2/8

"Hey, have you seen him yet?" Draco asked, looking around to double-check Gaara hadn't slipped into the hall while his back was turned, again.

"No, everyone's been looking but no one knows where he is. Everyone we ask says he's somewhere else." Roy looked worn out, having spent every moment between classes on this favour for Draco. Finding Gaara had been impossible even after he'd enlisted all of his and Draco's shared friends. Even the teachers hadn't offered to help their quest to recover the lost student. "Don't worry, we'll give Gaara the message eventually."

Draco suspected that Gaara's disappearance and the performance that morning at breakfast were probably to do with the same creepy inspector also looking for Gaara, and that Gaara's much needed private magical tutor, Professor Lupin, was probably moving him around. Still, he had set everything up perfectly for that day and for the target to, coincidentally, go into hiding just wasn't fair.

As he made another sweep of the hall, including the ceiling, because with Gaara that was perfectly feasible, he caught sight of Mr. Morbidus and Professor McGonagall entering the Great Hall. The platinum blond quickly slipped into a seat and tried not to draw attention to himself. He'd already earned the scary man's ire and he didn't need to catch his eye. He was perfectly used to dealing with scary people, his father, Gaara and his head of house to name but three, but Morbidus was different in one key way, unlike the other three, Morbidus clearly would have very few compunctions with having him tortured or killed if he crossed his path in any meaningful way.

In retrospect, Draco hoped that the investigation into Gaara wasn't all that important, otherwise he would certainly be contacting his father soon to beg for protection.

And then he looked directly up to the head table and into the watchful eyes of the inspector, without flinching or balking. He should have been cowering, writing letters to his father begging for protection and reassurance, but with that sort of behaviour he wouldn't have been able to face Gaara. Gaara would glare the terrifying Ministry worker into submission or use his sand to... attack in whatever way Gaara's sand actually attacked wizards. He wasn't aiming to be a lion, standing tall and running into all sorts of danger, he'd leave the stupid heroics to the Gryffindors, but he was tired of being nothing more than a snake hiding in the grass. The Dark Lord, a man whose ideals he'd come to doubt but whose abilities and charisma were still admirable in his eyes, would not have shied away from conflicts like a weakling. And while Draco wasn't about to kill or torture the Ministry lackey, he still wasn't about to hide in the grass and wait to get stepped on.

At the teacher's table on the other end of the Great Hall, Morbidus had been seated in between McGonagall and Dumbledore, a move he suspected was to separate him from the other staff members who might fare less hardily than the two veterans of political warfare he was stationed between. He didn't force himself to make small talk and instead spent the mealtime idly sipping the, admittedly sumptuous, soup that had been prepared for him whilst his eyes would dart up and about every few moments to scan the dining hall for anything out of the ordinary. It was over half an hour later that as Morbidus watched and waited for Gaara, a red-headed small boy that would be on his own, he thought he'd gotten lucky, raising an eyebrow in excitement, when he spotted a relatively small ginger boy enter, but was brought down when he recognised Harry Potter at his side and remembered that one of the Weasley boys was a known associate of the Boy Who Lived.

'Time to call it quits on the first line of enquiry.' Leaning over to McGonagall, Morbidus said, "Would you please escort me to the Dark Forest when you are done here. I have been tasked with investigating a particular matter in regards to the dementors and I require access to them directly. I am fully proficient with the Patronus Charm so there shouldn't be any issues with the close contact."

McGonagall wasn't sure which made her more wary, going into the Forbidden Forest filled with dementors among many other nightmarish creatures, of leading the similarly ghoulish entity to investigate the dementors. Quandary though it was, she knew she was more than capable of handling anything in those woods, including the inspector should the need arise. She dabbed her napkin at the corners of her wrinkled mouth and motioned for him to lead the way. She'd lost her appetite anyway.

The walk was quiet and the weather was somewhat fair, considering the autumnal turn it had taken lately. When they approached the edge of the forest, Minerva caught sight of Hagrid carrying something assuredly pungent over his shoulders, and being followed by a Hippogriff of all things. She stood still and held out her arm for Morbidus to do the same and stop. By this time, Hagrid and his companion had also stopped, and the groundskeeper watched carefully as the beast he'd been escorting back to its pen spied the others. Minerva bowed slowly and shakily, her old back not giving as easily as a teenagers might, before a silent, straight and composed bow was performed by the visitor. The Hippogriff regarded them, spending more time eyeing Morbidus, before it too lowered its head acquiescing to their approach.

