A few minutes earlier, just before chaos broke out in the depths of Hogwarts, peace reigned in the castle's tallest tower.
Albus Dumbledore was seated behind his imposing desk in the headmaster's office. The warm glow of candlelight illuminated the strange silver artifacts that hummed softly on the bookshelves. The portraits were asleep after an exhausting day of listening to Albus. With a relaxed demeanor he rarely allowed himself to display in public, Albus held an elegant crystal glass, savoring an exquisite, finely aged goblin wine.
He had just had a brief but thoroughly enjoyable late-night chat with Newt Scamander. Albus smiled slightly, taking a sip from his glass. It pleased him immensely to see that, despite the political tensions and the looming war, Newt was genuinely enjoying himself in his role as a professor. The magizoologist had confided that teaching the younger generations was an excellent way to break up his usual travel routine, and he even found the challenge of keeping the students safe from his own creatures amusing.
The gentle crackling of the fireplace was abruptly interrupted.
The heavy oak door to the office burst open with a crash that made the frames of the portraits of the former headmasters tremble. Professor Minerva McGonagall burst into the room, breathless and with an expression of deep concern etched on her face.
The shock of his deputy headmistress's sudden and highly unusual entrance was such that Dumbledore gasped. The wine went down the wrong way, and the most powerful Archmage ended up coughing violently, nearly choking on his own drink.
Fawkes, the phoenix, let out an amused trill from his perch.
When Dumbledore finally managed to calm down, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief and catching his breath, he looked at the Head of Gryffindor over the rim of his glass.
"By Merlin's beard, Minerva…" Albus gasped with a half-smile. "What urgent matter brings you to my office at such a late hour that it nearly gave me a heart attack?"
McGonagall did not return the smile. She stepped up to the desk, resting both hands on the wood.
"Albus, we have a problem," Minerva announced. "The house-elves in charge of cleaning have just alerted me to something extremely serious. We're missing three students. Two boys and one girl from the fifth year didn't return to the castle after this afternoon's trip to Hogsmeade."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, the amusement vanishing completely from his face. That was certainly not common; the castle's headcount charms were infallible, and the rules for weekends in the village were extremely strict.
"That is highly unusual," Albus murmured, interlacing his fingers on the desk and trying to maintain his composure. "However, we mustn't panic just yet. Perhaps they simply lost track of time and fell asleep in a corner of the Three Broomsticks. I'll contact Madame Rosmerta via the Floo Network right away to ask her, and I'll send a Patronus to Aberforth to check the village streets."
At that very moment, the headmaster's words died in his throat.
A dull thud shook the headmaster's tower, reverberating through the very foundations of Hogwarts.
Albus Dumbledore, as the rightful headmaster, was deeply intertwined with the school's ancient defenses and magical core. That connection allowed him to sense the castle as if it were an extension of his own body. And at that very moment, Hogwarts' magic screamed out to him. A barrier had been forcibly shattered.
Dumbledore closed his eyes, and his mind raced through the castle's network of enchantments, tracing the disturbance to the third floor. When he recognized the magical signature of the person who had just crossed the threshold, the air in the office grew heavy and unbearably thick.
Albus opened his eyes and turned his head toward Minerva. The usual kind gleam that always graced his blue eyes had vanished completely, replaced by a lethal and relentless fury.
"Albus… What was that?" Minerva asked, instinctively taking a step back as she felt the overwhelming pressure her old friend was beginning to radiate.
"We've been invaded, Minerva," Dumbledore declared, his voice sounding colder than ice. "Gellert Grindelwald is inside my school."
Minerva narrowed her eyes, feeling a chill run down her spine. She had known Albus for decades; she had seen him in crises, in battles, and facing Voldemort and Grindelwald himself head-on, but she had never seen Albus Dumbledore with an angry expression on his face—he always greeted them with a smile.
Without wasting another second, Dumbledore stood up, his blue robes billowing as he walked. Minerva followed him immediately, and the two of them hurried out of the office toward the spiral staircase, beginning to devise a contingency plan on the fly.
"Minerva, listen to me carefully because I won't repeat this," Dumbledore ordered, striding down the dark hallway. "I will personally deal with Grindelwald. I have to get him away from the students and lead him out of the castle onto the grounds to avoid collateral damage. He's looking for me, so he'll follow me."
"And what about us?" asked the vice principal, drawing her own wand.
"You must magically seal off all the common rooms right now. Don't let any students leave," Albus instructed precisely. "Gather the other teachers. They must intercept Grindelwald's followers, who are surely already spreading out through the hallways. And Minerva…"
Dumbledore paused for a second, turning his head slightly to look at her seriously.
"Above all, make sure the teachers keep a close watch on and protect Harry and Aurelian. Don't let the acolytes get near them."
