The Story of Regulus Black - Years 1-4

LXXVI. Nicholas Wilson's Office

Albus Dumbledore was sat at his desk on the afternoon of Friday, 6 June.

He was just signing off on a paper that Lochland Stone had sent him, pertaining to one of the most recent trials, when the floo in his office lit up. He looked up in surprise - he hadn't been expecting anyone.

However, when Milo Black stepped out, his confusion turned to a warm and welcoming smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. Black. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"The other day," Milo said, without even so much as a greeting, "you mentioned the name of your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. What was it?"

Dumbledore furrowed his brow. "Nicholas Wilson?"

"YES! YES, HIM!" He pointed at Dumbledore. However, his excitement about being right quickly faded to alarm. "Oh no, no, he can't be your Professor! Merlin, you are not the best at choosing Professors, are you? Well, actually, you're quite good. I mean you chose me, and Amiyah Cole is a lovely woman. Though I will say, I much preferred-"

"Mr. Black," Dumbledore cut him off, the confusion back on his face, "what do you mean Nicholas Wilson cannot be our Professor?"

"RIGHT! Right, that's why I came here. Listen, is the classroom still in the same place?"

"Which classroom are you referring to?"

"The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom! Catch up Dumbledore, Merlin," he shook his head and put his hands on his hips. "Is it still in the same place?"

"Yes, but-"

"EXCELLENT! I HAVE TO GO!"

Dumbledore watched Milo leave the office with an odd expression on his face. However, he didn't pursue - if it was really of any importance, he would come back.

Milo Black reached the Defense classroom, and he rapped his fist quickly against the door. However, when no answer came, he furrowed his brow. He wrapped his hand around the handle and opened the door slowly, taking a step inside.

"Hello?" He called.

No one answered, and he shut the door firmly behind him. With an expression of confusion on his face, he drew his wand, and he thought of the happiest memory that he could. It was of he and his older brother - of he and Corvus Black - just months before Corvus's disappearance. They were talking, and they were laughing, and they were both happy.

"Expecto Patronum!" He announced, and a silvery-white mist erupted from the tip of his wand, taking the form of an abraxan winged horse.

The ghostly creature turned towards him. "Go to Dumbledore," he began, and the shift from silvery-white to blue told him that the horse was ready to take his message. "Where is Nicholas Wilson? He's not in his classroom." When he had paused for long enough, the Patronus returned to its normal color, and it took off.

He turned around and examined the classroom. It was much emptier than when he had worked here - he had filled it with things that reminded him of the subject which he was teaching. But now, the walls were bare, and the desk was sparsely populated with stacks of paper and writing utensils.

He looked around the room one last time to be sure that no one was around, and he pursued.

He walked towards the desk, and he grabbed the first stack of papers that he could see. He began to shuffle through them, only to find that it was just a stack of seventh year essays. With a sigh, he threw them back onto the desk and grabbed the next stack. And the next. And the next.

He was just about to reach for the fifth stack when Dumbledore's phoenix Patronus appeared and perched on the desk in front of him. He stared at it intently, waiting for the message that it carried.