Authors' Note:
Heya lovelies! We know it's been a while but a new chapter is finally completed and we're really excited to share it with you!
(Chapter 8 is when things really get started though, not saying any more hehe.)
Enjoy this chapter, and see you in the next one!
Disclaimer: The universe and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.
Betas: thepumat. Thank you again for your kind help.
Chapter 7
On the Founders' portraits:
1) All existing portraits are fake.
2) Blame Godric. He can't fucking draw (much to Sal's dismay; he has yet to stop trying.)
3) Worst of all: it spreads.
SHUT DOWN AT GRINGOTTS
Late last night, Gringotts, the famous wizards' bank, was made inaccessible to all after goblins went haywire as they were working the night shift. The Aurors contacted for this most peculiar case are still investigating the reason for their outbursts.
Thanks to our Aurors' quick thinking in raising protective wards, no one on Diagon Alley was injured, and fewer casualties were made at the bank itself. Only six people out of the 25 victims suffered major injuries. The unfortunate wizards are already being treated at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Three of them remain in a critical state, and Healers are keeping an eye on the progress of the patients' recovery as of now.
Our witness, Curse-Breaker William Weasley, survived the fight. "My colleagues and I arrived at 11 p.m., as usual," he told us. "Trouble started happening around 11:30. We did our best to calm the situation as much as possible."
Such strong wards were used by our Aurors that all in and outbound have been stopped. Thus, from here on out, we encourage everyone to stay away from the Bank. Unfortunately, with no way to communicate with the goblins, the Aurors are still unable to determine the cause of the outburst. For the duration of the investigation, patrols will be conducted around the area for the safety of all. We do not expect the problem to arise again.
However, faithful readers, we promise to get to the bottom of this and dig up the truth on the matter.
More information on how the dealings of financial affairs are to be handled can be found on page 3.
Article written by Barnabas Cuffe.
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Although the news was all over the castle in less than a minute, somehow, Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge still missed it. Pity, for said news was of utmost importance.
Unbeknownst to her, a meeting would be held regarding the place of the two strangers at Hogwarts. And for once, it wasn't a one-person job. Albus Dumbledore would need the counsel of his staff to come to a unanimous decision. Thus, all the other teachers were called to the Teachers' Lounge to talk about it. Gathered in the tiny but cosy room, everyone seemed a bit fidgety, incapable of staying still, though no one dared raise their concerns first. Albus Dumbledore finally sat and all eyes turned to him.
"My friends. Thank you for coming in such haste, I know the hour is late and I hope to settle this matter quickly."
He cleared his throat.
"The situation with the strangers has not yet been cleared, but I wanted to share what we already know or suspect on the matter. It has come to my attention that some of you were worried about the safety of our students despite my reassurances." He let his eyes slide on each of them. "I believe I know who they are, and given what knowledge I already have of them, can say for certain they are not here to cause us harm."
Albus let them take the information in, seeing several heads nodding in agreement, others sporting confused or thinking expressions.
Filius rose from his seat to ask, "How can you be so certain, Albus?"
Albus smiled, his eyes shining fervently.
"The strangers were recognised by two of our castle's residents. They agreed to vouch for them."
"Who, Albus?" Pomona asked in a kind voice.
He took a breath and released it slowly. "Helena Ravenclaw and the Bloody Baron."
Hushed whispers coursed among the teachers and a few of them raised an eyebrow.
"Helena Ravenclaw? The Grey Lady?" Charity chirped. "She came back?"
"She never left," Minerva interrupted harshly, shoulders tense. She didn't have a lot of patience when Charity was concerned. "What could she want to do with the Bloody Baron?"
A few teachers nodded, as confused as her. Severus twitched.
"I wasn't able to ask, I'm afraid. Both were two worried about the strangers."
She had a point, however, and it raised one more concern, one too many, if you asked him.
It was Minerva's turn to speak next. "Who could these two be vouching for?"
