Dark Wings Over Hogwarts

As the days passed, Hogwarts settled into its usual rhythm. Students bustled between classes, Quidditch practices grew more intense, and the castle began its slow transformation for Halloween. Enchanted pumpkins and floating candles already dotted the Great Hall, casting flickering shadows on the enchanted ceiling.

But inside his dimly lit office, Professor Zane Falconer had little interest in festive decorations.

He had a routine. Every morning, before classes began, he read both the Daily Prophet and several Muggle newspapers. It was a habit he had maintained for years—understanding both worlds often revealed patterns others missed.

Today, however, a single article in a Muggle newspaper made him stop.

---

NEW YORK POLICEMAN ATTACKS U.S. EMBASSY—SHOT DEAD

"A NYPD officer launched an unprovoked attack on the London Embassy in New York before being fatally shot by security forces. Witnesses report that the officer displayed 'unnatural strength' and 'erratic behavior' before the confrontation. Officials suspect psychological distress, but further investigations are underway."

---

Zane's calm expression darkened.

He knew this man.

The attacker's name, the grainy photograph beneath the headline—it was no coincidence.

A sharp tension coiled in his chest. He barely noticed as his fingers curled over the newspaper's edge.

This officer had no reason to be anywhere near that embassy. And the mention of unnatural strength? That detail disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

Something was very wrong.

Without hesitation, he stood, his chair scraping against the stone floor. His cloak was in his hands in an instant, and within moments, he was striding out of his office with a single destination in mind.

---

Dumbledore's Office

The stone gargoyle leapt aside as Zane approached, sensing his urgency. Without knocking, he entered.

Dumbledore, seated behind his grand desk, looked up, unsurprised. The candlelight reflected off his half-moon spectacles, casting a glow over the many trinkets and whirring devices surrounding him.

"Professor Falconer," he greeted smoothly, setting down a piece of parchment. "I assume this is important?"

"I need to leave Hogwarts for a week," Zane said without preamble.

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly. "And why is that?"

Zane hesitated. He preferred to work alone, to handle his affairs without interference. But this was Dumbledore—one of the few men alive who could read between the lines of silence.

"A personal matter," he finally said. "Someone I knew was involved in an… incident. I need to confirm a few things."

Dumbledore studied him for a long moment, his piercing blue eyes unreadable. Then, he gave the smallest nod.

"I see," he said. "Then, before you go, I have a task for you."

Zane said nothing, waiting.

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his expression more serious. "We need to find out who helped Quirinus Quirrell locate Voldemort."

Zane's gaze sharpened.

That was the missing piece.

The revelation that Voldemort was possessing Quirrell had been disturbing enough, but the real question lingered: How did Quirrell find him in the first place?

"We know Quirrell was not acting alone," Dumbledore continued. "Someone must have led him to Voldemort's location. If Voldemort had the strength to reach out on his own, he wouldn't have needed Quirrell at all."

Zane nodded slowly. "You want me to find out who directed him there."

"Exactly," Dumbledore confirmed. "If Voldemort has allies beyond Hogwarts, we need to identify them before they act again."

Zane exhaled quietly, considering the request. He disliked taking orders, but this… this aligned with his own priorities. If Voldemort was gathering strength, knowing his connections could mean the difference between stopping him early—or allowing him to rise unchecked.

"Fine," he said at last. "I'll investigate."

Dumbledore gave a small, knowing smile. "I suspected you would."

There was a brief pause before Zane spoke again.

"I'll try to be back before dinner on Halloween," he said, adjusting his cloak. "Assuming nothing unexpected happens."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with something that might have been amusement. "With you, Professor Falconer, I suspect the unexpected is rather routine."

Zane smirked faintly before turning toward the door.

"Take care," Dumbledore added. "And remember—knowledge is useful, but knowing what to do with it is power."

Zane paused at that, casting a glance over his shoulder. "Then I suppose I'll return with power, not just knowledge."

And with that, he was gone.

---

Departure

Zane returned to his quarters, moving with efficiency. He packed only the essentials: a few potions, a concealed wand holster, and a worn black notebook filled with years of notes and hidden truths.

The air was cool as he stepped into the castle corridors, his footsteps light against the stone. He did not take the usual exit. Instead, he used a passage only a handful of people knew existed—one that led directly to the outer edge of Hogwarts' protective wards.

By the time the morning bell rang for the first class of the day, Zane Falconer was already gone.

And no one—not even Dumbledore—knew exactly where he was going.