The Oldest One, Group of Birds

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The time was after hours with the night curfew in full effect; the place was the ever illustrious AID office owned and established by Quinn, who sat behind his desk, staring at the translucent silver entity 'sitting' in the seat opposite to him.

"To be honest, I never thought you would make it this far," said the ghost of the fat cleric, "us, the four house ghosts, including me, never thought that a student would be able to complete a single vault — never in our imaginations did we guess that someone would reach the fifth vault," Friar, the Ravenclaw house ghost stared at Quinn with fascination and excitement, "but here we are, about to talk about the last vault."

"It has been quite a journey, that's for sure, but it's not over yet. We never know; I might not be able to complete this vault." He, of course, wasn't thinking of that possibility — Quinn was going to complete the vault and get his reward.

"Alright, tells hear about the last riddle. I want to know what I will be facing this time," said Quinn, rubbing his hands in excited curiosity.

Friar gazed at Quinn with his ghostly eyes and smiled as pleasantly as a ghost could, "There is no riddle."

The challenger of four vaults frowned a smudge, "What do you mean there's no riddle?" asked Quinn in confusion. "That's not ideal. I need something; anything; even something vague would be a start."

"It's not that I don't want to give you a riddle, Quinn. It's just there is no need for a riddle," said the ghost before smiling, "I will be guiding you to the entrance of the vault, and you will be taking it onwards from there."

"I don't have to find the vault?" said Quinn in surprise, "that's unusually generous of you — I have spent months to find the vaults, and now you are saying that you will guide me to the entrance."

"That's the reason why we're not giving you a riddle — us ghosts don't know anything except the location of the entrance. . . . we ghosts have been here for so long, together we figured out the location of the vaults, and in most cases, and given that there isn't much that can affect us, we were able to peek to see what laid inside," Friar sighed, "but in this case, we don't know how the entrance works and in turn, what's inside."

"That. . . . doesn't sound encouraging," said Quinn, "if you don't know how the entrance works — are you even sure that you have got the location right?"

"There's no doubt about the legitimacy of the location," said Friar before asking, "tell me, Quinn, do you remember what I told you about Deathday parties?"

Quinn nodded, "It's a celebration thrown by ghosts to commemorate the anniversary of their death and their 'rebirth' as ghosts."

"That is correct. . . . Deathday parties at Hogwarts are quite grand; ghosts from far and wide come to visit," Friar then stared at the ceiling above, "we get met many ghosts not from Hogwarts and in doing so we realized that we're different from them. . . ."

"Different, how so?" asked Quinn, leaning forward; he hadn't read anything about types of ghosts.

"Did you know that I can award and deduct house points," chuckled Friar, "there was once a time, we couldn't do that, and except the four house ghosts, no other ghost can do so. For some magical reason, through the centuries, we have formed a connection to Hogwarts — it wasn't our doing as we never even thought that it was possible, but as you once said — Hogwarts is a mystical place. . . . because of that connection, we know that there's something behind the entrance."

Friar moved his eyes back to Quinn and revealed, "This vault was the oldest, Quinn. . . . I studied under Lady Ravenclaw herself and was killed fairly young before coming to haunt Hogwarts. There's isn't much that pre-dates me, and even though the creators of the other vaults were able to hide their actions and were able to create the vaults without us knowing. . . ."

Quinn was utterly engrossed in Friar's words. Many forgot how old the house ghosts were.

". . . but the last vault. . . it is older than us," said Friar, "and unlike the other vaults. . . . it was part of the original design — the vault is as old as Hogwarts."

"How. . . . how can you say it with such certainty?"

Friar floated up from his seat, "Follow me."

"Now?" asked Quinn, standing up.

"Right now might be the best time."

. . .

Hogwarts was a fascinating place; it was a beautiful castle with its eccentricities which gave it its charm, but in the shade of the night, when the lifeline of the school, the children, slumbered in Morpheus' kingdom, the castle was as eerie as it could get — but to a ghost who couldn't sleep and a guy who roamed the same lifeless halls every day, these corridors were home.

"Are you serious?" said Quinn, staring at the 'entrance' of the last vault.

Friar nodded, "That's why I said, this is the best time."

Hogwarts' entrance hall was so big that one could have fit an entire house in it, and there would still be space left in it. The ceiling was so high that it was almost difficult to make out. In the morning, the hall was lit in bright lights of fire torches, but right now, the same torches shed a dim and warm glow on the hall, casting giant shadows everywhere.

Quinn and Friar stood in one corner of the entrance hall, illuminated by the same fire torches everywhere in the hall, but these torches shed cold blue light because of Friar's ghostly influence on fire. They gazed up at the golden statue of a lean man sporting a majestic beard styled with curls akin to tornados; the man wore an ornate headrest and elaborately embroidered robes that flowed to the floor; clutched in his long and thin digits were a long roll of parchment charts in one hand and a model of the Hogwarts castle in other.

