Chapter 340: The Investigation
"The Book of Admittance does more than record those with magical talent," Kael said as he opened the dragonhide volume. "It can also tell whether the people on its rolls are alive and well. Anyone with magic who loses their abilities in an accident, or dies, is erased from the Book."
The dragonhide tome floated quietly in front of him as he turned it to the second page, where this year's new intake was listed.
Kael began to go down the list, name by name. Gandalf rose and moved to stand at his shoulder, reading with him.
"My lands have seventy‑three first‑years this time," Kael read aloud. "Thirty from Hogsmeade, twenty‑three from Bree, twenty from Isengard. No problems there. Then thirty‑one Elves from Rivendell, Lothlórien, the Woodland Realm, Dorwinion, Lindon and the Grey Havens; seventeen northern Dúnedain, and three southern Dúnedain from Gondor. All normal as well."
He checked twice and saw no name faded or greyed out.
His gaze lingered for a moment on the three southern Dúnedain. Gondor lay too close to Mordor for his comfort.
When he thought of those with a true grudge against him, there was nowhere else to look but Mordor.
He suspected that whatever was happening now might well be Sauron's work again, in the shadows.
He made a mental note to watch those three discreetly and, if he could clear them of suspicion, so much the better.
Gandalf seemed to read his mind. "If Mordor is behind this, it will not be so obvious," he said quietly. "Every student will have to be checked, including the second‑years."
Kael nodded. That matched his own conclusion.
"Even so, I must trouble you, Gandalf," he said. "Keep an eye especially on the new first‑years for me. See if any of them feel… wrong to you."
Gandalf nodded. "Leave that to me. We cannot allow some malign soul to spoil the children's joy."
His flying lessons were the wildest in the school. Students showed their true selves most easily when they were hurtling through the air. With the Fire‑ring Narya tuned to every flicker of emotion, and Gandalf's own hard‑won wisdom besides, the slightest slip in a hidden heart would not escape him.
"I am teaching History of Magic in Arwen's place this term," Galadriel's voice came from the stairs as she descended. "Let me help as well. Leave the second‑years to me."
Clearly, she had heard enough of their conversation already.
Kael did not stand on ceremony. "Then I must trouble you, my lady."
Galadriel shook her head faintly, then fixed him with a knowing look. "And you do not intend to tell Arwen about this, do you?"
Kael nodded, worry darkening his face. "Her due time is close now. If I tell her, it will only heap more care and fear on her heart. You both know how deeply she feels for the students."
Arwen was gentle by nature, never once losing her temper. She was the most beloved of all the professors.
Since her pregnancy, her maternal instincts had only grown stronger. She treated the students as though they were her own children, and they, in turn, respected and adored her.
If she learned there was someone with true malice hiding among them, she would never know a moment's peace.
"I also fear that whoever lurks in the shadows might turn their sights on Arwen," Kael went on softly. "So I want her to go to Rivendell or Lothlórien to rest, and stay there until we catch that rat.
"For that, I would ask your help, my lady. Only if you persuade her will she agree without suspicion."
He could feel, all too clearly, the depth of hatred in that hidden gaze.
With Arwen so near to labour, even the smallest harm would be unforgivable. He would never cease to blame himself.
The only safe course was to send her to Rivendell or Lothlórien, where danger was far less likely to reach her.
For a heartbeat, regret stirred in him—regret that he had ever founded a school of magic and drawn this threat upon himself.
He crushed the thought at once and turned his anger wholly upon the hidden enemy.
Whoever they were, he would drag them into the light and teach them what his vengeance truly meant.
"I will speak to Elrond," Galadriel said, nodding. "We will bring Arwen back to Rivendell to rest. The healing rooms there are well‑equipped, and the healers are the finest. It is the best place for her to give birth."
She, too, was concerned for Arwen's safety. Even with herself, Gandalf, and Kael within the castle, there was always that one chance in ten thousand. In Arwen's condition, they could not risk even that.
They moved quickly. On the first weekend of term, Elrond came to the castle after receiving Galadriel and Kael's letters and took Arwen home to Rivendell.
Only when she was gone did Kael truly breathe a sigh of relief. Then he turned all his focus to the unseen infiltrator.
Alongside Gandalf and Galadriel, who watched the students closely during their lessons, Kael made the castle's portraits his eyes and ears to report any unusual behaviour.
For himself, he took out a Palantír and used its sight to track the most suspicious individuals.
Even Peeves was pressed into service, charged with hunting down the "hidden ghoul."
As the spirit of the castle, Peeves knew Hogwarts even better than Kael did.
Yet a full month passed without result.
Whoever lurked among the students seemed to have sensed danger and vanished into the crowd completely, never once stepping into the open.
Whether in Gandalf's hair‑raising flying classes or Galadriel's History of Magic, under the watch of two of the greatest minds in Middle-earth, there was not a single crack to see.
Every student had been observed in secret. Every one of them thought and behaved like an ordinary child.
It was as if Kael's hostile watcher had been nothing but his imagination.
Gandalf and Galadriel never entertained that notion. If anything, their vigilance only sharpened.
To pass unnoticed under all their eyes, and Kael's besides, the infiltrator had to be someone of formidable power.
A month into the term, the hidden enemy still had not moved.
Peeves, however, had turned the school upside down and become the least welcome presence in Hogwarts.
He loved lurking in dark corners, waiting for a student to pass so he could leap out, pinch their nose and yell, "Got you!"
He scribbled over the castle walls, threw rubbish about, and pelted students with mouldy bread and cheese.
He interfered deliberately with classes, hiding under desks so that when someone cast a spell, he could pop out and startle them. Startled, their wands spat sparks that ricocheted wildly around the room.
At night, he slipped into dormitories to steal pyjamas and night‑caps, or pinched the noses and mouths of sleeping students just enough to wake them in a choking fright.
Complaints poured in to Kael from students and professors alike, demanding punishment for Peeves.
When he saw the poltergeist had roused universal outrage, Kael laid down the law: Peeves was forbidden to enter the dormitories or disturb lessons.
Only then did staff and students alike breathe a sigh of relief. As for mischief in their free time, so long as it did not go too far, the professors chose to look the other way.
And the students did not truly hate him. Outside of class, many of them took a certain delight in matching wits with Peeves.
In one particular dormitory, a student quietly drew out a gold ring set with a sapphire.
It looked utterly unremarkable, its power tightly veiled. At first glance, it was no more than a simple band.
But anyone who felt carefully would find a twisted power within it, seeping a will of corruption and temptation.
In the shadowed room, the boy's eyes gleamed with thick malice and a wicked smile.
"Kael," he whispered, "let me give you a very big surprise."