"Moony greets Headmaster Dumbledore, and politely requests that he keep his ridiculously long beard out of other people's business."
Dumbledore blinked in surprise.
But the parchment wasn't done yet. More writing unfolded beneath the first line.
"Prongs agrees with Moony and adds that the headmaster is a pompous old bat who pretends to be more mysterious than he really is."
Even though the moment was undeniably serious for James, Severus couldn't help the curl of a smirk tugging at his lips.
More followed.
"Padfoot expresses surprise that such a useless relic has found his way here—surely his place is in the Hog's Head."
James shut his eyes, mortified.
When he opened them again, the parchment displayed the last message.
"Wormtail wishes Headmaster Dumbledore a good night and suggests he pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey to get his crooked nose sorted."
Snape finally let out a soft laugh, unable to contain himself. James, however, wasn't laughing in the least.
Unexpectedly, Dumbledore chuckled too.
"Amusing," he said warmly, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes. "Quite the fitting commentary."
"Does this map belong to you, James?" he asked, his tone mild. "Can you show me how to use it?"
James's fingers trembled slightly as he drew his wand, throat dry. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
At once, the blank parchment unfurled into the Marauder's Map—complete with shifting names, showing everyone's location within Hogwarts castle.
"Designed to aid magical mischief-makers," Dumbledore murmured fondly. "Takes me back to the days when youth was still a thing I possessed."
"But," he added, gazing at the map's corner, "I'm afraid I can't allow you to keep it. Look—there we all are."
"'Moony,' I think I can identify," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "But what about the rest of you? Why 'Prongs,' 'Padfoot,' and 'Wormtail'?"
James opened his mouth, closed it again, and floundered in silence. "I—I… no, I…"
"We'll return to that later," Dumbledore said, pointing at two small dots rapidly approaching. "Professor McGonagall is nearly here."
A knock sounded at the door.
Mulciber stepped in, head low, his robes torn and soiled, blood streaking one side of his face.
Professor McGonagall followed closely, her wand still raised.
"Albus," she said wearily, "I've brought him."
"Take a seat," Dumbledore said gently, flicking his wand to conjure two additional chairs.
"Look up, please," he said. "Mulciber, I'm sure you have much to tell us."
Mulciber said nothing. He glared at Dumbledore with a look thick with venom and defiance.
Dumbledore met his gaze evenly, his own blue eyes growing suddenly cold, the kind of cold that sears rather than soothes. His expression lost all warmth; every deep line etched into his face seemed to tighten like a vice. He radiated quiet fury.
Mulciber twitched under the pressure, as though he could physically feel the air turning heavier. He shifted in his seat, tried to stand—only to be slammed back into place by a silent spell.
Then came a flash of red light—Stunning Spell.
Mulciber slumped, unconscious.
"James. Pandora," Dumbledore said, his voice composed once more, "you may return to your dormitories. Severus, stay."
"Minerva, if you please—fetch Horace. Ask him to bring the potion."
McGonagall gave a small nod, gathered the two shaken students, and swept from the office.
Potion?
A ripple of unease rose in Snape's chest. Dumbledore had stunned Mulciber and now called for Professor Slughorn—with a potion. Surely not… Veritaserum?
Snape remembered: Veritaserum could be resisted if the subject was aware or wary—but administered to someone unconscious, it bypassed most safeguards.
Still, he'd also read that the potion could sometimes cause irreparable damage to memory.
Dumbledore was the kind of man who would protect a student's soul, even at great personal cost... wasn't he?
But then again—Snape recalled how Dumbledore had "protected" Draco Malfoy by making himself the bait in a trap set for Voldemort.
The thought made Snape's respect for the old man turn ever so slightly toward dread.
Time dragged, heavy and still.
Finally, the click of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. McGonagall returned, flanked by Slughorn.
"Albus," said Slughorn, a sheen of sweat glinting off his bald head. His voice wavered when he caught sight of Mulciber slumped in the chair. "Good gracious. What happened?"
"He's only Stunned," Dumbledore said evenly. "Horace, the potion?"
Slughorn hesitated. "Is… is this necessary?"
Dumbledore gave a slow, grim nod.
Reluctantly, Slughorn handed over a tiny vial of shimmering, clear liquid.
Dumbledore approached Mulciber, gently pried open his mouth, and tipped three drops in. Then he pointed his wand at the boy's chest.
"Ennervate."
Mulciber stirred. His eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. His face hung slack, like a puppet whose strings had been dropped.
Dumbledore crouched so they were eye to eye.
"Can you hear me?" he asked, voice calm but firm.
Mulciber's eyelids twitched. "Yes."
"I want you to tell us," Dumbledore said softly, "why you were in Hogsmeade. What were you doing there?"
Mulciber inhaled sharply, then began to speak in a low, flat voice, stripped of any emotion.
"The Master learned that Dumbledore has been away from Hogwarts more often lately. He told me about the hidden passage near the library. He said to use it to get into Hogsmeade."
Snape's fingers curled into fists.
"By his orders, I used the spell he taught me to reanimate the corpses buried in the Hogsmeade cemetery. I made them into Inferi… and I was going to bring them into the school through the passage…"
"The Master said… this school has betrayed its legacy. Tainted its honor. It must be purged…"
Mulciber's face twisted as his eyelids fluttered again.
"Tonight… I had just led the Inferi into the passage when there was a loud crash. The tunnel collapsed…"
"I dropped my wand. I couldn't find it. The Inferi—lost control…"
His voice trembled now.
"I barely escaped. They… they went through the owlery…"