Sirius Black stormed through the doors of Hogwarts, his gold-and-scarlet robes billowing behind him. Abraxas Malfoy followed after his son-in-law, along with Cassiopeia Black. After them came Irma, Druella and Narcissa, as well as Melania, who had come all the way from France. The Squibs brought up the rear. Furious rage burned in the eyes of each and every one of them.
Students made way for the angry crowd as it surged up the stairs. Any who dawdled were soon helped on their way by a few Stinging Hexes from Cassiopeia's wand. The family headed directly for the hospital wing, where Draco met them outside the closed doors. "How is he?" Sirius demanded.
Draco shook his head. "Not well. It was very Dark magic. Madam Pomfrey says he's lost a lot of blood, and she can't get the wounds to seal properly. She's giving him loads of Blood-Replenishing Potions, but if she can't get the wounds sealed, they won't do him any good. She's kicked everyone out of the infirmary whilst she's working." "Who was he dueling?" Abraxas asked. "I should have thought our Aries would have been more than a match for any student." "Did they come after him from behind?" Cassiopeia asked. "I suspect it was some dishonorable Mudblood. Attacked him whilst his back was turned." Draco chewed his lower lip. "Aries said it was Professor Quirrell."
"AN EFFING TEACHER?" Sirius roared, causing his grandmothers to blush, though they agreed fully with the sentiment. Draco nodded. "Aries said he was being possessed by the Dark Lord." "Where is Quirrell now?" Sirius demanded. "I am afraid, Sirius, that Professor Quirrell seems to have disappeared," Dumbledore said, coming up the stairs from behind them. "What sort of damn fool school are you running, Dumbledore?" Marius demanded. "Hiring Dark-Lord-possessed wizards as teachers? That's just not cricket."
Dumbledore looked at Marius strangely. 'I don't believe we've met,' he said politely. "I'm Marius Black," the other man responded. "Sirius's great-uncle." "I could have sworn that I had taught all the Blacks, Mr Black," the elderly Headmaster said. "But I have no memory of you." "My brother's a Squib," Cassiopeia said brusquely. "And I daresay he'd do far better running this school than you have, Professor. I fully intend to bring this matter up at the next meeting of the Board of Governors. Dark-Lord-possessed Defense masters!" She sniffed. "What's next? Hell-hounds as guard dogs?"
"I assure you all that I was not aware of Quirrell's condition," Dumbledore tried to reassure them. "Then you're as incompetent as my husband always thought," Irma retorted. "I do find it odd that you do not routinely check for possession as part of the screening process," Melania observed. "I am quite certain they do at Beauxbatons." Narcissa sighed. "I suppose we shall have to send the boys there or Durmstrang. I don't like the idea of them being so far away." Melania patted her on the shoulder. "There, there, dear. You can all move down to the chateau. We've plenty of room." "My grandsons are not leaving Hogwarts, dear lady," Abraxas insisted. "This old Muggle-loving fool will leave first."
All this time, Sirius's stare was drilling holes into Dumbledore's forehead. "I want to see my son," he said quietly, and all his relatives fell completely silent and joined him in glaring at Dumbledore. "Alas, Sirius, Madam Pomfrey has made it quite clear that she is to remain undisturbed whilst she is working," the Headmaster replied. Before Sirius could respond with the string of profanities that sat on the tip of his tongue, the doors of the infirmary opened and the matron stepped out. All eyes turned to her, and Dumbledore slipped away quietly. "How is he?" Sirius demanded.
Madam Pomfrey's face was long. "I've finally managed to stop the bleeding, but this was no ordinary Cutting Curse. He's still unconscious, and I don't know whether the Blood-Replenishing Potions will take effect in time to prevent serious damage." She paused. "I don't want him to be disturbed, but if you promise to be very quiet, you can see him in small groups. No more than three at a time." Without blinking an eye, Sirius, Abraxas and Cassiopeia passed through the infirmary doors.
That evening, Dumbledore sat up late in his study, pondering the many unusual occurrences of the day. Most serious, of course, was Aries Black's revelation that Quirrell was being possessed by Lord Voldemort. Naturally, the word of a single student was insufficient to convict the Defense master of anything, but the sudden disappearance of Quirrell led Dumbledore to suspect that young Mr Black was telling the truth. How the boy had managed to survive such an encounter as long as he had was utterly beyond the aged Headmaster. He was undoubtedly as gifted a wizard as Dumbledore's intelligence had suggested. The professor sincerely hoped that Aries would yet survive, though Poppy did not give him very good odds. The family had wanted him moved to St Mungo's but the Healers there had agreed with Poppy's assessment that they could do little more to help the boy than she could, and said that to move him at this juncture would be unnecessarily risky.
Another enigma was Sirius Black. Lupin had led Dumbledore to believe that the playboy wizard was an unfit parent, the sort of neglectful father who thinks nothing of abandoning his son for some loose woman on Christmas Eve. But Sirius had not left Aries' side even once since he arrived, and he had adamantly refused to vacate the premises overnight. Poppy reported that the whole family seemed genuinely to care for the boy, but she said one needed only to watch Sirius's bedside vigil to see that Aries was the center of his father's universe.
Then there was the confusing matter of this new brother to Cassiopeia Black. A Squib, she had said, but Dumbledore knew as well as anyone how routinely Squibs were disowned and disavowed in the Black family. What could he have done in order to secure reacceptance into the family? These musings were abruptly cut off by a sudden owl outside the Headmaster's window. Dumbledore let the bird into his office and removed the parchment scroll that dangled from its leg. He unrolled it and blanched at its contents.
Dear Chief Warlock Dumbledore, it read.
As per your request, we have been keeping an Auror posted near the Devon residence of Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. We regret to inform you that the Flamel residence was attacked early this afternoon by an unknown Dark wizard. Our Auror, John Dawlish, was killed shortly after calling for backup, as were both Mr and Mrs Flamel. Their house was thoroughly ransacked. We have no leads, as of yet, on the identity of the assailant. Our office will of course keep you posted on any further developments.
Sincerely yours,
Rufus Scrimgeour
Head of the Auror Office
Dumbledore put down the parchment and sighed. He feared that he knew all too well who was responsible for his friends' deaths. He only wondered why Quirrell, who knew that the Stone was hidden at Hogwarts, would have gone after the Flamels. Unless... Dumbledore rose suddenly from his desk and headed for the third-floor corridor.
Dumbledore cursed himself for not thinking to check on the Stone's safety immediately after Quirrell's disappearance. It should have been his first thought. True, he felt certain that the protections he had placed in the innermost chamber would be sufficient to keep any would-be thieves from stealing the Stone, but one ought never to underestimate Lord Voldemort.
He opened the door to find his worst fears confirmed. Quirrell had indeed gone after the Stone before he left. Speed rather than stealth appeared to have been his primary concern. In the first chamber Dumbledore found bits of hell-hound all over the walls. The Devil's Snare had been scorched away by Fiendfyre, the magical door had simply been blasted off its hinges, McGonagall's chessmen had been reduced to rubble and the troll was slain. Dumbledore passed through the flames into the final room and approached the mirror, willing himself to retrieve the Stone. Nothing happened. The elderly wizard closed his eyes in frustration. The Stone was gone.