Headmaster Emmett Arius strolled about his office to and fro, his silky purple robe shifting at his heels.
He was an eccentric sort, somewhat young for his profession. Some students adored him while others had a go at him in good fun, the muggleborn students sometimes joking that he looked like a 'magical Johnny Depp.' It could've been true, if not for his lack of facial hair and his persistent whimsical smile, deep purple hat always planted on his head and tilted slightly atop his dark red hairs, all of them slicked back with a few stray curls escaping behind his ears. He sauntered around the office, a laptop floating along beside him, his young blue dragon sitting perched on the stand where Fawkes the phoenix used to rest long ago.
Arius skimmed over the written documents on the screen of the bewitched laptop, narrowing his eyes and thoughtfully tapping his chin. Then, he heard the dull shifting of the stone lift, the great bird's wings facing the office and allowing the newcomer entry.
Professor Crowley strolled inside, his black hair also combed back, longer than Arius's and considerably more obedient. His eyes, two different shines—one silver and the other bottle green—fixated on Arius as he meandered through the clearing, stopping and cupping his hands.
"Trocar," Arius said. "I'm afraid our friends in London aren't able to bring in the usual shipments for you. At least, not as much... with everything going on in the muggle world..."
Crowley paused. "How much can they send?"
Arius winced and nodded sideways. "Ehhh... I'd say... roughly half of what they were sending before?"
Crowley sighed, flashing a deep grimace. "That won't be enough to..."
"Oh... don't worry," Arius said, swatting the air. "I'll figure it out for you. I always do."
"Do you have any more news?" Crowley inquired. "Regarding what the Minister...?"
"Oh... not much," Arius shrugged, eyeing his laptop again. "She's a right authoritarian when it comes to matters such as these. And do not tell her I brought a laptop here. Muggle technology in Hogwarts is generally frowned upon, and she's already giving me grief about having Zeus here..."
"I didn't plan to rush to Hermione and prattle on about all your little secrets," Crowley remarked with a dry little laugh.
Arius shot him a caustic smirk. "Well thank you, you brooding Slytherin loon."
"You're quite welcome, you airheaded Hufflepuff git."
Arius laughed, then fell silent and began reading over the laptop again, his smile fading.
"The Seal of Shadows," he murmured. "They're popping up left and right... they're all over the Daily Prophet... and I'm reading news articles here... they're even affecting the muggle world now."
Crowley frowned, hesitating and briefly losing himself to his thoughts. The Seal of Shadows was a secret society of dark wizards and witches, an organization that might even rival the death eaters of old. For the past few years, the shady practices of the Seal of Shadows had been affecting the wizarding world in countless damaging ways; certain folks were attacked, magical documents and artifacts had been stolen, and the aurors now had a list of suspects rumored to be involved with the Seal of Shadows, all of whom were being inspected and monitored closely. Nobody knew much about the Seal of Shadows, and no one was certain of their endgame agenda. Only one thing was for certain; they seemed to be working for a mysterious dark wizard by the name of Xyler.
And now—the minister had ordered Arius and Crowley to keep a vigilant eye on everything transpiring in Hogwarts. A couple of suspects on the aurors' list were directly connected to a few of the students attending Hogwarts, and it was entirely possible that they might attempt to invade and interfere at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Beyond that, it was prudent that they identify any Xyler supporters whenever they could and put them out of commission. The secretive practices of a dark magical operation might cause a panic in the wizarding world, and it was imperative that such a scenario be avoided at all costs. Especially after what the wizarding world faced during the previous uprising of a dark and powerful wizard.
Arius, being an exceptional headmaster—and Crowley, being an ex-auror—were perfectly suited for this job of tactful vigilance.
Arius stroked his chin again, then wheeled around to face Crowley. "How is Mr. McAllister doing in the dueling club?"
Crowley perked his brow. "Zander? He's one of our best. Why do you ask?"
Arius gazed into the laptop almost trancelike, pondering deeply on his students as his eyes gave a slight sparkle of intrigue.
"No reason," he mumbled distantly. "I'll work on finding shipments from other sources for you, Trocar. But, in the meantime... you keep an eye on the students."
"I always do," Crowley nodded, turning on his heel and preparing to leave.
Then, he skidded to a stop, pausing and facing Arius again.
"One more thing," Crowley added. "I spoke to Roman... and he and the other aurors just located a recently abandoned hideout that belonged to the Seal of Shadows. They didn't find much inside, apart from pureblood propaganda and a few loose ingredients for some questionable potions. But... here's the thing. Many of those ingredients aren't native to the United Kingdom at all."
Arius turned, squinting curiously at him. "Meaning?"
"Meaning... they're getting ingredients from America and Africa from what Roman could tell," Crowley explained. "Which, unfortunately... means that Xyler's supporters aren't limited to our area at all. He likely has supporters in other magical societies across the world."
There was a long, tense silence following his statement, Arius grimacing at the light of his laptop screen. When Voldemort arose to power, he didn't have support from various other countries and continents. Grindlewald once attempted to gather support in such a way, but his endeavors ultimately lead to failure.
If this mysterious Xyler already had support beyond the UK, he might become a more formidable enemy than either Voldemort or Grindlewald, and that thought alone made a slow-brewing anxiety begin to fester in the pit of his stomach.
"Don't tell anyone," Arius ordered. "We're in an age of peace right now, and we can't afford to start a panic. Especially not after what the last generation just went through. I really don't think the wizarding society is mentally prepared to deal with the possibility of another dark uprising. I really don't."
"I didn't plan to run around telling everyone. And even if I did, I doubt if my gossip would cause a panic."
"Yes—but if the wrong person heard you, your statements on the matter would end up in the Daily Prophet right off the bat, and that would start a panic."
"Fair point. Won't say a word."
"Good. Now go away. Your weird eyes are freaking me out."
Crowley shot him a caustic half-smile. "Git."
Arius let out a laugh, watching as Crowley spun around and strolled out of the room.
"Zandeeer!"
Zander's eyes sealed shut for a moment as he strolled down the corridor, sighing heavily as the footsteps echoing ever closer from behind. Alice sprinted to catch up with him before the two headed outside for the afternoon. It'd been about a week since John Beckly's defeat in the dueling club, and once again, Alice planned to ask Zander the same thing she'd been asking him all week.
"Can we go to the shrieking shack now?!"
Just as they wandered outside and stopped in the clearing, Zander wheeled around to face her, wearing a caustic expression.
"Can you stop asking me that?" he responded. "Every day with this..."
"Zander," Alice grumped. "You told me we could go if I helped you get through this year's flying class."
"I don't wanna go there right now..."
"Can we please go tomorrow? Because I'm going tomorrow whether you do or not."
"Fine, fine. Blimey, with this… ever since last year…"
"You have to go with me."
"Fine...!"
Just when Alice opened her mouth to reply, her words escaped her, her eyes drifting past Zander and fixating on the people behind him.
Zander blinked, following her trail of vision and seeing John Beckly standing with his friends nearby, all with folded arms and wide, sneering smiles.
"If it isn't the mismatched two," Beckly snarled, taking a wide step closer. "So hated by everyone else, they've got nobody to pal around with but each other. Pathetic."
"Pathetic?" Zander griped, cocking his brow and moving closer, his eyes narrowing with a pensive, challenging shine. "You can't even face me without a little goon squad at your back. I'll show you who's pathetic."
Alice frowned—inhaling sharply as Zander and Beckly both instantly reached for their wands.