[164] The Last Candle

The Dementors outside were multiplying. Even with the winged tiger present, Harry and Draco felt the chill creeping in. Happiness was fading. Fear followed like a shadow.

Sobbing echoed in the hall.

Things were about to spiral out of control.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A deep, resonant voice. A gigantic silver phoenix appeared in the hall. It flapped its wings, circling above the students, scattering silvery-white light. Then it pierced through the stone walls and soared into the sky.

Daylight broke through. The Dementors vanished.

The phoenix raised its long neck and cried out. The remaining Dementors dispersed.

"Don't be afraid."

Dumbledore appeared, still in his mismatched robes — a star-spangled hat, a bow tied in his long beard. The moment they saw him, even the Slytherins calmed down.

"Dumbledore's Patronus is a phoenix," Hermione breathed.

Hall nodded. He had to admit — he was a bit envious too. Why couldn't he have a Fawkes?

The first day back was chaos. Students gathered in the Slytherin common room around the fireplace.

"Dementors at Hogwarts? Has Fudge gone mad?"

"I'm writing home!"

"If Hogwarts isn't safe..."

"Have you heard? Fudge did this to catch them..."

The Slytherins' indignation faded to murmurs. When Draco, Hall, and Zabini entered the common room, it fell silent.

They looked at Hall.

Last term, most Slytherins had mocked him. But he'd brought home the Goblet of Fire. Now their attitudes were shifting.

"Weasley, do you know what's going on?"

Draco stepped forward. Hall patted his shoulder — he could handle it.

"How would I know?" Hall raised an eyebrow. "But if you want my opinion — Cornelius Fudge is getting desperate."

A low chuckle rose from the crowd. Hall wasn't the only one who disliked Fudge.

"Fudge must be getting old," Draco added, chin raised. "Why else would he do something so thoughtless? I'm telling my dad."

Anyone could see Draco was backing Hall. Anyone who wanted trouble with Hall would have to deal with Malfoy too.

The stares vanished.

Hall patted Draco's shoulder. "Get some rest. You've had a long day. Hot cocoa before bed if you're not feeling well."

Draco was flattered but held his composure. "You should rest too!"

He waved calmly. If you ignored his bright red ears.

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Going straight to bed? Absolutely not.

Hall pulled out his enhanced Marauder's Map. He navigated around Filch and made his way to the Room of Requirement.

"I need a comfortable room to talk in."

A room appeared — warm lighting, a roaring fire, a soft sofa, a coffee table laden with desserts.

"I suspect this is copied from the Hufflepuff lounge," Hall muttered, flopping down.

He picked up a thickly frosted cake. The rich cream melted in his mouth — Hogwarts house-elves never missed.

Hall ate heartily. Only then did he realise how tired he was.

He checked his magic points. LV13 (0/1300).

Then his Galleons. 262,845 Galleons, 2 Knuts, 9 Sickles.

After upgrading Alchemy last term, he'd had barely 10,000 left. But yesterday, Mr Malfoy had given him his profit share. His wallet was fat again.

"Upgrade magic points."

LV14 (0/1400). Remaining: 249,845 Galleons.

LV15 (0/1500). Remaining: 235,845.

He kept going, all the way to LV21 (0/2100).

Remaining: 130,845 Galleons.

In an instant, 130,000 Galleons gone.

"This is really expensive..." Hall murmured, feeling the magic flooding through him. Every vein brimmed with power. He felt like he could cast his Patronus non-stop and keep it as a pet.

He lay back, savoring the feeling. Gaining power quickly — that itself was addictive.

When Hall opened his eyes again, the weariness was gone. He pulled a glass bottle from his pocket.

Inside lay a beetle, motionless.

Hall tapped the bottle lightly with his wand. "Ms Rita Skeeter, if you don't want to talk tonight, I don't mind letting you stay in there a bit longer."

The beetle moved instantly. She frantically battered the glass. She wanted to talk. She was incredibly sincere. She didn't want to be trapped by this devil any longer.

Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet. From the start of the Triwizard Tournament, her eyes had been fixed on the champions. So much interesting news — the early tournament, the unprecedented three Hogwarts champions, two second-year students including Harry Potter himself.

She'd snuck into Hogwarts to find more sensational material. Never imagined she'd be discovered. Who would have known she was an unregistered Animagus?

She'd run into the unreasonable Hall.

Hall was completely unconcerned about Rita Skeeter's inner grumbling. What she thought was none of his business.

"Ms Skeeter, I went to great lengths to capture you." He tapped the glass bottle, producing a crisp sound.

He'd upgraded his innate skill. Spent a fortune. Wasted days creating the enhanced Marauder's Map. All to catch this woman. Even that noseless monster Voldemort hadn't received this treatment.

Rita Skeeter had no idea. She didn't want this kind of pride.

Seeing she was somewhat cooperative, Hall released the binding charm. Rita burst out eagerly, the beetle transforming before his eyes — growing larger, the pattern around her eyes becoming jeweled glasses. A woman with long golden curls and a bright green satin suit appeared dishevelled on the sofa opposite him.

"Merlin's beard! I'll expose you! I'll expose your evil deeds —"

Hall lay motionless. Someone was threatening him?

"What are you going to expose, illegal Animagus?"

Rita choked. Every Animagus was supposed to register with the Ministry. Only seven were officially registered — Professor McGonagall was one. People like Rita kept their forms secret for good reason.

"You... you demon... I'll expose you and —"

She'd been trapped in that bottle for days, carried around by Hall. She'd overheard plenty. Death Eaters escaped. Fudge went mad. She'd glimpsed another side of Hall — bizarrely powerful, with unbelievable connections. If he wanted to hurt her, it would be easy.

Years of publishing exaggerated articles without being caught had made her confident. But compared to the smiling Hall before her...

Rita's anger gradually calmed.

"Feeling better?" Hall smiled. "Good. We can talk properly."

She wanted to say no. But reality wouldn't allow it.

"I need you to write some articles for me. The Daily Prophet. Or other papers."

"That's all?" Rita was surprised. Writing news was her forte!

"Write what I want. What I want to see. Understand?"

Rita frowned. "Writing news is a sacred job! I'm responsible for every word —"

Hall scoffed. Responsible? With her Quick-Quotes Quill?

"Yes or no." He held up two fingers. "You have two choices."

Rita's eyes lit up.

"One — transform back into a beetle, and I'll keep you in the bottle."

Her face went ashen.

"Two — I tell the Ministry about your illegal Animagus form. I'm sure they'll take responsibility for you."

Her face went completely dark. Was this a choice?

"I'll cooperate —" she said through gritted teeth.

She was already calculating. First, escape. Then her identity would be her own leverage again.

She looked up smugly and met Hall's gaze.

There was something in those eyes. She couldn't describe it. But every scheme in her mind lay exposed, nothing hidden.

"Ms Skeeter, you don't think I'd believe you, do you?"

He produced a doll.