"Afternoon, Professor McGonagall. Is this the Inspector we were told about?"

"Yes. Mr. Morbidus here has asked that he be escorted into the forest to perform a few tests. Would you be so kind as to lead us in?"

"Why, of course. No problem. I've got a class arriving in a little while, though..."

"I'm sure they'll be fine on their own for a few minutes."

Hagrid cheerfully tried to greet the inspector, going so far as to shake his hand, a gesture which was returned immediately if only to humour the oafish man, but none of Hagrid's eternal cheer had any visible effect on Morbidus other than for his head to quickly turn to their destination and for him to briskly suggest that they begin if they had other duties to attend to.

As they reached the outermost edge of the blanketing line of trees, Hagrid lead his Hippogriff charge off into its corale with the others of its kind and the party continued onwards into the darkness. After only a few minutes of travelling Morbidus reached into his smart suit-robes and brought forth a golden disk that fit comfortably in his long hand, on which a small black smudge stained its surface. As he turned, the smudge seemed to correspond, as it were true north on a compass. They set off with the smudge as their bearing, Morbidus proffering minimal explanation in the way of his reasons for investigating, which were that a few dementors has gone missing since their posting at Hogwarts and he needed to discover whether they had fled or whether they had come to harm, which was a considerable concern as it would mean that someone, possibly their target, had a way of defending himself from the guards.

The device lead the trio to a number of dementors over the course of their walk, where McGonagall and Morbidus used the partonus charm to ward them off. Hagrid noted, as he stood behind Minerva trying to find that rogue bar of chocolate he could have sworn he left in his coat last Thursday, that Morbidus' patronus was underdeveloped considering the man's supposed ability and influence. It wasn't even corporeal. But then, Hagrid supposed a man as grim as the inspector might struggle to summon enough happiness to fully manifest one, or maybe the pale man, only a foot shorter than the half-giant, just didn't see the need to summon a full patronus in the company of only one dementor with another competent witch casting nearby. In any case, Hagrid didn't speak aloud any of these thoughts, as he sincerely didn't want to gain any more notice from the inspector than he already had. The Ministry had already taken a lot from him, and last year had shown they wouldn't hesitate in taking more.

After a few more encounters with the dementors still flying around, Morbidus led them to an empty clearing that made the man's tight lips creak upwards on one side in a queer smirk. Once the grin had subsided, he turned to Professor McGonagall and asked her politely to keep watch whilst he performed his examination, to which the confused witch nodded.

Morbidus walked over to the centre of the clearing and stooped low, shifting to one knee, and waved his Ministry gadget over the patch of earth. It beeped and he used the fancy pen he pulled from his pocket to nudge some of the dirt into a small bag before smoothly tucking them both back into his robes and rising.

"Thank you for your indulgence. I believe I now have what I came for." His appreciation was said with a small nod before he turned to Hagrid expectantly.

"Hold a minute, Rubeus. Mr. Morbidus, what, may I ask, is it that you came out here for?"

"I suppose something in the way of an explanation is in order. Our reports indicate that a relatively small number of dementors posted here at Hogwarts have gone missing and I have just ascertained that at least one, possibly more, of the missing dementors were killed."

"Killed? A dementor?" Minerva was shocked, "That's not an easy task for any witch or wizard, you don't mean to say that Sirius Black had acquired a wand, do you?"

"I don't mean to imply anything, professor, I am simply here to gather information so that my office, in conjunction with the Ministry, will be able determine after due investigation and consideration the cause behind these disappearances. Before I submit my findings, do you have anything to add, Mr. Hagrid? You are the groundskeeper here at Hogwarts, are you not?"

"Well, yes, I mean no. I run the grounds and keep the keys, but I ain't seen nothing that would've attack a dementor."

"Are you saying nothing in this forest could kill a dozen dementors over a few weeks?" Henrick was more curious on this point than fulfilling his duty, since all of the known creatures in the Dark Forest surrounding Hogwarts were recorded and well-documented and they would all be researched in the course of the investigation.

