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"Prefects! I want you to escort all students of every year back to their respective common rooms. Morning classes are temporarily cancelled."
Dumbledore had finally arrived, followed closely by the Heads of the four Houses. Diana, too, was present. Her expression immediately soured upon hearing Dumbledore's directive. This morning had been her class, and once again, it was cancelled.
Since the start of term, there had only been one Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Diana, however, remained silent.
Four House Prefects were expected to take charge—though in truth, only three were present. Hufflepuff's Prefects were all currently in the back kitchen.
"Cedric," Moriarty addressed calmly, "you will lead Hufflepuff back to your common room."
"Me?" Cedric blinked, pointing hesitantly at his own nose.
It wasn't that he questioned Moriarty's authority—neither Dumbledore nor Professor Sprout intervened. Rather, Cedric doubted whether he was capable of fulfilling the task.
"Yes, you." Moriarty fixed him with a stern look that evoked the same pressure one felt when Professor McGonagall turned stern. Cedric's resolve straightened, and by then, Moriarty had already turned to face Dumbledore.
"Professors, this is more than just unusual!" Moriarty said with firm concern.
"I'm glad you think so," Dumbledore responded with a deep nod. "In fact, we've just come back from the infirmary."
Moriarty's gaze narrowed. "Is something wrong with Keith?"
"It's worse than that." Professor Snape's voice was grim as he tossed Moriarty a potion vial. "During last night's Potions class, a fourth-year Slytherin girl attempted to reverse-engineer an antidote. She ended up producing a potent poison instead. She tricked her friend into drinking it. Both of them are now in the Hospital Wing."
Moriarty uncorked the potion and gave it a cautious sniff. Even with the utmost care, the pungent stench invaded his senses.
It was the odor of fermented cabbage rotting for centuries—so sharp it pierced through his nostrils and bored directly into his brain like a dagger!
Moriarty immediately employed Occlumency to protect himself, his eyes flashing. "You and Horace couldn't have brewed this in one night—not something that attacks the brain this quickly. How could a fourth-year possibly manage it? Reverse-engineering from the antidote? That's like setting off for a picnic and discovering Voldemort—utterly horrifying!"
"We thought the same," Dumbledore said grimly. "We searched their memories. There's no known origin, no record of this poison. It appeared from nowhere—but the symptoms are very real, and almost fatal."
Dumbledore carefully retrieved the potion and tucked it into his robe.
Professor White's eyes glinted coldly as he surveyed the Great Hall. "Now we have another incident during breakfast—further straining inter-House relations."
"Professor Sprout has spoken with her students. Moriarty, would you care to accompany us to the kitchens to see what Miss Tonks is doing?"
Moriarty nodded. "Let's go."
To be honest, he wasn't worried about Tonks' safety. Earlier, Professor Sprout had checked three dishes and confirmed they were non-toxic. That meant Tonks had acted impulsively. But why?
That was the real question.
Diana, however, appeared far less concerned. On the way down, she casually asked with a sly smile, "Say, I'm a new professor. What do I do if a student intentionally skips my class?"
Moriarty knew she was referring to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class he had missed on Monday afternoon—the one he'd skipped to prepare for his duel with Nicolas Flamel. He had locked himself in the dormitory, seeking absolute focus. The whole school, even Hogsmeade, had been abuzz with preparations in his favor. The professors had understood the urgency.
But such nuance would hardly matter to an elf.
Elves, after all, were infamously stubborn—a trait embodied by Vivian, the "Lady of the Lake" who once fell in love with Merlin and ultimately imprisoned him.
"I suggest you ask the Headmaster directly," Moriarty replied. Diana pouted but remained undeterred. Everyone could see Dumbledore was already in a foul mood—surely she wouldn't bother him?
She would.
To Moriarty's mild surprise, Diana strode straight to Dumbledore's side. Her voice shifted from light and gentle to low and magnetic. "What's happening in the castle isn't unlike my own situation. You do plan ahead… don't you?"
Dumbledore halted, shaking his head. "It's not that dire—yet. I still believe in my students."
