grant would have none of that, though. The Malfoy Heir was still mostly unresponsive and in clear need of a visit to the Infirmary, but plainly Grant thought there wasn't so much rush now that the kid was breathing on his own because he had climbed back to his feet and seemed determined to 'clarify the situation' before taking any other steps.

"You're Roberts?" he asked in a threatening tone. His wand was out, noticed Rubeus with uneasiness, wondering whether he would have to tackle the Slytherin and fearing what Snape would do in retaliation.

The red-haired boy nodded warily.

"Explain what happened here."

"Those boys were bullying Neville," said Roberts, his eyes flickering between Grant, Edwards and Rubeus as if trying to decide who was the biggest threat. "The blond one was threatening to kill his toad. I distracted them and told Neville to run. He..." he pointed at the unconscious Malfoy. "He got angry and told the others to take my wand and beat me. I thought they were going to, but instead they turned around and started to beat him." The boy shrugged. "I was about to run for help when you all showed up."

Grant regarded Roberts mistrustfully for a long moment before turning to the other boys.

"You're Crabbe and Goyle, right?" he verified. They both nodded. "Why did you attack Malfoy? Isn't he your friend? Your liege?"

"We're not his servants," spat the one Rubeus was holding. "He treated us like brainless minions, not like friends. Sent us to do his dirty work... We had to beat up people in the train, and steal a toad, and then he made us drag the toad boy here, and he wanted us to break that other boy's wand..."

"He called us useless posts when we refused," chimed in the other boy. "And he's always saying he's more important than us, threatening to make his father hurt our families if we don't obey. We figured if he was dead he couldn't tell his father anything."

Any sympathy Rubeus might have developed towards the Malfoy brat was instantly replaced by the deepest loathing. He berated himself for having forgotten even for an instant what a bunch of self-important bullies the Malfoys were, and despised Grant all the more for catering to them. He almost wished Neville had refused to tell them where to find them, or that Grant had failed to resurrect the kid, and cursed again the unfair fortune of evil people, who so often survived and thrived while decent people struggled and died.

Not that Rubeus wished death to any kid, but... well, it was hard to see how the death of this particular kid would have been a bad thing. At the very least, Malfoy's beating seemed well-deserved, if he had intended to beat someone else, especially at the hands of his own lackeys.

Serves him right, entitled little bully. Just like his father when he was at school.

The situation had been completely clarified, but Grant didn't look happy at all with the explanation. Serves him right too. Rubeus didn't understand (nor cared) much about Slytherin politics, and like most people he knew little and less of what went on inside that nest of snakes, but he understood enough to know that two lesser purebloods rebelling against a Malfoy would stir a lot of trouble inside Slytherin House. Add to that Lucius Malfoy's likely response when he learned that his sole Heir had almost died because Grant had delayed the search on purpose, and the Head Boy would not be having an easy first term.

"No one is to mention this incident," said the Slytherin after a brief internal deliberation, clearly thinking along the same lines than Rubeus. "Crabbe and Goyle will come with us directly to the castle. You," he said looking at the red-haired boy, "not a word about this to anyone. Tell your friend Longbottom to keep quiet too."

"You can't threaten students into silence, Grant," said Edwards in a hard tone.

"I'm not threatening anyone," retorted Grant, glaring at her. "I'm just telling you all how it's going to be until the Headmaster is informed about this incident and he decides how to handle it. Any problem with that?"

The Head Girl pursed her lips, but didn't object further. Rubeus resisted a bit longer, not liking the idea of letting any of these nasty Slytherins escape the consequences of their misdeeds, but he knew that the Headmaster preferred to be informed about any incidents before the rumours spread so in the end he grunted his assent.

He fully intended to file a complaint against Grant, though.

"Good. Edwards, you escort those two," continued the Head Boy, satisfied with their compliance. "Confiscate their wands and search them in case they have more knives. Hagrid, you take Roberts back to the others and get them on the boats. Don't tell anyone that Malfoy was injured, and try to keep Longbottom quiet."

Not waiting to see if anyone had a problem with his last set of instructions, Grant scooped up the injured boy —who groaned and whined in protest— and marched off. He went in the opposite direction they had come from, not following any recognizable trail, but Rubeus assumed his choice was based on sneakiness —no one would see him carrying the Malfoy Heir if he made his way to the carriages under cover of trees— rather than disorientation.