"I'm sure a lot of things could, but most of the animals is dead afraid of them, so they keep clear."

"So you do not have anything to add to my investigation at all, Mr. Hagrid? Something in these woods that you patrol is killing the Ministry's dementors and you don't know a single thing. There hasn't been anything strange or out of the ordinary? Tell me, is there anything?" The man's voice had gotten a little more agitated as he spoke, well below the level one would associate with anger or frustration, but from the even-speaking Morbidus, it was alarming.

"I'm sure Hagrid would have told you if he had seen anything," McGonagall said with finality.

"Yes, I imagine you are right, but I have to be thorough." He swivelled on his heel again, and said to Hagrid, "Now, if you wouldn't mind, Mr. Hagrid. I would like to speak the headmaster again before I depart. I think I have what I need."

As they trudged back to the castle, Hagrid wondered if he should have mentioned that strange little biped he'd seen a few weeks before. Surely it was too small to even reach a dementor, never mind killing one. Maybe it had a parent that was bigger, but then that parent wouldn't have let it run around on its own when it was so small and defenceless. Though, of course, he couldn't say for sure without knowing what the thing was. Still, he decided not to mention it in any case because he didn't want the Ministry sending fifty hunters to smoke it out, along with all of the other things he technically wasn't supposed to harbour out in the forest.

When they exited the canopy of the Dark Forest, Morbidus stopped dead in his tracks without a word and crouched down again. Minerva looked back, worried, before she heard him talking to Hagrid, "Is this a patch of strawberries, by any chance?"

"Why, yes. You have a good eye for produce." Hagrid, for the first time since he'd come into contact with the Ministry official, looked like he had some life in him. Even Morbidus was smiling his grim little smile as he surveyed the vast fields of fruits and vegetables. "I grow most of the fruit and veg for the castle."

"That must be quite the challenge, I don't suppose those over there- Excuse me, I quite forgot myself. Professor McGonagall, would you mind fetching the headmaster. I'll say my goodbyes out here. I've seen quite enough of Hogwarts for one day. Now, Professor Hagrid, do you happen to grow brussel sprouts, by any chance?"

Minerva left quickly, if only to smoulder on her own as she made the long unnecessary trek up to and through the castle so that she could 'fetch' the headmaster. She wasn't a young woman, would it kill people to treat her with a more little respect? She would most definitely be taking a day to herself in the near future. She'd have Severus take over for her. Lupin and her had been spending the entire day playing Albus' absurd games, and he'd been able to continue as normal. It wouldn't surprise her any if Remus didn't get a day or two of his classes covered in the near future as well, which would surely go a long way considering the state he was often left in after a full moon.

By the time she was stood in his office, Minerva practically begged Albus to go on without her as she could hardly stand anymore. With a soft smile, Dumbledore thanked her and set off himself, knowing that he owed his old friend a debt of gratitude a simple 'thank you' wouldn't be able to pay.

Once the headmaster was gone, Minerva shot Fawkes a dirty look just for being an eternally youthful animal. The thing was preening and pretended not to notice the jealous teacher staring at him.

Maybe he'd have to tell her some of the secret passages he used to get about the castle in his frail old age, Dumbledore mused as he walked. He'd wanted to keep those to himself until he retired. They helped maintain the illusion that he was everywhere as well as all knowing. Plus he was able to surprise any slacking students in the corridor. Maybe he should write a few of them down, so that his successor could do the same thing? Hogwarts' headmasters and headmistresses should always be able to pull one over on the inhabitants of the school.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

As McGonagall had unwittingly stridden into the castle alone, Lupin, having diligently watched his little silver compass, led Gaara back out into the ground surrounding the behemoth of a building. The raggedy professor thought it would be nice to join Hagrid again for a light lunch, under the 'guise' of delivering yet another message to the half-giant. Lupin hoped that Gaara was so uninitiated into wizarding culture that he wouldn't know that there were many simpler ways to pass messages between professors.

