Playing With Magic

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Headmasters Office - Hogwarts

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As the door clicked shut behind the boy, the three professors stood in a prolonged silence as their gazes lingered on the now-closed door. After a few moments, Snape was the first to break the silence. "I'm going to say it again," he began, still staring at the door. "The boy is insane. And not the Dark Lord's type of insanity, or even Dumbledore's senile insanity." He paused, ignoring Dumbledore's unimpressed glance his way, "His insanity, as I've said many times before, comes from pure competence and the complete lack of need to bow to anyone."

Snape continued to speak as he gestured toward the bottle containing the dark essence of Voldemort's soul. "What kind of child seals a Dark Lord's soul in a bottle and hands it over like he's presenting a holiday gift? It's... unsettling."

McGonagall gave Snape a sharp look, but before she could say anything, Dumbledore spoke first as he turned to examine the bottle more closely. His eyes and magic once again carefully inspected the enchanted container and its contents. "Just because someone is hyper-competent, Severus. Does not mean they are automatically inclined toward evil." He lifted the bottle gently, watching the swirling mist with a contemplative expression. "You forget, competence alone is not what makes one dangerous. Everyone currently in the room could be considered hyper-competent."

Snape raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore's words. "That's a bit hypocritical, coming from a man who asked me to keep such a close eye on him." He folded his arms across his chest as if to reinforce his point. "If you truly believed that, why did you have us monitoring the boy from the moment he arrived at Hogwarts? You're wary of him as much as I am….And no one in the room can put a Dark Lord's soul in a bottle."

Dumbledore set the bottle down gently and moved toward the large fireplace as he spoke, "The boy's…sanity is only our concern if he does harm, Severus. Considering he, as you so quaintly put it, 'put a Dark Lord in a bottle', I would say he is doing well so far." 

Snape shook his head, "You say that now, but in a few days, maybe weeks, you'll have me back here discussing the boy's action and how to ensure he's on the 'right path'."

Dumbledore ignored his Potion's Master's retort as he took a pinch of Floo powder from a small silver dish on the mantel, tossed it into the fire, and leaned forward into the emerald flames as they roared to life. "The Ministry. Department of Mysteries. Croaker."

After a brief pause, a hooded figure appeared in the flames. "Headmaster Dumbledore," The figure said with a monotone voice that seemed to have been magically altered to hide the person's identity, "I would hope this isn't a social call. Even Unspeakable's require sleep."

"No," Dumbledore replied with a grave look. "I'm afraid it's not. I need to speak with Croaker at once. It concerns an urgent matter that cannot wait until sunrise. Lives are at stake."

There was no hesitation in the figure's response. "Understood. I will contact him immediately." The fire flickered once before the Unspeakable's vanished.

"Albus," Snape's dark eyes were fixed on the Headmaster as he spoke. "Is there any particular reason we aren't taking the bottle straight to a Dementor to have it dealt with? Or even Bones, for that matter?"

Dumbledore glanced at the bottle in question with a small frown. "The magic I'm sensing from the…contents trapped in the bottle is disturbingly familiar to what I've sensed from the scar left behind on young Potter's forehead after the attack ten years ago."

McGonagall froze in surprise at the revelation, while Snape, having sensed the same, showed no change in expression aside from a small frown. McGonagall's hand instinctively flew to her chest as she furrowed her brows. "Albus," she said in a tight voice, "are you suggesting that there's something wrong with Mr. Potter? Has he—"

Dumbledore raised a hand to halt that line of thought, shaking his head gently with a reassuring smile touching his lips. "No, Minerva. I've already checked young Harry's situation thoroughly. Lily's protection continues to keep the magic Voldemort left in the scar at bay. He is in no immediate danger."

The Potions Master's frown deepened as his gaze shifted from the bottle on the desk to Dumbledore's face. "Then," Snape began carefully, "Would it not be prudent to ask Mr. Grey to remove the… magic?" He gestured to the bottle and then at the unconscious body still lying on the floor. "He clearly knows how."

