Chapter 39: Hiring Dumbledore as a Bodyguard and Portraits
While still mastering his studies, Warren had never considered facing Voldemort alone. However, that did not mean he was giving up on the quest. The directive was simply to save the unicorns of the Forbidden Forest. It did not specify that he had to do it himself. He was at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore was present. Why would he be foolish enough to confront Voldemort directly?
That evening, after walking for hours, they finally emerged from the forest and parted ways at Hagrid's hut. Warren composed his expression to appear grave and anxious, as though something significant had transpired. Then he set off to find Professor McGonagall.
"Mr. Weasley, you..."
"Professor, please take me to see Headmaster Dumbledore. I have something important to tell him."
Professor McGonagall was alarmed by the look on his face. She hesitated for a moment before leading him to the seventh floor. As Deputy Headmistress, she naturally knew the password to Dumbledore's office.
"Chocolate Frog."
Warren followed her inside. It was his first time in the Headmaster's office. The circular room was bright and warm. Just past the entrance, a spiral staircase ascended to the upper floor, presumably Dumbledore's living quarters. A wide, semicircular shelf hugged the wall, filled with books and various alchemical instruments. The long desk in front of the floor-to-ceiling window was also covered in clutter. In one corner, Fawkes the phoenix rested on a perch with his eyes closed.
At the sound of their entry, Fawkes opened his eyes and glanced over. The portraits of former Headmasters lining the walls did the same.
"Look, our Slytherin genius is here. Wonderful," a portrait exclaimed in surprise.
Warren studied the portrait. He guessed the man was Phineas Nigellus Black, the only Headmaster ever to hail from Slytherin, and also the most unpopular in Hogwarts history. To make matters worse, the Black family, his own lineage, was nearly extinct.
Warren bowed quickly, glancing toward the fireplace. Dumbledore sat there, still in his pink and purple dressing gown, knitting. He turned, waving his knitting needles.
"Minerva, Mr. Weasley. Good evening. Just in time. Come and see this knitting pattern. Is it not lovely? I spent ages choosing it at a Muggle shop the other day. I nearly went cross-eyed."
"Ahem. Albus." Professor McGonagall gave him a meaningful look. "Mr. Weasley says he has something important to tell you."
Dumbledore regarded Warren with curiosity. Their only previous encounter had been anything but pleasant. Warren was fiercely independent and had firmly resisted his probing. He had expected the boy to steer clear of him for a while.
Warren nodded. With Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore, and the portraits watching him, he retrieved a bottle from his bag and set it on the Headmaster's desk.
Dumbledore looked curious. "Mr. Weasley, what is this?"
"Unicorn bloodstains, Headmaster."
Warren drew his wand and cast the Revelaspell. The scene from hours earlier replayed. As grey smoke emerged from the white light, many of the portraits gasped.
The inquisitive smile vanished from Dumbledore's face. He rose and walked to the desk, leaning over to examine the bottle of soil before waving a hand at the shocked Professor McGonagall.
"Minerva, you may go. Mr. Weasley has indeed brought a serious matter to my attention."
Once she had left, he straightened up and looked at Warren. "Mr. Weasley, where did you find this?" His eyes, showing no signs of age, were sharp enough to pierce the soul.
Hmph. Legilimency? Warren, keeping his Occlumency shields constantly active, sensed a strange magic radiating from Dumbledore's gaze. It did not attempt to force its way into his mind but merely lingered on the periphery. He was using the spell only to gauge his emotions and see if he was lying.
Warren kept his composure. "In the Forbidden Forest." He went on to describe his visit to Hagrid earlier that day, explaining how he had happened to notice something disturbing regarding the injured unicorn's blood. It carried traces of Dark magic.
"Be it werewolves or any other creature dwelling within the Forbidden Forest, they simply lack the ability to wield Dark magic to harm a unicorn. Only a wizard could be responsible for this. As you know, Professor, I have some proficiency in Potions. Unicorn blood is cursed, yet throughout history, reckless fools have persistently attempted to brew potions with it. Concoctions of that nature are typically..."
"Elixirs of Life," Dumbledore murmured, finishing his thought.
He raised his hand slightly. Without a word or wand, he reached toward the bottle. His hand passed through the white light, capturing the wisps of grey smoke in his palm.
Warren watched, awestruck. It was silent, wandless magic performed with flawless skill. He had not even sensed a ripple of magic.
Dumbledore studied the smoke intently for a long moment. Finally, he waved his hand to disperse it and looked at Warren. "What you have discovered is significant. But I must see the scene myself." He held out his arm. "Fawkes."
Fawkes trilled and landed on his arm, gripping it. "Mr. Weasley, help yourself to the sweets on the desk. Please wait a moment. I will be right back." With that, Fawkes vanished in a flare of flames.
Warren was not surprised. Hogwarts was protected by Anti-Disapparition Jinxes, but they did not apply to beings outside the standard wizarding framework, such as Fawkes or house-elves.
Warren made himself at home. He stepped behind the desk, helped himself to a few chocolates from the candy dish that floated toward him, and started eating. He was hungry after walking all day.
As he ate, amid the murmuring of the portraits, he heard someone call him. "Hey, Weasley boy."
Warren looked up. It was Headmaster Black.
The shadowy old man winked at him. "Noticed Dark magic in unicorn blood, eh? You are not exactly a saint yourself, are you? Oh, do not look at me like that. I have never been averse to the Dark Arts. In fact, I am glad you are studying them. A Slytherin ignorant of the Dark Arts can hardly be called a genius. I simply want to make a deal with you."
He lowered his voice. "Do you wish to learn more powerful Dark magic? Do me a favor, and I will tell you where the Black family home is. Merlin's beard, the Blacks have all sorts of dark, forbidden knowledge hidden away. Just..."
Before he could finish, another old, bearded wizard burst into his portrait frame, tackled him, and began pummeling him. "You useless waste of space! You could not do anything right when you were alive, and now that you are dead, you are still trying to corrupt the young. I will teach you."
"Professor, Professor, enough. You old mad dog. I am already dead. How can you kill me again?"
They started wrestling. Warren watched with great interest.