Chapter 34

Conspiracies and Polyjuice

3 January 1993, Hogwarts Express, England

Hogwarts students in certain ways were very much like their Muggle counterparts. There were perfect students, who shuddered at the very idea of breaking a rule or bypassing by an inch the entrance of a forbidden area. These witches and wizards teenagers were in general their teacher's favourites pupils, never received detentions, earned so many good points their personal school files were overwhelmed by them, showed perfect grades to their parents and in general left the establishment with letters of recommendation from every teacher. Names like Percival Weasley, Penelope Clearwater or Cedric Diggory, to include some of the fifth and sixth-year Prefects, belonged in this category.

After them, came the broad range of students who could have been considered 'normal' if such a thing existed in the Wizarding World. Girls and boys who tried to respect the rules and the teaching staff, but sometimes chose to violate the frontiers when Quidditch or something in their hearts pushed them to do so. Most of the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws fell into this category. On average, the Heads of Houses were rarely concerned with these young witches and wizards: one or two reprimands and these students returned to a correct attitude and earned the required number of OWLS and NEWTS.

Then there were the witches and wizards who gave no attention to the rules, but ensured they were never caught in the act by skill, talented manipulation of the existing rules, leaving no witnesses or sheer dumb luck. Infinitely more dangerous than the two first categories, these wand-wielders hid in the shadows and never gave hints of their real capabilities. A sizeable minority of Ravenclaw and Slytherin Houses were filling this description, generally getting away with their misdemeanours because the teachers had not enough free time to do proper investigations.

Finally, there were the students who considered a duty to create as much mischief as they could in the thousand-year old castle, teenagers and children who did not care if they were caught in the act. Laws, rules, authority and discipline were considered cumbersome and despised with deep fervour. These troublemakers used the influence and the wealth of their families to pursue their mischievous activities on other students who lacked such advantages. In peace time, it resulted in wave of pranks. In time of foreign conflict or civil war, it could reach the level of lethal curses and crimes of the highest order. They were the architects of chaos and the bane of tranquillity everywhere they walked. By a strangest coincidence, the vast and crushing numbers undoubtedly belonging to this infamous category were members of Slytherin or Gryffindor Houses.

And if an impartial observer had conducted a 1992-1993 poll to know who were the biggest nuisances with the only voters being the professors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the odds of Neville Longbottom, Ronald Weasley and Leo Black being mentioned would have been incredibly high. In one year and a half of scholarship, the Golden Trio had acquired a mystical aura of breaking the rules and audacious pranks that only the infamous Weasley Twins were able to challenge. The huge number of detentions received after each of their 'exploits' had failed to deter them.

As a result, an impartial observer would have felt a certain amount of dread if they had watched the Golden Trio on that cloudy day of winter. The Hogwarts Express was about to leave in about five minutes, and the three notorious Gryffindors were chatting excitedly as they slalomed between the trunks, parents, fellow students, cats and owl cages. The Boy-Who-Lived and his two friends being excited generally resulted in life at Hogwarts turning to be...interesting at best. A war zone at worst, because even the calm and collected Slytherin were known to break a nerve or two when they were drenched in paint, saw the homework they had passed five hours on go up in flames or took hours to console one of their year-mates which had been aggressed in a deserted wing of Hogwarts. The discussion between the three pranksters once they had all been in a locked and sound proof compartment would not have been in the nature of reassurance.

"I have the Polyjuice!" Exclaimed Leo Black.

"Good, good." Said the Longbottom Heir, rubbing his hands together.

"It's of good quality isn't it?" Asked Ron Weasley in an anxious tone. "It isn't going to explode us in the face when we try to drink it?"

Every member of the Golden Trio grimaced lengthily at the reminder of their pet project's failure. Stealing the ingredients they needed from Snape's stores had been an easy thing. Making the Polyjuice Potion had been anything but. Aside from its dangerous potential when used in illegal activities, there was a reason why the Polyjuice instructions had been in the Forbidden Section of the Library. It was terribly hard to brew. The creation of Polyjuice required at least the level of a fifth year student at Hogwarts, and an excellent student in Potions with average grades of Exceeding Expectations at that.