"It is certainly a possibility, Severus. The thought definitely crossed my mind," Dumbledore's twinkle returned as he spoke, pacing back and forth as he waited for the Unspeakables to arrive. "But I would prefer to proceed with caution. We need to be absolutely sure that there are no unintended side effects before asking Mr. Grey to involve himself further. The magic at play here may be too closely linked to young Harry's own."

"You are aware you can say the word 'soul', correct?" Snape deadpanned. "It won't suddenly change the facts of the already disturbing situation we've found ourselves in." 

"What will be done with him?" McGonagall asked, gesturing toward Quirrell, having already tired of hearing the two men speak instead of spending time in bed. "Will the Unspeakables be taking him too? He can't exactly remain here."

Dumbledore looked at the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for a long moment with an unreadable expression as he considered the fallen professor. "He will be handed over to Amelia Bones to be questioned," Dumbledore finally said. "She will be given the full truth of what transpired tonight and she can decide his fate after we are sure of any connection—or lack thereof—to Voldemort."

 "Do you really intend to tell her everything?" Snape asked, leaning hs shoulder on the wall.

Dumbledore nodded as he continued to pace. "I promised to keep Amelia Bones informed of anyone who might have wanted to steal the Stone, Severus. It would be suspicious to keep such important developments from her now."

Snape shook his head as he let out a resigned sigh. He knew full well that this was part of Dumbledore's plan to shift all wrongdoings, leaving him free of responsibility for bringing the situation to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Dumbledore smiled softly, not rising to the bait. "Faith, perhaps, but it's also about maintaining trust. In this case, it would be unwise to withhold information." He looked thoughtfully at the bottle on his desk, still containing the swirling essence of Voldemort's soul. "She will need to understand the magnitude of what we are facing."

Snape snorted. "More like throwing the DMLE under the bus in case things go wrong."

Snape went to say more but went silent as green flames in the fireplace roared to life and Dumbledore walked over to it and granted the unspeakable entry. Stepping back, Dumbledore and the other professors watched as Croaker made his way out of the fireplace. He stood silently, draped in a black hooded wizard's robe that seemed to absorb the light. The hood of the robe—Enchanted to conceal his identity—was pulled low, casting a deep, impenetrable shadow over his face. None of his features could be seen—only darkness.

Croaker nodded in greeting toward Dumbledore. "Dumbledore," he said in a monotone, almost non-descript voice only slightly different to the figure Dumbledore spoke to over the Floo. His footsteps barely made a sound as he made his way further into the room. "What could possibly be so urgent that it could not wait until morning? You should know, Unspeakable's do sleep too—"

As he stepped fully into the room, he halted mid-step as the magic he was using to scan the room while he spoke came back with something odd enough to shift his entire demeanour. Croaker's hooded face immediately turned toward the bottle on Dumbledore's desk and stared at it for a moment as his magic conducted further analysis.

"Dumbledore, is there any particular reason you have a person's soul on your desk?" The Unspeakable asked, it seemed to be more out of curiosity than concern.

"That," Dumbledore gestured toward the bottle as Croaker stepped closer to the desk, "Is why I called for you."

Croaker slowly picked up the bottle, completely ignoring everyone else in the room as he focused entirely on the bottle. "Extraordinarily well Enchanted," he said, almost in a whisper. "Ancient magic, no less. And who exactly is placed here, Dumbledore?"

"You would be sensing Tom Marvolo Riddle," Dumbledore answered. "Or as most know him, Lord—"

"Voldemort," Croaker finished for him, not taking his eyes off the bottle in his hands. "One does not just forget being told of a Dark Lord's true identity, Dumbledore. Do not treat me like the children roaming your school."

"You were one of those students, once upon a time, if I'm not wrong," Dumbledore countered half-heartedly. There may not have been a way to verify Croaker's true identity, but with Dumbledore's having been at Hogwarts for so long, it was highly likely that he was one of Dumbledore's students.

