The murmuring crowd fell quiet all at once as a fresh wave of magic rippled over the grounds, cowing even the loudest voices.
Speculation had been flying a moment before—Hogwarts was built over a dragon and the beast had woken, a second Goblin Rebellion had broken out, and so on. Loren, who knew the real story, had to admire the younger witches' and wizards' imaginations; most of the theories were delivered with such earnest detail they almost sounded convincing.
Under the twins' barrage of questions, Loren flicked his wand and wrapped the three of them in a Silencing Charm so nothing leaked out. Only after the basic protections were up did he explain the adventure Harry's trio had just gone through. He stopped right after Harry secured the Stone and said nothing about Peter showing up afterward.
Fred and George weren't fools. They understood Peter's appearance probably had something to do with Loren and tactfully didn't ask. Instead they steered the talk elsewhere.
"George, I never thought Dumbledore could be so sly," Fred said. "He set up such a fun game, then barred us from playing."
"Don't forget, Fred—Professor Dumbledore is a Gryffindor alumnus. He's a master of mischief. This time he's just using the good old 'to catch something, let it go first' trick."
"Right, right. Still feels like the whole thing was built for lower years. If the two of us had gone in, we'd have—"
Comparison is cruel. A moment ago Loren had thought Peter was at least useful; watching these two drape their arms over each other and saunter off with perfect tact, Peter looked like nothing in comparison.
When Loren returned to Hermione's side, a surge of magic slammed out from the castle. It was so powerful everyone present felt it. Someone in the chairs by the fire tried to stand, but Severus Snape's hands pressed their shoulders back down, so they sat again and looked up at him in confusion.
"The house-elves are not to be driven like cattle," Snape said coldly.
Before long, the prefects got new instructions and began leading students back to their dormitories.
Loren melded into the crowd, ready to return as well, when Professor McGonagall stepped into his path. After passing along the password to the headmaster's office—"by order of Professor Dumbledore"—she hurried away.
In the headmaster's office, Loren found a worn-looking Dumbledore seated behind the desk piled high with oddments. One hand held his spectacles, the other kneaded the bridge of his nose; a cup of steaming tea stood before him. Seeing Loren, he put on his glasses and motioned for him to sit. As Loren took the chair, a cup floated over from a tray and filled itself with tea.
"Calling me at this hour, Professor Dumbledore—what's the matter?"
"Nothing major," Dumbledore said mildly. "A few small questions. I'd like your opinion."
As he spoke, the kindly expression returned to his face; the tiredness was gone, as if it had never been.
"It's about the things Peter said, isn't it?" Loren replied. "I know. I won't repeat them."
Dumbledore hadn't expected Loren to admit it so directly and, for a moment, didn't seem to know how to begin.
At that moment a deep voice came from the doorway. "Peter… the one I think it is? What did he say, Dumbledore? I would very much like to know."
The voice told Loren at once: Professor Snape. Judging by how quickly he'd come, he must have handed Harry off in the hospital wing and come straight here; compared to Harry's safety, everything else—
Snape swept into the office. Dumbledore's kindly face twisted minutely, but he still offered comfort. "Wait a moment, Severus. When Minerva and the others arrive we'll—"
He turned back to Loren. "That's all for now. You may go."
"Don't go yet," Snape said, fixing Loren with a hard stare. "I have a question for you."
"Severus, let him—"
"Be quiet, Dumbledore," Snape snapped. "There are matters I will only trust from Loren's mouth."
Dumbledore spread his hands at Loren in a helpless little gesture and drank his tea. Loren could only marvel at how neatly the two played their roles—one red face, one white face. He'd blocked Dumbledore earlier; now here was Snape to ask instead.
"Is Harry all right?" Snape demanded.
Loren glanced at Dumbledore. So you put him up to this? Dumbledore lowered his head and sipped, ignoring the thought. Snape spoke again. "That question is mine, not Dumbledore's."
Choosing his words with care, Loren answered, "Harry completed his mission."
Snape's eyes reddened at once. He rounded on Dumbledore and roared, "That is what you call keeping him safe? I must have had honey poured in my brain to agree to your plan. I swear, I'd cut your skull open just to see if it's packed with beeswax!"
Dumbledore had expected Loren to hedge, not to be this blunt, and glanced at him—only to find Loren watching the show. He should have sent the boy away sooner; Loren loved his fun.
He couldn't worry about Loren now. The urgent thing was to soothe Severus; if he truly fell out with Snape—
Loren sipped tea and watched his Potions professor flay the headmaster alive with words while the headmaster endured, offering noble, shining reasons to placate him. Soon enough, Snape calmed, though his tongue still lashed. "If there's a next time, you'll regret it."
Seeing the quarrel ebb, Loren cut in at the right moment to seize the floor. "Professor Snape, Headmaster—I have a question. Why is it that everyone finds Voldemort so terrifying? From what I've observed, he—"
The question had been circling Loren's mind ever since Voldemort's latest defeat at Harry's hands. In his past life, people on the internet had pored over the books' scraps and declared him terrifying. But now Loren had seen a corner of the iceberg the wizarding world kept hidden—and watched Voldemort look like a fool—so he had to ask: why had he inspired fear?
Silence fell over the office. Even the portraits of past headmasters, who had been dozing, leaned forward to see who dared such words.
Dumbledore drew a long breath. "You were raised in the Muggle world. Your elders didn't live through that era; naturally you can't feel his terror. In those days—"
"Headmaster, I don't want those well-worn tales," Loren cut in. "I know I'm gifted, and since entering the wizarding world I've worked hard to learn the truth. My own summary was: people feared Voldemort because his magic was strong, his knowledge broad, he gathered many followers, and he was capricious and murderous; his servants relied on his might to do evil. But what I saw today didn't match that. He looked… clownish. And I know some of the more secret things—like the Department of Mysteries. So I'm confused: why did he inspire such fear?"
Dumbledore lifted his head and studied Loren closely; perhaps he needed to reevaluate this too-clever student. Loren met his eyes without flinching, leaving Snape to one side. Snape wanted to interject, but seeing the two locked together, he kept silent and pulled up a chair to wait for Dumbledore's answer.
The office went quiet. At length Dumbledore said, "Loren, it seems you know a great deal—half-right, perhaps. Since you mentioned the Department of Mysteries, then you must also know its divisions."
Loren nodded silently. Snape pricked up his ears.
"Then we must start," Dumbledore said, "with a prophecy kept in the Department of Mysteries…"
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