However, when the pair arrived at the hut for the second time that day, passing the lonely boarhound with the same levels of enthusiasm as before, it was apparent that Hagrid wasn't home. Remus tried looking through one of the hut's windows but with them being so clouded and cracked, he couldn't see any dark looming shapes in the cottage to indicate that Hagrid might be in.

More curious still, in the distance, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, stood (as luck would have it) a third year class of Care of Magical Creatures students, unattended. Apparently their professor hadn't shown up, if their blatant slacking was any indication. Upon approach, it became abundantly clear that the mixed class of Gryffindors and Slytherins hadn't seen hide nor hair of their professor since they arrived after lunch. With no other suitable choice, other than leaving a group of fourteen year-olds to their own devices, Lupin decided to take over the class for the time being, until either Hagrid returned or McGonagall and the inspector left the castle again.

Whilst Lupin wrangled the surprised class and tried to draw upon the limited knowledge he held regarding magical creatures that weren't him, Gaara moved over to stand at the back of the class, knowing full well he didn't need to be taking notes from the overwhelmed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Besides, he'd heard more than enough from the man that day and having had to listen to demonic voices in his head rambling on about murder and carnage for a decade had taught him a few things, including that he had little patience for rambling.

That, and he'd learned he wasn't a cannibal, which had been a great relief to Suna's citizens and a great disappointment to the monster in his head.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Ah, Headmaster. Your Mr. Hagrid here was just telling me all about the what's been happening lately on the school grounds. It's been fascinating."

"So you've seen the nettles over behind the wall? I have to admit, I've taken a severe liking to the tea since our Professor Trelawney turned me onto it." Dumbledore was almost insulted at a ploy as simple as that. He trusted Hagrid as much as he did Severus, maybe even more.

"Oh, well, I think I'll have to see them during my next inspection, whenever that may come. Time is pressing."

"You're not leaving are you?"

"Well, it's unfortunate but I have other duties to attend to today. Before I go, I feel I should ask, seeing as how I've had no luck in the matter, whether you could tell me where that transfer student is. What was his name?"

"Gaara?"

"Yes. I had only wanted to check in with the boy, make certain he is settling in alright, but he doesn't seem to be anywhere, or rather he seems to have been everywhere. Is there something I should know, if only to put on record?"

"Your dedication to a bright young student is a breath of fresh air, Mr. Morbidus. As you can imagine, any student starting late in Hogwarts is bound to struggle to catch up to his peers on his own-" Albus began but was interrupted quite rudely.

"Which is precisely why myself and the Minister for Magic himself have taken a personal interest in this unusuall matter." Morbidus looked like he wanted to continue, but he too was interrupted.

"Which is why it was decided he would be given a little extra help now and then to meet the excellent standards we wish all of our students to achieve. He's been with Professor Remus Lupin today, as you've no doubt heard. He has been able to help the boy enormously so far, as I'm sure you and the Minister will be glad to hear."

"Quite, but it would be a terrible remiss on my part if I didn't ask for proof regarding this, to settle Minister Fudge's mind."

"Well, there isn't any problem there. We would be happy to show you proof." Albus was a master at games, but that didn't mean he didn't have fun with them still. Dangling things for people like the inspector to snap at was an irresistible pleasure. "I will personally owl you his grade reports so that you can see where we have assessed him to be. You would be amazed at what we can do in such a short time."

"I'm sure I would." Morbidus looked like he was growing colder by the second, his eyes darkening to the depths of a Snape. "But would it not be more efficient if I were to personally meet the boy, seeing as I've come all this way already?"

"I wouldn't dream of keeping you, my boy. You're an important man at the Ministry and I couldn't deprive them of your services for a mere triviality. I won't hear of it." Dumbledore had had his fun so he sent the intruder on his way. Albus would deal with Gaara himself, in a way he saw fit. He'd not had a full sense of respect for the government for a long time and the last Wizarding War had proven he was a better judge of character than a collective of politicians.

"Yes, yes, you win. I'm sure you're right, so I will defer to you and eagerly await those results. If they do not continue their current outstanding improvements, I'm sure the Ministry will be able to take some measures in order to alleviate the burden on your staff. On a more sombre note, I'm afraid the dementors will have to remain indefinitely on the grounds of the school and they may have to alter their patrol patterns in the coming weeks to heighten the security. You will, of course, be notified in due time."

