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Quinn stared at the letter in his hand with furrowed brows.

The paper used was high-grade stationery; even the ink used seemed to be of a specific shade of blue that he hadn’t seen yet. But most importantly, the letter had come with a flash of fire while he was shopping for potion herbs— a severe fire hazard. Seeing a Phoenix arrive from the fire with the letter clutched in its beak while it stared at him with its molten red eyes, which he was sure were studying him, was the last thing he was expecting to happen.

“You’re cordially invited to visit Hogwarts for an important discussion regarding the security of Hogwarts. . . should I call my lawyer. . . do I even have a lawyer?”

But jokes aside, Quinn wondered what this was about. The letter was signed by the Dumbledore himself— the fourth time he had seen this signature— the first time had been on his OWL certificate, then on his NEWT certificate, and then on his graduate degree. But this was the first time he had Dumbledore write personally to him.

“What does he want?” Quinn stared at the letter, thinking if he should go. The letter mentioned Hogwarts’ security; what could that be about? Did Dumbledore want to consult him about all the hidden passageways in and out of Hogwarts? Quinn was under no delusion that Dumbledore had stopped thinking that he wasn’t going out of the castle because he had been caught out of the castle. Or maybe this was just a ploy to bring him to Hogwarts, and the real reason was something entirely else, like wanting to convince him into joining the Order of Phoenix.

Quinn had no fear about going to Hogwarts. There was no benefit for Dumbledore to harm him, and the Headmaster wasn’t going to pull a stupid abduction attempt. The only thing that he felt unsure about was the motive of the meeting.

As Quinn was thinking about it, a chime rang in his room. He raised his hand, and the two-way mirror flew into his hands. He accepted the connection and smiled as his girlfriend came into the frame.

“Hey, how are. . . what happened?”

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Quinn apparated outside the Hogwarts boundary. He rolled his shoulders and pulled on the hems of his tan suit jacket. He gazed up at the castle; after graduating, he had only been in the vicinity a couple of times, primarily visiting Scrivenshaft for the design of his new personal cards— after working with the shop that understood his tastes and preferences for so many years, he wasn’t going to change his printing service and stationery provider.

He stepped through the castle ground boundary and took a sharp breath when he felt the magic wash over him. It felt different. Hogwarts didn’t consider him a student anymore; now, he was but an outside visitor. Quinn stopped and felt around the wards— they had changed— the ward scheme was more coherent and cohesive now than on his last day at Hogwarts.

‘Is it because of Bill Weasley. . . or did Dumbledore decide to sort the clutter?’

The ward scheme around Hogwarts was a curious case study in the field of warding. Every time Hogwarts changed Headmasters, the new one would add their own wards to the warding scheme, which was good from an updation point of view, but the problem with Hogwarts was that none of the Headmasters ever coordinated with their predecessor. Every time a new Headmaster took their seat, they would simply dump new wards on the Hogwarts ward stone, and because the site was the marvel of magic, Hogwarts castle, the wards would be accepted without any problems on the compatibility and load side of things. No matter how many wards were thrown on the castle, it would supply them with ample power. And because Hogwarts could accommodate, no one bothered to sort the mess.

It was natural that as the number of wards increased, the overall integrity of the defense would increase as well. But at the same time, there were too many redundant wards. Quinn himself had once found four anti-apparition wards overlayed upon each other in the same place. While that made it nigh-impossible to apparate inside Hogwarts, it also created friction between individual wards. . . which in theory could be exploited.

Exploited by someone knowledgeable as Voldemort.

But now, Quinn could feel that the wards were much more sorted. ‘This still needs work, but it is a start,’ he thought. It wasn’t possible to solve centuries’ worth of mess in such a short time.

He walked on the path that connected Hogsmeade and the Entrance Hall’s gate. The course was the same as always, and it felt like he hadn’t ever left. As he arrived near the castle, he saw the gate open a crack, and two professors walked out.

“Professor Flitwick and McGonagall,” Quinn smiled. “How nice of you to receive me, but you didn’t have to do this— I believe I know my way around the castle.”

“If we didn’t come, Mr. West, the castle wouldn’t have allowed you entry.”

Quinn’s smile widened in response.

McGonagall sighed, and Flitwick chuckled at his expression.

“You were our Headboy last year, Mr. West,” said McGonagall.

“And I have to thank you for that honor.”

Flitwick again laughed with McGonagall sighing the second time in under a minute.

“Let’s go, Mr. West; the Headmaster is waiting for you,” said McGonagall, a strange peering expression on her face.

Quinn’s smile withdrew a fraction as he nodded. He turned to Flitwick and asked, “Will you also be joining us, Professor Flitwick?”

“No, I won’t be. I came to tell you that come to my office after you’re done with your meeting. Let’s sit down and catch up over some tea,” said Flitwick.

“Of course, of course, I’ll be there, so open that secret jar of jam. Today, I’ll be lathering my scones with that sweet goodness,” said Quinn grinning.

“I should’ve never revealed it to you.”

“Too late to regret, professor,” Quinn laughed.

Flitwick left, and Quinn followed McGonagall through the hallways, passing by students who would look curiously at Quinn, who would wave back at the one he recognized. Everyone recognized him beside the new first years, so he had pass-by one-line conversations with multiple people.