"He's the architect, isn't he?" said Quinn; he had this same statue inside the mind-replica of Hogwarts inside his mindscape.

"Yes, Stigweard Gragg, the personage who designed the very castle you stand inside," said Friar with admiration in his eyes, "not much known about him, but one thing is for sure that he has immortalized himself in the annals of history and magic. He has touched the countless lives of every person who ever studied in Hogwarts and will continue to do so till this glorious school continues to do its mission to propagate magic to the young witches and wizards of the future."

Quinn nodded. Living forever wasn't the only form of immortality after all.

"So, you are saying that you can feel something from this statue," asked Quinn as he peeked behind the statue and touched the figure made from solid gold.

"Yes, we can feel that there's something in here."

Quinn sighed as he scratched the back of his head, "This is going to be difficult. . . . I can't work on this vault before curfew without gaining the eyes of literally everyone," every single person in Hogwarts passed through the entrance hall to get to the Great hall for meals.

"This year is going to be a sleepless one," groaned Quinn. He turned to Friar and spoke, "are you sure you don't have any information related to how to proceed from here?"

Friar shook his ghostly head.

"Hmm, Quinn stared intently at the statue, "how much trouble do you think I would get in if I broke it?"

"A lot," came Friar's curt reply.

Friar then saw Quinn sit down on the floor as he stared at the architects' statue and knew that it was time for him to leave. He had given the challenge; now, it was up to Quinn to conquer the vault.

But the four house ghosts would be lying if they said they didn't have great expectations from their latest challenger.

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"What the hell, Dumbledore!" thundered Sirius Black angrily, slamming an issue Daily Prophet on the table inside 12 Grimmauld Place, "what the hell are you planning at?!"

"Sirius!" exclaimed Molly Weasley disapprovingly. But Sirius ignored the Weasley mother and the other hushed voices that accompanied her.

Dumbledore looked at the paper and saw a page which was devoted to an advertisement for Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, which was apparently having a sale.

"I've got all the robes I want, Sirus," said Dumbledore.

"Not that!" Sirius placed a finger on an article, "read this!"

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>> TRESPASS AT MINISTRY <<

Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st August. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watch wizard Eric Munch, who found him attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak in his own defense, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six months in Azkaban.

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"Why was an Order member caught breaking into the ministry?!" said Sirius. "Do you know how much work I had to do just to reduce his sentence to six months! I was almost questioned by Unspeakables, for god's sake! Why would you order him to break into the Department of Mysteries?!"

Dumbledore remained silent for a moment before starting, "I issued no such order. . . . Why would I want Sturgis to break into the Ministry?"

"Then why would he go in there?"

"I would guess that he was put under the Imperius curse and manipulated into breaking into the Department of Mysteries."

Sirius exhaled heavily and calmed himself down. It wasn't like he hadn't thought of that possibility. He was a Senior Auror; it was his job to think about the possibilities. But the case wasn't handed to him and his team, Sirius couldn't get access to Sturgis and could only work from outside, so when Sturgis had refused to defend himself, he had assumed that Sturgis was protecting the Order and especially Dumbledore because of the scrutiny Dumbledore was under.

"Death Eaters?" asked Sirius.

"They are the most likely plausible culprits," replied Dumbledore.

"We don't have any proof," sighed Sirius and glanced at the other Senior Auror in the room. "Are you alright, James?"

James Potter sat in the corner of the Order of Phoenix meeting, out of character for the Potter family head, who was always heavily involved in the Order matters.

"I have said it time and time again that we should destroy the prophecy, but you," he looked at Dumbledore, "have refused to listen to me and now look!" he pointed at the paper, "Voldemort is aiming for the prophecy and is using our own people to do his bidding."

"Because there's no point in destroying the prophecy," said Dumbledore, "there isn't anything in the prophecy that would help Voldemort move against Harry. The portion he knew, he had already acted upon it."

"Then why have you kept the prophecy hidden from us for so long?" asked James in a tone harsh enough to surprise the attending members. It was a burden on James' chest that he didn't know the entirety of the prophecy pertaining to his son's fate.

"Only the people involved can hear the prophecy: Me, Harry, and Voldemort. Of course, there are Sybill and the Keeper of the prophecy hall, but Sybill doesn't remember issuing the prophecy, and the Keeper has already passed away. This means currently, only I know the prophecy's entire content," said Dumbledore.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"James, wouldn't you want to read a prophecy that mentioned you and your fate and how a child could end your life?" said Dumbledore. "Even if you didn't want to, Voldemort would, without a shred of doubt would want to listen to that prophecy.

"By making sure that only I know the entire contents, I'm making sure that Voldemort doesn't have no choice to either come and face me and pry the prophecy off my head or break into the Department of Mysteries and get his hands on the prophecy orb."