Neither Ron nor Leo and Neville had that level of skills or anywhere the tenth of it in Potions. Their first attempts had melted the cauldron and the floor in the toilets of Moaning Myrtle in less than a day when something went wrong with the fluxweed. The second had been rendered inactive by a fault in their timing when it had been the moment to add a few leaves of knotgrass. The third had exploded when they were in detention with Snape. The less said about the fourth and fifth, the better. None of their five attempts had lasted more than three days and the Potion was supposed to last a month. Considering Potions was by far their worst class, thanks to the rivalry between Slytherins and Gryffindors as well as the dark presence of Professor Severus 'Snivellus' Snape, and the odds of obtaining a passable Potion this way went to insurmountable. Searching other Gryffindors with the brewing required abilities had gotten nowhere. Lavender Brown was worst than them in this academic field. Fay Dunbar scored regularly Dreadful or Poor on her class assignments. Thelma Holmes was strong in non-practical courses, but weak when it came to put this knowledge in the cauldron. Dean Thomas had managed to complete one Potion correctly since the beginning of this year, and it had been in all likelihood an accident. The pairing of the Muggle-born football-addict with Seamus Finnigan, a boy who happened to create magical accidents as soon as his wand was free to act, usually left the container with ashes in it by the end of the hour. The two best students of the Gryffindor second-years, Hermione Granger and Nigel Wolpert, were partnered together in the dungeons and did not speak a word to the New Marauders anymore; they probably would prefer to vomit in their cauldron than help them brew Polyjuice. An unfortunate effect of the motions they had pushed against the "beaver" and the "coward", the nicknames they had given to the least popular Lions.

The door of their fellow second -years being closed, the Golden Trio had gone to the upper years but there too they had met deception after deception. Except Percy Weasley, who was in love with the rules and commandments of Hogwarts and thus totally unsuitable as an accomplice, the number of Gryffindors currently continuing Potions after their OWLS was null. Between third-year and fifth, the only competent candidates were the Weasley Twins, but who knew what the Twin Terrors would do with a cauldron full of Polyjuice? Better not to think about it. As for the others sixth and seventh years, they were generally too busy with their classes and studies to add such a monumental charge of Potions on their busy schedule.

"Relax, Ron." Affirmed smoothly Leo Black. "I used some of the old contacts of my father with retired Hit-Wizards to buy this Potion. This brew is the best quality you can buy without going to the Ministry and officially hiring a Potion Master to do it."

Technically it was not the only means to procure yourself Polyjuice, but it was one of the safest. Polyjuice, like a lot of magical artefacts, heirlooms, knowledge and other materials, could be ordered in Knockturn Alley and the other shadier and less respectable magical places of England, Wales and Scotland. Unfortunately, you could never be sure of the Potions quality norms which had been bought. The majority of the wizard and witches in Wizarding Britain having a tiny piece of Potions knowledge knew Polyjuice was a Ministry-controlled substance, thus suing somebody when the potion failed to change a single nail or an eyebrow of your normal appearance was impossible. On the other hand, there were always some persons in the Ministry who were corrupt enough to agree to a fast bargain for a few galleons. The Heir of House Black had just used the knowledge he had of this situation for their latest scheme.

"Okay, okay." The red-haired boy was calmer than he had been a moment ago. "How many doses do you have?"

"Five."

"That's not a lot." Said thoughtfully Neville. "I had hoped we would have more, enough to interrogate Malfoy, Nott and all the Slytherins who have spoken against the Muggle-borns when the Heir of Slytherin attacked. With five doses, we will have barely enough for Malfoy and his group."

"I propose we use four on the Slytherins." Suggested Leo. "Ron and I take the place of Crabbe and Goyle to ask Malfoy if he's the Heir of Slytherin or not. Neville, you take the place of Vaisey, he's always following Nott so it should not be difficult to convince him to talk."

"And the fourth?" Asked Neville in a neutral voice, not openly disagreeing with the plan.

"Convince Lavender to impersonate Millicent Bulstrode."

"How I am supposed to do that?" Neville demanded, before taking an uncomfortable expression under the smirks of Ron and Leo. "Oh, right. Gossip material. Who will she spy on?"

"Parkinson and the Carrow twins, they've been mocking those petrified in the attacks since Halloween. If she has time, any Slytherin girl who has a Death Eater relative and is not imprisoned at Azkaban." Leo added the second part of the sentence as an afterthought. Frankly, the chances of the three named girls being the mastermind of the petrifying attacks was remote, but it was not like they knew the older students at all. Most of them had not been shouting pure-blood slogan and insults like Malfoy and his gorillas anyway.

"Any candidate for the fifth dose?"

