Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak again—another justification, another appeal to fate or prophecy—but the castle did not wait.
The air shimmered around him.
A glowing ring of ancient runes ignited beneath his feet — stone groaned, magic pulsed, and with a sound like the crack of thunder muffled underwater, Albus Dumbledore vanished, transported deep into the heart of the castle.
The Room of Reflection, once used by the Founders to isolate dangerous objects and individuals, had become his new prison.
For the first time in living memory, Dumbledore had been silenced.
The entire hall exhaled—nervous, shaken, and deeply unsettled.
Then, the Bloody Baron spoke again, voice low and grave:
"There are many dark objects hidden within these walls. Some… brought by students. Others… by him."He glanced toward where Dumbledore once stood."But there is one that bleeds darkness like a wound in the world — something ancient, corrupting. A piece of the Dark Lord himself."
Whispers surged again.
Harry's head jerked up.
"Horcrux…"
Before anyone could speak, another voice floated through the chamber — calm and gentle, but firm.
The Grey Lady glided forward, silvery and sorrowful.
"He tampered with the castle's will. He stripped away its protections over time. The wards — the intents left behind by the Founders — have been broken, suppressed, or dismantled entirely."
The staff gasped.
Professor McGonagall's hand flew to her chest.
Flitwick visibly blanched. "The intent wards? That's forbidden!"
Hadrian's face darkened, fury glinting in his eyes like frost on steel.
"I will look into the dark objects first. That takes priority."
He turned his gaze upward. The ceiling of the Great Hall shimmered once more, as if the castle itself was listening.
"Lock the school down. No one enters or leaves without my say-so. I want every security ward reactivated — and I want an immediate magical sweep of all magical objects in the castle."
The walls hummed in agreement.
He turned back to the staff table.
"Who is the Deputy Headmaster?"
McGonagall cleared her throat, still visibly shaken.
"I am."
Hadrian nodded.
"And who is currently in charge of Defence Against the Dark Arts?"
A few teachers shifted uncomfortably. It was Snape who answered, his voice slick and controlled.
"I am."
Of course you are, Hadrian thought. But he said nothing aloud.
Then his eyes narrowed.
"And who is handling Mystic Arts?"
A beat of silence.
The teachers exchanged confused glances.
"Mystic… arts?" McGonagall repeated cautiously.
"There is no such class," said Flitwick. "Not anymore."
Before Hadrian could speak, the Sorting Hat cut in, its voice grave and disapproving.
"Mystic Arts was once one of the core pillars of magical education at Hogwarts. Alongside Runic Theory, Foundational Magics, Alchemy, and Spirit Work. All of them—removed. By the Ministry and Albus Dumbledore. Deemed 'unnecessary' or 'too dangerous'."
A gasp rippled through the students.
"And much of the knowledge surrounding them has been quietly stripped from the Library. Scrolls vanished. Restricted sections emptied."
Hermione's face paled in horror.
Hadrian stood tall, his voice like a chisel against marble.
"Then we have much to restore."
He turned to McGonagall.
"You'll assist me in reorganizing the staff. We'll begin with identifying what knowledge remains — and what was lost."
The Bloody Baron nodded once.
"The castle remembers."
And in the quiet that followed — as shock turned to understanding — the first threads of loyalty and hope began to turn toward Hadrian.
Not just as a mysterious stranger…But as someone who might truly protect Hogwarts.
The whispers had only just begun to quiet down when Hadrian raised his hand, his voice calm but resolute:
"Castle. Shift the Great Hall to its Lounge configuration."
A pause.Then—
Magic pulsed.
The enchanted ceiling rippled like a stone dropped in water. The long dining tables folded into the ground, vanishing beneath a surface of ancient black stone. Plush, ornate couches rose from the floor alongside armchairs, crackling hearths, low tables, and sunken reading pits, all arranged in warm, concentric circles.
Soft golden light replaced the eerie post-storm glow, and the scent of aged books and hearthwood filled the air. Velvet curtains unfurled along the walls. Above, the ceiling transformed into an illusion of a sunset-swept sky—a gentle mirage to comfort the students.
The transformation took mere moments.
Gasps filled the room.
McGonagall stared. Flitwick blinked repeatedly. Sprout let out a soft, stunned "Merlin."Even some of the students, especially the older ones, rose from their seats in disbelief.
Hadrian arched a brow, folding his arms.
"Why do you look so surprised?"
The Bloody Baron answered before any staff member could find their tongue.
"The Great Lounge has not been used in nearly two centuries. The Headmasters of the last age... forgot it. Or simply didn't care. Once, it was opened every evening — a place of comfort, study, debate… safety. But those traditions faded."
The Grey Lady nodded solemnly.
"The castle remembers, even if they did not."
Hadrian gave a single nod, then turned his gaze toward the staff kitchens.
"Kitchen hall. One of yours, please."
There was a pop! and a small, elderly house elf in a tidy uniform appeared, clutching the hem of her apron.
"You called, Great One?" she asked, voice high but respectful.
Hadrian gave her a soft nod.
"What's your name?"
"D-Dolly, sir."
"Dolly, please prepare refreshments for the students and teachers. Something warm, comforting. Set them up in the Great Lounge."
"Yes, Great One! Right away!" Pop! — and she was gone again.
Hadrian looked back to the staff.
"I need three with me. Professor McGonagall, as Deputy. Two more volunteers."
Snape stepped forward smoothly. "I volunteer."
Flitwick followed with a nod. "I as well. I've always been particularly sensitive to magical artifacts."
Sprout stepped forward, placing a hand on her chest.
"I'll stay with the students. Help settle them. They'll need grounding after all this."
"Thank you," Hadrian said. Then he turned to the ghosts, voice shifting to something more commanding.
"Bloody Baron. Lead us to the most dangerous dark object first."
The Bloody Baron opened his mouth to comply — but a soft, gentle voice interrupted him.
"Allow me."
They turned to see the Grey Lady step forward, her form glowing faintly in the transformed Lounge.
"I know where it is. I've… known for some time. But I was bound by the castle's silence. Now… I am free to guide you."
She turned, beginning to glide silently toward one of the hidden stairwells at the side of the Great Hall—now Lounge.
"Follow me. And be wary. This artifact… is not merely dark. It breathes."
Hadrian stepped after her without hesitation.
McGonagall followed next, her face a storm of worry and newfound loyalty.Flitwick was murmuring excitedly under his breath, already preparing detection spells.Snape walked in silence, eyes narrowed and unreadable.
Behind them, the students slowly began settling into the Lounge configuration. Whispers fluttered around the room like leaves on wind.
Harry remained frozen on a nearby couch, Hermione beside him, her shoulder brushing his unconsciously.
Ron sat farther off, fuming silently, his jaw tight.
And around them all — the castle watched. Its will now fully awake.