Dumbledore sighed quietly, though no one seemed to notice.
He turned to Mundungus and asked,
"Mundungus, any useful information from the magical underworld? I believe you may have heard more than we have."
Mundungus replied,
"Vampires have been scarce in the black market lately. The few that appear are secretive. They haven't said a word about their internal conflict."
Dumbledore frowned.
"So, there are no leads on Mr. Black?"
Mundungus nodded, saying nothing more.
Dumbledore then looked to Professor McGonagall.
"And what of the house-elf who serves young Mr. Black?"
She answered,
"Since Phineas disappeared, the elf has blamed himself deeply. He's waiting in the Hogwarts kitchens for news."
"Minerva, please bring him here," Dumbledore requested, then turned his gaze to the portraits of former Headmasters lining the walls of his office. His eyes settled on one—Phineas Nigellus Black, a past Headmaster who shared a name with the missing boy.
"Phineas, please go to your old home and ask Kreacher to bring back some of young Phineas's personal belongings."
The portrait-Phineas rolled his eyes.
"I'm doing this only because he's a descendant of mine. Otherwise, I wouldn't bother."
With that, he stepped out of his frame.
Watching Dumbledore give a flurry of instructions, Moody frowned.
"Albus, what exactly are you planning?"
Before Dumbledore could respond, Snape interjected, his tone sharp.
"Dumbledore, are you going to use that ritual?"
Dumbledore nodded.
"Given the vampires' silence, we're out of options. If we delay any longer, I fear for Mr. Black's safety. So—"
Snape interrupted again.
"You know the cost of that ritual! Permanent loss of magical power is no small matter!"
Moody looked baffled.
"What ritual are you talking about? And what do you mean, permanent loss of magic?"
Professor McGonagall entered just then with Puff and overheard the last bit.
"Dumbledore, what are you intending to do?"
Dumbledore offered a soft smile.
"It's only a simple positioning ceremony. Nothing to worry about."
Snape slammed his hand on the desk.
"Don't insult our intelligence. I know that spell. Every part of it!"
"I know, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "But this may be our best chance to find Phineas. The price is minor compared to what's at stake."
"Minor?" Snape growled. "It requires the caster to give up a portion of their magical power forever. That is not minor."
Everyone in the room went silent, their expressions turning grim.
McGonagall looked at Dumbledore, worry etched into her features.
"Is it true, Albus?"
He nodded.
"Yes. The ritual costs a sliver of magical strength. But I am old. Trading a part of my magic to save a student with a future ahead of him—what could be more worthwhile?"
Even the former Headmasters in the portraits looked on with solemn approval. They understood Dumbledore better than anyone—and knew this had nothing to do with political pressure or saving face. He simply wanted to save a student.
Pop!
Kreacher appeared with a sharp crack, holding a worn robe—one that Phineas had worn before his disappearance.
Dumbledore smiled faintly.
"Perfect. Now we can begin."
He retrieved a crucible from a corner of the office and glanced at Snape.
Snape, though frowning darkly, took the cauldron, filled it with water, and added a potion.
"Items of the one we seek," he said, taking the robe from Kreacher and dropping it into the cauldron.
"Magic of the master of the ritual."
Dumbledore placed his hand over the cauldron and slowly let his magic flow into it. The precise amount was known only to him.
"Blood of the bonded soul."
Snape gently took Puff's hand, made a small cut, and allowed her blood to drip into the mixture. The dark grey liquid inside turned instantly green, then shifted rapidly as Snape stirred it. In moments, it glowed blood-red.
McGonagall stared at it.
"What kind of potion is this?"
Snape shook his head.
"It's more ritual than potion."
Dumbledore explained,
"It's a locating magic developed by Native American wizards. Originally simple—it required only a map and a relative's presence. But over time, it's been refined."
Snape added,
"What was once a minor spell is now a potion-ritual hybrid. The missing person's belongings help fix the target. The caster's magic powers the spell, pushing through barriers. The relative's blood sharpens the focus and creates a binding link, allowing the spell to locate them—even across Anti-Apparition wards."
McGonagall watched the swirling potion and whispered,
"And what happens next?"
Snape didn't answer. He and Dumbledore exchanged a glance.
Because what came next was either hope—or despair.