"Potter." Snarled venomously Ron, and Neville simply gave a sign of assent. The popularity of the Potter Heiress in Gryffindor tower had reached new lows after she had intervened in the little ambush where Neville had planned to give the Snakes a memorable lesson. The fact the second-year girl had held her own and defeated many older students against what would qualify as overwhelming numerical superiority had been a very sobering point for the Lions. During the entirety of their first-year, it had been the Ravenclaws who had propagated the rumours of Alexandra Potter being a Dark Lady. The Gryffindors had followed because it had been amusing, well that and James Potter had betrayed House Longbottom after all. Now after getting their heads handed to them by two second-year girls, the rumours were not sounding as ridiculous as they had before.

"Okay." Sighed Leo. "Who is going to talk to her and under what look?"

"Potter is always with MacDougal, Granger and Wolpert." Grunted Ron. "MacDougal is a Ravenclaw, so her quarters are off limits but we can easily grab some hair of Granger and Wolpert in the dormitories."

"And who will do it?" Neville demanded. "Malfoy is easy, he provokes us every day. But we never speak with Potter or anyone of the Exiled." The nickname of this group of four had become official by November at Hogwarts, though there were some variations. The Outcasts for example.

"I will do it!" Proclaimed Ron. "I will take Wolpert place, Potter will never see it coming!" Neville Longbottom and Leo Black exchanged deep stares. Ron Weasley was their friend, but there was no point to pretend subtlety and cunning weren't foreign qualities to him. Giving him a task to deceive a Ravenclaw - one who was acknowledged as far more intelligent and dangerous than Draco Malfoy would ever be - was the first step on a disastrous path. Not they were going to say it out loud, of course.

"No offence, Ron, but Potter will see that you're not Nigel Wolpert the moment you open the mouth. You don't have the same accent, the same background or the same mannerisms. You are also complete opposite in behaviour." Nigel Wolpert was timid and shy in public; Ron Weasley was loud and vocal. No way it was going to work in a thousand years. "No, we need a girl for this to work."

"Lavender again?" Sniggered the son of Sirius Black. "We are going to owe her a lot of favours..."

"As long as she doesn't decide to transfer them in Marriage Contracts..." Told the Boy-Who-Lived with a frown marring his face and ignoring the laughter coming from his two friends. "But I was thinking about Parvati for this one."

"The more people we involve in this search..." Reminded him his black-haired friend, taking a more comfortable posture on the train seat.

"I know...I know!" Repeated Neville. "But Parvati is resourceful enough to pass as Granger for an hour, I think. And she is a girl, so I suppose they can discuss...girl things if Potter does not talk about the Heir."

"Can Parvati ask what she did to torment Chudley? He's still trembling as soon as we go near this horrible orange creature..."

"Oh, come on Ron! Chudley is a rat and cats eat rats! Nothing more complicated to understand." The voice of Neville had taken an amused tone. A feeling absolutely not shared by the youngest of the Weasleys boys.

"I tell you mate. This thing... I don't know what it is, but it's not a cat. It knows when we're speaking about it!"

"Now you're getting really ridiculous." Chided Leo. "Next time, you will tell us the cat is playing chess with the Ravenclaws in their Common Room!"


On the other side of Hogwarts Express and at that very moment, a huge ginger cat took a satisfied expression and purred loudly on the trunk where he was perched, attracting the attention of the three girls and the boy sitting in the compartment.

"Hermione, your cat is purring again." Remarked Morag.

"Maybe Crookshanks wants to help you play chess, Alex." Said absently Hermione, turning a page from the large and heavy Transfiguration book she had begun to read at King's Cross Station. "You seem to need the help."

"Nonsense." Replied the Potter Heiress, with a wave of her hand in her black hair. "What could possibly give you that idea?"

"Common sense." Said soberly the bushy-haired Gryffindor. "Common sense and knowledge of the rules."

Alexandra couldn't stop a grimace from appearing on her face. Throwing a look at the exchequer, her four black pieces were still in the same position they had been ten seconds before. One king, one knight, one queen and one rook, all in midnight colour, were facing twice their number of white opponents. And her king was looking more and more exposed to the moves of the opposing white knight.

"Okay it is not going well," admitted Alexandra. "But now the games are far longer than they were when I began to play against Morag in December. I am learning."

This was not a self laudation: when she had started to play with her year-mate the chess engagements were ending with her defeat in less than twenty moves. Now it was taking three times that length.

"Speaking of learning..." Intervened Nigel with bits of lettuce in his hands he was gifting through the bars of the cage to Smokey his Firecrab hybrid. "Has someone managed to gain information on the Chamber of Secrets?"

