16.Consequences

1st of November, Friday

Harry awoke with a groan and immediately regretted it. It felt like he had wrestled a dozen rounds with a mountain troll before being chewed out by a dragon.

Half his body ached as if he had overtrained himself, and the other half was just numb, but the feeling of bone-deep wariness was weighing on him like iron shackles. Even his eyelids felt like lead, and after a short struggle, Harry finally opened his eyes, only to be met with a familiar ceiling – lacquered rafters of dark wood inscribed with intricate bronze patterns.

…Why was the ceiling familiar?

It took a few moments to remember that he was in Ravenclaw Tower, specifically, his room. The memories of the last evening returned with a vengeance, and his head pulsed angrily. The troll again on All Hallow’s Eve, no, two bloody trolls. Just when he thought himself safe with a peaceful school year on the horizon…

Even his muddled mind knew the foreboding implications of last night’s event were far too close for comfort.

Harry closed his eyes, struggling with the desire to fall into the sweet clutches of dreamland. Then, slowly and methodically, he cleared his mind, ran the now familiar mental exercises, and completely tuned out the quiet surroundings.

Sometime later, his mental weariness finally abated, and his thoughts wandered toward the fight. His mind-numbing amount of magical practice finally paid off, but the spells were far more potent than he could usually cast.

It took him a few moments to remember the exact details, and Harry cracked his eyes open and grabbed his pale wand from the nightstand. He was no stranger to casting under duress or while his emotions were in great turmoil, but last night had been different.

While overpowering a spell was not new, the wand had somehow tugged both on his mind and magic with the last spell, almost wringing him dry. The first three were within his expectations, but the knockback jinx had turned deadly and far more powerful than Harry expected. No wonder he felt like shite – he had magical exhaustion.

This was a severe problem – the wand had worked seamlessly until now. What had Ollivander said?

Thestral hair made for a fickle and volatile core, making wands unwieldy.

Yet, as the pale piece of wood remained in his grasp, all Harry could feel was a sense of serenity. It was a small thing at the edge of his consciousness, but after so many mental exercises, the boy knew he was not imagining things. The feeling was utterly absent when not holding the wand. Even every breath of air felt somehow sweeter, as if he had been a thirsty man offered a cup of water.

There was something… odd here, and Harry had no inkling what it was, but he knew he would not abandon this wand. It had served him faithfully, and there was already an undeniable feeling of attachment. His intent had been to overpower the spells last night, which had worked too well.

In the end, that only showed that his control was still lacking. An annoyed sigh rolled off his lips – retraining from scratch was a great test of patience, and the only thing he could do was practice more. The endless hours of repetition had begun to take a toll on his mind.

But it was all worth it.

It was not even halfway into the school year, but his abilities already outstripped what he could do back in his second year. Not only did he manage to slay two trolls, but he also started making progress with his seemingly unattainable goals.

Forcing his heavy limbs to move, Harry grabbed the Marauder’s Map from the nightstand’s drawer and reverently unfurled it.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!”

His mouth was dry and his voice hoarse, so he absentmindedly grabbed a glass of water to soothe his parched throat. He ignored the myriad names scuttling around the inky lines as his gaze was glued to the Gryffindor tower.

A sigh of relief escaped Harry as he finally found the name he was looking for.

However, Peter Pettigrew was not in the first-year dorms where Dean and Neville were currently. He was in a room with Percival Weasley and Oliver Wood. Either Ron had not received Scabbers this time, or he had returned the rat to his brother for some reason.

Wormtail was not only alive but still in hiding. Whether out of guilt or the bastard had forgotten he was not a rat, Harry was unsure and did not care. Now came the arduous task of infiltration and rat catching. The thought of trusting, let alone asking a teacher for help, was immediately dismissed.

Flitwick had proven himself a great head of house the last two months, but Harry’s belief in authority had long died. Everyone had failed him in one way or another, and If Harry wanted something done, he knew he had to do it himself.

A persistent knocking sound from the window interrupted his musings about any plans. The irritating noise was not stopping, and with a groan, Harry forced his limbs to move.

He winced as soon as his feet hit the tufted carpet – it was a miracle he had managed to drag himself back to his room, as every movement sent agonising slivers of pain through his body.

It didn’t take long for Harry to decide to skip training today. Probably tomorrow, too.

Even the hospital wing didn’t sound like a bad idea right now, but he dreaded the long walk. The lavatory seemed too far, let alone venturing down the many floors.