The Headmaster surveyed the group of teachers sitting in front of him and told them in his most serious tone, "Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin."
There was a terse silence among them. Most looked thoughtful, others accepted the news as fact. Severus rose to speak up when a portrait scrunched his nose, a confused expression on his features.
"You mean to say you didn't know?"
"Should we have?" Albus said and the man depicted pursed his lips, looking obviously displeased. He made a light noise of understanding and went back to staring sideways, completely ignoring them.
"Their identities have yet to be confirmed," Severus retorted. "They're both… unreachable for the moment."
"Unreachable?" Pomona repeated.
"He means unconscious, I think," Filius whispered to a wide-eyed Trelawney.
"Not quite," a voice stated at the door.
They turned as one towards the room's entrance, taking in the sight. Poppy was supporting one of the strangers—Salazar—who was struggling to stay upright. Gently, she led him to sit on a chair close to the group. Although he was awake and more alert than Albus remembered seeing him, Salazar still appeared weakened by the ordeal. His hair was in disarray, his face was still ashen, though it had regained some colour, and his eyes were red-rimmed and slightly sunken. The man seemed to be struggling to catch his breath as he sat on the chair, observing them carefully.
"Ah, Poppy," greeted Albus, inviting her in. The mediwitch was careful to close the door behind her. He nodded to the other man. "And Salazar, I presume?"
The founder of Slytherin House gave him an appraising look but eventually nodded back. "You are correct."
Someone gasped and the man in the painting nodded slightly in his direction but Salazar was too occupied surveying the room to notice.
"The Salazar Slytherin?" Cuthbert choked out. "How can this be?"
Salazar frowned, looking directly at him.
"I am Salazar Slytherin, as for if I am the one you're asking after, I cannot ascertain. There might have been one after me or another one entirely, how could I know? I am only who I claim to be and nothing more."
Minerva rolled her eyes.
"And are you always so dramatic?" She asked pointedly, ignoring the fact that she was—maybe?—talking to one of the most important (and infamous) figures in Britain's history.
"I like to make an entrance," Salazar smiled gently, his eyes telling another story entirely.
Minerva huffed. "You wouldn't be the only one," she muttered under her breath, giving Albus a side-eye. He smiled in reply.
"I must say, I am quite surprised to see such an esteemed figure roaming the castle at this point in time. Would it be possible for you to explain what happened for this situation to arise?"
Salazar raised an eyebrow at the choice of words. "Esteemed?" he asked. "I am no more esteemed than any of you here." Charity blushed at this. "This sanctuary welcomes any and all in need of shelter."
"Of course, of course," Albus said. "However I'm afraid you did not answer my question." He smiled.
Pomfrey rolled her eyes, though her curiosity was piqued as well. She turned her gaze to her patient.
Salazar crossed his legs, the corner of his lips raising slightly.
"You're not easily fooled, I see. My apologies."
"No need, no need." Salazar bowed his head.
"I understand your concern and inquisitiveness. I will make sure to answer your questions to the best of my ability, you have my word."
As he was saying this, a purplish dust cloud swirled around the fist he had pressed to his heart.
Severus stiffened.
He made sure the group was focused on his words and started his tale.
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The late afternoon wind was chilly as Harry, Ron and Hermione sat clustered against each other in the stands surrounding the now empty Quidditch pitch. Harry sat in between his two best friends, the Marauders' Map open on his lap.
"Here," he was pointing at a name in the Hospital Ward. "I told you I saw those names earlier."
Hermione frowned and tightened her wool scarf around her neck. "How can they be here? It doesn't make sense."
"But the Map doesn't lie!" Harry exclaimed. Ron nodded, eyes flickering between the Hospital Ward and the nerve-wracking tracks of their Potions teacher, walking back and forth in his office.
"The Map doesn't lie," Hermione said. She pointed to 'Salazar Slytherin' and slid her finger to 'Godric Gryffindor'. "If they really are who they are, then something must have happened."
