Gurgle. Gurgle.
Steam rose from the spout of the teapot.
Dumbledore, who had been quietly refining his plans, returned to his senses.
He reached out and caught the teacup that had bounced toward him of its own accord, then poured himself a cup of hot tea.
Just as he lifted the cup toward his lips, a ghost suddenly burst up through the floor, forcing him to stop.
"Hey, Headmaster! Where are the dungbombs you promised me?"
It was Peeves.
He was a rather special spirit of Hogwarts.
With a wide face, a huge mouth, and round shining eyes, he wore brightly colored clothes, a tie, and a hat.
His slippers were split down the middle, exposing his toes.
His usual activity consisted of flying all over the castle, playing pranks on students whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Dumbledore's temple twitched slightly.
Looking at the poltergeist emerging from the floor, he sighed and opened a drawer. From it he removed a cloth sack filled with dungbombs.
"Oh! Headmaster, you are magnificent! Don't worry, I'll make sure those naughty students get what they deserve!"
Peeves snatched the sack instantly, cackling as he eagerly dove toward the floor.
There was a loud thud.
The sack got stuck halfway through the floor and refused to pass through.
Peeves floated back up, rolled his big eyes, then changed position. He pushed open the window and flew out with the sack, vanishing from Dumbledore's sight.
"…That should be fine, right?"
Watching Peeves leave so enthusiastically, the old headmaster pinched the bridge of his nose.
He told himself it would probably work out.
Then he sighed again.
It seemed he might have to assist Filch with cleaning duties this term. After all, the trouble was of his own making.
Dumbledore stood and closed the window Peeves had knocked open.
As he did, his thoughts drifted back to December 26—the day after Christmas, before Dawn had arrived.
December 26.
After visiting Nurmengard and learning that even Grindelwald had never heard of Voldemort's strange magic, Dumbledore came to the Ravenclaw Tower in search of answers.
"Lady Grey, that is the situation. I was hoping to ask whether you—or perhaps Rowena Ravenclaw herself—have ever heard of such magic."
Dumbledore explained Voldemort's current state and asked the ghost before him for guidance.
The Grey Lady was Ravenclaw's ghost.
She usually remained alone in the tower, rarely interacting even with Ravenclaw students.
But Dumbledore knew her true identity.
She was Helena Ravenclaw, daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the four founders of Hogwarts.
Dumbledore hoped that through her, he might borrow some knowledge passed down from the founders themselves.
Unfortunately, the Grey Lady simply shook her head calmly.
"I'm sorry. I do not know of such magic."
"I see…"
Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his nose again.
Another dead end.
The more he investigated over the past few days, the more convinced he became that something was very wrong with this magic.
According to rumor, the spell had come to Olivia through a dream after she drank too much Felix Felicis.
Dumbledore firmly believed that no spell could truly originate from a dream.
There had to be a source.
Yet he had searched nearly every book in Hogwarts. He had consulted the private libraries of pure-blood families.
He had asked Grindelwald and every knowledgeable friend he knew.
He had even contacted Nicolas Flamel, who had lived for more than six hundred years.
Still, he found absolutely no trace of the spell.
Even Egypt—often called the birthplace of magic—yielded nothing when he asked contacts there to investigate.
It was far too strange.
Logically speaking, spells disappearing over centuries was not unusual. But if it had vanished so completely, why had Olivia dreamed of it?
"Felix Felicis…"
Dumbledore murmured softly.
Recalling the rumors surrounding the potion, he suddenly made a decision.
Perhaps he should try the same thing Olivia had done.
Just once.
Flap.
An owl flew past the window, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Dumbledore prepared to say farewell to the ghost. But before he could speak, the Grey Lady suddenly turned from the window.
"Headmaster," she said softly.
"Although I have never heard of that magic, if you truly wish to solve this mystery, perhaps you should begin with the consciousness of the castle."
"The castle's consciousness?"
Dumbledore paused.
"Yes. I do not know the details. I only remember overhearing a conversation between my mother and Godric Gryffindor once."
Her tone remained calm.
As a ghost, she spent much of her time drifting near Ravenclaw's statue, recalling the past.
"That was shortly after they first discovered this castle."
"The school had just been founded. There were no students yet."
"My mother and the others each went their separate ways to find young witches and wizards—children who had nowhere else to go or were willing to follow them."
