Chapter 69: Return
At Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall was still furious that Dumbledore and the others had returned without Phineas.
"Albus! You all came back just like that?"
She stood before the group like a raging lioness, her glare scorching. Snape's face remained expressionless, as though her fury washed over him untouched—if one ignored the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Moody stood awkwardly, his magical eye spinning wildly, unsure of what to say. Arthur Weasley looked genuinely remorseful, weighed down with guilt over the boy who had saved both his sons.
Dumbledore, meanwhile, avoided her gaze, eyes flitting elsewhere like a guilty student.
"Albus! I'm speaking to you!" McGonagall barked, angrier than ever.
At last, Dumbledore sighed and replied, "Calm yourself, Minerva. Trust me—Mr. Black is not in danger."
Her fury only deepened. "Not in danger? Calm down? That is a young student, not an adult from the Order! He is not your champion, Dumbledore!"
The tension crackled in the room—an angry cat-witch was not to be trifled with, especially not one as seasoned as Professor McGonagall.
Just then, an owl swooped into the room—an enormous, rare Blakiston's fish owl, its wingspan impressive. This was the very owl Phineas had purchased in the Soviet Union to deliver his message to Dumbledore. In a place as vast and diverse as the Soviet magical territories, such an exotic owl could indeed be found at the right kind of magical shop.
"Ah," Dumbledore said, a small smile returning to his face. "It seems Mr. Black is out of trouble. He's written asking me to retrieve him."
He untied the letter from the owl's leg and passed it to McGonagall.
Her eyes scanned the contents quickly. "The Soviet Union? How in Merlin's name…?"
Dumbledore shrugged. "Best let Mr. Black explain. I imagine he has quite the story to tell. Fawkes, if you would?"
The phoenix beside him let out a trill of agreement and vanished in a burst of flame.
Only a phoenix like Fawkes—or a magical creature like Zouwu from China—could accomplish a cross-border Apparition with such precision and ease.
Minutes later, fire bloomed again in the headmaster's office. Fawkes reappeared, carrying Phineas.
The change of scenery and sudden return to familiar surroundings seemed to break the dam within Phineas. He took one deep breath, then collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
The professors rushed forward, but Dumbledore held them back gently. "It appears our Mr. Black is in need of rest. Minerva, would you take him to the infirmary? Madam Pomfrey will have something to help."
McGonagall nodded, flicked her wand, and cast a Levitation Charm. Phineas rose gently into the air and floated behind her as she departed.
Once she was gone, Snape turned to Dumbledore with a sharp look. "That boy is not ordinary. He escaped the castle and activated the protective enchantments. How?"
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully and summoned the wand that had fallen to the floor when Phineas arrived. It flew into his hand.
"This is not his wand from Ollivander's," he observed. "Same wood, but not the same wand. Flashback Curse!"
The wand pulsed, revealing the spells it had recently cast.
"The Killing Curse. The Imperius Curse. The Disarming Charm. Stunning Charm. And... the Sectumsempra curse?" Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "Severus, did you teach him this?"
Snape's face darkened further with each name. At the final curse, his expression turned stormy.
"I did not," he said coldly.
Mad-Eye Moody growled, "Dumbledore, he used Unforgivable Curses. Even on vampires, that's illegal. We can't know if he cast them on humans as well."
Arthur looked stricken. "He was defending himself..."
Dumbledore raised a calming hand. "I know, Arthur. And no, we're not sending him to Azkaban. I doubt the Ministry would believe an underage wizard capable of casting an Unforgivable. And besides—he picked up this wand. It isn't his own."
Arthur's shoulders relaxed in visible relief.
Moody gave a grunt and nodded. "Right. Just a kid. We've let Aurors use those curses in worse situations."
Only Snape's face remained tight with unease.
"Dumbledore," he said slowly, "I need you to understand—I never taught him Sectumsempra. That spell is rare. Few wizards alive can cast it."
Dumbledore looked at him keenly. "Who, exactly, do you believe knows it?"
Snape replied grimly, "You. Myself. And Lucius Malfoy."
Dumbledore's expression hardened as he stared at Snape. The implications hung in the air like a stormcloud.