Her eyes shone with interest.
"Oh no. I know that look." Ron raised his arms in defeat as Hermione shot up, a bright smile on her face.
"You know where to find me!"
She dashed back towards the castle, her silhouette shrinking to a dot the farthest she ran. Ron sighed.
"Why do I have a feeling our common room is going to be crawling under piles of books once we get back there?"
Harry grinned at him, folding the Map after clearing it. He stood up and stretched, revealing a patch of skin on his belly where his shirt rose up.
"Anyway, I'm starved and it's nearly dinner time. Let's go." He extended a hand to Ron, who eagerly took it with a grin of his own. Any mention of food always lifted his spirits.
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Three seats were vacant, though they had been for quite a long time now. Adorned with silver coats of arms, the red velvet of the chairs was brightly lit by the numerous candles and other strange tokens scattered across the room. The soft clacking of a walking stick on the floor echoed dully and heads turned politely towards the chimney. Identifying the newcomer, their faces blanked, countenance all very proper and courteous.
The man's stormy eyes scanned the people present in the room, like a vulture hunting prey. Seemingly satisfied with the number he came up with, he gave a short nod to the Head of Session before calmly walking to his seat. As he walked under the gaze of the others, his long brown hair adorned with a white streak put up in a ponytail, revealing his peculiar pointy ears, swung elegantly at his back.
The room resumed its quiet chatter.
Seated at his side, Horace Slughorn extended a polite hand to greet him. "Pleasure to see you in attendance, Lord Rookwood."
Victor gave him a sideways glance, sighing minutely and ignoring the hand. "I am no Lord," was the only answer the not-Lord gave before turning his attention towards Kingsley Shacklebolt. Horace closed his hand.
Across from them, Kingsley pulled fondly on Lord Greengrass' hair, and his action was received by a glare. By his side, Lady Greengrass, who was in every way the exact copy of her brother, rested her chin on her palm, a snarl on her lips.
Kingsley smiled and then turned towards the assembly. The session was about to begin. He rejoined his seat and Slughorn stood up as Lord Greengrass sat down. Xenophilius inclined his head in greeting and did too. The last one standing squirmed a little before slouching in his own chair.
"First of all, I would like to thank you for your commitment."
Ollivander hummed thoughtfully and eyed the newspaper Xenophilius fiddled with nervously. Shacklebolt cleared his throat and a slight frown appeared on his forehead.
"I'll get to the point. We've all heard of what happened at Gringotts." There were a few nods but they otherwise stayed silent, awaiting further information. "Since Ollivander was there, I'll let him tell the events in more detail."
He sat down and the wand maker stood up, speaking loud and clear for the audience to hear. "When the alarm rang at the Bank, I did what I could to contain it but it was already too late. Too many were injured. They weren't prepared, Kingsley. The Aurors and our people. They forgot what it was like."
"They didn't forget, our ancestors made sure they wouldn't remember, and you know that," Addfwyn said, irritated.
"Our ancestors weren't directly under the threat of the Anomaly. The pertinence of their directives are theoretical at best," Xenophilius said. "We need to adjust our decisions and consider every eventuality."
"True enough." Horace nodded.
There were a few silent seconds, then Ollivander spoke. "I can confirm that the goblins were affected, just like our ancestors said they would be. At the time, there was nothing more I could do than raise the appropriate wards."
A few murmurs rose and Kingsley rose back from his seat, speaking over them. "If we don't act now, it's the entire Wizarding World that will be in peril. It is our duty to make the right decisions and prevent It from causing more damage." There were nods of approval and he kept speaking. "The Auror Office is already on high alert and with Umbridge in placement elsewhere, the Aurors have more room to work efficiently between the Hospital and Diagon Alley. We don't need more victims from another outburst."
Lord Greengrass tilted his head.
"I can make it work for Hogwarts." Kingsley raised an eyebrow at that and he smirked. "Lucius owes me one or two favours."
