Chaos reigned throughout the place. The younger students were crying, the teachers were running around trying to maintain order, and the flashes of the cameras of reporters hungry for news lit up the night as Harry Potter continued to shout that the Dark Lord had returned.
Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody pushed his way through the hysterical crowd, his prosthetic leg clattering on the grass and his magical eye spinning frantically in all directions, scanning every corner, every face, and every shadow. Constant vigilance.
When he reached Dumbledore and Sirius Black, who were trying to restrain the terrified Harry, Moody wasted no time. He grabbed Dumbledore by the arm and pulled him roughly aside, away from the ears of Fudge or anyone else.
"Albus," Moody growled, his rough voice barely audible above the noise of the crowd. "Where is Aurelian Gaunt? Have you seen him?"
Dumbledore, his face furrowed with new wrinkles of worry and obvious fatigue in his eyes, let out a deep sigh.
"Alastor, for Merlin's sake, I'm busy trying to calm down the entire school, the Ministry, the international envoys, and process what Harry just said, so I can't deal with your obsessions and theories about that boy. This is not the time."
"This is exactly the moment, Albus!" Moody interrupted him, tightening his grip on the headmaster's robe. "Think about it. All day long, I haven't seen the Carrow twins or Gaunt anywhere. They weren't in the stands, they're not here now. They've disappeared!"
Dumbledore frowned, clearly not understanding what his old friend was getting at in the midst of a crisis that would undoubtedly mean more trouble... and paperwork for him.
"Severus and Karkaroff just felt me calling them with the Mark, Albus," Moody insisted, pulling him harder. "Minerva can take care of the boy and the Ministry and everything else for a few seconds. This is more important. Come with me!"
Without giving him a chance to reply, Moody dragged Dumbledore toward the castle's enormous oak doors. As they hurried through the corridors, which were strangely silent in contrast to the outside, Moody continued with his suspicions.
"I sense residual magic... it's very strong. With the help of my eye, I can see the traces, not just feel them. And I know it comes from Gaunt," Moody growled, limping at high speed. "That boy is Slytherin's heir. I'd bet my other leg that he's directly related to his father's rebirth tonight!"
Dumbledore, trying to keep up with him, shook his head, appealing to reason.
"Alastor, those are just assumptions with no real basis. Aurelian has been in the castle. He's a brilliant student, but he's still a sixteen-year-old boy. He's strong, but he doesn't have the knowledge to pull off something like this."
"That boy is always giving me dirty looks in my classes, Albus! He's planning something!" Moody retorted, paranoid.
Dumbledore lowered his voice, giving his old friend a stern warning look.
"I remind you, Alastor, that you insulted that boy's mother without any proof or basis for doing so. Anyone in his position would be defensive and look at you with that tone. It was a mistake on your part, and you never apologized."
Moody clenched his jaw, his magical eye pausing for a second.
"That day... I wasn't myself. I got carried away in the moment, I admit it. I shouldn't have said that," Moody muttered reluctantly. "But my instincts have never failed me, Albus, and today will be no different. I still believe the boy is involved in this. He's on the third floor... I can feel it."
Dumbledore sighed, but followed Moody to settle the matter once and for all. As they turned down the corridor leading to one of the abandoned classrooms, they both stopped short.
From behind one of the half-open wooden doors, there were no dark chants or magical rituals. What could be heard were broken cries, stifled moans, and small laughs.
Dumbledore blinked, the expression on his face replaced by one of deep discomfort. Moody, wand raised and expecting to find Gaunt summoning demons, kicked the door open and stormed in, followed by the headmaster.
"Lumos Maxima!" Moody roared.
Light flooded the classroom, and the scene they found left them both frozen, with Moody slowly lowering his wand.
On a pair of desks that had been pushed together, Hestia and Flora Carrow were in extremely compromising positions. Their Slytherin ties were undone, their blouses wrinkled and completely unbuttoned. And between them, Aurelian Gaunt stood shirtless, his hair tousled and his breathing heavy.
Seeing the door burst open, Aurelian reacted with fury. With a quick, protective movement, he grabbed his own robe from the floor and covered Hestia and Flora, hiding them from the stunned gazes of the teachers.
Aurelian turned to Dumbledore and Moody, his eyes flashing, playing the role of a teenager interrupted at the best moment.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Aurelian shouted at them, genuinely indignant. "Don't teachers at this school know how to knock on a damn door before barging in?!"
Dumbledore and Moody blinked, completely thrown off by the absurdity and mundane nature of the situation they had just discovered. The great "dark ritual" Moody had hoped to interrupt was nothing more than a trio of teenagers in the middle of a very heated cardio session.
Dumbledore felt the heat rising to his cheeks. He coughed uncomfortably, looking up at the ceiling to give his students some privacy.
"Mr. Gaunt... Misses Carrow," Dumbledore began, struggling to regain his authoritative but gentle voice. "I understand that youth is... energetic, but the school and its classrooms are not the appropriate place to carry out such activities."
Aurelian glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest.
"We'll talk about this later, and of course, the appropriate disciplinary measures will be taken," Dumbledore quickly concluded. Then he grabbed Moody by the arm of his raincoat. "I apologize for the abrupt interruption. Continue... I mean, get dressed," he sighed. "Just leave, please."
