May 3, 1993.
The castle had long since ceased to be a place of education; it had become a sprawling, stone-walled pressure cooker. The air in the corridors felt thick, like a pre-storm atmosphere where the static makes your hair stand on end. Every time a door slammed in a distant hallway, students would jump, their hands flying to their wands. Conversations were no longer about the latest Quidditch scores or the difficulty of Flitwick's essays; they were hushed, frantic exchanges conducted in tight phalanxes of three or four.
That evening, the Ravenclaw common room felt like a besieged fortress. The fire in the marble hearth crackled quietly, casting long, shifting orange shadows across the shelves of books that no one was actually reading. I was seated in a winged armchair, a volume on Advanced Runic Anchors open on my lap, but my mind was tracking the "Current" of the room. It was erratic. Jagged.
Elliot Moor was sitting on the edge of his bed nearby, his eyes fixed on the entrance. He looked as though he were counting the seconds until the world ended.
"You've looked at the door seventeen times in the last ten minutes, Elliot," Tobias noted, not looking up from a pile of Chocolate Frog cards he was mindlessly shuffling. "If you're waiting for an invitation to leave, I don't think one is coming."
Elliot blinked, startled out of his trance. "…Have I? I didn't notice."
"Seventeen times," Cassian Rowle confirmed, his voice flat and unyielding. "Your anxiety is becoming a structural hazard to the group's focus."
Adrian Shah turned a page of his notebook, his quill poised. "Something is bothering you beyond the general state of terror in the castle. Speak, Elliot. Data shared is weight halved."
Elliot hesitated, his fingers twisting a loose thread on his sleeve. Then he looked at me. "I think we should visit Hagrid."
Tobias frowned, his shuffling stopping mid-deck. "Hagrid? The giant man who thinks man-eating spiders are 'misunderstood'?"
"The Gamekeeper," Elliot clarified quickly. "He's always in the forest. He sees everything that moves on the grounds. If there's a monster in the castle, it had to come from somewhere. Maybe he knows what it is. Or how to stop it."
Cassian leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "You think he's holding back information? That's a bold assumption for a boy who is afraid of his own shadow, Moor."
"I'm not saying he's the Heir!" Elliot squeaked. "I'm saying he's the only one who talks to the creatures. Maybe he's noticed something the teachers haven't."
Tobias scratched his head, looking uncertain. "I don't know, Elliot. Going out onto the grounds at night during a petrification crisis sounds like the kind of idea that ends with us being the 'latest tragedy' in the Daily Prophet."
Elliot ignored him and looked pleadingly at me. "Orion. Please. You've been to the forest before. You know the way. You know how to stay hidden."
I considered the request. I looked at the "Seer" threads in my mind. The pressure around Hagrid's cabin was spiking—a convergence of fates was happening there tonight. If I wanted to see the architecture of the next act, I needed to be a witness.
I closed my book with a definitive thud. "Fine. We go."
Tobias let out a pained groan. "I can't believe that worked. I really need to stop following you into certain death, Orion."
Cassian stood up, smoothing his robes. "Well. If we're getting murdered by an ancient subterranean horror tonight, at least it'll be more memorable than another night of Arithmancy."
Adrian sighed but rose as well, checking his watch. "Let us go before Elliot's heart rate exceeds the safety limit."
The walk across the grounds was a study in silence. The Scottish night had settled over the castle, turning the sprawling lawns into a sea of ink and silver. The windows of Hogwarts glowed with a warm, domestic gold behind us, while the Forbidden Forest loomed ahead like a wall of sentient shadows.
We moved in a tight formation, our breathing the only sound in the cold air. Hagrid's small wooden cabin sat at the edge of the dark trees, its windows flickering with firelight. But as we drew closer, I held up a hand, stopping the group in their tracks.
"Something is wrong," I whispered. My Thunderbird instincts were vibrating.
Cassian noticed it a second later. "…We aren't the only ones who had the idea to visit the Gamekeeper."
Figures stood outside the cabin. Several of them. Torches flickered in the darkness, casting long, distorted shadows across the grass. Elliot squinted, his voice trembling. "Is that... the teachers?"
"No," I said, my eyes locking onto a specific silhouette. "Ministry."
I raised my Starfall Yew wand and hummed a low, vibrating note. "Disillusionment," I murmured. A ripple of magic washed over the five of us, our bodies shimmering like heat-haze before fading into the colors of the night.
"Don't move," I instructed. "And keep your breathing shallow."
We drifted closer, moving through the grass until we were within earshot. Standing near Hagrid's door were two men in heavy, dark cloaks. I recognized the first immediately from my former world's data: Cornelius Fudge. He looked strained, his lime-green bowler hat clutched nervously in his hands. Beside him stood a group of stern-faced Ministry officials who looked as though they had been carved from granite.
Albus Dumbledore stood nearby, his presence a mountain of calm in the center of the storm.
"Now Hagrid, I must insist," Fudge was saying, his voice thin and reeking of political desperation. "This is only a precaution. A temporary measure to appease the public."