The atmosphere became instantly less joyous and more subdued in the compartment. While they had been away from the castle, it had been easy to pretend the situation wasn't serious. But now, on their way to the place where the petrifactions had occurred, the eagerness to pretend everything was normal was dissipating.

"Morag's parents didn't know anything about it." Alexandra told the two Lions, with the MacDougal Heiress nodding to confirm her words. "According to them, it was more a nasty rumour spread by Slytherins when they were at school in the seventies. Something used by the Snakes to threaten the students they bullied."

"But there was no petrifaction? Nothing at all?" Asked Hermione, biting worriedly her upper lip.

"Well there was a rumour..." Began Alexandra.

"It was never confirmed." Interjected Morag, her blue-eyes narrowing and her posture screaming how she was ill-at-ease.

"Sure. But some pure-blood and the Slytherins students of the seventies were openly saying their supreme leader was the Heir of Slytherin. And it was a claim they apparently continued to spread during the last civil war."

"Who-Know-Who?" Nigel Wolpert was literally shaking in fear.

Alexandra rolled her eyes. Honestly, the fear the British witches and wizards had to pronounce a dead wizard's name was half-comical half-pathetic. The man had been killed by Neville Longbottom the Boy-Who-Lived, he wasn't going to come out the next wardrobe with a "BOOH!" That and Voldemort sounded like an alias. There was no way this could be the real name of the Dark Lord. You didn't give birth to someone and called him Voldemort. This just wasn't serious. Alas, no one could deny the Voldemort persona had made a frightening impression on Wizarding Britain.

"Like I said, it was never confirmed." Repeated Morag in an imperious voice. "Pretending to be the Heir of one of the Hogwarts Founders cost nothing; proving it with the legal documentation and getting it confirmed by the Wizengamot is pretty expensive. You-Know-Who never tried to claim this title the legal way; as a result his words are just that: a claim."

"Another dead-end?" Demanded Hermione.

"No." Alexandra suddenly understood. "It all fits."

"I don't understand." Morag hadn't followed her way of thinking.

"I think I do." Hermione affirmed. "Alex, do you think-?"

The Potter Heiress made a large positive nod with her head.

"What are you saying?" Nigel demanded, giving the last part of lettuce to his pet.

"What if Voldemort had opened the Chamber of Secrets while he was studying here in the forties or fifties?" Asked rhetorically Alexandra, ignoring the fear on Morag and Nigel's face as she spoke the dreaded name. "What if the reason the Slytherin felt confident the Heir of Slytherin was this Dark Lord because he had already opened the Chamber and shared the news with them?"

"It could explain a lot of things." Said Hermione in a thoughtful tone, as the train passed in a tunnel to reappear in the English countryside illuminated by a faint winter sun.

"There's only a small problem with your logic." Huffed Morag. "How has the Chamber of Secrets been opened now? Assuming You-Know-Who is the Heir of Slytherin, the man is dead. He's not going to stroll inside the castle under Dumbledore's nose and unleash the Monster of the Chamber on all of us!"

To her regret, the raven-haired Ravenclaw had nothing to explain this discrepancy. "Maybe the Heir explained to one of his subordinates how to do it?" She tried.

"Bloody unlikely I think." Smirked Morag. "Do you think You-Know-Who would tell his secrets to Lucius Malfoy or one of the other Death Eaters in liberty? His most loyal servants are at Azkaban. Everyone knows that."

"Language!" Exclaimed Hermione, before being distracted by Crookshanks jumping in her arms.

"But Morag has a point." Nigel bad attitude appeared to have resurfaced, his voice was barely audible.

"She has several, in fact." Alexandra shrugged. "I'm going to search the Daily Prophet archives but don't keep your hopes up. The more we dig, the more I suspect someone has made sure to bury everything concerning the Chamber of Secrets."

An unpleasant realisation, but one which was leaving few other options after the mountain of research the two Gryffindors and the two Ravenclaws has done. Hermione was able to find her way through the large and inefficient bureaucracy of the magical world, and Morag has the contacts her blood and her family entitled her. Nigel, with a father diplomat, completed the picture. And Alexandra herself had a good knowledge of non-magical myths and legends. One of the four finding no information would have been the norm. Two would have been surprising, but not completely stretching the realm of possibilities. Four however, was the sign the information they had made their quest to discover had disappeared or never existed in the first place. Behind her livid green eyes, Alexandra wasn't sure what explanation she liked the least.

"Everywhere we turn, we have more questions. Never answers." It was a statement bordering on the side of complaint from Hermione, and the worst part was that it was ringing true. It was frustrating.