"I take it you want it destroyed immediately. Did the soul possess the unconscious body on the floor, or was he just helping Riddle?," Croaker asked, ignoring Dumbledore's comment.

"We are unsure, as of yet," Dumbledore answered, looking over at Quirrell. "I plan to contact Amelia Bones to inform her of tonight's events. I would hope you will be able to determine his well-being after his recent possession more thoroughly than a healer would."

The Unspeakable ignored the light jab and let Dumbledore continue, "I would like to confirm if the methods used to remove the soul are suitable to remove a soul from young Potter's scar. They feel practically identical."

Croaker looked away from the swirling black mist in the bottle, shifting his gaze to the now-sitting Headmaster in his chair on the other side of the desk. "You didn't remove the soul from the man yourself?" Dumbledore shook his head. Croaker tilted his head under the hood, "Even more reason to offer the boy a position in our ranks when he graduates in a few short weeks."

All of the Headmaster's cordial demeanour seemed to drain from his face as his posture turned almost hostile. Seeing this, Snape and McGonagall seemed more alert as their eyes flickered between the Headmaster and the Unspeakable. Dumbledore's expression was blank, and the look in his eyes seemed to promise severe consequences as he spoke. "I advised that the boy should, at the very least, become an adult before the offer is made at a minimum. If it is ever made at all, which I don't think it should.

"But something tells me you would have gone behind my back in the matter anyway," Dumbledore continued, shaking his head. "Now, my boy," Dumbledore stressed as he leaned forward, placing his hand—still wrapped around the Elder Wand—on his desk for all to see. "Now, I must insist."

There was a long pause. Dumbledore's magic started slowly pouring out of him. Primed and ready for use at any moment. But before things could escalate, Croaker simply nodded and went back to examining the bottle's contents. "Merely a suggestion, Supreme Mugwump." He shrugged. "Your message is heard, loud and clear."

Dumbledore's magic immediately reverted back to its calm state while his cordial demeanour returned in the same instance, a small smile making its way to his face. "That is very good to hear, my boy. However, if all goes well with your findings, you may witness the extraction from young Potter's scar. It may prove useful to duplicate the method used, should we find ourselves in a similar position without his interference."

Croaker remained silent for a moment, then, with a curt nod, he spoke. "If that is the best the Department can get, then so be it. Now, I will take the unconscious man—"

"Quirinus Quirrel," Dumbledore added helpfully.

"We will confirm that when he is assessed. For now, I will take him to the Department of Mysteries for assessment. We will analyse both the effects of Voldemort's influence on his mind, soul and overall condition and anything we can find from the piece in the bottle without tampering with the bottle itself. Once we have gathered all the necessary information, I will be in touch to relay any developments."

Dumbledore's eyes started their usual twinkle routine, though his expression remained serious. "Thank you, Croaker. I appreciate your willingness to assist, and I am grateful to your department for their discretion and expertise in this matter. I hope this can be kept quiet for the moment, until I can get the go-ahead from the DMLE to reveal the information. We would want the public to panic."

The Unspeakable seemed to stare at Dumbledore for a few seconds before telling the aged Headmaster, "Dumbledore, I literally work for a government department that refers to myself as an Unspeakable, as you well know." 

Croaker shook his head as he turned his attention to Quirrell's unconscious form. With a simple flick of his wand, Quirrell's body was levitated gently into the air. Walking over to the floating man, Croaker applied [Disillusionment Charm] and guided the body behind him as he moved toward the fireplace without further words. The green flames flared to life once again as Croaker stepped into them, disappearing into the flames.

"Hmm, he didn't even say good night," Dumbledore casually shook his head in disappointment as he muttered. "Youngsters these days."

Tiredly massaging his eyes, Snape chose that moment to break whatever line of insanity the Headmaster was about to go down. "Now that our unsavoury guest has departed, what do you plan to do about the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Albus? With Quirrell being... checked over by the Unspeakables, there is a vacancy that needs filling."

