"I was taking my first class which just so happened to be with Mr. Potter and the others in his year when I sensed a distinctly evil presence hovering around his scar." The other professors all filled their goblets as they tuned into the story, Snape narrowing his gaze somewhat and interjecting to clarify something...
"What, 'evil' was this 'presence'?" I smirked at his rather droll way of fishing for information.
"I wasn't certain at first and decided to first teach the class and find out after said lesson. My fears were confirmed halfway through however when Mr. Weasley, Ronald Weasley, tried to attack Ms. Granger... Potter's scar intensified in its darkness and started to seep into his magic some... Naturally I stopped the spell and gave him a detention with you Snape, but besides that it had confirmed my hypothesis."
McGonagall sipped her drink before placing it down, her eyes watching me evenly as Flitwick was almost jumping in anticipation.
"So, what was it?" The charms professor queried breathlessly, his hands gripped hard and shaking up and down in expectation.
"Well, naturally I did a spell or two to ascertain the nature of the scar... From which I found out that Mr. Potter had in fact been afflicted with a Horcrux." Blank stares and confused murmurs spread around the professors as Snape raised a single eyebrow, his lips thinning out in contemplation, as if he were diving within his own mind to find out if he had ever heard about something.
I drank some white wine from my goblet before speaking up after a little bit, the professors all focussing on me once more since they found out no one understood what the esoteric magic was.
"Horcruxes are a vile magic that splits the soul into containers. Much like the legendary phylacteries from myth... Though they do not truly make one into a lich, but instead do something much more perverse." I paused as they all listened on in horror. "It breaks the soul and ultimately makes the user go insane, or, more aptly, 'hungry'."
I drank some wine as the professor of Arithmancy, one Septima Vector slowly drew forwards and made eye contact with me. "What do you mean, 'hungry'?"
Chuckling I softly answered. "They gain a hunger for everything... Though depending on the skill of the user, it could focus into one single goal or pivotal need. Given the fact that Voldemort's Horcrux within Harry seemed to be rather weak, I would think that this one was accidental and that only occurs if he had done the act previously... Which means he has multiple."
Everyone looked as if they had just soiled themselves by entering into a mire of deeply disturbing magic. Snape in particular seemed revolted by the mere thought of someone attempting it. That detail was mildly intriguing to me since he once was a death eater.
"You got rid of it, I assume...?" Bathsheda Babbling, professor of Runes spoke up next. Her entire demeanor had shifted since the beginning of the conversation. She was poised in tension as her knuckles tightened into white orbs around her golden goblet.
"Of course. I asked his permission, in which he grew confused and Ms. Granger stepped in to voice her suspicions of why I was holding them back. I tried to assuage her worries by showing that I was not a Death Eater or someone out to attack them... She tentatively accepted it whilst Harry asked some pointed questions." I placed the goblet down now, attempting to lightly alter the story to make it believable whilst showing my comfort as much as possible.
"Mid way through my explanation of what I was trying to aid him with the magic started to react to the conversation..." All of the professors were practically on the edges of their seats, bar Snape who was simply listening with a rather intense gaze.
"The only way to get rid of a Horcrux, that most people who are in the know, know, is to either puncture it with Basilisk's venom, kill the living vessel using an unforgiveable or use Fiendfyre. My method differs when it is imbedded in people."
Snape interjected again, this time with a touch of heat in his voice, as if he were concerned.
"Not harmful I'd imagine...?" The rest of the professors glanced at Snape in shock before rounding their attentions back towards me.
"Indeed, a non-lethal, non-harming method. I'm a master psychic, legilimens and a master in Occlumency... My method is to enter into the person's mind passively and find the root of the curse within their body and mind. From there I would direct a large percentage of my concentration to completely eradicate all connections between the person's mind and the Horcrux using magic." I took a quick swig of my drink before rounding out my story.
"I was successful in doing this with Harry and the metaphorical weight of having another soul suck at his magic, mind, soul and body was shed. That is most likely why he is finally taking initiative in his studies, since he can now afford the extra energies to actually strive for something he wishes."
All of the professors exhaled in relief or lowered into themselves at the slowly lowering tension. Snape's features smoothed out once more, his emotional aura abruptly calming down at the revelation that the boy was fine. 'He's such a tsundere...' I laughed within my mind, hiding the smile on my face behind my goblet.
"What of the visit to Gringotts...?"
My eyes narrowed for a second before returning to normal. I couldn't answer that for them, that was none of my right to reveal... Especially considering that Harry was now emancipated, though he was technically my family by connection via blood; I had the Emyr line and LeFay line within my own now.
"That is not my story to share. Harry is emancipated now, as requested by his parents under certain conditions. All I can say is that his previous magical guardian will potentially be in, quite the pickle, shall we say..."
McGonagall flinched at the last line, a question lingering in her aura and lips alike whilst Flitwick was practically oozing interest. Snape frowned heavily as he leaned back in his chair, for Snape that was as if a thunderbolt had struck him. The other professors had rather timid reactions as they did not know who his magical guardian was.
McGonagall's lips parted slightly, the tell-tale sign of a question forming. Her fingers brushed against the base of her goblet as though grounding herself, old habits of a war veteran creeping back under the guise of etiquette.
"…Albus," she finally said, barely above a whisper. The name hung there, fragile and sharp.
