The moon hung high in the night sky.
British Ministry of Magic. Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Investigator Conference Room.
"Investigator Godwin, here's that coffee you asked for."
"Thanks." Annabelle took the mug, looking thoroughly exhausted as she took a sip.
"The core issue here is that the memory loss is completely catastrophic! Furthermore, their emotions and their very consciousness are entirely wiped out. According to the Department of Mysteries, they've been reduced to nothing but empty shells."
The other seven Senior Investigators in the room looked just as physically and mentally drained as she did.
"This is the third shell we've found since Christmas," one of them pointed out. "According to standard emergency protocol, we have more than enough grounds to issue a public warning."
"No. The Department Head made it clear—Minister Fudge shot it down."
"Besides, what would we even list as the cause?" another argued. "A curse? An accident? A natural disaster?"
Annabelle set her coffee down and rapped her knuckles on the table to grab the room's attention.
"Arguing in circles isn't going to get us anywhere." She gestured to the mountain of case files and reports piled across the table. "We've spent the last three days digging through decades of archives. We can say with absolute certainty that there is zero historical precedent for this in the wizarding world. Since Minister Fudge vetoed our department's proposed response, debating the politics is a waste of time. Here's what we'll do: we draft a contingency plan now, so we have it ready when things inevitably go wrong."
The rest of the team nodded in agreement. She was right. No matter how much they brainstormed, if upper management wouldn't sign off on a public warning, their hands were tied. All they could do was prep as best they could behind the scenes.
"Unbelievable. We spend all this time analyzing the threat, and the Minister just buries his head in the sand!"
"And when this blows up, guess who gets the blame?"
"Let's stay focused. Right now, our top priority is investigating those three victims. We need to figure out who they are, what they were doing at the time of the incident, and exactly how they were hollowed out. The Head mentioned this morning that our department is forming a joint task force with the Auror Office to handle this..."
The marathon meeting finally wrapped up, and the investigators filed out of the room.
Seeing the Senior Investigators finally emerge, the dozens of other employees in the department breathed a massive, collective sigh of relief and immediately started packing up to go home.
The department's hierarchy was straightforward: one Head, one Deputy Head, eight Senior Investigators, twenty-five Obliviators, and a forty-person Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. Aside from the directors, the eight Senior Investigators functioned as middle management, directly overseeing the remaining sixty-five staff members. Because of this, whenever upper management pulled an all-nighter, the rest of the staff didn't dare leave until the meeting adjourned. As for why... well, toxic office politics exist everywhere.
Annabelle threw on her cloak and headed for the exit. But just as she reached the department doors, she ran into the absolute last person she wanted to see.
"Rough night, Annabelle?"
Kingsley Shacklebolt was leaning casually against the corridor wall, a red rose clamped between his teeth. "Look at you. You look entirely exhausted." He pulled the rose from his mouth and offered it to her. "A Siberian Rose. Reminds me of you—resilient and beautiful."
Feeling the nosy, gossiping stares of her coworkers burning into her back, Annabelle violently suppressed the urge to punch him in the face. She fixed him with an icy glare.
"Excuse me, Auror Shacklebolt. It is incredibly late, I am exhausted, and unless this is strictly official Ministry business, do not stand in the way of me going home."
Without another word, she brushed right past him.
Whether she was genuinely too tired to see straight, or the magical lighting in the corridor was just too dim, her heel miraculously came down directly on Kingsley's foot. She drove her weight into it, gave it a sharp, punishing twist, and quickly vanished into the shadows.
"Ngh..."
Kingsley bit his lip hard to keep from yelling out. He twitched in pain for a few seconds, but almost immediately, a smug grin crept onto his face.
Wow. Why would Annabelle deliberately step on his foot before leaving? Why wouldn't she do that to anyone else but him? Is it possible she's actually into him?
Once the throbbing faded enough for him to walk, Kingsley noticed she was already gone and immediately started limping after her down the hall.
"Hey, Annabelle! Wait up! I actually do have official business to discuss! Is your department putting together a joint task force? Are you on it? Because if you are, I'm formally requesting to be your partner! I just wouldn't feel comfortable trusting your safety to anyone else..."
Back at Hogwarts, life had settled into a steady routine. Richie attended his regular classes during the day, and at night, he headed to the Starlight Sanctum to practice the Large-Scale Silencing Charm with the rest of the group.
While the charm sounded incredibly advanced, the core theory was actually quite simple. The real hurdle was achieving magical equilibrium among the five of them. Their output, intensity, and precision all had to be perfectly synced. It was like trying to balance a plate on top of five sticks; they needed all five sticks to be the exact same length to keep the plate perfectly level.
For the others, this wasn't too difficult. But for Seamus, it was an absolute nightmare.
He genuinely struggled to control his magical output. Even though he could now safely cast basic spells like Lumos and Wingardium Leviosa without exploding, his stability was still highly questionable. Demanding that he not only stabilize his magic but also perfectly match the exact frequency of four other people was a massive ask.
Fortunately, backed by constant encouragement from Neville and Ventis, Seamus gritted his teeth and powered through the brutal training sessions. Because of this shared struggle, the bond between the three of them deepened immensely. They had become incredibly tight-knit friends.
Before long, March arrived. Hogwarts finally shed its heavy coat of winter snow, replaced by sprawling, vibrant green lawns.
Tucked away inside his magically expanded trunk study, Richie held his breath, maintaining absolute, razor-sharp focus as he carefully drew the very first of the Thirty-Two Fundamental Alchemical Symbols: [ص].
According to Alchemy Made Simple, the thirty-two fundamental symbols were arranged in a highly specific sequence and categorized into four distinct types:
Activation Symbols
Transmutation Symbols
Shaping Symbols
Stabilization Symbols
The very first symbol, [ص], fell under the Activation category.
According to the text, if the "inner symbol" was drawn correctly, it would infuse the parchment with the properties of flint, allowing it to magically ignite upon impact. Naturally, it was a one-time use; once triggered, the parchment would instantly burn to ash. If the drawing failed, the inner symbol degraded into a mere "surface symbol," rendering it entirely useless.
Richie had already failed nine times. This was his tenth attempt.
Following the exact instructions from the book, he had meticulously prepared the workspace beneath the parchment. Ten crescent-shaped stones, three pristine, untouched leaves, and a white candle that had been burning for exactly twenty-four hours and was right on the verge of going out.
He had controlled every possible variable. This time, Richie was absolutely determined to succeed!
The clock ticked on, minute by minute...