Dumbledore pulled a stunned Moody, whose magical eye was still spinning wildly as he tried to process whether his instincts had failed him for the first time, and both hurried out of the classroom, slamming the door behind them.
As soon as the teachers' footsteps faded in the hallway, silence returned to the room.
Aurelian lowered his arms. His expression of fury vanished in a second, replaced by a wolfish smile full of malice. He turned his head back, looking at the girls beneath his robe.
"Well," Aurelian said, chuckling softly, "I think that makes it clear. Now Dumbledore and his beloved guard dog won't believe for a second that I was involved in my father's return."
Hestia and Flora pulled the robe away from their faces. They were bright red, their hair tousled, and their breathing still heavy from their recent activity.
Flora buttoned her blouse, looking at him with a mixture of adoration and mischief.
"That's for sure, my love," Flora replied, trying to catch her breath.
"Although," added Hestia, moving closer to him again and running her hands over Aurelian's bare chest, her eyes shining in the dim light, "since we've been discovered, and we'll be punished tomorrow anyway... it would be a shame to waste the mood, don't you think?"
Aurelian smiled before Hestia dragged him back.
The week following the Third Task and the Dark Lord's fateful return was... strange.
Aurelian, sitting comfortably in one of the armchairs in the Slytherin Common Room, watched the fire in the fireplace as he mentally reviewed the last seven days. His alibi had worked perfectly. No one in the castle suspected his true involvement in the events at the cemetery.
What stood out most was the behavior of the rest of the school, which was fascinating, to say the least.
Once the initial panic of the night of the maze had settled, denial quickly took hold of the masses. Collective hysteria gave way to a strange and forced normality. Harry Potter, in a complete turnaround, seemed to have clung to the only tangible victory of that night. With his memories rewritten by Aurelian and the school's attention focused on him, Potter spent his time smiling and bragging in the hallways. After all, he had touched the Cup. He was the winner of the Triwizard Tournament. The boy strutted around, using his arrogance as a shield against the trauma his mind was still trying to process.
On the other hand, Albus Dumbledore had barely had time to breathe. The headmaster looked tired and drained. He spent his days giving statements to hysterical reporters and his long nights trying to calm the furious envoys from the French and Bulgarian Ministries. The foreign delegations already had enough to deal with the nightmare of Gellert Grindelwald gaining power in continental Europe. If it were confirmed that Lord Voldemort had also returned to Great Britain, it would be a disaster that threatened to completely isolate Fudge's Ministry.
Aurelian smiled wryly, taking a sip of his tea.
But without a doubt, the most curious and surreal thing about the whole week had not been international politics or Potter's attitude, but his disciplinary meeting with Professor Minerva McGonagall.
It took place on Wednesday afternoon, in the deputy headmistress's stern and orderly office.
Aurelian, Hestia, and Flora sat facing a large desk. McGonagall paced back and forth in front of them, her lips pressed into such a thin line that they seemed to have disappeared, her cheeks tinged with an unusual scarlet hue.
"This is simply unheard of," the professor began, pausing to glare at them. "The school is facing one of its greatest crises, and you three decide that this is the right time to... to...!"
McGonagall paused, unable to say the words aloud. She coughed, clearing her throat.
"Engaging in intimacy within a school classroom is a flagrant violation of this school's rules," she continued, trying to regain her stern tone. "What would the Carrow family think if they found out about this behavior?"
Aurelian maintained a somewhat bored expression as McGonagall focused exclusively on the twins. She leaned slightly over her desk, the blush on her face intensifying from the awkwardness of the conversation she was about to have.
"Misses Carrow," said McGonagall, softening her voice slightly and assuming an almost maternal tone, "I understand perfectly well that you are both formally engaged to Mr. Gaunt by family agreement. But you are still young. You must take care. One slip at this age... and you could become pregnant. Something like that would completely ruin your academic future and your prospects before you even graduate."
The office was completely silent for three long seconds.
Hestia and Flora blinked, processing the deputy headmistress's words. Then they looked at each other.
Far from showing shame, regret, or concern, the girls turned their faces toward McGonagall and smiled. It was a broad, disturbing grin, full of... love. Their possessive and obsessive nature came to the fore in all its glory.
"Oh, Professor... we really hope that happens," said Hestia, her voice taking on a honeyed and terrifyingly sincere tone as she slid a hand over her belly.
"It's our greatest wish," added Flora, imitating her sister's gesture and caressing her own belly with a dreamy look. "We want to have lots of children with our beloved Aurelian. We will form the most powerful and perfect lineage this world has ever seen."
Minerva McGonagall froze.
Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. She was completely blank, her puritanical Scottish mind short-circuiting in the face of the Carrow sisters' lack of morality and maniacal intensity. She didn't know what to do or say to counteract that level of madness.
Even Aurelian felt a chill run down his spine and cold sweat break out on his forehead.
Hestia and Flora slowly turned their heads to look at him, their cheeks flushed, their eyes shining with desire, and their hands still resting on their bellies. They stared at him as if they wanted to drag him back to that abandoned classroom right then and there.
Aurelian, faced with the overwhelming intensity of his future wives, couldn't help but swallow hard in the tense silence of the office.
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