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HP: Bloodraven Chapter 165 - What Was Stolen (IV)
🕑 Added 2025-05-17 00:19:07 +0000 UTCAmelia Bones had seen her fair share of strange things within these walls. From her early days as a green Auror to now, as Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, few moments had ever made her heart jolt quite like this.
Her wand was in her hand before she even realized it, the tip trembling ever so slightly as she pointed it at him.
“We meet again, Lady Bones.”
The words drifted out so casually, like he was greeting an old friend over tea.
He had his back to her, one hand closing a book and sliding it back onto the shelf. The movement was almost lazy, like he had been there the whole time, quietly browsing her collection without a care in the world.
When he finally turned, she recognized him at once. Her pupils widened in a flash. How could she possibly forget the man who had saved her and her team—and in doing so, demonstrated what true power really looked like.
"It's you!" she breathed. "When… how did you get in here?"
All she received was a smile, as if her shock were merely a mild amusement to him.
And then she noticed Lord Greengrass, seated across from her, rising to give the man a respectful nod. There was no fear in the gesture—only recognition. Respect.
Her arm trembled slightly as she focused back to the familiar, yet somehow unfamiliar man.
He stepped forward, and then a high-backed chair materialized behind him before he lowered himself onto it, all in one smooth motion.
She saw no arrogance on that young face—only calm, quiet confidence.
“I’d appreciate it if you lowered your wand, my lady... I bring no harm.”
Saying that, he tilted his head with the most harmless smile she had ever seen, then gave a light gesture toward her chair. It was as if this was his office, not hers.
“Sit. You too, Jamison.”
The Greengrass lord gave a respectful nod before taking his seat without hesitation. She, however, still remained wary.
“I insist,” the young man said again—and for some reason, that harmless smile no longer felt so harmless. Deep down, she knew that if he had meant her harm, she’d already be lying on the floor.
So, at last, she lowered her wand, sank slowly into her chair, and drew a deep breath in and out while steadying her nerves.
“Then, Lord Archmage… may I ask what someone like you wants with a little magus like me?”
Instead of answering her, she saw him give Lord Greengrass a small nod, like a silent signal. In response, Greengrass retrieved a small stack of papers and four notebooks from the ring on his finger, then leaned forward and placed them neatly on her desk.
She glanced between the two men. The silent coordination between them gave her a fair idea of who was following whom—and neither of them seemed the least bit interested in hiding it from her.
The documents were clearly meant for her, she figured, but she waited for the young man to explain. And he didn’t waste a second.
“About half a year ago, Hogwarts appointed a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Nothing unusual... same as every year.”
“You should have heard of him... Gilderoy Lockhart.”
“Lockhart?” Amelia was momentarily thrown off by the random topic but did not interrupt. At the same time, she was curious to know what could be so important that a dignified archmage would “ambush” her in her office to tell her.
Maverick continued, starting with how he first realized the man wasn’t anywhere near as competent as he looked on paper.
He told a story that was part truth, part fabrication—about quietly watching his actions and how the truth slowly came to light. Then he spoke of a secret investigation into the man’s past and what he found: deeply disturbing and dangerous deeds hidden beneath a polished reputation.
Needless to say, the veteran magical supercop was fully hooked on the case now. Her initial confusion had vanished completely, replaced by tightly furrowed brows and a solemn, determined expression.
"What you see here," Maverick said at last, gesturing to the stack on her desk, "are his original manuscripts—his own handwriting, recording the real deeds before he rewrote them as his own."
"Why in Merlin's name are you still letting that rubbish near children? Who's to say he won't snap and attack one of them?"
To be honest, Amelia raised a fair point—Lockhart was indeed a ticking time bomb around the students.
"I only discovered all this recently. And as soon as I had proof, I came straight to you... so you can take legal action."
Amelia huffed before saying, “I’d like to see the two surviving victims.” Words were still just words, after all. She had nearly believed everything, but she still wanted clear proof.
Maverick did not mind at all and gave a simple nod. “I’m heading to them next. I’m treating their mental injuries myself. You’re welcome to come along.”
He could see from her clenched fists that she wasn’t in the best mood. After all, it wasn’t just any children at risk—her own niece was at Hogwarts too. Right now, all she wanted was to get rid of Lockhart then and there.
And that was exactly what he wanted.