Minerva frowned deeply. She understood the importance of the students in general, but she didn't understand why there was such a fixation on giving Harry Potter and Aurelian Gaunt such specific importance in the midst of such chaos.
She opened her mouth to demand answers, but couldn't.
Taking advantage of his unique privilege as headmaster to Apparate onto school grounds, Albus Dumbledore vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving her completely alone in the seventh-floor corridor.
The echoes of the first clangs of battle and the screams of the elves began to drift up from the dungeons and lower floors.
Minerva McGonagall closed her mouth, clenched her jaw fiercely, and adjusted her pointed witch's hat. The reason no longer mattered. If Grindelwald's dark followers thought they could enter her castle and harm her students, they were going to face the unleashed fury of a true Gryffindor lioness.
She ran through the fifth-floor corridors, her wand raised high and her lips pressed into a thin line.
As she rounded a corner near the armor gallery, she came face-to-face with three dark wizards dressed in battle robes who were trying to force their way into a corridor. Without giving them time to react, Minerva moved her wand with fierce agility. A scarlet flash disarmed the first one, sending his wand flying through the air, while a Transfiguration spell turned the tiles beneath the other two's feet into thick mud and quicksand that trapped them instantly. With a quick flick of her wrist, she stunned them and left them magically bound to the columns.
Without missing a beat, Minerva continued toward the main staircase. As she turned into a wide corridor, a small but imposing figure emerged from the shadows. It was Professor Filius Flitwick, his wand drawn and crackling with magic.
Upon recognizing his colleague, the diminutive Charms master let out a sigh of relief, though his face betrayed deep unease.
"Minerva!" exclaimed Filius, hurrying over. "Thank Merlin I found you. The house-elves alerted me to the intrusions in the west wing, but—"
Filius paused for a second, swallowing nervously before continuing.
"Minerva, the house-elves are behaving in a truly strange manner."
Minerva raised an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. She had known the school's little creatures for decades; they were helpful, skittish, and hid in the kitchens at the slightest sign of danger.
"Strange, Filius? What exactly do you mean by…?"
The question froze on her lips.
From the far end of the hallway, the sound of military boots interrupted their conversation. Two dark wizards from Grindelwald's elite had just rounded the corner, pointing their wands directly at the two house heads the moment they recognized them.
Minerva and Filius reacted instantly. They assumed their dueling stances, channeling their magic to deploy shields and unleash a combined attack that would neutralize the intruders.
However, before either professor could utter a single syllable or cast a spell, the air rattled with two "POP!"s.
Two house-elves appeared in midair, landing right on the dark wizards' heads and shoulders.
Before the intruders could cry out in surprise or shake the tiny creatures off, the elves raised their hands, revealing long, sharp butcher's knives and meat tenderizers brought directly from the kitchens. With a ferocity that defied every law of their kind, the two elves stabbed the dark wizards in the neck without the slightest mercy, plunging the metal into their vital points again and again.
Blood splattered across the stone floor. Grindelwald's two acolytes let out choked groans of agony; their wands fell from their trembling hands, and they collapsed to the ground like two sacks of potatoes, dead.
Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick stood frozen in place.
Their wands were still raised in the air, their mouths slightly agape, and their eyes wide with shock. In all their years, they had never witnessed anything like it.
The two elves, now covered in blood and breathing heavily, stood up over the corpses. They looked at the two professors and, with a new light shining in their enormous eyes, shouted at the top of their lungs:
"Elves protect their home! We won't let evil wizards destroy our school or what we love so much!"
And with another POP!, both creatures vanished from the hallway, leaving behind only the two bodies soaked in blood.
Filius slowly turned his head toward Minerva, his face completely pale. Minerva returned his gaze with the same expression of bewilderment and horror.
For a few long seconds, neither of them was able to utter a word. By tacit agreement, they decided it was mentally healthier and safer to ignore the atrocity they had just witnessed.
Minerva cleared her throat stiffly and lowered her wand.
"We must… we must continue patrolling the castle, Filius," murmured the deputy headmistress, her voice sounding a little higher-pitched than usual.
"Y-yes. Exactly. Let's split up to cover more ground," Flitwick agreed immediately, turning on his heel and almost jogging down the side corridor, desperate to get away from that scene.
Minerva continued down the main corridor, stepping over the bodies with great care not to soil her boots. Upon reaching the next intersection, another dark wizard appeared on the stairs, searching for his companions.
Without slowing her pace or changing her expression, Minerva swung her wand with force.
"Desmaius!"
The red bolt struck the intruder squarely in the chest, sending him tumbling down the stairs, unconscious. Minerva lowered her arm, adjusted her hat with slightly trembling hands, and let out a long sigh that echoed off the stone.
"Good heavens," Minerva muttered to herself, gazing up at the castle ceiling with genuine despair. "What on earth has gotten into the house elves tonight?"
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