Edwards looked as annoyed as Rubeus felt being bossed around by the overbearing Slytherin, but they both resigned themselves to follow his unarguable instructions. Rubeus took care of searching the two boys for her, though, figuring it would be more appropriate —and safer too, if they were likely to pull out a knife during the search—, while she took care of checking Roberts for injuries. The red-haired boy categorically refused to be examined up close, though, assuring Edwards from a distance that he was fine and recoiling when she tried to approach. He also refused to let go of his rucksack when the Head Girl offered to put it back in the train so it could be delivered to the castle with the rest of the luggage.

Edwards was frustrated and concerned by the uncooperative attitude, but Rubeus told her to leave him alone —he had seen kids react like that after being bullied, and knew it was better to give them some space and not touch their stuff— so she ended up just returning Roberts his wand and telling him to go to the Infirmary later if he was hurt somewhere.

Oddly enough, the murderous kids didn't give any trouble whatsoever, surrendering their wands willingly and allowing themselves be thoroughly searched without complaint nor resistance. Rubeus had expected attitude from them, but instead they were both completely cooperative and followed Edwards' directions meekly when she marched them off after Grant.

If only misbehaved students were always so well-behaved.

And then they were just Rubeus and the mysterious Evan Roberts, who looked too much like a Weasley to not be a Weasley. Maybe the Roberts and the Weasleys were related somehow? Roberts sounded like a muggle last name, so perhaps he was a half-blood with a Weasley somewhere on the family tree? Or he might be a muggle-born with no connection to the Weasleys at all, even if that shade of red pretty much screamed Weasley.

There was something familiar about him, though, something besides the hair...

Rubeus was trying to put a finger on whom the kid reminded him of when the light suddenly went off. He blinked in the unexpected darkness, cursing this horrible day when apparently everything that could go wrong was going to go wrong. Even things that supposedly couldn't go wrong, like these magical lights turning off on their own while it was still dark. Rubeus had thought nothing —except perhaps Dumbledore's wicked put outer— could affect these lights, and yet they had gone out now. Tonight of all nights.

"Nothing to worry about," he said calmly to the no longer visible kid. "I'll get us both out of here. Just follow my voice and take my hand. Come this way..."

He continued guiding the boy with his voice while he rummaged in his pockets for a lantern and some matches. Roberts didn't reply, though, and Rubeus didn't hear him coming closer either, which was exasperating but not really surprizing considering the kid's previous attitude. No doubt the boy was rooted to his place, frightened, waiting for someone to go get him-

A branch snapped somewhere around, too far away and too much to the right to be the kid stumbling his way to him. Rubeus knew that there wasn't anything more dangerous than wildcats in these woods, but he was immediately on high alert nonetheless, listening carefully for anything approaching while he willed his eyes to adjust to the darkness fast. He tried to discern the shape of the boy where he had last seen him, torn between calling for him and keeping quiet just in case there was something stalking them, but he couldn't see the kid anywhere, and now he was sure whatever was making noise out there was moving away from them instead of-

Understanding hit him like lightning: hard and sudden and hair-raising.

Crap.


It felt unreal, to be chasing a wayward child through the gloomy Hogsmeade forest while everyone up in the castle no doubt were anxiously waiting for the Welcoming Feast to begin. While another child was being transported to the Infirmary after having been strangled and miraculously resurrected on his first day of school.

Rubeus ran as fast as he could run without hitting too many trees, following the sounds of breaking branches and crunched leaves, calling for the fugitive student to stop. The boy was making a lot of noise, plainly prioritizing speed over stealth, and he was being constantly slowed down or forced to change direction by the unfamiliar terrain, so it didn't take too long to catch up with him, but still Rubeus was rather impressed by how much distance the little runway managed to cover in such short time.

Fast as the kid was, however, he was no match for Rubeus' long legs, and unlike Rubeus he didn't know the forest, so eventually he found himself cornered between a boulder and a thick clump of trees.

"Stop right there!" rasped Rubeus as he moved to block the boy's retreat. "No more running!"

There wasn't enough light to see Roberts' face, but Rubeus could make out his shape and posture, the way he was crouched defensively against the rock, and despite his annoyance at the whole situation he felt his heart constrict at the sight.