"They divided their work carefully."
"My mother gathered information.
Hufflepuff visited Muggle families.
Slytherin approached wizarding households.
And Gryffindor—the bravest of them—rescued children who were persecuted by both Muggles and dark wizards."
"Once, he rescued two children from a dark wizard skilled in curses. They were said to be extremely talented.
Gryffindor cared for them personally.
But not long after lessons began, both children died during Gryffindor's class. The dark wizard had secretly placed a hidden curse upon them."
"The incident devastated Gryffindor.
He had founded the school to protect young witches and wizards. Instead, his own negligence led to their deaths.
For several days, he remained in his room whenever he was not teaching."
"I do not know how he recovered.
But a few days later, he suddenly sought out my mother.
He asked whether there was any way to ensure that young witches and wizards could grow up safely."
"My mother told him that strong belief and recognition could protect anything.
She said that if the school developed as the four founders intended, the castle itself would eventually give birth to a power capable of protecting and resolving everything."
"They spoke for a long time."
"I did not pay much attention to the conversation at the time. But I remember hearing the phrase castle consciousness."
The Grey Lady looked out across the castle grounds.
Even her ghostly eyes showed a trace of nostalgia.
"So if you cannot resolve what is happening within Hogwarts," she said quietly, "perhaps you should seek help from the castle itself."
Dumbledore frowned.
While he was moved by the fragment of history she had revealed, his mind focused on the present.
The castle had consciousness.
As headmaster, he already knew that.
In fact, he knew even more.
Every student who arrived at Hogwarts for the first time followed the same path the founders once walked.
They passed through the forest. They crossed the Black Lake by boat. They climbed the cliffs to reach the castle.
These actions formed a ritual.
From that moment on, the castle silently protected every student until the day they graduated.
Just like the unfortunate child who had been petrified by the basilisk not long ago.
Dumbledore had inspected the scene carefully. He knew the puddle of water that had mysteriously appeared was no coincidence.
The child had not looked directly into the basilisk's eyes.
Dumbledore believed that was the castle's protection at work.
If the basilisk had continued roaming the castle undetected, similar coincidences would likely have prevented students from dying.
However, the castle's protection was not absolute.
Myrtle had been killed by Voldemort in the bathroom. The castle's consciousness had not saved her.
Until now, Dumbledore had never believed the castle's awareness had any other role.
But after hearing the Grey Lady's story, he began to suspect otherwise.
"How would I seek help from the castle's consciousness?" he asked.
"I do not know," the Grey Lady replied.
"As I said, I only heard those words once. You will have to find the answer yourself."
Find it himself.
Dumbledore was one of the greatest wizards alive. Independent thinking came naturally to him.
Instead of feeling discouraged, he quickly formed an idea.
"Peeves?" he asked suddenly.
As headmaster, the moment he considered the castle's consciousness, Peeves came to mind.
Many students believed Peeves was simply a strange ghost. But Dumbledore knew he was something entirely different.
The simplest proof was that Peeves could think and interact with physical objects.
Other ghosts could not.
Additionally, [Hogwarts: A History] recorded many other peculiar details about him.
For example, Peeves could not be expelled from the castle.
Because of his constant pranks, many staff members had tried to remove him. Every attempt had failed.
The most recent attempt occurred in 1876.
The caretaker at the time, Rancorous Carpe, set an elaborate trap using various spells.
He intended to capture Peeves once he stepped into it.
Instead, Peeves escaped easily.
Then, for his own amusement, he fired at the castle's windows with a weapon, endangering everyone inside.
The castle had to be evacuated.
After three days of chaos, the staff surrendered.
The headmistress at the time, Eupraxia Mole, ended the incident by granting Peeves additional privileges.
Thinking about these events, Dumbledore strongly suspected that Peeves might be connected to the castle's consciousness.
"I cannot say," the Grey Lady replied. "I am only a ghost. I can repeat memories, but I cannot speculate."
Having shared everything she knew, she stepped forward.
Her form passed through the wall, and she vanished.
Dumbledore did not remain in the tower either. Leaving Ravenclaw's common room, he went to test his theory.
Using the network of portraits throughout the castle, he quickly located Peeves in the sixth-floor corridor.
The poltergeist was currently dropping water balloons onto the head of an unfortunate student.
___________
Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-
patreon.com/BloodAncestor