"Thank you."

"Now, I think I had better be on my way. It's been a pleasure, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Please do visit again, Henrick."

The inspector's steps faltered just a mite when he heard the taunting old man disrespectfully use his first name. He would most certainly not be returning to the school if he could help it. Far too much hassle when he could have sent any number of his workers to investigate the dementors and the invisible boy.

As his spider-like legs climbed up the steep hill that led to the castle, towards the front gate out of which he planned to exit much like he had arrived, Morbidus mulled over how he would report his findings to the Minister. That Black, or some other entity, had been killing the dementors posted was troubling, but at least he could tell Cornelius that this 'Gaara' child, whilst suspicious in a number of ways, was not an immediate threat and so was unimportant enough to shelve until a later time when they could safely make contact to enter him properly into the bureaucracy. A task he would most certainly not need to perform himself. He could probably even get that insufferable Umbridge to do it. Anything to stop her going on about tagging werewolves and taking away merepeoples jobs or whatever she kept trying to pass in the Wizengamot.

Now that he was stood higher up on the hill, looking down on one side at Albus Dumbledore probably congratulating his oafish assistant-in-distraction, Rubeus Hagrid, and on the other side of the hill, right at the bottom where the grassy fields met the Dark Forest, he saw a class of young teenagers all huddling together unattended as two of them seemed to be having a rather violent argument. Looking closer, peering over his glasses and narrowing his eyes, he spied that one of the quarrelling children was a black haired child that bore a striking resemblance to the pictures of Harry Potter he'd seen on file. And the other was quite removed from the fairly typical looking students that were circling the heated discussion. The shorter of the two had blazing scarlet hair, was carrying a bag of some description on his back that was almost as big as him, and was completely silent.

All of a sudden, the Potter boy had apparently worked himself into a frenzy and pulled his wand before casting a spell at the red-head. Morbidus had little doubt that somehow the boy that he had been searching for all day had ended up right before his eyes, about to get cursed into next week by the boy-who-lived. The poor transfer, probably a muggle-born judging by his not drawing a wand immediately in defence, didn't even try to dodge the incoming curse.

Morbidus had been watching the exchange with a smirk up until the casting, as it appeared the child was indeed just an inexperienced new student that just wasn't on anyone's record, probably because of an abusive household that resulted in the muting injury. Dumbledore's obvious scheming could be chalked up to being paranoid. Nothing whatsoever to be concerned with in these dark times.

After the casting of the low-level curse from Harry Potter's wand, his impressions and priorities radically shifted, as before his eyes, the boy who hadn't drawn his wand or so much as raised a finger, somehow commanded what appeared to be muddy water or sand to stream out of the bottle on his back and form a thick, unyielding shield to protect him entirely.

The fight soon escalated to Potter firing many spells uselessly against the shield that would block them from any and all angles before moving aside so that the child he believed to be Gaara could fire one or two significantly large and more menacing ones back. This cycle repeated for a while, and the strange part about the boy who controlled the sand with such ease and dexterity, other than that he controlled the sand, was that he seemed to have so little skill in his duelling abilities. His spells were unrefined, his wand work and casting were all sloppy and his form and stance were just wrong. But still, the boy looked almost bored, as the sand blocked every attack, even one that the defeater of the Dark Lord sent to fly around to hit him on the back of the head.

Henrick Morbidus gazed on in growing alarm and fascination, all without Dumbledore any the wiser.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Sometime before the disagreement had broken out, Lupin had been stood at the front of the crowd of students engaged in an entry-level discussion of what a few of the more diligent students had been learning so far that year whilst dodging questions about why he'd been touring the school with Gaara or who the tall scary man had been. Arguably the most diligent learner outside of Ravenclaw, Hermione Granger wasn't at the front of the class talking to Professor Lupin like she might have enjoyed, instead she was taking a much needed rest alongside Harry and Ron at the back. Well, she deserved the rest, she wasn't so sure about Harry and Ron who should have been the first to try and engage a teacher willing to review some of the basic material they'd most certainly not listened to. It was a wonder that her ginger friend expected to pass with his lack of note taking or listening. It really was.