Driving a frightened creature into a corner, threatening to overpower it while blocking all avenues of escape, was a cruel and dangerous thing to do. Some animals, like deers and unicorns, could just drop dead from the fright if one wasn't careful. They had to be captured sometimes, when they got hurt or needed to be closely watched for some reason, but Rubeus always hated putting them through that even if it was for their own sake.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, lad," he murmured softly, using the extra-soothing tone that in his experience could calm even the most fearful unicorn. "Your name is Evan, right? I'm Rubeus, but you can call me Hagrid like everyone else. I'm the gamekeeper at Hogwarts, you know, and it's also my job to escort the first years to the castle on their first day. I know you had a bit of a fright, but I'll make sure you get there safely, all right?"

"I'm not going to that school," declared Roberts, his voice firmer than Rubeus would have expected from a boy so scared. "So stop chasing me. Turn around and walk away!"

Rubeus could feel a headache building up inside his skull. Sometimes dealing with the little brats really grated on his nerves, but he didn't remember his head hurting this way since the war.

"Course you're going to school," he said gruffly. "Where else would you go? Now come, it's getting late and everyone is waiting for us. Don't want to be late for your sorting, do you?"

"I'm not going!"

"Yes you are!"

"NO!"

The boy made a run for it, diving sideways and trying to slip past him, but Rubeus had good reflexes and was prepared this time so he reached out in time to catch him, clasping a hand on the kid's bony shoulder to stop his flight.

He had not been expecting to get burned, though, so he jerked his hand away by reflex, feeling slightly shocked and confused. Roberts took advantage of his surprize to slip away, so soon Rubeus was running after him again, feeling very much like a giant trying to catch a frenetic mouse. A mouse that was proving rather painful to touch.

"LET GO!" snarled the little fiend when Rubeus catched him again some distance away, twisting and flailing wildly in his grasp while the air crackled and sparkled around him.

"Not if you're gonna keep running!" Rubeus growled back, hissing when he got burned again but refusing to let go. "I'm not trying to hurt you, damn you, just keep still!"

Some creatures froze and could even drop dead from the fright when they were cornered. Others would fight tooth and nail to break free, lashing out with all they got and ramming against any obstacles not caring in the least if they broke a leg or fell off a cliff in the process.

Evan Roberts was clearly one of the latter. And not only did he bite, kick and scratch like a rabid Kneazle, he was a wizard who hadn't yet learned to control his magic. Struggling to keep a hold on the kid, ignoring all the blows and absorbing increasingly painful discharges of raw magic, was all Rubeus could do. He knew he was making things worse by restraining him, and he feared the boy might hurt himself trying to throw him off, but the alternative was to let him run away and that wasn't an option.

"OW!" he yelped, dropping the boy despite himself when burning fire suddenly flared up inside his arm. Or at least it felt that way. Rubeus couldn't see any actual fire nor smoke, but galloping gorgons that hurt.

And now Roberts was again sprinting away in the darkness. Rubeus felt really tempted to just let the little demon go, but that still wasn't an option so swearing under his breath he once more ran to catch him. This time he couldn't have lost him if he had tried, because the kid was still sort of... sparkling, his wild magic visibly gathered around him like a personal lighting storm. And indeed, when Rubeus made to grab the boy again he was flung back by a searing ray of electrified white light that looked very much like he imagined an actual lightning would look up close.

It definitely felt like being struck by lightning. Damn.

Rubeus didn't think he had ever taken a hit so hard before, not even during the war. He was pretty sure that he wouldn't have survived it if he were fully human, and even as a half-giant... Damn. Everything inside him hurt. He was also literally burning, his beard having caught fire on impact, but that didn't seem important at all, not when the flames were illuminating the fallen body of a child.

Panicked, Rubeus rushed forward, putting off his burning beard as he ran and praying to Merlin the boy's heart was still beating. Wishing Grant were still here to bring him back if that wasn't the case. Because Rubeus knew he couldn't do what the Slytherin had done to save the Malfoy kid. He would crush Robert's fragile chest at the first push, he just knew it, and even if he managed not to break him he could never breathe magic into him like Grant had done. Rubeus might heal creatures, save them sometimes, but it was true that he was no proper wizard, and he definitely was no miracle-maker.