Hagrid's massive frame occupied the doorway, his face illuminated by the torchlight. "A precaution?" he thundered, his voice cracking with a raw, agonizing hurt. "I ain't done nothin', Minister! I've been here, doin' my job!"
Elliot's eyes widened behind his invisible mask. Tobias clapped a hand over his mouth. They were accusing him.
"The school governors feel that—given the history of this place—someone must be seen to be held responsible," Fudge explained, avoiding Hagrid's eyes.
"Yeh think I opened the Chamber?!" Hagrid growled, his hands shaking. "Again?!"
Before Fudge could stammer out a reply, a second voice entered the fray. It was cold, polished, and carried the effortless weight of old gold.
Lucius Malfoy stepped forward from the shadows of the forest's edge. His pale hair caught the torchlight, and his silver-topped cane tapped rhythmically against the frozen ground. Behind him stood several other cloaked figures—the Board of Governors.
Cassian's jaw tightened. "…Malfoy," he hissed under his breath.
Lucius's smile was a thin line of ice. "Cornelius is merely acting on the consensus of the board, Hagrid. The school is in a state of terminal crisis. Students are being petrified. Parents are demanding blood. And it has become painfully clear that the current leadership..."
His eyes slid toward Dumbledore with a look of pure, predatory triumph. "...has failed to contain the infection."
"What is he doing?" Elliot whispered, his voice a thread of panic.
"He's executing a coup," Adrian replied, his voice flat and analytical.
Lucius addressed the Minister with a polite, mocking bow. "The governors have therefore voted. Albus Dumbledore is hereby suspended from his position as Headmaster of Hogwarts, effective immediately."
The night seemed to freeze. Even the wind through the pines stopped. It was a structural failure of the castle's defenses. Without Dumbledore, the "Oceans" would be unguarded.
"You must understand, Albus," Fudge stammered, looking miserable. "The pressure... the governors felt it necessary..."
Dumbledore remained perfectly calm, his blue eyes fixed on Malfoy. "As they wish. I shall step aside."
Lucius smiled. "Temporary measures, of course. Until the threat is neutralized."
Fudge cleared his throat, pulling out a pair of magical restraints. "And Hagrid... I'm afraid you must come with us. To Azkaban."
"I didn't do it then... an' I didn't do it now!" Hagrid roared, his eyes filling with tears.
Dumbledore spoke then, his voice a gentle anchor. "I know you did not, Hagrid."
The big man looked at his Headmaster, a flicker of hope in his eyes. Then the iron clicked around his wrists.
"If anyone wanted ter find out what's really happenin'..." Hagrid muttered, his voice a guttural rasp as the Ministry officials began to lead him away, "...they should follow the spiders."
Fudge blinked, looking confused. "Spiders? What on earth is he talking about?"
Hagrid didn't elaborate. He allowed himself to be led into the dark toward the station. Lucius Malfoy lingered for a moment, his gaze sweeping the clearing—passing right through our disillusioned forms—before he turned and followed the Minister, his cane clicking a rhythm of victory.
Dumbledore remained behind for a heartbeat longer. He looked toward the Forbidden Forest, his eyes glimmering with a profound, unreadable thought. He seemed to sense the "Current" of our presence, but he didn't call us out. He simply turned and walked slowly back toward the castle, looking older than I had ever seen him.
When the clearing was truly empty, I lowered my wand. The ripple of magic faded, and our physical forms snapped back into reality.
Tobias exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding for five minutes. "…That was the most intense political drama I've ever witnessed. They arrested the giant and fired the legend."
Elliot looked shaken, his hands clutching his elbows. "They're taking him to Azkaban, Orion. The prison. People don't come back from there the same."
Adrian spoke quietly, his gaze on the receding torches of the Ministry party. "This school just became a lawless zone. Without Dumbledore, the Board of Governors—and Malfoy—can rewrite the rules as they see fit."
Cassian crossed his arms, his dark eyes burning with a cold fury. "My father was right. Lucius Malfoy doesn't care about the monster. He cares about the throne. He used the petrifications as leverage."
Elliot looked toward the dark eaves of the forest. "Did you hear what Hagrid said at the end? About the spiders?"
"Follow the spiders," I repeated.
Tobias immediately shook his head, taking a step toward the castle. "No. Absolutely not. I've seen the spiders in this forest. They're the size of carriage horses and they have too many eyes. I am not following anything with more than four legs into that abyss."
Cassian grinned—a sharp, jagged expression. "That means we're definitely following the spiders, Tobias. Hagrid didn't say that for the Minister's benefit. He said it for ours. Or for someone listening."
Tobias groaned, looking at the sky. "I hate being a Ravenclaw sometimes. Why can't I just be a Hufflepuff and stay inside with a nice cup of cocoa?"
I looked toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The trees were rustling, but not from the wind. Somewhere deep in the undergrowth, I could hear a rhythmic, multi-legged skittering. A thousands-fold clicking of mandibles.
The "Deers of Death" in me saw the thread. It was a thick, black line leading into the heart of the woods.
"Interesting," I murmured.