"Of course he does," grumbled Rowle who had been oddly quiet until then.
"I'll monitor the public opinion and the Wizengamot," stated Xenophilius with a nod.
"And I, our progress in the Department of Mysteries," added Lord Rookwood, raising his chin.
"Thank you." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "What happened back then cannot happen again."
Rowle grunted. "And that's why I'm going to make sure none of those beasts lose their damn mind."
Lady Greengrass furrowed her brows.
"Creatures are not the only ones affected and you know it, dumbass."
"You're right, Add… Addwin… Adeline…" Slughorn coughed and wiped his forehead. "Lady Greengrass."
"It's Addfwyn," Lord Rockwood said in a quiet voice, and the room fell silent for a few moments.
All looked at him, surprised to hear him speak up. Even Lady Greengrass glanced at him with redness in her cheeks.
"Erm," Slughorn spoke again, bringing the attention back to him. "I could have a word with Albus and—"
"Absolutely not," interrupted Ollivander, and Rowle snickered, brushing back his shoulder-length, shiny, blond hair in a condescending manner. "However, it is a good idea to ask around in our circles."
"Yes, thank you, Garrick," commented Kingsley.
"Yes, yes, that's right," Slughorn nodded. "I can do it, very sneaky, definitely." Of course, no one believed he could really be that sneaky, but they didn't mention it. At least, they knew he could do the job and that was enough.
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Dolores Umbridge stepped out of the fireplace in a sweep of pink robes, shoes, scarf, and buttons. She dusted her perfectly fine clothes and headed with a firm step to the main lift across the hall.
"The Daily Prophet! Who wants the Daily Prophet?" A woman yelled in her ears. Dolores grimaced.
She hailed a man from Security.
"Senior Undersecretary," the man greeted her.
She frowned.
"Make sure this woman is escorted out," she sniffed. The man raised an eyebrow, but she glared at him. "Get on with it."
The security agent waved a hand to one of his colleagues and gestured for the woman to be removed from the premises. With a triumphant smile, Dolores headed back to where she needed to be. She called for the elevator and waited a few seconds with an impatient tap of her foot on the marble floor.
With a whoosh of air, the lift stopped in front of her and the creaking gates opened. At this time of the day, only a couple of other people were inside, and Dolores stepped in easily, pushing the button indicating the Minister's office. Experience and habit only kept her upright as the lift jerked to the right. After a few seconds, it stopped at a floor that was not the one she had called for.
The gates opened to reveal the Greengrass siblings standing in front of the elevator. Dolores stepped slightly aside to allow them entry.
"Lord Greengrass," she said in a honeyed voice.
Lady Greengrass crossed her arms, her mouth downturned, while her brother pressed the button without saying a word.
A few paper airplanes swooped in and settled above their heads. One of them came too fast and crashed on the back of the cage, falling pitifully onto her shoulder.
She grabbed it and, wrinkling her nose, she put it in her pocket.
Lady Greengrass snickered, her eyes still on the floor and a sense of bewilderment suddenly struck Dolores: they hadn't moved, they were still stuck on the same floor.
"Why haven't we moved?" she admonished.
A large, dark hand grabbed the gate and Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the lift. His imposing stature had Dolores pushed further against the back wall. "Thank you for holding it," he said to the twins. Lady Greengrass rolled her eyes and her brother grinned.
Kingsley smiled at them and pressed a button. Finally, the lift was in motion again. More people entered and left but there was no more unnecessary interruption of traffic. Meanwhile, the trio whispered to one another, further irritating Dolores' mood.
"May I know what you three are talking about?" she inquired, grated by their shared secrets.
Lady Greengrass peeked at her from above Kingsley's shoulder and answered. "No." She then resumed her conversation with the other two men.
A vein popped on her forehead.
"A rare sight you make, Lord Greengrass," she insisted and from the corner of her eyes, she saw Kingsley's smile dropping.
Lord what's-his-name Greengrass turned slightly in her direction and inclined his head.