Removing the curtains, he was met by an annoyed Hedwig perched on the window sill outside and angrily pecking at the window’s frame. Looking at the sun’s position, he had missed his morning run and breakfast.

After a few seconds of fumbling and plenty of winces, Harry managed to latch the window open, and his owl flew in. She smacked him on the head with a wing and dropped something on his desk before gracefully turning around and settling on the top of the wardrobe, letting out sharp barks.

Harry could only stare at what looked like a shaggy rodent on his desk before turning to his unhappy owl, “What’s the problem, girl?”

“Feathers was worried about you, Harry,” a hiss announced Nyx’s presence as the black snake slithered out from a dark corner.

The black serpent had grown to be just shy of two feet in length, and her body had also thickened slightly despite spending almost all of the time since arriving in Hogwarts slumbering. Her vocabulary had quickly expanded in the short moments she had been awake. Her increased size made it harder for the snake to hide in his sleeve.

“I’m fine,” he hissed back in assurance, trying to tune out the aching exhaustion that ran through every inch of his body. “Any idea what’s with the dead lemmings on my desk?”

“A meal to get better?”

With a sigh, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose at Nyx’s answer – he had so many questions, which did not help the painful throbbing in his temple.

And he did feel hungry, but the freshly caught rodent with its neck twisted at a painful angle did not look tasty in the slightest.

Too tired to deal with the world, Harry returned the catch to Hedwig, earning himself a reproachful bark before the proud owl flew out, the rodent in her claws.

Closing the window again was a struggle, and a minute later, Harry barely managed to return to bed, ignoring the concerned hisses from Nyx.

The next time Harry opened his eyes, his body felt substantially better. It felt like he had fought with a hippogryph and won instead of being trampled. Even his mind no longer felt as if stuck in the mud.

“Nyx, get off,” he hissed at the black choker that had curled around his neck this time. It had been quite a while since the serpent had tangled around one of his limbs.

“No more fighting with big greyskins without me!”

After the warning, Nyx slithered away onto the desk. It took Harry a few moments to realise what a ‘big greyskin’ was.

“And what would you do against a troll?”

“Bite it!” The immediate response elicited an amused snort at the daring serpent’s antics; the biggest thing she had ever caught was a gnat. “Don’t laugh—my fangs are mighty!”

Harry shook his head with exasperation, fished his watch from the drawer, and sighed. It seemed like he had slept through most of the day – it was half past three already. He had missed today’s classes, not that they would teach anything Harry didn’t already know if they even had classes after what happened yesterday. It was even more curious that nobody had attempted to search for him.

Or maybe they had, but he had been too deep in sleep to hear it.

Just as Harry had strapped the wand holster to his forearm and pulled on his robe, he paused and stared at the serpent lazily lounging on his nightstand, dark eyes tracing his every movement with interest.

“How did you know about the troll?”

Nyx tilted her triangular head as if he asked a foolish question. “The fake snakes on the walls told me.”

It had been quite a while since his companion had been so energetic. He had gotten used to seeing his black-scaled companion snoozing peacefully when he was in the room.

“The paintings?” Harry groaned as the serpent bobbed her head. Worse, he wasn’t even surprised by the snakes in the paintings nor their ability to speak Parseltongue.

Somehow, Nyx managed to sneak away from the room, which could have led to so much trouble that it wasn’t funny. Flitwick had been greatly helpful with adding the serpent to the pet register, but if there was trouble, Harry would not only be forced to shoulder the blame but possibly part with his familiar.

It took him a few minutes to coax the method of leaving from her; there was a small hole where the doorframe was joined with the wall.

“Just… make sure nobody sees you,” he relented at the guilty shine in Nyx’s black eyes. “And don’t eat anything belonging to other students.”

The words instantly made the serpent perk up, “Avoiding the foolish two legs is easy!”

Harry facepalmed at the proud statement. But he understood Nyx’s desire for freedom – being cooped up in a room for weeks upon weeks without the ability to leave was something he also loathed. The serpent already had a taste of exploring outside the room, so any attempts to restrict her might just see her finding some other way to sneak out anyway.

“No matter what, do not leave the castle and return before sunset.” Still, he left one final warning for his black-scaled familiar; should she be caught, there could be hefty consequences, and Hogwarts’ surroundings were not exactly safe either with the myriad of owls the school hosted. Even without the feathery menaces, many beasts resided within the surrounding forest, most of which would probably love to make a snack from a small snake.