Dumbledore, having leaned back into his chair, reached into a small glass dish on his desk and popped a lemon drop into his mouth, taking a moment to savour the taste before answering. "Ah, yes, the matter of the Defence position. In the meantime, I suppose the position will have to alternate. When I am free, I will take over the Defence lessons myself. However, if other matters occupy me—like, say, a soul in a bottle— I would have to trouble other professors like your selves to assist where they can. It will be a temporary solution, of course, until we can find a suitable replacement."

Seeing his Transfiguration Professor uncharacteristically yawning as he talked, Dumbledore looked between McGonagall and Snape, both of them clearly exhausted from the night's events. Even his Potions Professor's usual stoic demeanour seemed strained. With an understanding smile, Dumbledore stood and addressed them both. "I'll handle things from here. There's no need for you both to remain any longer. I just need to speak with Amelia Bones now, and I'll keep you informed of any developments in the morning."

McGonagall's posture relaxed slightly, though she looked as if she wanted to protest. "Albus, are you sure you—"

Dumbledore raised a hand, cutting her off with a soft smile. "Quite sure, Minerva. You've done enough for tonight. Please, both of you, get some rest. I'll take it from here."

Severus didn't even try to argue. He gave a curt nod, already making his way to the door before Dumbledore could even finish his sentence. "I trust you'll inform us if anything significant arises."

"Of course, Severus," Dumbledore replied warmly. "First thing in the morning."

Without another word, both professors sluggishly took their leave, the door closing softly behind them. Once he was alone, Dumbledore returned to the fireplace, taking another pinch of Floo powder and tossing it into the flames. The fire roared to life once again, casting flickering green light across the room as Dumbledore knelt before it. "Department of Magical Law Enforcement,"

A moment later, the flames shifted, and a face appeared—one of the Ministry workers, looking somewhat surprised to be receiving a call at such a late hour. "Headmaster Dumbledore?" the man said, blinking. "What can I do for you at this hour?"

"I need to speak with Madam Bones. Is she available?" Dumbledore asked, not even bothering to try and sound like he was in a rush. "It is an urgent matter, I'm afraid, and it cannot wait until sunrise."

"I will try to contact her immediately, sir. Please hold for a moment." The ministry worker replied immediately. The face disappeared, leaving Dumbledore alone to continue his light pacing as he casually waited for a response. Before he could start contemplating some plans for the Dragon Animagus that caused what was starting to be a sleepless night, the flames of the fireplace roared back to life, and out stepped Amelia Bones, flanked by a trio of stern-faced Aurors, all with their wands drawn and at the ready. Their eyes quickly scanned the room as if preparing for a combat situation.

"Madam Bones," Dumbledore greeted with raised brows. "You certainly came prepared."

Amelia locked eyes with Dumbledore. "I take it the Stone thief attacked?"

"Something like that," Dumbledore answered mildly while he gave a soft chuckle and gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, take a seat, Madam Bones. I'll explain."

"This better be quick and important, Dumbledore," Amelia exchanged a brief glance with her Aurors, signalling them to secure the room. Stepped outside while the others took up positions around the room. She then moved toward the chair Dumbledore had indicated and sat down, wand still in hand. Her eyes narrowed slightly, not even trying to hide her irritation as she prepared for whatever news the Headmaster had to deliver.

Dumbledore took his own seat behind the desk and began recounting the events of the night. Speaking of Quirrell's trek into the Forbidden Forest, the attack on the unicorn, and Mr Grey's intervention. As he reached the part where John had captured whatever had possessed Professor Quirrell and sealed it in an enchanted bottle.

By the end of Dumbledore's retelling, Amelia was even less pleased.

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Autor Here

I made it so that Dumbledore and Snape could sense the soul but McGonagall couldn't because they are more likely to have studied the subject. Dumbledore, because he was friends with Grindelwald and could have furthered his study when trying to remove it from Harry's scar. Snape, because of how much time he spent as a death eater…or trying to talk to Lily one more time or something.

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