Anonymous (Drarry)

Prologue

Ominous footsteps echoed down a lone unlit hallway, the sound ricocheting off aging stone walls.

T'was the middle of the night, and all was mostly quiet at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Clicking heels were a jarring sound, amidst the amenable peace.

It was that special time of year. Known to the staff as "the calm before the storm". A small slice of time squeezed in place between teachers appearing to ready classrooms, and students (read: devils,) polluting the dingy castle.

For one blissful week, the family that was known as the Hogwarts staff had the school all to themselves. Without the rambunctious students that inhabited it.

And so, the school managed to keep properly silent at the dead of night. Typically. Tonight, it seemed, was an exception.

Around midnight, everyone had arrived at a place of meeting. T'was a room behind one of countless portraits housed at Hogwarts. The room was a universally congenial, carpeted in a gentle sand color.

Jumbled haphazardly in a oval-resembling shape, was a fleet of sofas and armchairs, possessing all natures of patterns and gaudy shades of colour.

Despite the variety, the sofas had an inexplicable feeling of belonging among them. While clashing at first appearance, every couch felt as though it ought to stay next to its neighbors, unified by the commonalities of age and memories.

Accompanying the horde of sofas, was a brick fireplace. It had once been embellished with wondrous depictions, but years of fingers and dust had worn them into nothing more than vestiges.

In yet another section of the room, was an enchanted kitchen. House elves had a direct line, to pop in with food and beverage, upon a request gifted to a pristine piece of parchment.

This room was known as the faculty lounge.

But tonight, the staff of Hogwarts were in neither the cozy sitting area, nor the heavenly eating area.

They were seated around a long, mahogany-coloured wooden table. The table's seating accommodations were a rich brown, paired with gold designs adorning the backrests.

The gleaming markings were of peacocks and wolves and bears and flowers and trees and dragons. T'was a never ending stream of different animals and plant life, most of which were modeled after creatures and vegetation that could be spotted in the forbidden forest, if one bothered to embark on the adventure.

Once the last professor had made their appearance, all heads swiveled to Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts' headmaster, and the very man who had summoned them all at the dead of night.

Anticipation weaved deep within the very fibers of the room's air. An impression of importance settled heavy around the table.

The professors had no way of knowing that the decisions made on this night would shape the fate of, not just the school, but the entire population of magical beings.

"Hello everyone. I have summoned you all here today, to discuss a matter of great importance." Albus' voice, as always, boomed steady and strong.

Following the proclamation, the elderly wizard gave no further words. The silence thickened as Albus waited. He let the suspense build, waiting for someone to cave and ask what he had assembled them for. Albus loved the thrill that shot through his creaky bones when he knew something others' did not.

"And what would that be, headmaster? Is this about the bets? ...Because, you know, we don't usually do those until the end of the first month of school," asked Pomona Sprout, slowly.

Dumbledore was on the brink of responding, a kind-old man smile on his face, that felt more condescending than the encouraging expression the man was envisioning. However, A sharp gasp rang through the room. All attention now pivoted to Professor Minerva McGonagall.