His stomach grumbled and attempted to tie itself into a knot, forcing Harry to finally venture out of the room and drag himself into the showers. His body still ached with exhaustion, but the warm water was soothing, and ten minutes later, he was finally ready to face the world again.

As he descended the stairwell, he could hear the buzz of excited chatter. There were too many voices in the common room for the late afternoon when most should still be in classes or the library…

“I heard Hagrid beat a troll to death with his bare hands!”

“Snape was trying to take over the school, I tell you-“

“Amanda from Hufflepuff said the headmaster exploded two trolls with a glare-“

“Filch was eaten alive, and nothing was left from his corpse-“

Confused and with a rising sense of dread, Harry finally entered the room, which was quite full of students.

“Hey, look, it’s Potter!”

“Did you kill a troll with your bare hands?”

“Lestrange and Taylor won’t say a word-“

“Can you teach me-“

A deafening bang interrupted the commotion.

Richard Rowan, the seventh-year prefect sitting by the window, slowly lowered his wand, “Enough of your gossip. Professor Flitwick said Potter is not to be disturbed, and some of us are trying to study here!”

The housemates quickly toned down their excitement at the older boy’s outburst and left Harry alone, but many were still reeling from the shocking sound earlier. The other seventh-year prefect, a plump girl named Elyna Selwyn, was like a cat whose tail had been pulled. “Oy, Rowan, you lout, are you trying to deafen us all?!”

Tuning out the ensuing argument between the two seventh years, who were constantly breaking up and getting together, Harry’s gaze wandered around the room.

It seemed like there were no classes today – he could see Carmichael and Belby play Exploding Snap instead of attending second-year DADA.

“There you are, Harry,” he turned only to see the concerned Diana, accompanied by Juno, whose cold stare seemingly deterred anyone from approaching him. “We got worried when you didn’t show up for breakfast.”

“I’m fine,” Harry nodded gratefully at their concern. “Only a bit tired and hungry still. Walk with me to the kitchens?”

Both nodded, and the group made their way out through the clamour.

“I thought they were off-limit for students?”

“Only if you disturb or annoy the cooks.” he absentmindedly explained.

Juno finally broke her silence as they reached the staircase, “Professor Flitwick also summons you to his office at your earliest convenience.”

Bellatrix’s daughter was as quiet as usual, but Harry vaguely felt her demeanour was a tad warmer than before.

After a moment of hesitation, he decided to ignore the hungry rumble in his stomach – a meeting with the Charms master would take a handful of minutes at most. “Well then, I should probably go there first.”

Diana and Juno wordlessly followed him as he changed directions towards Flitwick’s office. Then it struck him; Harry had made himself two friends again. He had been too exhausted to think about it last eve or after waking up, but the familiar feeling was there. No matter how much Harry wanted to deny it, the two girls had found their way behind his defences.

Hanging out together was fun and easy, but…

Merlin’s beard, they had ended up right in the middle of danger because of him!

Somehow, Harry had done it again. He swore this would be the last time Juno and Diana got in trouble for him. Thankfully, there had been no problems from the staff for the stunt, and the concern was greatly appreciated; he had no fear of trolls, while the brutish man-eating monsters were a significant threat to a pair of first-year witches.

“Gosh, what you did yesterday was amazing!” Diana’s excited voice interrupted his musing while Juno nodded quietly in agreement. “I still can’t believe it happened.”

“Me neither.” His mind couldn’t help but wander towards the ridiculous comments he had heard before entering the common room. “Hey, do either of you know what all the commotion was about earlier?”

The two girls began explaining, and Harry’s head started spinning with every next word. The Hogwarts Rumour Mill was working at full capacity, but Dumbledore made a small announcement at breakfast and cancelled today’s classes for three days of mourning, which only served to feed the rampant rumours instead of quelling them.

Edwin Gamp being relieved of his prefect badge over ditching them last evening was minor compared to the rest.

Seven trolls? Filch dead? Snape dragged out by the DMLE in cuffs?

What in Merlin’s saggy bollocks had happened yesterday?!

Harry always knew Samhain hated him, but this was too much, even by his standards.

“Filch’s funeral is tomorrow,” Diana noted sombrely. “Nobody seemed particularly… sad about the caretaker’s passing though. In fact, I heard some Gryffindors are going to throw a party.”

“Being cantankerous and nasty made him no friends,” Juno said. “Generations of students were cowed in compliance by his presence here. And everyone prefers to pretend squibs don’t exist.”