"Business called."
She curled her lips. "No doubt."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "I could say the same of you, Senior Undersecretary. Or is it Headmistress, now? My apologies, I'm confused, you understand."
"Dolores is only a teacher, Addfwyned. You're forgiven for the easy mistake," Kingsley said before she could reply, patting his friend's shoulder gently. Her face turned red with indignation.
The elevator stopped and the broken voice announced the Minister's office.
"I think that's your floor," Kingsley said, then turned back to the siblings and paid her no more attention. She stepped out and the lift dashed away.
Composing herself with deep breaths, she walked briskly to the double doors of the office and knocked twice.
"Come in," the Minister's voice called from inside the room, and she entered.
The Minister was at his desk, writing a letter. A pile of papers was stacked in front of him and the day's newspaper was pushed to a corner of the desk. He scribbled a few more words before putting his quill into the ink pot and lifted his head to look at the newly arrived woman. When his eyes landed on her, his frown lifted off his face and a pleasing smile pulled at his lips.
"Ah, Dolores!" he greeted. "Is everything going well with your post at Hogwarts?"
"Actually, I have many troubling thoughts to report on the subject, Cornelius."
"Good, good," he said, his eyes shifting from a trembling red letter to his personal fireplace turning green every few seconds.
Dolores made a swiping motion with her sleeve. "Cornelius, there is something seriously wrong in this school. And I won't even talk about…"
The beak of an owl hit the window repetitively and the Minister passed a hand on his forehead, his eyes getting bigger and wetter.
"…the depravity of the students and the carelessness of the teaching staff. And don't get me started on…"
"I won't, I won't. Dolores, thank you for coming so fast." He waved at her and she sat directly in front of him.
Fudge took back his quill and started signing paperwork.
"Cornelius, you will not believe this! Dumbledore, that useless old coot, he allowed not one, but two utter strangers into Hogwarts! How irresponsible is that! And now they're running around on the grounds, just like Black did for an entire year! Maybe a few Dementors will put them back in…"
"No Dementors, they're still under investigation after Potter's trial," Fudge mumbled.
"But you must admit something has to be done at that school! We can't possibly let them have any more liberties. They have already abused them for far too long." She tried meeting his gaze but he was too busy signing. "Cornelius? Are you listening to me?"
"Huh?" He raised his head, looked at her without really seeing, and looked back down. "Yes, for sure. You're doing a good job, Dolores."
A few moments passed in silence.
"So?" Dolores pressed, growing impatient the longer she sat there. "What do you advise we do about the situation?"
"Ah yes, the situation. Terrible situation." The Minister ordered his pile of paperwork. "It is the reason I called you back here."
That was the last thing Dolores expected to hear from Cornelius but she let him go on.
"The lockdown at the bank has all its customers complaining, and I'm already very busy outside of a crisis, you see."
"The bank?" She barely didn't yell. "You called me away from my post at Hogwarts to talk to me about the bank?"
Cornelius looked straight at her. "Yes, Dolores. I need you to help me sort through all those letters."
He nearly jumped to the ceiling when an alarm started buzzing loudly and moved around bundles of files to find the culprit. He snatched the trinket, turned it upside down, and the ruckus stopped immediately.
"See? What a mess, it couldn't have come at a worse time, I'm telling you!" A drop of sweat slid down his neck. "Alright. Be sure to sort the hateful ones from the actual complaints. The transfer requests go to the left stack. It'd be most helpful if you could write answers for the members of the Wizengamot, too. You can put those on the right for me to sign. They're very fretful. Not a good sign, that."
Dolores stayed dumbstruck for a few seconds, eyeing the quill Fudge was holding out to her. She took it absentmindedly. And broke it at once.
"Oh, dear! It's alright, it happens to the best of us. Here," Fudge comforted her, handing her a golden one, this time. "A gift from Lucius. Very good quality. You'll do a fine job with this." He smiled.