Lord Greengrass folded Daphne's letter, slipping it into the inner pocket of his work robes before rising to his feet. While her letter was a tad vague, very different from her usual letters, he was pretty certain he knew what she was trying not to say.
A hawthorn tree had mysterious sprouted in full maturity in the middle of the Hogwarts standing stones after the students had performed a Samhain ritual led by Aria Bourne.
Did Daphne really think he wouldn't realize who she was writing about? Regardless, she had asked some good questions and he intended to give her the information she sought. After, of course, he did his own investigation and research.
Leaving his office, Gareth Greengrass made his way through the Department of Mysteries, glad to note that no one was visiting. They very rarely got visitors, but if they did, it was usually an apprentice hoping to find some kind of obscure information they needed for research, or it was a busy body who didn't know when not to stick their nose into business that did not pertain to them.
Like Dolores Umbridge. Gareth was still upset about her, and would most likely remain so for weeks to come until the woman was official tried in front of the Wizengamot, clapped in irons, and sent to Azkaban for a year or two. When he had heard that she had been in possession of two Blood Quills, he had immediately ordered an inventory of the Department of Mysteries' banned and regulated objects. The inventory had shown that two Blood Quills had gone missing and now Gareth had to do an internal investigation to see who had given such objects to Umbridge because he couldn't imagine her having the intellect needed to pull off a heist. There was a small pool of individuals for him to investigate, but for the moment, he was taking his time, waiting to see how Umbridge's case went. Maybe she would admit to Bones who gave her the quills. If not, then he would see who in his department seemed a little too relieved.
He had not become Head of the Department of Mysteries by acting without thought.
His feet brought him to the Hall of Prophecy. The large room, multiple stories and at least a half mile in depth, was filled with rows and rows of shelves packed with prophecy orbs. The orbs dated back hundreds of years to when the department had first begun collecting and cataloging prophecies. It was tedious work and one of those jobs within the department that a person was regulated to if they were either new to the department or needed to be disciplined without being fired. The Keeper of the Hall, Unspeakable Magnus Balderstone, was really the only one who enjoyed being in the Hall.
"Lord Greengrass," Balderstone appeared from around a shelving unit. Only years of honing his reactions kept Gareth from startling. "What brings you to the Hall of Prophecy?"
"Curiosity," Gareth replied. "I've recently been informed that a Samhain ritual was performed at Hogwarts at the standing stones and that a hawthorn tree now stands in the center of the circle."
Balderstone's mouth dropped. Gareth felt a bit smug at being able to bring about that reaction to the man. Balderstone embodied the mysteriousness that all Unspeakables worked to obtain, but for Balderstone, it came naturally. He came from a long line of Unspeakables, and, as far as Gareth knew, a Balderstone who was an Unspeakable would always become Keeper of the Hall sooner or later.
"Sweet Merlin," Balderstone finally murmured, turning, and rushing down an aisle. Gareth hurried to follow him, knowing the man was now headed in the direction he had been going. They went up a set of metal stairs to the second floor where the older prophecies were kept. Balderstone began muttering under his breath as they wandered down one the farthest aisles. Here the prophecies dated back to before the department was officially the Department of Mysteries. These orbs had had to be transcribed by Unspeakables from parchment that had been at risk of breaking apart. These prophecies were made when the department had had many groups and many names.
Stopping in front of a shelf, Balderstone easily reached through the magical protections and plucked an orb off the shelf. Under its stand was a small plate labeled: HAWTHORN GUARDIAN, CIRCA 930 AD. GODWINE TO MERLIN.
"Hogwarts was only . . . twenty years old at most," Balderstone stated as he turned to Gareth. "It's the only prophecy of Godwine's, and Merlin speaks about the prophecy several times in his own writings. I believe Morgana also refers to it in her writings."
Gareth knew all this. The Grove Children from Merlin's country of modern-day Wales had kept his writings throughout the centuries, guarding them fiercely until they were incorporated into the creation of the Department of Mysteries. Gareth had, as Head of the Department, seen and studied the writings of some of the country's greatest wixen. Merlin. Morgana. Morgause. Mordred. Even the writings of Muggles at that point. Arthur and the knights. Other wixen who had been a part of the various courts throughout the British Isles.
A sudden loud blaring rang through the Hall of Prophecy. Balderstone nearly dropped the prophecy, he and Gareth scrambling to catch it before it could smash to the ground. Balderstone immediately placed it back onto its stand and the two pulled their wands, sprinting back the way they had come. The alarm meant only one thing. Someone was trying to pull a prophecy off the shelf. Only the Keeper of the Hall and his most trusted workers had the ability to take prophecies off the shelves, anyone else got . . . well . . . the magic would determine what happened. Gareth could still remember the first time he had seen someone try to take down a prophecy who was not keyed into the magic of the Hall. He had been in his second year working in the Department of Mysteries and the witch had only been working three weeks in the department and had been curious. She had still had to go to St. Mungo's for severe magical burns on her hands. Then, the year before he had been elected as Head of the Department, someone had actually come in with the intention to steal a prophecy.
There had been a lot of blood to clean up.
Gareth and Balderstone came rushing towards where the alarm was going off. Several lower-level employees in the Hall were gathered a few shelves away. One girl was crying, and another boy was vomiting all over his own shoes. An attempt at thievery then.
Blood coated the floor, making squelching sounds as Gareth and Balderstone approached what was left of the person. Balderstone growled in annoyance.
"He got blood all over the orbs!" he cried. "I'm going to have to stay late and clean it all!"
The blood had splattered over the nearby orbs. The person truly must've had ill intentions for the magic of the Hall to react like this. Gareth squatted down over what was left of the person, uncaring at how blood was soaking into the hem on his robes, and reached out for what remained of person's arm, flipping it over. A Dark Mark, black as night, stared up at him. Even in death, the tattoo continued to magically move.
"Death Eaters?" Balderstone whispered as Gareth straightened.
Gareth peered around at the shelves, gaze soon landing on one particular prophecy.
"It's interesting, isn't it, Balderstone?" Gareth said conversationally. "How a Death Eater attempts to steal a prophecy about his Dark Lord on his own accord?"
Balderstone snorted with contempt.
"Own accord my ass," the Keeper of the Hall muttered. Gareth spun on his heel and marched back to the young employees. The wizard had finally stopped vomiting, but the witch was still crying.
"Get Maintenance down here to clean that up!" he barked, startling the employees. "And I want a read on what's left of the body's magical signature, Balderstone!"
"Understood!" Balderstone called after him.
Gareth exited the Hall of Prophecy, annoyance filling his chest. Questions about Daphne's friend would have to wait. Now he had to explain to Madam Bones why a dead body was in the Department of Mysteries.