The tall girl was precisely on the point, as usual. Harry was a tad sad about Filch’s passing, but those feelings paled before the news of Snape. The loathsome Potions master kept up the subtle jibes and veiled insults and was constantly prodding Harry during Potions, and the boy couldn’t help but feel a mix of relief and joy at his arrest.

The sole prospect of not dealing with the greasy-haired man in the future made him giddier than catching the snitch during a challenging Quidditch game.

They finally arrived before Flitwick’s office, and Harry hesitantly knocked on the varnished ebony door.

“Enter!”

“We’ll wait for you outside,” Juno nodded at him and tactfully pulled Diana, who seemed to be hesitating whether to follow him.

Flitwick’s office had not changed from his last visit, and the professor was behind his low desk, toiling over a stack of parchments. The diminutive Charms master immediately gave him his usual proud smile, “I’m glad you’re fine after last night’s ordeal, Mr Potter.”

“Nothing some rest couldn’t fix. You called for me, Professor?”

“Please take a seat,” Flitwick’s firm but sorrowful voice made him cautious, and Harry took the fancy tapered chair with trepidation. “I am afraid I must be the bearer of ill news. My former apprentice, Felix Fawley, the current head of DMLE, sent me a warning. Are you aware of what happened to your parents’ wands?”

The question stumped Harry. It was a topic he had never honestly thought about.

He scratched his head and asked, “Weren’t they destroyed that night?”

“Your father’s wand was indeed destroyed, and its remains buried with him. But it turns out Lily’s wand survived.”

“Oh.” It was all he could say.

“Indeed, I cannot divulge much since it’s part of the ongoing investigation,” Flitlick regretfully clasped his hands. “But I keep in touch with all of my former apprentices, and Fawley told me to send you a warning because he feared a leak at the Prophet.”

“A warning? Where was my mother’s wand?”

A sad sigh escaped from the troubled professor. “In the possession of Severus Snape, and now, the Magical Law Enforcement. Having a second wand unregistered is a crime, and a stolen one even more so.”

Harry had always thought he couldn’t despise the Potions master any further, even after viewing the memories in Dumbledore’s pensive.

But he was wrong.

His mind felt oddly numb, but fury seared through his veins like molten lava, and hunger and exhaustion were forgotten. He took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to centre himself under Flitwick’s mournful yet understanding gaze.

Eventually, the fury and adrenaline bled out, and Harry slumped on the chair, even more tired.

“Can… can I get it back? My mother’s wand?”

“After the case is closed,” Flitwick reassured him gently. “Fawley hoped he could collect your testimony of last night’s events. You don’t have to, of course, but everyone else who had failed to attend the feast has been questioned.”

The words made his heart race, but Harry remembered nobody should know about the Marauder’s Map nor his break-in into Filch’s office. Neither of which had anything to do with the trolls.

“Why have I been excluded?”

“Well-” The Charms master began a lengthy explanation that just made him numb but at least cleared up much of his confusion.

It was like the Carrow twins had told him a few weeks earlier. Dumbledore had pushed the Wizengamot for a magical gag order on his person years ago, keeping his location secret or owls being sent to him unless Harry provided the address himself. But that was not everything; it was intertwined with some temporary law that prevented any mention of his person in public and legal ministry documents until he reached thirteen.

And well, the Dursleys would have indeed freaked out by a constant stream of owls carrying gifts, messages of well-wishes, or even curses…

It was no wonder the Daily Prophet had not written a single word about him until his fourth year.

The headmaster had also barred the DMLE from questioning Harry for some reason, probably out of a misguided desire to see him have a happy and worry-free childhood.

Harry couldn’t help but snort – that hippogryph had flown away long ago.

“Professor, if I provided a statement, would the investigation be concluded faster?”

Flitwick nodded genially, “Quite possibly so, Mr Potter.”

Harry still had the Marauder’s Map from his father. If things were the same in this world, the invisibility cloak would also be in his possession by Christmas. Yet, he knew little of his mother and had only inherited her eyes…

The prospect of having a memento, a token from her, ignited a longing deep within him that he did not know existed.

“Alright, I’ll do it.” The Charms master took out an empty roll of parchment and flicked his wand, activating the Dicta Quill. “I couldn’t stand the celebration, so I decided to take a walk and clear my head -” Suppressing his hunger, Harry did his best to recount last night’s event while keeping his visit to Filch’s office to himself.

The sooner he could have his mother’s wand, the better, especially if Snape could enjoy a long stay in Azkaban for it.

3rd of November, Sunday

“Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?” Fawley’s baritone boomed over dim courtroom ten as the members of the Wizengamot were glaring at Snape, who sat in the magical chair bound by chains.

