Hearing Hagrid's answer, the two scribes standing behind Annabelle froze, their quills hovering over their parchment.
A temptation that even Dumbledore couldn't handle?
What kind of object could possibly hold that kind of power?
Annabelle's expression darkened, turning incredibly serious.
Across from them, Quirrell slumped slightly against the sofa. Beneath his heavy wizarding robes, his hands were trembling uncontrollably.
Snape took all of this in, his dark eyes missing nothing.
Annabelle waved a hand, signaling the two scribes to keep writing.
"So, now that the item has been stolen, has Headmaster Dumbledore made any official statement?"
"No. Actually, Headmaster Dumbledore is currently giving a lecture at the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France," Hagrid explained, shaking his head.
Annabelle nodded and shifted the topic to the findings from Gringotts.
"According to the internal audit conducted by the Gringotts goblins, a highly powerful wizard used the Imperius Curse to mind-control a goblin named Griphook, using him to infiltrate the vault."
"While we don't have the exact timeline of events, we strongly suspect this wizard is the one who took the item."
Hagrid's eyes went wide.
"Griphook? But that's the goblin who escorted me down to the vault!"
"Is he alright?" Hagrid asked, a flash of genuine panic in his eyes.
None of the Ministry officials seemed to notice his sudden anxiety.
"We don't know," Annabelle replied objectively. "The goblins handle their own internal discipline."
She fired off a few more detail-oriented questions, which Hagrid answered one by one.
"Alright. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Hagrid."
Annabelle waved her hand again, and the two scribes immediately snapped their notebooks shut.
"You two head back to the Ministry and file the report. I have some personal business to attend to."
Since she had briefed them beforehand, the scribes weren't surprised. They nodded and immediately left the office.
Kingsley, however, shamelessly stayed planted on the sofa.
Professor McGonagall looked at Annabelle in confusion. Suddenly, the strict, professional mask melted off Annabelle's face, replaced by a warm, genuine smile.
"Official business is concluded. Now, speaking as a guardian, I'd like to ask the professors how my kid is doing."
"Oh?"
McGonagall looked at her in surprise, clearly having misunderstood the situation.
Annabelle continued, "I was wondering how Richie is doing. Richie Harland. How has his performance been over this past month?"
"Oh, Richie? The Seven-Pointed Star?"
"Wait, you're his..."
Hearing Annabelle's question, it wasn't just McGonagall who reacted—Snape's eyebrow gave a sharp, involuntary twitch.
Richie Harland. The first-year who had handed in six perfectly brewed, high-grade potions in a single month. Snape couldn't ignore him even if he tried.
What did six high-grade potions in a month actually mean?
They had two Potions classes a week. Eight classes a month. If you subtracted the time spent on theoretical lectures and Snape's mandatory critiques (which mostly consisted of him aggressively roasting the students' catastrophic failures), Richie was essentially brewing a flawless potion every single time he touched a cauldron.
That kind of terrifying consistency had definitely left a lasting impression on the Potions Master.
"Seven-Pointed Star?"
Annabelle blinked, completely unfamiliar with the nickname. "If we're talking about the same kid... I'm his aunt. He's a first-year in Ravenclaw."
She gestured near her head. "He's got messy, butter-blonde hair."
"Ah, yes. We are definitely talking about the same boy. Ravenclaw's Seven-Pointed Star, Richie Harland."
McGonagall smiled warmly, nodding. "He has been absolutely exceptional since arriving at Hogwarts..."
The atmosphere in the Head of House's office instantly shifted. The stiff, bureaucratic tension completely evaporated, replaced by the friendly, welcoming vibe of a standard parent-teacher conference.
The sudden pivot clearly caught the others off guard.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Professor Quirrell—whose eyes had been darting around nervously for a while—muttered an excuse about needing to change his bandages and quickly slipped out of the office.
Seeing him leave, Snape offered a flat, "Harland's potion work is quite acceptable," before turning on his heel and following Quirrell out the door.
Listening to McGonagall recount Richie's achievements over the past month, Annabelle couldn't stop grinning.
"Professor McGonagall, would it be possible for me to see him? I brought him some warmer clothes."
It was October, and the Scottish Highlands were getting chilly. Annabelle had used the work trip as an excuse to drop off his winter gear.
While it was technically against standard protocol to have parents dropping in, they were already sitting right there. It felt unnecessarily cruel to say no.
Besides, professors always had a soft spot for their top-performing students.
"I'm afraid the timing isn't quite right," McGonagall said apologetically. "It's currently the second period of the morning. Ravenclaw is in Charms class."
"However, if you're willing to wait, you are more than welcome to stay and experience a Hogwarts lunch. You can see him then."
Annabelle's smile widened. "I'd be honored."
With McGonagall's blessing, Hagrid took Annabelle and Kingsley on a guided tour of the castle grounds to kill time until lunch.
Meanwhile, in the Charms classroom, Richie had just thrown a massive curveball at Professor Flitwick.
"Mr. Harland has just asked an absolutely brilliant question: Is there a fundamental connection between the Locking Charm and the Full Body-Bind Curse?"
Professor Flitwick beamed at Richie, stepping down from his podium to stand in the center of the room.
He looked around at the class, his voice echoing clearly.
"The answer is yes. In fact, the connection is incredibly deep."
"This actually dives into highly advanced magical theory."
"The Full Body-Bind Curse is technically part of the sixth-year curriculum."
"But since Mr. Harland brought it up, I'll give you a brief overview. Think of it as expanding your magical horizons."
"However, please keep in mind: do not attempt to replicate what I am about to show you. After all..."
"...not everyone has my unique talent for surviving decades of catastrophic student misfires to become a Charms Master."
The first-years laughed at Flitwick's self-deprecating joke, their curiosity now fully peaked.
Flitwick drew his wand and gave a light flick toward a wooden training dummy in the corner. The dummy floated to the center of the room and arranged itself into a stiff, star-shaped stance.
"In the text Spell Derivation, there is a fascinating concept: 'Advanced spells are often born from the restructuring of foundational magic.'"
"If we apply that logic to the Full Body-Bind Curse, it is essentially a hybrid. It is a combination of the Locking Charm, a reversed application of the Softening Charm, and the mental control framework of the Levitation Charm."
"Those three foundational spells—all of which you learn in your first year—are the structural pillars of the Full Body-Bind Curse."
"The Locking Charm secures a physical lock..."
Flitwick whipped his wand toward the heavy wooden door at the front of the classroom.
"Colloportus!"
Click. The distinct sound of a heavy deadbolt sliding into place echoed through the room.
Immediately, Flitwick snapped his wand back toward the dummy.
"But the Full Body-Bind Curse applies that same 'locking' logic to a living target."