Every professor reeled in horror at the revelation as Snape was practically coughing into his goblet now, his venomous green eyes expanding to the point that he was now threatening to beat out Flitwick's expression, an achievement for the ages for sure.
Flitwick was practically deathly still, his entire posture as ram-rod straight as a freshly minted wand. His expression promised divine retribution despite having none of their powers.
Sinistra was simply sitting there staring into the middle distance, as if she were transported somewhere by the revelation. Sprout was vehemently trying to to deny it, muttering to herself as if she were trying to continue her grasp on the principal of the school's personality and character.
Bathsheda Babbling's reaction was the most violent as she crunched the finely made goblet under her right hand, magic swirling around her in the form of a small maelstrom. Whatever my words provoked from her, it was strong and dark.
The remaining professors simply stayed silent, their expressions rather different but all sourced from the same emotion, incredulity.
"I-I didn't know," Bathsheda rasped through clenched teeth, staring down at the twisted ruin of silver in her hand. Her voice trembled not from fear, but something far worse, betrayal. "All these years… All those meetings… and he never once..."
"Language, Bathsheda," McGonagall warned, her voice strained but firm, her Scottish lilt acting as a lifeline tethering her to order. But her eyes flickered, the tiniest twitch betraying her own turmoil. She was reeling too, just more practiced at hiding it.
Snape set his goblet down with deliberate care, the faintest click against the polished table, almost as loud as a scream in the silence. "So," he drawled, voice like broken glass smoothed with velvet. "The old man pulled the strings... and now they've wrapped around his own throat."
The shadows curled tighter around his figure, as though echoing his mood. But behind that bitterness was something quieter, guilt, perhaps. Or recognition.
"Who else knew, this...?" Sinistra, the venerable witch, still clinging to the distance as if she were contemplating the mysteries of magic despite the topic. "The ministry, the board? Merlin, were we the only ones kept in the dark...!?" Her eyes gained a clarity and rage that belied her usual nature.
Flitwick's strained voice softly reverberated outwards, his tone soft like the ushering of a broom to the dust upon a floor... "This, doesn't this change everything...?" He looked out at everyone in the room, his moustache flaring outwards in a small huff as he continued, "He is, or was, the magical guardian of Harry... Yet we didn't know, the boy certainly didn't and beyond that there was a will from the boy's parents and no one ever saw it... It never reached the light of day!?" The anger of goblins was legendary and had lead to several rebellious wars within the wizarding world, the half-goblin was now showing this legendary rage.
Finally I interrupted, deciding to drop a pearl of wisdom and knowledge in amongst this... They deserved to know this much at the very least; it still was not my place to reveal the contents as Harry was the Lord of House Potter.
"The will, was sealed. I was there myself when Harry asked for it to be unsealed, something the goblins wished him to do most vehemently. At the bottom was the signature of Dumbledore... And more than that, the goblins, Griphook and the King Ragnok, confirmed that Albus was the one to seal the document away; citing the war as a reason."
If silence could kill, this would have brought death the very galaxy we resided within.
For a long moment, the staff room became less a place and more a pressure chamber, heavy with ancient magic, outrage, and a shared wound none of them had seen coming. It wasn't just betrayal anymore. It was manipulation woven into legacy.
Flitwick slowly removed his spectacles, wiping them with trembling hands that no longer seemed to trust the world around him. "To seal a will…" he muttered, voice hollow. "To seal that will… That is not simply a breach of trust. That is the subversion of a noble line's final rites. A desecration of legacy."
"It is a crime of blood," whispered Sinistra, her tone almost reverent, as though speaking the words would summon some old, terrible magic to correct the balance.
Bathsheda's hands twitched again, her fingers still stained with the twisted silver of her ruined goblet. "And he sat at this very table," she hissed, magic crackling faintly at her fingertips, "year after year… while that boy was left in a cupboard."
Snape's face had gone pale as wax, but his expression had hardened into something unreadable. "We should have known," he said, bitterly. "He always said the greater good — but it was his good. His plan. His game."
McGonagall was standing now as well, unmoving, as if rooted in the stones beneath her. Her gaze was fixed on the table, but her voice carried the iron of old battles and older heartbreaks. "And all of us, pawns on a board we never saw."
I met her gaze. "Not anymore."
Her eyes, wet but fire-bright, locked onto mine, and I saw then a storm had begun to brew behind that ever-steady exterior.
"Not anymore," she echoed.
The meeting was adjourned as every one of them all took off towards separate destinations. Well, that was case for everyone but Snape, the man glued to his chair and staring grimly at his goblet on the table, as if it were going to manifest as his demons and swallow him whole.
I began to leave before he uncharacteristically grabbed onto my right sleeve, his eyes slowly creeping up until they met with my own.
"D-did the will say anything about me…?" His voice cracked under the weight of ghosts. I could see it, he was reliving that cursed night, the night the love of his life was murdered by the monster he himself had unintentionally armed with prophecy.
Coolly I analysed him. He was close to broken. His only lifeline, Dumbledore, had been revealed as a greater enemy than Voldemort ever was... Killing the words and wishes of parents who wished for nothing more than their child's happiness. At the very least killing them was quick, this was much more cruel and unforgiveable.
"Yes," I said quietly. "It stated that if none of the others would take him, or were unable… then you were to be his guardian. Lily still trusted you. And James… he honored that."
I broke the contact and turned, walking away toward the main hall as behind me, the man once called spy, traitor, and murderer… began to sob.
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