Not a single wand was raised; even the Elder Wand remained in his sleeve as Dumbledore had decided to abstain due to a conflict of interest, and it was understandable. The bitterness Severus held had finally come back to bite him in the arse. Despite his hatred of arrogance, the Potions master developed an arrogant streak of his own.

Despite being the head of Slytherin, Snape failed to nurture proper relationships with most of his more influential students and managed to either alienate them or create grievance and resentment. And now was the time for comeuppance.

Someone from the DMLE, probably a wizard with a grudge, had leaked Snape’s theft of Lily Potter’s wand to the Prophet. Stealing from a poor orphan was bad enough, let alone Harry Potter – that turned the public away from the man irrevocably. Worse, parts of the interrogation transcript had also reached the newspaper. As a half-blood, Severus had no legal immunity against truth serums, even if they weren’t admissible in the Wizengamot. Ironically, his latest creation, the Veritaserum, was used on the Potion master, and many of his previous misdeeds had come to light in the public, which was rightfully outraged.

It was done with the explicit agreement of the DMLE, as they did not even bother to investigate the leaks.

One did not get into Voldemort’s inner circle without committing a slew of malignant deeds, and Severus had been part of it for over two years before coming to the headmaster. Intellectually, Albus knew about it and refrained from inquiring about specifics after Snape had given him an oath. Yet, hearing the grisly details turned even his stomach.

Even the newly elected Fudge had decided to righteously reverse the pardon Bagnold had given after consulting with him.

Albus could only sorrowfully agree after being handed the full interrogation transcript. Over three dozen uses of the Unforgivable curses and many other illegal magicks, almost a dozen murders, twice as many tortures, muggle-baiting, even rape, and many other heavy offences. His heart was still heavy with regret – truth be told, the headmaster had thought Severus had spent most of his time under the Dark Lord brewing potions or creating curses.

And Albus had refrained from asking, lest the truth had turned out too much to bear, as it had proven to be.

“And those in favour of Dementor’s Kiss or the Veil?”

Many wands rose in the air. The elder wand pulsed hungrily as if hearing the death knell, forcing Albus to clear his mind to resist the sudden urge to raise his wand. Sighing inwardly, Dumbledore opened his eyes and counted with trepidation. Twenty-nine votes, just shy of achieving the required two-thirds for an execution, albeit with very little.

Still, the Potions master was not without his connections, but it pained the headmaster to see all of them were with the darkest members of the traditional faction.

To his knowledge, Lucius tried to get Severus to accept the best solicitors to defend him before the Wizengamot in a bid to push for the infamous imperious defence, but… Snape had declined.

A glance at Severus’s dark eyes told the headmaster why; the Potions master was angry. He was furious with himself, angry with James and Harry Potter, angry with Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, and wizarding Britain. Severus knew. The Chief Warlock could see it in his gaze; the Potions master knew he was being sacrificed in a play by Voldemort and himself, and his drunken confession about possessing Lily’s wand had sealed his fate, regardless of any other guilt. He grudgingly accepted his lot, but the rage remained there, simmering under the surface.

From what Dumbledore heard, Snape had not uttered a single word after the interrogation had brought his crimes out in the open.

But the anger and fury were not new – Albus knew how to spot old pain when he saw one. Harbouring so much resentment and loathing for the world was unhealthy, but Severus had gotten quite good at hiding it until it finally boiled over.

Dumbledore could tell Snape hated himself the most but would die before admitting it even to himself.

It was questionable if even the best solicitor could get the Potions master out of this mess. Still, it seemed like Lucius Malfoy had employed every measure and pulled every string to save his friend’s life; he seemed to have pulled in most of the neutral moderates and some of the department heads.

“In favour of life imprisonment in Azkaban?”

Everyone but the headmaster and Lucius Malfoy raised their wands. This was it; many faces were filled with jubilation and glee, while Fudge was red with excitement – he was starting his term as a Minister with quite the aplomb. At this moment, Dumbledore felt too old. His oath still held sway over Severus, and now the man would reluctantly follow his vow or die, even if he somehow managed to get out of Azkaban.

Fawley ceremonially slammed his hammer. “Well then, Dawlish, Kingsley – bring Mr Snape to his new accommodations.”

The chains binding Severus to the magical chair immediately fell, and the two Aurors, wrapped in red robes, roughly dragged the silent Potions master out of the courtroom. This whole thing was his doing; he had pushed for a full pardon for Severus over a false premise in hopes of using the man in the future. The vow binding the Potions master stayed true for all the good it would do in Azkaban, and he would either keep to it or die.

