Dark Wings Over Hogwarts

The Great Hall

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter as students gathered for breakfast. The enchanted ceiling reflected a cloudy autumn sky, and the aroma of toast, eggs, and pumpkin juice filled the air. Three weeks had passed since the start of term, and the daily routine had settled in—but something still weighed heavily on Harry Potter's mind.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, he absentmindedly stirred his porridge, his thoughts circling back to the trapdoor in the forbidden corridor.

Whatever Dumbledore is hiding there… it has to be important.

And then it hit him.

Hagrid.

Harry's green eyes widened slightly as he recalled their trip to Diagon Alley. Hagrid had collected something from Gringotts that very same day. More importantly—he had said, "Dumbledore wanted me to get it."

And the very next day?

Gringotts was attacked.

It couldn't be a coincidence.

"Harry? You alright, mate?" Ron's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah… just thinking," Harry muttered.

Right on cue, the morning owls swooped down, dropping copies of The Daily Prophet onto tables. Hermione grabbed the nearest one, unfolding it with practiced speed. A moment later, she gasped.

"Harry, look at this."

She pointed to the headline:

BREAK-IN AT GRINGOTTS!

"The attempted robbery at Gringotts Wizarding Bank last month has sparked concerns over vault security. Sources confirm that the targeted vault had already been emptied prior to the attack. The vault's contents remain undisclosed, but rumors suggest Albus Dumbledore was involved in their removal."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

"This proves it," Harry whispered. "Someone was trying to steal whatever was inside that vault, but Hagrid already took it. And now it's here, at Hogwarts."

Ron frowned. "So that means someone is trying to get it."

"Yeah. But who?"

Ron didn't hesitate. "Snape."

Harry hesitated. Then, almost reluctantly, he said, "Or… Zane."

Hermione groaned. "Oh, not this again!"

"Think about it, Hermione," Harry insisted. "We don't know anything about him. And he always looks like he knows more than he lets on."

"Of course, he knows more than us, Harry—he's a professor!" Hermione shot back. "That doesn't make him a criminal."

"Snape's a professor too," Ron muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And anyway, why are you assuming a professor is behind this? The real question is, who would dare try to steal from Hogwarts? Dumbledore is here. No one is crazy enough to go against him."

Ron frowned. "You-Know-Who would."

Hermione huffed. "Well, unless you think he's hiding under the third-floor trapdoor, I really don't see the point in discussing this."

Harry sighed. "Maybe you're right…"

But then another thought struck him.

"What about Isla Rosier?"

Ron frowned. "What about her?"

"She was the one who unlocked the door for us," Harry pointed out. "She knew exactly where to go and didn't even hesitate. It's like she already suspected something was hidden there."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"You think she's after whatever's hidden there?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. But it's weird, isn't it? Why would a Slytherin be sneaking around a forbidden area—alone?"

Hermione hesitated. "Maybe she was just curious?"

Ron shook his head. "Rosiers don't do things without a reason. My dad says they're dangerous but not like the Malfoys. They don't get involved in Dark Lord business, but they've got a ton of power in the underworld."

Harry frowned. "So, what if she's working for someone?"

Ron scratched his head. "I dunno, mate. Isla's family doesn't really take sides. If she's snooping around, it's for her own reasons."

Hermione sighed. "Well, whatever the case, we shouldn't get involved. We're first-years, Harry. We don't even know what we're dealing with."

Harry nodded, but in the back of his mind, he wasn't convinced.

Too many things weren't adding up.

And Isla Rosier?

She was definitely hiding something.

---

Meanwhile, at the Slytherin Table…

Isla Rosier barely touched her food, her mind tangled in thoughts far more pressing than breakfast.

The conversations around her were the same as every morning—Slytherins discussing Quidditch strategies, complaining about classes, and gossiping about other houses. But Isla wasn't listening.

She was analyzing.

Her uncle's letter had been very clear.

"Something dangerous is happening at Hogwarts this year. Be careful."

Her uncle never sent warnings. He believed in power and knowledge, not caution. For him to reach out? It meant something was truly at stake.

And now, after what had happened last night, she was sure of it.

She had expected the third-floor door to be heavily warded, layered with enchantments, maybe even cursed. Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of the age—surely he would have ensured no one could enter so easily.

But instead?

It had been locked with a basic first-year spell.

Alohomora had worked instantly. The door had swung open too easily.

As if it had been waiting for them.

That was wrong.

No one—especially not Dumbledore—would hide something important behind a door that any eleven-year-old could open. A Gringotts vault had layers of enchantments and protections, yet this? This was meant to guard something dangerous?

It didn't add up.

Which meant one of two things:

1. Dumbledore wanted someone to open that door.

2. There was something behind it so dangerous that no spells could truly contain it.

Neither option sat well with her.

And then there was Zane Falconer.

A professor appearing out of nowhere, no past records, no family history, nothing? That wasn't normal. Even Snape had a background that people whispered about. But Zane?

He had appeared out of thin air.

And Isla didn't believe in coincidences.

She still didn't have all the answers.

But she would.

Because in Isla Rosier's world, knowledge was power.

And she intended to have all of it.