Not even during the war had Rubeus ever felt so terrified as he felt now while blindly searching for any signs of life in the darkness. He had never felt so anguished by the possibility of death, so desperate to find a heartbeat, so choked by undeniable guilt. Myrtle had not been his fault, even if for many years he had half-feared it might have been. All the people he had seen die in the war had not been his fault, even if he would always feel he should have done more to try and save them. Malfoy's near-death experience had not been his fault, since Rubeus hadn't yet taken charge of the kid when it had happened. This, though... this was on him. If this boy died, it would be his fault, for scaring him, for chasing him, for cornering him and-

His imminent meltdown was brought to an abrupt halt when he caught what sounded like a heartbeat drumming hesitantly inside the small chest. Almost fainting with terrifying hope, Rubeus searched frantically for a pulse, and to his inexpressible relief his fumbling fingers eventually found one. It was weak, but it was there, he was certain, just like the heartbeat. Confirming the boy was also breathing turned out to be more tricky in the dark, but soon he was sure of that too.

The kid was alive. Unconscious and weak, unresponsive, but alive. Probably just sleeping off the magical exhaustion, realized Rubeus when his panicked mind had calmed down enough to allow coherent thought. He had never seen it first hand before, but he knew it happened sometimes, when young students cast too many spells in a row or experimented with magic too advanced for them. And Evan Roberts had definitely just performed a lot of really powerful magic, if accidentally.

Rubeus let out the breath he had been holding. It was going to be all right. The boy was going to make it. And, on the plus side, it was going to be a lot easier to deliver him to the school in this unresisting state. Rubeus could already predict another tantrum when the kid woke up, but by then it would be someone else's problem. He definitely didn't envy whoever turned out to be his Head of House —McGonagall, if he had to bet.

After checking Roberts' breathing and heartbeat one more time, Rubeus carefully scooped him up, feeling somewhat surprized at how light and skinny he was. The boy had fought like a creature a hundred times heavier and stronger, his magic lashing out like a force of nature, so Rubeus had expected a more sturdy frame, but he seemed so small now, so frail and harmless. It was hard to believe that the tiny child in his arms had nearly carbonized him just a moment ago.

Rubeus swallowed a lump in his throat when the memory of another child in his arms flooded his mind. Little Harry had been a lot smaller than this, but somehow it had felt very similar to hold him, probably because he had also resisted to be taken away and he had only stopped crying and struggling when exhaustion had overcome him. Harry had been a wild little thing, too, but once asleep he had seemed just as vulnerable as Evan Roberts seemed now. Rubeus had felt the same urge to protect him, to shield him from any more loss and fear and harm.

He wrestled with his emotions as he walked back to the platform carrying the unconscious child, trying to put himself together before he had to face all the other kids. The upsetting news about Harry not coming to Hogwarts had already had him on the verge of tears when the train had arrived tonight, and everything that had happened since then... Rubeus didn't remember the last time he had had such an emotionally harrowing day. Probably at the end of the war, that unforgettable day when he had had to step over the bodies of James and Lily Potter to pick up their orphan child. Or perhaps it had been their funeral, when everyone had been grieving and celebrating the tragedy at the same time. Or it might have been the day when he had heard about the Longbottoms, just when he had thought the nightmare was over...

Rubeus shook his head, chasing away the memories of so many horrible days. The ever-present fear of more horrible days still to come. Remembering what the Headmaster had once told him about putting the past to rest and the future on hold, he tried to focus on present matters instead, on people or creatures he could try to help now, like this kid in his arms, or Neville back in the platform, or Fluffy... He hoped the Headmaster would not insist on keeping the Cerberus locked up in the Third Floor for too long. Fluffy was a big boy, and still growing, he needed space to stretch his legs and play. Maybe Rubeus could get permission to take the poor thing out for a walk once a week? He would ask about it later tonight, when he went to file his complaint about Grant. He would ask too about sending Harry a birthday present, while he was at it, and maybe insist that Snape should search all his Slytherins for knives or other weapons.

Half an hour ago Rubeus would have also advocated for the expulsion of all the Slytherins involved in the Malfoy incident including Malfoy, but this last fright with Roberts had left him so emotionally shaken that he was no longer sure how he felt about the entire incident. He still thought any students that hurt or tried to kill others should be expelled, and the mental picture of little Neville crying and hugging his toad was a strong reminder of who was the real victim in this mess, but there were other, more conflicting images flying through his mind at the same time. Images of a blond boy lying limp and broken on the ground, of Grant brushing away the blood to breathe air into a strangled kid, of the other two boys confessing to have beaten up Malfoy because he had ordered them to beat up other people and they refused.