It had seemed like a good idea back then, but Albus knew all too well that time had its way of bringing even your slightest mistakes into the light one way or another. Maybe deciding to pull Snape to his side would have paid off in the future… maybe not.

Even Divination couldn’t truly tell now, but the point was moot. All that was left was to suffer the consequences. His decision to push for Snape’s pardon would inevitably result in some backlash, but it was far from the first time he faced public scrutiny.

Albus’s feelings were mixed; the interrogation revealed that Severus had not committed a single crime after being pardoned, aside from possessing Lily Potter’s stolen wand. It was a pity his lacklustre tenure as a head of the Slytherins and Potions teacher at Hogwarts failed to be the redemption the man could have earned for himself if nothing else.

Somehow, Voldemort had managed to outplay the headmaster with a single move, exactly ten years after being vanquished. The coincidence was too much and confirmed Dumbledore’s suspicions about Tom Riddle’s continued existence.

Life had a way of giving bitter lessons, but now was not the time to dwell on his follies. He had to start moving to counter Voldemort and the threat to his school.

Dumbledore signalled to the head of DMLE and quickly made his way out of the courtroom.

A minute later, Felix Fawley met him in one of the empty rooms on level ten.

“You wanted to meet me, headmaster?” Dumbledore nodded at the not-so-subtle inquiry about which of his official roles this meeting was requested for.

“Have you concluded your investigation of last Thursday’s attack?” None of the crimes officially attributed to Severus included the trolls’ presence at Hallow’s Eve. Fudge had hastily pushed forward the Wizengamot session to get the whole thing done and dusted.

“Everything points to Snape,” Fawley sighed, seemingly tired. “The man was already researching trolls and their nearby habitats for potion ingredients. The spells cast by Lily Potter’s wand were particularly incriminating, especially after he admitted to taking it from her corpse. Traces of forgetfulness potion had been present in his body on Friday, and we all know the man is bitter and full of hate. One or two circumstantial pieces of evidence might not be enough to incriminate him, but a dozen? When everything points at him, we have no choice but to indict him. Even if we cannot prove it with complete certainty, not that we needed – his prior crimes are enough.”

“Thank you, Director Fawley.” Dumbledore nodded, even as he acknowledged his former student’s subtle accusation. It was not forgotten that he had vouched for Severus, and while the headmaster was sure that no one would believe he was aware of his crimes, it would still rankle many.

Voldemort had been thorough as usual – he might have forced Albus into an untenable situation, but he revealed his hand early. The earlier preparations needed to be revised… significantly, especially if his former student attempted to be so heavy-handed again.

“Headmaster,” the head of DMLE was still here, face now troubled. “Many in the Wizengamot are worried about the safety of their kin in Hogwarts.”

“They need not worry,” Dumbledore assured firmly, putting all his conviction in his gaze. “I have taken heavy measures against future mishaps.” The head of DMLE nodded in acceptance. Albus estimated that it would take less than a week for his finest alchemical masterpiece to be complete, and he had even acquired the assistance of his old mentor for its creation.

Anyone thinking they could brute force their way and attack his castle through the front door would be sorely disappointed in the future, Samhain or not.

“One final thing, headmaster. My brother and the rest of the Board of Governors have selected a new caretaker.”

Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard, hiding his surprise. Argus Filch had been buried just yesterday, and none of the Board had attended the poor squib’s funeral. “Already? I hope they are aware any appointment must pass through me one way or another.”

“Indeed, but a unanimous decision was reached that the new caretaker must also be capable of defending the school if need be.”

“Such a hire would be too costly for a group who usually bickers for every galleon,” Albus noted dryly.

“Well, it seems that the threat against the students has loosened their purses,” Fawley laughed though there was little joy in it. The Head of the DMLE then excused himself and vacated the room, leaving the old headmaster alone with his thoughts.

The damage to his prestige seemed to be showing already. The Board was being uncharacteristically bold; no official notification had been sent to him yet.

But at least they saved him the trouble of looking for a new caretaker, not that Albus would fail to vet the new one. Now, the headmaster only had to convince Slughorn to come out from retirement instead of being a substitute teacher for a week or two. Doubtlessly, the old Potions master would try and extract some concessions, but the temptations to teach and network with the best of the new generation was never something Slughorn could resist.

Perhaps mentioning a few impressive students for him and a can of his favourite crystallised pineapples would do.