Between the two options, the latter sounded much more easier. Going after Dumbledore wouldn't only require incapacitating a magical powerhouse but also breaking into a highly fortified mind while looking out for surprise Legilimency attacks.

"Voldemort won't come after me, so the only choice he has is to go to the Ministry and get to the prophecy orb. . . . which he wouldn't do personally, at least not for some time. He has just returned, and his group, his organization, his cult, is weak after fourteen years of separation and absence — he can't go out strolling to Ministry without taking a massive risk of being seen and proving Harry and me are right, exonerating me off any slander against me, thus strengthening the support towards us."

"You want to keep him occupied," said James.

"Yes, as long as his attention is focused on the prophecy, the world would be safer from his maniacal actions," Dumbledore removed his glasses to clean them and continued with his eyes closed, "it's regrettable that Sturgis got arrested; we must definitely learn from this and ensure the safety of our members, especially those with higher access and those who're in charge of guarding the prophecy hall — they will be the Death Eaters' prime target."

After the meeting was over, Dumbledore asked James to remain in the meeting room, while others were asked to leave.

"How is Harry doing?" asked Dumbledore. Even though he was the headmaster and Harry stayed in Hogwarts, he had been too busy to keep track of Harry's wellbeing.

"Lily says he has been doing okay," sighed James, "it's inevitable there are children who don't believe his words, but he has his friends around, supporting him. The Prefect duties keep him occupied with some work, and his position makes other children think twice before speaking anything to Harry," James half-chuckled, "as you know, Harry isn't the most forgiving person; from what Lily tells me, he's enjoying taking points away and giving detentions."

"He's not abusing his power, is he?"

"No. . . . fortunately, he has Hermione by his side; she makes sure Harry's not deducting points and giving detentions because of personal reasons," said James while smiling.

"Speaking of detentions, I'm surprised that Harry is able to control himself in front of Dolores," asked Dumbledore curiously.

James leaned back into his chair and sighed, "We talked back at home. Made him understand to stay out of trouble and not to provoke Umbitch because she will particularly have an out for him. . . . I'm not sure how long Harry would be able to keep it down. . . . both my children don't have good tempers."

"I hope the presence of Lily would keep him calm," said Dumbledore, "it would be better if Harry stays out of Dolores' ways. She will do anything to wrest away power inside Hogwarts," he sighed, "all of this is happening because of Fudge's paranoia — why doesn't he understand that I don't have sights on his position."

"Because he is an idiot," said James, stating it like a fact. He had been given the Minister protection detail sometimes, and Fudge had left him utterly frustrated every time.

"He, with the Lucius' support, has already kicked me out of Wizengamot, and I don't think he will stop without getting me out of Hogwarts," sighed Dumbledore.

". . . If," James took a pause, "if you are indeed kicked out of Hogwarts, would George West still support the school as he promised?"

"I don't know," said Dumbledore, "if I know George West, then there are two outcomes after I'm kicked out of Hogwarts. First is as you suspect, he will pull his support — that man won't make a move if he's not entirely sure in his decision. . . . Second," Dumbledore chuckled, "is that George West will take over Hogwarts — I'm sure if he puts his mind to it, he will have Hogwarts under his control in no time."

". . . Do you think he will try to get control of Hogwarts?"

"If I exit, Hogwarts will fall under the control of the political landscape, more than it has now. And if it does, George West can exert control over it with his resources; if he wants Hogwarts, then he will get it — everything will be set for him to take over, especially with Fudge being his current self."

"I don't know if it'll be good or bad. . . . George West taking control of Hogwarts, that is," said James, and he really couldn't imagine how Hogwarts would turn out.

"Hmm, well, one thing is for sure, George West won't be the headmaster," chuckled Dumbledore merrily, "so I suppose, the headmaster would either be a Ministry figurehead or maybe he'll elect from within — if he does get control of Hogwarts, I hope he would elect McGonagall. . . . though there is a very high chance that Poppy might ascend to headmistress."

"Poppy. . . as in Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes," smiled Dumbledore in amusement, imagining what it would be like. "It would be a fun new Hogwarts, that's for sure," said the headmaster as he got up from his seat and walked away out of the room, leaving James alone.

James watched the headmaster walk away with confusion and unanswered questions.

"Why Madam Pomfrey?" he called out. All he got in return was laughter followed by a whoosh of fire.

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Quinn West - MC - "So. . . how's it going?" he asked the statue.

Friar - Hufflepuff house ghost - Challenge has been issued. . . have fun!

Sirius Black - Senior Auror - My house is only available from 11 to 5. After that, I want my bachelor pad back.

James Potter - Senior Auror - I'm not the source of temper. . . I'm suave.

Albus Dumbledore - Headmaster - I can only think what it would be like.

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