Rubeus knew they were all scum that deserved to face consequences for what they had done, but he couldn't muster any anger or loathing towards anyone at the moment, not even towards Slytherins. He suspected that since no one had permanently died the Headmaster wasn't going to expel anyone, but while that would have made him indignant half an hour ago he wasn't sure he would protest now. Because they were all just children, despite everything, and having been expelled himself as a child he didn't think he would wish that to any of them.

As long as they didn't do anything like this ever again, Rubeus could let it go.

He just didn't want anyone else to be hurt. He didn't want to have to carry any more dead or broken bodies.

Needing to make sure he was still carrying an alive child, Rubeus stopped again to check Roberts' pulse, and found with relief that the kid's heart not only was still working, it seemed to be beating a bit stronger. That was a good sign, he thought, sort of confirmation that Roberts was just recuperating from deep exhaustion. It worried him how ghastly pale the boy looked in the gloom, but his skin felt warm enough so Rubeus figured it must be just an effect of the eerie setting —his red hair, falling in a messy disarray over his young face, also looked colourless under the stars, so dark that if Rubeus didn't know better he would swear it was actually black.

As he watched the unconscious child in his arms, idly thinking that little Harry must be about the same size by now, he suddenly realized whom the kid had reminded him of before. It had been Lily Evans, with her long flaming hair, jumping to defend a friend in trouble without sparing a thought to the fact that she was just one girl facing a bunch of bigger boys. She would have tried to help Neville too, Rubeus was certain, and if her son was anything like her no doubt he would have done the same, except that not being a pretty girl Harry, like Evan Roberts, would also have been in danger of getting beaten in retaliation.

Beaten... or worse.

Rubeus felt a shiver run down his spine when full realization of what had happened tonight suddenly washed over him. A first year student had tried to kill a boy choking him to death with his bare hands. Another one had seemed ready to finish the job with a knife, if that didn't work. There had been no magic involved, no nasty curses of any kind, but Rubeus didn't think he had ever seen such clear murderous intent in a student. Even during the war, when there had been several ugly incidents involving Slytherins, all those junior Death Eaters had been careful not to go too far while still in Hogwarts, not doing anything their influential parents couldn't wave away with bribes or technicalities. In fact, as far as Rubeus knew, there hadn't been any serious murder attempts on students (by other students, that is, DADA teachers were another matter) since Myrtle.

Maybe those two boys, Crabbe and Goyle, should be expelled. They might be just children, and they might have done it for rather reasonable reasons, but for a kid to be capable of killing someone at that age, to make that decision and carry it through without trembling nor throwing up... there had to be something wrong with such a kid. Something warped deep inside, like there had been inside Tom Riddle. Like there was inside many other Slytherins. Rubeus had failed to see it in Riddle, but he had learned to look for it ever since, and he saw it sometimes in their eyes, that coldness, that wish to hurt. Normally they were careful about it, kept it locked inside and only took it out on creatures or during Quidditch matches, but it was always there, waiting for an excuse to be unleashed. Rubeus had seen many of those kids grow up to become Death Eaters, and he had his eye on several that he was certain would go the same way if You-Know-Who ever returned. A mental list that had just been extended by at least two names.

With a heavy sigh, Rubeus hoisted Evan Roberts in his arms and resumed his way back to the platform. Perhaps Dumbledore had good reason to send Harry somewhere else for his magical education, he thought as he tread carefully through the trees, occasionally shielding the kid's face with his hand to protect him from the branches. Lucius Malfoy's heir had turned out to be the unexpected victim tonight, but just as it could have easily been Neville or Roberts instead, if Harry had been here it could have been him the one choked to death —Rubeus doubted Grant would have tried to save him either—, and in his case for no other reason than his being Harry Potter. There were many students in Hogwarts related or connected to Death Eaters that had been imprisoned or killed as a consequence of You-Know-Who's downfall, children that might seek revenge on the Boy-Who-Lived be it on their own accord or instructed by their parents. There were many more who would want to see Harry Potter brought down to hurt Dumbledore or simply because of what he represented, many that might try to get rid of the kid before he could grow into his power and become a political force of his own.