Hermione had been a little worried when Hagrid, who had been so concerned all term with appearing and being professional so that he would be respected as a teacher, was running so late to their class. She was beginning to wonder whether she should go and ask a teacher what was happening, even if she would almost definitely be hated by the rest of the slacking class of Gryffindors and Slytherins for throwing away their free period, when Professor Lupin of all people showed up, followed by Gaara. Lupin, after determining the situation had offered to take the class for a little while until Professor Hagrid returned, as he had no other burning commitments, which was odd as he kept glancing at a silver watch every few minutes as he talked.

Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for the prematurely aged professor as it soon became clear that he couldn't hope to hold an engaging lesson so far out of his field of expertise, so instead he had drawn together some of the more interested students and was talking to them whilst everyone else hung around and held their own conversations. Hermione wasn't interested in Ron and Harry's discussion of the upcoming Quidditch season and the World Cup which would take place in the summer, so instead she surveyed the various clusters dotted around. Most of the Slytherins were huddled like penguins, only occasionally throwing out glares to everyone else. There were also a couple of other Slytherins in their own bubble, which she knew from experience were the 'nicer' Slytherins, the ones who didn't curse as harmfully when they cheated and might not have held the same blood purist views. As far as she knew, there were even a few half bloods and muggle-borns in Slytherin, which meant they were under constant threat.

As she turned onto a few Gryffindors who had sat down and pulled out a deck of cards, holding themselves tightly against the cold encroaching on them from the ground, her head did a double take that hurt her neck as he thought she saw something ludicrous in that last cluster. But lo and behold, the absurd and bizarre even in a wizard's world did happen, as she saw Draco Malfoy standing amongst the nicer Slytherins. The foul boy who had previously been the leader in his own little clique of blood purists, even having goons follow him around, was now with the outcasts. Sure, she and everyone else had noticed that Malfoy had been spotted less and less with his usual friends, and Crabbe and Goyle had stopped hanging out with him ages ago, but the disparity had never seemed so clear when one of the malicious glares from the main Slytherin body was sent directly at Malfoy.

Hermione looked around for Gaara, who had approached with Lupin but had stopped short at the back with that same placid-borderline-angry expression on his pale face. She spotted him a little ways off, staring at the woods without blinking for longer than she could herself stare to watch, and she decided to try again to engage him. She had felt, ever since her, Ron and Harry's ill-advised attempt to interrogate Gaara that night in the hospital wing, he had held a certain amount of enmity towards the three of them. It was difficult to be sure when the red-head treated almost everyone with that foreign sense of emotional detachment.

Even with this bad blood between them, Hermione still wanted to try and help Gaara integrate a little more fully into the school. She remembered her first few weeks at Hogwarts, when she'd been an outcast and a 'know-it-all', and she wanted to spare Gaara that. Even Draco seemed to have abandoned him, as their previous separation had entailed, and with this physical and metaphorical distance between them even now in this lesson, she saw that the time was right to move in.

As she took her first step, she heard a scream and a yell from the front of the class followed swiftly by the form of Professor Lupin holding Neville Longbottom and shouting to the rest of the class that he'd take Neville up to the infirmary and that everyone else was to stay exactly where they were until he came back. Hermione watched Lupin struggle to run with the considerable weight of a husky fourteen year-old in his arms up the hill, and she decided not to question what had happened to her housemate, so often did injury find Neville that doing so consistently was beyond anyone. Still, it couldn't be a good sign that Lupin was taking the most direct and most difficult route to the infirmary.

It didn't escape the brunette that when he was rushing away, Lupin had seemed to stress that everyone should stay there. He'd probably meant Gaara, who'd been taken on a wandering lesson all day. Enough of Hermione was free of envy to question whether it had something to do with the inspector who had been making inquiries about the school and the new transfer student. Maybe the last two years of her eventful education was making her paranoid.

Interuption over, and everyone going back to their conversation as Harry and Ron made the effort to go to the front of the class to find out what had happened to Neville, Hermione continued towards Gaara who had taken a book out of somewhere and was reading it... quietly. Seeing him with books so often had, in some ways, convinced the fellow reader that Gaara might actually be a nice person, ignoring their first real encounter in the medical wing; and that all he needed was a chance to get away from all of those Slytherin bigots.