"Rome wasn't built in a day." Replied philosophically Alexandra.

"Nor by us." Added Morag, her bright red hair reflecting the descending winter sun in a red corona.

After this last remark, the topic was closed. They bought some Pumpkin Pastries and Chocolate Frogs from the trolley lady to go with their sandwiches and drinks, and afterwards discussed of the future lessons they were going to assist once they were back at the castle. The sky outside was growing darker and darker, and snow was now present not far from the railroad. Despite the lack of indication, it was more likely than not they were in Scotland now.

Nigel exited the compartment for a few minutes to give Hermione the time to change in her wizarding robes. Morag and Alexandra had arrived from MacDougal Manor by Portkey in the morning with their robes and the rest of the Hogwarts uniform already on them so the affair was short-timed and not a quarter of an hour after the voice of the train driver announced they were approaching the station of Hogsmeade.

The train stopped not five minutes after this message, and a large crowd emerged from the red and long transportation means into a frozen atmosphere, so cold Alexandra shivered under her warm winter cloak. There was snow everywhere and in the night of Scotland illuminated only by the lights of the nearby village, the Express and the station, the Forbidden Forest in the distance was a gloomy presence.

"What does take them so much time?" Complained Hermione. It was not clear what was doing it, but the flow of their progression towards the carriages supposed to lead them to Hogwarts was slowing noticeably.

It was then the screams of fear began. Thankfully there were no signs of battle or of mass panic: given that over four hundred boys and girls were packed in a compact block on an icy soil, running could have resulted in trampling and serious injuries for a lot of the participants. In the middle of the crowd, the group of four saw nothing and it was not before the Prefects managed to convince the progression to resume Alexandra had the opportunity to see what had scared the vanguard of the Hogwarts students.

It was a Thestral. Or rather, the remnants of one. The magical part-lizard part-horse part-bird creature had been...butchered. Massacred. One of its wings had been completely separated from its body, its torso had been torn open with the intestines spilled everywhere and there were deep lacerations all across the body but the worst wounds were on the head and a deep hole was in the middle of the throat. Okay, what had used to be a throat. Maybe. It was difficult to judge with all this blood and Alexandra had to fight the urge to vomit.

One look was more than sufficient for Alexandra to know no predator or carnivorous magical species had done the deed. An animal preying on the Thestrals would have at least eaten part of the body, although she was uncertain if these curious coursers were digestible. But the murderer who had killed here had not been interested in feeding. It had been a means to pass a message...and a way to unleash its viciousness and depravity because only a monster would have massacred an animal like that.

To echo her reasoning, on the snow littered with blood could be seen a message painted in the same bright red colour.

MUDBLOODS LEAVE HOGWARTS

THE HEIR OF SLYTHERIN HAS WARNED YOU

As she mounted on a carriage behind Hermione, the green-eyed Ravenclaw heard Morag grumble something about Hogwarts security being a joke.

"Don't worry, Morag." The Potter Heiress smirked. "I'm sure Dumbledore will try to reassure us by saying the attack was out of the Hogwarts grounds and we are perfectly safe in the castle."

"If it's the case, maybe we should ask the DLME to intervene?" Asked Nigel in a hopeful tone disguising badly potential relief.

"But they will need the Headmaster permission to enter the grounds, no?" Hermione's voice was not exactly thrilling with enthusiasm. "I mean, they can investigate outside the wards of the castle, but unless they have proof the culprit is one of the students or the professors..."

"Exactly." Confirmed Morag. "No Auror will pass the gates until there's something Dumbledore can't cover. Then the DMLE will be able to intervene. If it isn't too late."

The discussion ultimately ended there before the Thestrals deposed them in front of the marble stairs. Everyone had a good idea how bad this year had started. One night and blood had already been shed. The Exiled had just to hope the rest of the school year wasn't going to be worse.


4 January 1993, Hogwarts, Scotland

It was two hours past midnight in what every human who didn't have magical powers would consider the middle of nowhere. Pardon, the middle of nowhere in Scotland. Some hills, some mountains, some forests. Most of the animals were hibernating in this season, and the density of non-magical beings in the area was close to zero. The sky was covered by a ceiling of grey clouds not letting any moonlight pass. The snow was forming a white carpet around the ancient magical school of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The grounds were frozen and silent. In appearance, all was calm in the thousand-year old castle.

