Dark Wizard Collector: A Hogwarts Fanfiction

Chapter 13

As I had predicted not too long ago, the witch teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts died in her office. Rumors of how it happened had spread like wildfire among the students. Nonetheless, I knew it was the curse my brother placed on attempting to hold that position for more than a year. I shook my head after seeing the cadaver lying over her desk. Must have been grading papers when her heart gave out, I chuckled. To my best deduction, it looked as if her life source was sucked away from her. Keeping the students away until we could properly bury the old witch was my job for the day. It was rather boring, because children's whispers reached my ear saying, "Maleficent Maera is on guard duty. The Disciplinarian is making her rounds; watch out! I bet you Miss Zeria killed old Professor Tiddlywinks." Already, my authoritative role frightened a small number of the students. As I rounded the corner of a corridor, a group of first year Gryffindor boys sprinted in the opposite direction. I caught a glance with a young man in Hufflepuff and he merely shrugged his shoulders. Not all students dreaded encountering me, but the ones who did were those whom I reckoned to be troublemakers.

Once buried, a funeral ceremony was held for Professor Tiddlywinks and the replacement professor arrived the next day. "Bertram Billion Busterforth the fourth, mom." An overconfident man introduced himself and I sneered at his stressed British accent.

"Credentials," I said plainly in a tone that did not ask but commanded to see his papers. With a wave of a lace-hemmed sleeve, a file appeared before me. "Fascinating," my bored voice sassily amused at the elementary magic tricks the mustached man flaunted. With all deliberate speed, I scanned the documents and approved of the achievements and certifications that met the qualifications of a Hogwarts professor. Still, the forced English accent and curled light brown hair of the portly man irked me. The scratch of my quill against parchment set his nerves on edge, so I wrote very slowly and made sure the annoying sound rang out in the silence. Rolling the note up, I placed it in front of a giant black owl that snatched the parchment with a hungry beak and soared out of my office.

In no time, the tall bird returned with a reply, 'Send him.' Read the small roll of parchment and I pet Avenger's black wings. "Headmaster will see you now. Follow the elf." Flicking my wrist, the door to my office swung open with a gust of air and a dirty house elf appeared. "No tricks, Mort." I said to the fat elf. Scrutinizing the small thing, I wondered. Helga Hufflepuff, what did you ever see in those creatures to bring them to work in the Hogwarts kitchens? It looked to me that the once scrawny elf had been helping himself to the food stores beneath the Great Hall. Upon hearing the click of the iron locking device in my door, I turned to the three-foot owl and sighed. "Avenger, whatever are we going to do about the wizards of this world?" The jet-black Eagle Owl screeched and blinked its entirely white eyes. My fingers delicately stroked the space between Avenger's shoulders before I allowed him to leave my office. With a gust of wind from his eight-foot wingspan, the bird of prey launched itself out the open window and back to the Dark Forest where he hid.

Well into the second week, I discovered that my alert to the Fat Lady was beneficial. A few ghosts had approached and notified me that there were indeed students lurking about; just as I had expected. I decided to keep this matter written in a monthly report before presenting it to Dumbledore as a problem that needed action. I intended to find out who else had been sneaking around the castle and what they were up to. The next time I saw Quirinus in the corridor, he kept his small head down. "Mr. Quirrell?" My honey coated voice brought him to a halt.

"Yes?" The lanky boy asked hesitantly, "I promise, I have stayed out of the Restricted Section."

I smiled smoothly and softened my glare, "It's good to see you've learned your lesson. However, you wouldn't be waltzing about in the halls at night, would you? Because that offense calls for a smart thrash with a cane. Please don't make Mr. Pringle's job too difficult, he's getting old."

A strange countenance took over Quirrell's gaunt face and I raised an eyebrow, "Do you know how I came across that book?"

"Speak," I encouraged and crossed my arms.

"I pinched it from James Potter; he had it."

"So you would have me believe that young Potter stole the book from the Restricted Section at night?" my inquiry elicited an affirmative nod from the Ravenclaw. I would expect that of Black, not Potter, nevertheless I could not refute the fact that the Gryffindors were up to something. "Thank you Quirinus, you may continue on to class; give my regards to Professor McGonagall." Consulting the schedule scribbled on the palm of my right hand, I hurried to critique the newest professor's afternoon class.