Slytherin House had been rather subdued in the aftermath of the war, and ever since Snape had become Head of House there hadn't been any more serious incidents, but Rubeus had already noticed that the slimy snakes were growing bold again, daring to strike higher, to mock and bully people they wouldn't have dared to even look bad five years ago. People like Neville. Malfoy going after the son of two Aurors tortured to insanity by his own aunt was beyond daring, too confident for Rubeus' liking. It hadn't worked out well for the nasty brat, but not for lack of trying. And Malfoy certainly wasn't the only Slytherin who was growing bold. All those Death Eaters that had managed to stay out of Azkaban were now rubbing elbows with important people at the Ministry, taking positions of power again, criticizing Dumbledore more openly. Rubeus might not be much into politics, but he read the newspapers, and he heard the gossip late night at the Hog's. More than that, he noticed the things Slytherin students did, how they moved and talked when they strolled across the grounds, how they looked at him, at the Headmaster, at Muggle-borns and children of Aurors. There was so much scorn and resentment there, just like before.

It had started this way, You-Know-Who's gradual rise to power. Rubeus had seen it, never imagining how bad it would get, and it made him uneasy to see it happening again. It made him uneasy to see Malfoy's influence in the Board of Governors and the Ministry growing, and also, if he was honest with himself, to see Snape's influence inside Hogwarts growing. Rubeus trusted Dumbledore implicitly, so if the Headmaster said Snape could be trusted Rubeus would trust him —enough to let him borrow Fang, which was a lot of trust—, but still... there was always a persistent doubt in the back of his mind, a doubt that pulsed and throbbed in warning whenever he saw the former Death Eater exchanging evil pleasantries with his former associates. When he saw him looking away from the nasty things their children did, bailing them out of trouble, recommending them as Prefects or Head Boys even if they were rotten or corrupted, just because they were wealthy, or important, or bastards of some Death Eater friend of his like Grant.

Sometimes, Rubeus couldn't help wondering which side Snape was really on.

He had also heard him talk about Harry Potter, last year when the entire staff had been speculating about what it would like to have such a high profile celebrity in class, and judging by his snide, spiteful comments and the dark look in his eyes whenever someone mentioned James Potter it was clear that Snape had already decided to hate the kid just because of who his father was. Rubeus didn't think the professor would ever harm a student, but Snape could be very cruel to kids he didn't like, especially if they were Gryffindors connected to some old schoolmate he had hated. And while he probably would not have harmed Harry himself —not with more than words, that is—, Rubeus didn't think he would have moved a finger to keep him from harm either. He actually believed Snape perfectly capable of purposely looking the other way while his nasty students ganged up on the son of his old nemesis, just like Grant had pretended not to know what the Malfoy Heir had been up to in the woods. And with both their Head of House and their Head Boy passively encouraging things like what had happened tonight, some of the nastier Slytherins might have grown bold enough to try something serious on Harry Potter.

Rubeus could feel himself growing angry again. It wasn't right that Harry Potter of all people couldn't come to Hogwarts while all that Slytherin scum was allowed to attend. Dumbledore should kick them all out, shut down that entire House and transfer anyone sorted there to Durmstrang-

His internal rant got derailed and numerous worries pushed away his anger when he suddenly stepped out of the forest and noticed how dark the platform was. Rubeus had assumed only the one lamp behind the old building had gone off, but apparently the magic outage had affected the entire station and even the train, and the resulting darkness was unsettling to say the least. The only lights came from the far end of the station, where it looked like Lottie and the other people from the train might have cast a few spells to keep the area around the students illuminated.

As he made his way towards them, unable to dispel the fear of an ambush —lights going off had often announced You-Know-Who's arrival to a battle during the war— Rubeus prayed to Merlin no more students had wandered off while he was away. He also hoped little Neville had remained tight-lipped in his absence, not so much because Grant had instructed him to keep the boy quiet but because after some grim reflection Rubeus had come to agree that it would be best to keep this whole incident under wraps. Not to protect Malfoy or his murderous friends, but to protect all the rest of the students from other incidents that might follow if the idea of solving problems murdering schoolmates spread.

He also began to dread Professor McGonagall's reception when Rubeus delivered the first years over an hour late after having sent ahead an injured kid, especially if he arrived with another unconscious kid in arms. That fear wasn't enough to make him wish Roberts would wake up before they reached the castle, though, on the contrary. Rubeus really hoped the boy would remain firmly asleep, because he honestly had no idea how to handle this particular creature and he feared the kid might nor survive another struggle.

Despite all his immediate worries, however, his mind was still far away as he neared the group of bored students, wondering where Harry was right now, whether he was still in Britain or had already been portkeyed to another country. If he was sad that he didn't get to come to Hogwarts like his mum and dad.

Holding another child in his arms just like he had held little Harry as a baby, Rubeus hoped wherever he was, Harry was safe and cared for.