Professor McGonagall spoke first.
"Douglas, what should we do now? Do you have any other plans?"
Douglas nodded, motioning for the others to step back. With a flick of his wand, he tapped the floor.
Immediately, faint magical footprints shimmered into view across the tiles.
He studied the marks, then erased several overlapping sets, leaving only one trail—a single set of footprints leading straight to the window.
Seeing this, Douglas let out a breath of relief.
His greatest fear had been that Voldemort might have dragged someone into the Chamber.
If that were the case, he'd have been forced to spin another elaborate lie, perhaps even reveal that Harry Potter was a Parselmouth, and then lead a full expedition into the Chamber to slay the monster.
But clearly, their adversary was clever—choosing to escape through the window instead.
No wonder he'd found no trace upon arrival.
It was a pity he hadn't brought the Marauder's Map with him.
Of course, even if he had, now was hardly the time to reveal it.
He had no desire to see the Marauders' legendary gift to Hogwarts students confiscated because of him.
Douglas followed the footprints to the window and peered down. Predictably, he saw nothing.
He turned to explain,
"It's a simple trace-detection charm. It reveals magical and mundane traces left in a place over a given period.
Luckily, hardly anyone visits this bathroom, so it was easy to extract a clear set of prints.
Judging by the size and direction,
the culprit was likely a teenage student. When the alarm triggered, for some reason, they didn't open the Chamber—instead, they jumped out the window and fled."
The other three watched as Douglas conjured a piece of parchment and magically pressed the footprint's impression onto it.
He stared at the print along with the others, wide-eyed.
Professor McGonagall asked, puzzled,
"And then?
Who is this child?
Why aren't you saying anything?"
Douglas shrugged, helpless.
"My name is Holmes, not Sherlock Holmes.
This is all I can deduce for now.
As for who it is—whether the Heir of Slytherin or a follower sent by Voldemort—
well, we'll need to check who was absent from the Halloween feast from start to finish, or who left midway or showed up late.
Then we compare their footprints to this one.
That should narrow it down."
The others clearly didn't catch the "Holmes" reference, but they did finally understand why Douglas had insisted the students remain in the Great Hall—not just for their safety, but for investigative purposes as well.
The four of them began laying down detection and trap spells throughout the bathroom, as well as casting ghost-banishing charms.
Dumbledore sighed,
"It seems Miss Moaning Myrtle will have to find herself new lodgings for a while.
And, Douglas, I'm truly grateful for your discovery...
If we can catch the culprit, I daresay Hagrid will be especially thankful."
Douglas allowed a suitably confused look to cross his face.
Dumbledore noticed, but offered no explanation.
Soon after, the group returned to the Great Hall.
No one there had any idea what had transpired.
The four professors gave no public explanation; only Professor McGonagall quietly called the other two Heads of House aside and gave them a brief account.
Under a sea of anxious, curious stares, the four Heads of House began to organize their prefects—
each House was to compile a list of students who had missed the feast entirely, as well as those who had joined or left midway.
Since returning from the bathroom, Snape's expression had grown even darker.
He was certain the culprit must be from Slytherin House—after all, who else could possibly open Slytherin's Chamber?
He couldn't imagine Voldemort would ever share such a secret with another House.
And, of course, he'd noticed Harry Potter's absence from the feast...
—
Meanwhile, in Ravenclaw Tower,
in the boys' dormitory,
Tom Cruise furiously scribbled in his diary:
"What did you do?
Why am I still in the dormitory at this hour?
You controlled me again!
After all this time... why?"
Words appeared on the diary's page, calm and cold:
"You don't need to know what I did.
Just know that Dumbledore and that wretched Muggle professor will soon find you.
Once they do, the only thing waiting for you is Azkaban.
That's a prison guarded by Dementors—someone like you wouldn't last three days there.
If you want to survive, do exactly as I say."
Regret clawed at Tom Cruise's heart. Why hadn't he handed over the diary when he first sensed something was wrong?
At first, he'd been wary of Tom Riddle, only asking the diary cautious, brief questions.
But over time, Riddle had always answered patiently, never demanding anything, never acting suspiciously. Gradually, Tom's guard had lowered...
Now, he was terrified. He'd heard of that prison on a small island in the North Sea, where so many Death Eaters were locked away.
He didn't know what Tom Riddle had done, but anything that alarmed the Headmaster and Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor couldn't possibly be good.
And whatever had been done, it had been done with his body.
Riddle was right: no matter what, he'd be the one sent to prison.
After a long struggle, and with Riddle's urging, he finally made his choice...
—
Back in the Great Hall,
Harry and his friends were overjoyed that Percy had rescued them from the ghostly deathday party.
They'd just sat through the Headless Hunt's performance—cold, hungry, and assaulted by dreadful noise.
Returning to the warm, food-laden Hall, their stomachs gave loud, embarrassing growls.
Percy led them to the staff table, where they stood with a few newly arrived Hufflepuffs, all of them looking bewildered.
The prefects had only said the Headmaster was looking for anyone who'd missed the feast.
When Harry arrived, he caught a flash of smug satisfaction on Snape's gaunt face.
Clearly, Snape already knew exactly where the trio had been.
"Skipping dinner?" he drawled.
"I suppose the ghosts' cuisine isn't quite to your taste."
Ron retorted, "We're not hungry!"
If his stomach hadn't chosen that moment to rumble, it might have sounded convincing.
Snape's smirk deepened.
Douglas stood nearby, speechless. When those three were missing, Snape had been more anxious than anyone.
Professor McGonagall didn't scold them for attending the deathday party.
Instead, she turned to Douglas.
"They're not involved, are they?"
Douglas shook his head.
"Clearly, it wasn't these three."
He glanced at the Hufflepuffs, catching a distinct whiff of hot pot.
He wasn't the only one—the other professors noticed it too.
Snape's expression grew even more disdainful.
Professor McGonagall sent the trio back to the Gryffindor table, then focused on the fourth- and fifth-year Hufflepuffs.
Douglas copied the footprint parchment several times with a charm, having each of them step on a sheet.
Though the prints were similar, there were subtle differences.
At last, Douglas sighed with relief. "All clear!"
One Hufflepuff asked,
"Can we go back to our common room now?"
Professor Sprout snapped,
"Sit back down at your table! No one's leaving until this is sorted out...
Common room, indeed! Don't think I don't know what you lot get up to in there."
The Hufflepuffs slunk back to their table, chastened.
Douglas glanced at the attendance list.
"These are the only ones with a clear alibi. The rest are supposedly in their common rooms for various reasons—illness, mostly.
I think we should go there directly. We might find something..."
So, Dumbledore led the four Heads of House and Douglas out of the Great Hall once more,
leaving the prefects and the Head Boy and Girl to help the remaining staff keep watch.
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
Explore More Amazing Fanfiction on My Patreon!
Unlock 30+ Advance Chapters and Enjoy Exclusive Stories Early!
��patreon.com/GoldenLong