𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 II SS/HG ✔️

Moment

The portraits of headmasters-past flinched every time Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody's claw foot thumped across the polished oak floor. The current headmaster sat behind his desk, placidly watching.

"Good evening, Alastor."

"Albus," Mad-Eye growled in response, slumping into a chair.

"I regret to say you never stop by for simply a social visit."

"More Order business, I'm afraid."

"I find it fascinating that the witches and wizards in my Order feel the need to filter their concerns through you first," Dumbledore remarked idly. A house-elf popped into the office next to Albus's desk.

Moody flinched, his blue eye spinning until it landed upon the elf, who was named Winky if Albus recalled correctly. She set a tea service upon the headmaster's desk, bowed, and disappeared.

"Care for some tea, Alastor?"

"No, thank you," he said shortly.

Albus busied himself pouring two cups anyway in case he changed his mind.

Alastor cleared his throat as if Albus was no longer paying attention. "They've been getting letters from their children, Albus—they know more about the goings-on than you think." His voice implied that some people thought Albus was deliberately withholding information from them.

"Oh? You believe I am unaware of what goes on inside my school?" Though the old man remained sedate, there was a hint of challenge in his voice.

"You can't know everything, Albus," Moody growled, his patience unraveling quickly, as it always did in conversation with Albus Dumbledore.

"I would never claim such a thing, Alastor," Dumbledore replied. "But I would bet a hefty sum of money that I know almost everything that goes on inside this castle."

The portraits nodded, recollecting the tricks of the trade and the web of information the headmaster always had access to.

"Then why are there little Death Eaters runnin' around hexing everybody in wand's reach?" Moody demanded.

"If you'd ever been a teacher, Alastor, you would know that housing hundreds of armed wizards sometimes leads to teenage skirmishes." There was no hint of malice in his statement, but the insult was there.

The Auror clenched his scarred fists. His lopsided mouth curled into a sneer. He clopped around to one of the chairs before the headmaster's desk, then sat down, intending to be here for a long chat.

.

Hermione had an uneasy feeling as she and Ron walked into the Prefects' washroom. Showering in public had never been the best part about boarding school, but it had to be done. And the Prefect's washroom was as private as a student could get—at most, there would only ever be twenty-three other students nearby.

There was a massive bathtub in the centre of the room, that was rarely used during the day, for obvious reasons. Once female students were allowed into the Prefects ranks, the room was split down the middle via a set of repelling and cloaking spells, with a set of ten showers on each side.

Hermione felt a tad foolish asking Ron to accompany her. She had to quickly explain she just did not want to be in the room alone, not that she needed or wanted a shower-mate. Lavender did not find the whole interaction as funny as Ginny had.

But the Greengrass sisters kept pestering Luna each time she went in to brush her teeth, so Hermione did not want to take any chances.

.

"We are at war," Dumbledore said as if he were making an offhand remark about the weather. When the two cups were filled with tea, he picked up a lemon drop. "While the staff and I try our best to keep the war outside of these walls, it is inevitable that there will be some leakage. Especially with Tom's control of the governors and the ministry." He dropped the yellow sweetie into his steaming tea.