What were they hinting at?
Moriarty glanced at the other Heads of House and saw genuine confusion in their expressions.
Diana dropped the subject and fell back beside Moriarty. The group finally arrived at the kitchen. The Hufflepuff students inside were so immersed in cooking they didn't notice the professors' entrance.
But the adults' expressions quickly turned grim—for in front of them lay a scene soaked in blood.
On the ground, dozens of serpents had been hacked apart, their twitching bodies strewn everywhere.
On the table, an owl had been skinned and impaled with several knives. Its claws still quivered faintly.
On the far wall, Tonks stood with a black snake in her left hand and an owl's wing in her right. A floating blade carved into the animals mid-air, dissecting them.
Hufflepuff students, working in trios or quads, stirred snake soup, grilled owl, and formed lion's head meatballs. The air was filled with surprisingly fragrant smells.
"Merlin's beard… my child!" Professor Sprout hurried forward and seized Tonks' wrist. "What on earth are you doing?"
"Oh, Professor Sprout!" Tonks turned around and hugged her Head of House. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with darkness, but her voice was cheery. "I'm cooking for everyone! Have you tried any yet?"
The other badgers looked up and waved excitedly as if hosting a family-run restaurant. They looked absurdly proud.
Professor Sprout opened her mouth but no words came.
Dumbledore frowned and waved his hand. In an instant, all the blood vanished. The surviving black snakes and owls escaped from the students' grasp and fled in panic.
Those creatures that survived must have done something noble in a past life.
Moriarty murmured to the black snakes in Parseltongue, while Professor McGonagall transformed into a tabby cat to soothe the owls.
"Oh! Moriarty! You came too?" Tonks ran toward him. The snakes scattered in panic, utterly unaffected by his Parseltongue.
"Nymphadora!" Moriarty barked, but she suddenly leapt onto him, arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist.
"Little brother~ Hehehe! Mua!" Tonks kissed his left cheek.
"Mua~" Another kiss on the right. She giggled. "Did you try my snake soup? I heard you love dragon soup, so I made this for you!
No dragons available, but snakes are easy to find! Tastes just like dragon, right?
Want me to make it for you every day?"
Her eyes sparkled with delight.
"You're mistaken, Nymphadora," Moriarty said, letting her kisses dry on his skin. Her affection was unusually forward—even for Tonks.
He gripped her arms and tried to set her down, but she clung tighter. "No! Just say if you'll drink it or not!"
She pouted, her hair turning bright pink—an indicator of extreme joy.
But none of the professors were smiling.
Diana scoffed. "So the one causing all the ruckus just wanted to make soup for her dear little Moriarty? How heartwarming. I suppose the braised lion head and roasted owl were declarations of love?"
"I won't let you insult Moriarty!" Tonks snapped, wrapping her arms tighter around Moriarty and glowering at Diana. "You evil teacher! I knew you were after him! Old cow eating tender grass, that's what you are!"
Were it not for the lack of alcohol on her breath, Moriarty would have sworn she was drunk.
Diana's voice sharpened. "Interesting. You're clearly poisoned."
"Poisoned?" Moriarty's eyes shifted from Diana to Dumbledore. "What's going on?"
"We'll discuss it later," Dumbledore sighed. "The question now is how to stop them."
As they spoke, the little badgers had begun summoning more snakes and preparing lion's head meatballs again—but the owls were gone.
"No owls?!" Tonks cried. "That Scottish fat chicken with a round face is the soul of this dish!"
"Moriarty, I've been watching ever since you taught the elves how to cook Chinese food!"
Moriarty tried again to set her down, but she grabbed his robe tightly.
"I bought a Chinese cookbook during the summer. Besides snake soup, I wanted to try chicken soup! But the castle had no chickens, so I used owls!
Genius, right?" Tonks beamed. "I tasted it—delicious! So tasty!"
She finally slid off him, skipping toward a pot. "I saved some for you! Try it!"
Professor McGonagall, back in human form, looked utterly appalled...
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