Silence reigned in the Slytherin common room, broken only by the soft crackling of the last logs burning in the enormous stone fireplace.
Aurelian was sitting in one of the green leather armchairs, bathed in the faint emerald light filtering in from the Black Lake through the large windows. He was completely alone. Hestia and Flora had just said goodnight to him with their usual round of hugs and kisses before retiring to their rooms a few minutes ago.
Aurelian wasn't the least bit sleepy that night.
His eyes darted quickly across the lines of the ancient tome resting on his lap, absorbing every word. When he finally reached the period and finished the last page of that dense chapter, he closed the book with a dull thud. He leaned back against the armchair and let out a long yawn, allowing a strand of his jet-black hair to fall messily across his forehead.
He stood up slowly, stretched his arms above his head, and yawned again to release the tension built up in his muscles, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. Reading had whetted his appetite. He decided to leave the common room and head to the castle kitchens in search of a midnight snack; a smile spread across his face as he thought about how good a juicy, steaming leg of charcoal-grilled chicken would taste.
At the same time, deep beneath the castle's foundations, a procession moved forward in absolute silence.
The secret passage connecting Honeydukes to Hogwarts was shrouded in darkness, illuminated intermittently by the glow of wands. Gellert Grindelwald marched at the head of the procession, flanked closely by Vinda Rosier and Percival Graves. Behind them, an assault force of twenty elite wizards and witches, clad in battle robes and dark masks that concealed their faces, moved through the tunnel with precision and stealth.
After walking uninterrupted for some time through the narrow, dusty corridor, the procession reached the end of the path. However, they could not pass. A solid stone wall completely blocked their path.
Percival Graves stepped forward, running his hand over the rocky surface.
"It's sealed with the castle's ancient magic," Graves analyzed, looking at their leader. "We'll likely need a specific password to open the entrance from this side."
Vinda Rosier frowned instantly, her face contorting with rage.
"Damn incompetent brats…" she cursed under her breath, clenching her jaw. "I knew I should have tortured them. They didn't give us all the information. Useless."
Gellert let out a sigh of exasperation, tired of these minor obstacles. He stepped forward, pushing Graves aside with a gentle wave of his hand.
"I don't have time for this nonsense," Grindelwald declared coldly.
He raised his right hand and pointed a single finger directly at the center of the stone wall.
On the other side of the wall, in the third-floor hallway of Hogwarts, everything was bathed in a blissful tranquility. The portraits slept in their frames, and the suits of armor stood guard in silence. Just another normal night at Hogwarts.
Suddenly, an overwhelming force struck from within. The enormous statue of the one-eyed witch, which had guarded the entrance to the tunnel for centuries, exploded into a thousand pieces with a deafening roar. Rocks and dust flew throughout the hallway, shattering the nearest tapestries and setting off the castle's first alarms.
Through the cloud of debris and dust, Grindelwald's imposing figure emerged, brushing the dust from his shoulders. Behind him, the twenty dark wizards emerged from the tunnel, fanning themselves down the corridor with their wands raised.
Gellert looked intently at his assault squad.
"The element of surprise is gone. Be quick, eliminate anyone who stands in your way, and carry out your objectives," he ordered them curtly.
All the acolytes nodded in unison, split into small groups, and quickly disappeared down the castle's various corridors, ready to wreak havoc.
Vinda and Percival made a move to follow them and launch the main attack, but Grindelwald raised a hand, stopping them in their tracks.
"Not you two," Gellert told them. "Your task tonight is different."
Vinda and Percival stopped, exchanging sidelong glances before raising an eyebrow in perfect unison, intrigued by the sudden change of plans.
Gellert flashed a calculating smile, his two-colored eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"I would very much like to have a little private chat with the young Aurelian Gaunt," Grindelwald revealed, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. "Go and capture him. Make sure to bring him back alive. The little prince is surely sleeping peacefully down there in the Slytherin dungeons. Don't let me down."
The warm and cozy kitchens of Hogwarts were the perfect refuge. Far from the cold of the dungeons and the imminent danger brewing on the upper floors, Aurelian sat at the head of one of the long wooden tables, happily eating a whole chicken roasted over hot coals.
All around him, dozens of house-elves in their aprons watched him with huge, adoring smiles. Seeing a student so eagerly enjoying their midnight creations was the greatest source of pride for the little creatures.
Aurelian took a long sip from his glass of cold orange juice, wiping the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin, smiling broadly.
"It was absolutely delicious. I thank you all for such a wonderful meal," he told them, his voice resonating with genuine appreciation throughout the immense hall.
One of the elder elves stepped forward, bowing slightly.
"It is an immense pleasure and an honor to serve you, young master, yes sir."