But as they approached the Headmaster’s Office, the people thinned out. It was then that Quinn initiated a conversation with McGonagall.

“Something interesting happened recently, Professor. Would you like to know?”

McGonagall quirked her thin brow before humming positively.

“I had an interesting talk with a gentleman named Saul Croaker.”

McGonagall’s impeccable gait and stride faltered as she heard the name.

Quinn continued, “He was friendly enough, which I would say half-surprised me, but then, I had an elitist image of Unspeakables— but Croaker seemed like a pleasant fellow.” He eyed McGonagall with a fun and mischief in his eyes, “Never expected you to have a connection with the Department of Mysteries, Professor. By any chance did they approach for the position of an Unspeakable?”

McGonagall came to a slow stop, making Quinn stop as well and turn back to look at her.

“He told you,” she asked.

“Of course not. He would never do that. He neither confirmed nor denied— essentially, refused to comment. Had a perfectly calm expression and everything. I was sure it was you, and now you confirmed it.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t want to tell anyone. It does me no good to displease the Unspeakables by taking away their Hogwarts recruiter. Why ruin a perfectly good secret, a useful secret.”

“Then don’t bring it up. . . we have reached the office.”

Quinn turned to the front to look at the gargoyle-guarded gates. McGonagall walked to the stone gargoyles, and they stepped away when she uttered the password. Quinn fixed his clothes one last time before entering the Headmaster’s Office.

The office hadn’t changed much since Quinn had last visited years ago. It was still a disorganized clutter, a neat mess, but still a mess— that could only make sense to one who had made the clutter.

“Mr. West, you’re finally here,” said Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk with a subtle smile on his face.

Quinn didn’t greet the Headmaster immediately, instead looked at the other people who were present in the room. First, there were the people who belonged at Hogwarts— McGonagall, who had come with him; Lily Potter, who sat alongside her twins and Hermione Granger. But then some didn’t belong at Hogwarts— Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody and James Potter.

“Hmm. . . I know the letter said this was about Hogwarts security; I wasn’t expecting Aurors to be present,” Quinn stepped towards Dumbledore’s table. “You don’t usually like outsiders interfering with Hogwarts matters.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again as well, Mr. West,” smiled Dumbledore. “As for Alastor and James— they have my complete trust.”

Quinn unbuttoned the front button of his suit as a comfy chair materialized behind him. He sat down, made himself comfortable, and said, “Yes, but I don’t. . . no offense, gentlemen. . . and I don’t feel comfortable with them being here when I don’t know what this meeting is about.”

“This meeting is about why you have lied to everyone, boy,” said Moody.

Quinn didn’t reply to Moody; he didn’t even look at the battered man.

Dumbledore spoke, “It as Alastor says. This meeting is because of your lie.”

“I’ve lied a lot, Headmaster. You’ll have to be more specific about which one we are talking about.”

“You admit to lying?” Moody spoke up again.

But Quinn remained silent.

“. . . Are you not going to answer Alastor’s questions, Mr. West?” asked Dumbledore.

“This is not a formal investigation. I don’t have to answer any of the questions I don’t want to.”

Dumbledore exchanged glances with Alastor, who didn’t look happy but calmed down at Dumbledore’s quiet nudging. “We are here to talk about the Chamber of Secrets, Mr. West. It’s come to our attention that you know about Chamber of Secrets, about the Slytherin’s monster. . . and more importantly, you went inside the Chamber of Secrets.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Quinn.

“You just said that you lie.”

“So what?” said Quinn. “Even if I lie, I’m not going to accept when I lie. As for this situation,” he turned to Hermione, “I didn’t go inside the Chamber of Secrets.”

“You didn’t refuse to know about the Chamber of Secrets or about the Slytherin’s monster.”

“I know about them now. The Basilisk was pretty much known to everyone who was paying attention.”

“. . . We have proof that you were inside, Mr. West,” said Dumbledore, cutting all the chatter.

“Oh, and what proof that might be?” asked Quinn, but he already knew the proof, and it stung that he had missed it.

It was as if everyone had rehearsed for this moment. All eyes in the room turned to one of the shelves upon which a hat. It was battered and ancient; it was patched, frayed, and extremely dirty. In order to speak and sing, a tear along the brim opened like a mouth.

As if it could feel all the eyes, the hat spoke up,

“Ah, Quinn West. . . I remember your sorting. It was truly what is known as a hat stall. . . in the end, you went where you wanted to go. But I think you would have done better in Slytherin.”

Quinn stared at the Sorting hat, his expression turning from clueless to a blank face. He opened his mouth and said to the hat, “A true Slytherin would never join Slytherin and declare themselves to be cunning and ambitious. . . wouldn’t it be better for others to bear the eyes while the one outside roamed free without the attached stigma?”

He turned towards Dumbledore.

“Alright, I admit, I was there. What’s next?”

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Quinn West – MC – It’s tedious to pretend not to know when you know.

Albus Dumbledore – Headmaster – Recognized the attempt to derail the conversation.

Alastor Moody – Mad-Eye – Ignored.

FictionOnlyReader – Author – HIGHLY RECOMMENDED to go read CHAPTER 63: Into The Chamber Of Secrets. Read it carefully to truly understand what happened down there.

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