Appearances could and in that case were deceiving. At the gatehouse marking the limit between the lands marked by the Founders as theirs and the outer areas of Hogsmeade, a small group had formed at the light of three enchanted torches. The building had not been built with human comfort in mind: four walls of stone decorated with various animal representations and a simple lever to open the gates manually should a problem in the wards require it. There was no chimney or place to lit a good source of fire, so all the witches and wizards present were in their winter clothes, which meant large furred cloaks and capes enchanted to keep the warmest temperatures around the human bodies wearing them.

In this case though, the charms were looking hardly necessary. A large majority of the persons present were angry enough to make smoke coming out of their ears. Of course, the reason for this rage was in part standing in front of them. It was an ungodly hour to stand in the cold, and magic or not the regular forces of the Auror Corps enjoyed sleeping in a warm bed as much as the common wizard.

"...and so I'm afraid my boy, that I can't allow authorise you to search Hogwarts without the benediction of Minister Fudge and the signatures of the Board of Governors." Headmaster Dumbledore emitted one of his mysterious half-smiles over his glasses. "The incident has taken place outside the grounds the Charter recognises as belonging to Hogwarts, and the rules are clear on this point-"

The patience of one of the half-dozen Aurors in red robes listening this condescending speech finally arrived at its end. The wizard, a brown-haired man in his thirties wearing a neat beard and mild black eyes, screamed in his haste to release himself of the words he erupted.

"The rules? The rules! Someone used over ten of the Darkest Curses below the Unforgivables to slaughter an animal in front of your door and you're concerned about some rules?"

"That's enough Williamson!" Barked the Auror leading the formation.

"But-"

"I said enough!" Repeated the leader of the Auror platoon, Senior Auror Lester Hudson, sending the nastiest dark look he could at his undisciplined subordinate. "You have done sufficient damage here. Report to the Ministry at once, you're on paperwork duty until the end of the week!"

Auror Williamson didn't protest anymore, recognising the wordless threat conveyed by the glare of his superior, and left the gate house in all haste to reach the limit of the grounds where Apparition became possible.

"Good choice, my boy-"

"My name is Senior Auror Lester Hudson, Chief Warlock." Growled the platoon leader of the Aurors, a black-haired man with brown eyes. "Not my boy or anyone of your little names."

"I'm sure-"

"I don't know what game you're playing, here Chief Warlock Dumbledore." Hudson's tone was angry, but unlike Williamson there remained a veneer of civility, thanks to decades having escorted Wizengamot and diverse politicians to one conference or another. "All my Aurors know of the special status of Hogwarts, and you perfectly know we have no intention to impose any kind of Ministry authority over the school. We are here to catch a criminal. And you are doing your best to hinder us."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." Had it been any other situation, the half-dozen persons listening this would have shed tears at the incredibly remorseful tone the Supreme Mugwump. But the Aurors were not trained and screened harshly to be caught by the first flimsiest excuse sent to block their way. And the silver-haired man before them was obviously lying with the virtuosity of a maestro.

"Oh no, you aren't." The expression of Lester Hudson turned into a smile, but his blue eyes remained cold and grim. "In your place, I would ensure there are no more accidents or incidents for the rest of the year near Hogwarts."

"Is this a threat?" The tone of the Hogwarts Headmaster was mild and unconcerned. A spike of anger flared in the chest of the Senior Auror, before reminding himself of the status and the influence of his interlocutor. Whether he liked it or not, the wizard at the head of the largest school of Magical Britain was one if not the most influential man of the British Isles. Antagonising him would not grant him a letter of congratulations from London. In all likelihood it would in fact freeze his career advancements for the next decade.

"No. It's an advice." Choose to reply the Head Auror instead, as calmly as he could. "Should a similar crime be reported inside Hogwarts, the DMLE will have no choice but to intervene. My intention was to prevent such a situation from happening in the first place."

"I will take your words into consideration, my boy." Told Dumbledore in his grandfather, wise wizard-tone. An attitude which made frown half of the Aurors on site. It was limpid Dumbledore had all but voiced he was going to do the exact opposite. "But it is rather late! I will continue this conversation with Amelia and the Minister tomorrow. I wish you the best for the rest of your investigation."

And on this the Defeater of Grindelwald vanished with his phoenix in a column of flames, leaving the Aurors alone in the gatehouse.

"Well," Said an Auror behind Lester Hudson. "He's as cooperative as he was twenty years ago when I was in Slytherin."

Five of the witches and wizards representing the DMLE on this dark night of January emitted guffaws and small chuckles before leaving the gatehouse to return to their headquarters.