Aurelian nodded, taking another piece of chicken. He was about to continue eating, but just as the meat touched his lips, his keen magical perception went off like an alarm. His dark eyes widened. He sensed several new magical signatures with hostile intentions, suddenly materializing within the castle walls. He couldn't distinguish them all clearly, but one of them… one was so overwhelmingly strong, cold, and ancient that it nearly took his breath away. He was certain it was an Archmage.
Aurelian dropped the chicken, leaped to his feet, and his face lost all trace of kindness.
"Stinky!" he called out loudly, his tone brimming with urgency.
Less than a second later, with a POP!, his personal elf appeared at his side, dressed in his black sweater.
"Does Master Aurelian need anything?" Stinky asked, bowing.
"Go back to the mansion and bring Nythoros to me. Now!" Aurelian ordered without hesitation.
Stinky nodded quickly, his large ears fluttering. He vanished with a snap, and barely a blink later, he reappeared in the same spot, holding a small snake with emerald scales very carefully in his hands.
Aurelian took the curled-up basilisk and stroked its head with his thumb.
"Why are you calling me at this late hour, comrade?" Nythoros hissed, blinking sleepily and opening his deadly yellowish eyes slightly.
Aurelian grew completely serious.
"Wake up, my friend. Someone has just infiltrated the castle."
Nythoros closed his eyes for an instant, testing the air with his tongue and tuning into the vibrations of the place.
"Yes…" hissed the basilisk, his voice shedding its drowsiness and becoming sharp as a blade. "I sense the presences. They reek of death."
Hearing the Parsel's hiss and seeing the sudden hostility in the young lord's posture, the house elves began to look at one another in panic. Their large eyes reflected terror at the thought that their beloved school was under attack.
Aurelian cleared his throat, projecting his voice to immediately grab everyone's attention in the kitchen.
"Listen to me carefully!" Aurelian ordered them. "I want you to go throughout the entire castle. Shout, smash the armor, make as much noise as necessary, but wake up all the students and teachers right now. And then… attack the intruders!"
The elves cowered, looking at one another fearfully. Panic paralyzed them, as they wavered between their natural instinct to hide in the kitchens and following the wizard's dangerous order. They were servants, not warriors.
Noticing their hesitation, Aurelian did something unexpected. He sat down on the stone floor, crossing his legs so that he was at exactly the same eye level as the small creatures. He looked them in the eyes, like a leader about to rally his troops.
"I know you're afraid," Aurelian told them, his voice growing soft yet incredibly firm. "But it's important to defend not only the school from those wizards, but also to defend our home. You live here; you take care of these walls. We cannot—and will not—let just anyone come in and destroy what we love so much. Do you understand me?"
His words struck a deep chord. The terror in the elves' eyes slowly gave way to a spark of determination. Though still trembling slightly, they nodded in unison.
The same elderly elf from before stepped forward, rubbing his hands nervously.
"But… but my lord… How are we going to harm those magical evildoers? We don't know how to use wands."
Aurelian smiled broadly, a dark, brilliant smile. He reached out and picked up a sharp carving knife from the table. He twirled the blade in the firelight and offered it to the elf.
"They have magic of their own, they're elusive… and the kitchens are full of these sharp objects. Aim for the tendons, the knees, the stomach, the throat—especially the throat."
A few minutes after leaving his army of armed, bloodthirsty house elves behind, Aurelian was running alone through the dark corridors of the castle's lower level, wand in hand. The echo of his footsteps bounced off the stone as the castle's first alarms began to wail in the distance, accompanied by the clatter of elves smashing vases on the upper floors.
Nythoros, firmly coiled around his shoulder, hissed in his ear.
"What exactly is your plan, my master?"
"Hide," Aurelian replied without slowing his pace. "Slip under my clothes, press yourself against my chest, and wait for the right moment. When I give the word, attack to kill."
The king of serpents did not question the order. He slithered quickly down the collar of Aurelian's shirt, disappearing into the dark folds of his tunic and coiling protectively around his torso.
Aurelian slowed down as he approached the stairs leading to the corridors that went down to the Slytherin dungeons. He rounded the corner quickly but came to a sudden halt, skidding slightly on the stone.
There, blocking his path and standing exactly in the center of the corridor, were two figures shrouded in dark robes.
Aurelian raised his wand immediately, assessing the threat and trying to recognize the faces before him. Standing in front of him were Percival Graves, with his martial stance, and the infamous and elegant Vinda Rosier, who was watching him with a predatory smile.
When they saw him round the corner straight toward them, Vinda and Percival exchanged a glance before smiling.
"Well, well," Vinda remarked, taking a slow step forward and twirling her wand. "I'm infinitely grateful that you came straight to us, boy. You've just saved us the tedious task of having to go look for you in your bed."
Aurelian didn't back down. His breathing steadied, his mind cleared of all thoughts, and he assumed a fighting stance. He narrowed his eyes, his magic already crackling at the tip of his wand.
It's Showtime.
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