“You can begin prosecution in two days,” he said. “There’ll be a bit of noise in the press about him. Enough to give you the momentum to launch an official investigation. Without that, I doubt Fudge would even let you question him, let alone arrest him—not with just this.”
Amelia understood all too well that he was right. She leaned back, sighed, and gave a small nod of agreement.
"Take a good look at the manuscripts and you'll know all you need. And as for proof, you'll see it once I take you to the victims and show you their mental state and the recovered bits of their memories," Maverick explained to her briefly.
"And remember... this was uncovered by Lord Greengrass. All credit goes to him," he finally added in a tone that left no room for negotiation.
She raised her head and, for the first time that day, met his eyes fully. "Why?" she asked, genuinely puzzled, glancing between him and the noble lord who had been silent like an obedient subordinate all this time. Yes—a subordinate, she thought.
"Does it matter?" she heard him say indifferently. "You get to take down a criminal, and who gave the lead for it to happen shouldn't matter to you."
A moment of silence passed before she nodded once again. Glancing at Lord Greengrass, she added, "I can understand now why the neutral faction has been making noise in the Wizengamot these past couple of months."
There was a barely expressible smirk on Lord Greengrass’s lips before he met her eyes. "There’s a revolution coming, my lady. Playing neutral in the Ministry is very different from playing the part in the Wizengamot. It’s best you choose sides early."
“Spare me your politics, Jamison.” She waved her hand wearily at him, then glanced back at the young man, who was also looking at her with that same amused expression, just like at the beginning of their meeting today.
For some reason, she had a bad feeling, like she had been arranged like a piece on a chessboard. No… she realized she already was one. But then again… sigh. What can I do? she thought tiredly.
---
Two hours later, Maverick took Amelia Bones to the location where the two victims were being cared for. He introduced Brigit Keena’s relatives to her first, then, without delay, got right into the day’s treatment for the two women.
And while doing so, he used his illusion magic to show her what he had seen from the fragments of memories he had recovered so far—only bits and pieces, but enough for her to make the undeniable connection to the manuscripts.
In the end, she promised to follow the plan once this news, as Maverick had promised, made headlines, and until then, she would prepare as best she could for action.
Before he sent her away, Maverick, of course, reminded her not to mention his involvement to anyone. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the attention that would be directed at him, but he simply didn’t want it.
Amelia nodded in agreement, albeit reluctantly. But unlike before, Maverick did not make her swear any oaths. He could sense from her emotions that she was telling the truth. And if not… well, at worst, it would just be some nuisance, that was all.
---
Two days later, in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, students and professors gathered for breakfast as usual. It was exam season, so even though the hall was typically filled with the clinking of cutlery and plates, chatter, and laughter, it was noticeably quieter than usual.
But that all changed when suddenly a flock of owls flooded in, each carrying a stack of papers. They began dropping them all over the long tables as well as the staff table.
The hall instantly filled with noise—yelps, squeaks, and perhaps even a few curses from the students. But just as fast, the noise vanished, swallowed by a heavy silence as students bent over the pages, eyes widening with every line.
Of course, this arrangement was done by Maverick personally, spending actually not that much—just a couple dozen Galleons.
At the staff table, he sat sandwiched between Dumbledore and Flitwick, with McGonagall on the far side of the Headmaster. All three held identical papers, their eyes fixed on the headline, faces marked by the same stunned disbelief.
Only four copies had been dropped on the professors’ table, so the rest of the staff had no idea what was written in them that had sparked such a reaction from both students and their colleagues. They grew more curious by the second, and it was Lockhart himself who finally broke the heavy silence that had settled over the hall.
The fraud was wide-eyed with excitement, noticing how many students were looking his way. Surely, it had to be some incredible news about him—something shocking, no doubt. Judging by everyone's reactions, what else could it be? But then again—he hadn’t done anything noteworthy lately. So what could it possibly be?
Am I getting a new award… perhaps this year’s Witch Weekly’s Most Amazing Smile again?
A ridiculous grin spread across his face, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Glancing at Headmaster Dumbledore while straightening his collar and smoothing his robes, he finally spoke.
“Would you mind, Headmaster,” he said smugly, “if I, the person in question, personally had a look? Not to be rude, but”—he showed his teeth for the umpteenth time—“I’m truly curious...”
