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"What was stolen?" Anthony asked.
Scrimgeour didn't answer. He stood cautiously in the doorway, watching the wizard known as Alastor hurl spell after spell into the empty classroom.
"Hallway's clear," another Auror said, stepping in. "How's it looking, Mad-Eye?"
Anthony heard the name "Mad-Eye." He finally knew who he was dealing with. Just then, the Auror casually closed the door behind him.
Mad-Eye jumped as if his leg had been caught in a trap. He whirled around, a curse already flying toward the doorway. Scrimgeour and the other Auror raised their wands as one, deflecting it.
"Don't shut the door, Kingsley!" Mad-Eye growled, his voice raw and furious. "You want to know what a Blasting Curse in an enclosed room does? Ha! You'd end up like a tomato tin tossed into a fireplace. And I'll tell you this—once you're smeared across the walls, no one'll be lining up to scrape you off! Never mind the dodgy Dark wizard you've got standing right beside you…"
While he ranted, he swept through the classroom. His wand dredged up three packs of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, a dung bomb, a few vials of sticky, failed potions, and two Bowtruckles. The poor, dazed creatures were tossed out the window along with everything else.
"I was inclined to be efficient," Kingsley said, his voice deep and calm. "This is Hogwarts. He has Dumbledore's word. And a clean record."
Scrimgeour took a slow, deep breath. Mad-Eye's eyebrows furrowed together like a gnarled knot.
"Albus… he ought to learn some caution," the scarred wizard grumbled. Still, he limped over to a chair and sat—though from the way he held himself, he was braced for a knife to shoot from the backrest or cushion. His magical eye remained fixed on Anthony. His wand stayed pointed.
"Have a seat, Professor Anthony," Scrimgeour said, pulling out a chair for himself.
"Sit there," Mad-Eye barked at Anthony, jabbing his wand toward a chair bathed in sunlight. "Right there. Facing us. Eyes on the lectern. Hands on the table." The scars on his face twisted fiercely. "No funny business. I might die from Albus's naivety, but I promise you won't enjoy it."
Kingsley sat as well, positioning himself neatly to block the door. He offered Anthony a small, reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Professor."
Anthony sat in the designated chair and placed his hands on the table. "Can we talk now?"
"Eyes on the lectern," Mad-Eye rasped. "Not us."
Scrimgeour, however, clearly didn't believe Anthony had the eyes of a Basilisk or Medusa. He showed no reaction to Anthony's gaze, merely frowning slightly and rubbing his temple with a hint of impatience.
After a long moment, he spoke. "We received a tip. Investigations led in certain directions. The evidence suggests you may be connected to a recent theft, Professor Anthony… After discussion, we thought, as you are still at Hogwarts, we could have a frank and friendly chat… Of course, anyone might be interested in such a thing. Perfectly understandable…"
Mad-Eye let out a low, derisive grumble from his throat. Scrimgeour ignored him.
"We expect your full cooperation in our investigation, Professor Anthony. No deliberate omissions. Last Friday afternoon, your whereabouts were unaccounted for. You vanished from Hogwarts—"
"To Hogsmeade?" Anthony recalled.
"—To a place we all know about," Scrimgeour said. He fell silent for a beat. When he spoke again, his tone was almost jovial. "Let's speak plainly, Professor. I must say, I rather admire that ability of yours. To slip past stringent security so effortlessly. Of course, you likely didn't realize it, much like that previous incident… But what are people to think? We were assured you were quite content here at Hogwarts. A friendly professor getting along with everyone… If this gets out, people may never see you as a trustworthy wizard again…"
He stopped, waiting.
A speck of dust spun lazily in the sunbeam.
Anthony hesitated. Finally, he answered honestly. "I don't follow, Mr. Scrimgeour. What do you think I stole?"
Scrimgeour's smile was amiable. "Not stole, Professor. Merely… borrowed for a look. Correct? Curiosity is only natural."
He let the silence hang, fingers tapping the table lightly. Anthony felt he should say something. "Curiosity?"
"A tad excessive, perhaps, but harmless," Scrimgeour said slowly. "As long as we return it quickly—before it's too late—the matter vanishes. Nothing happened. You were simply the victim of a frivolous accusation, Professor. Probably those pure-blood sympathizers. Worried Professor Burbage might abandon her post and go after them full-time."
He paused again. His lion-like eyes stared imperiously at Anthony from behind gold-rimmed spectacles.
Anthony said, "Hmm…"
Scrimgeour waited. No further answer came. He leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers, and let a look of disappointment settle on his face.
"It's still intact?" he asked quietly, his gaze flicking toward Mad-Eye. Mad-Eye turned his head sharply, his normal eye locking onto Scrimgeour.
"What is?" Anthony asked, keeping his tone polite.
His curiosity was genuinely piqued. So, something heavily guarded was stolen last Friday. The Ministry was looking for it, and someone had pointed the finger at him. Given his history, Anthony could see why Scrimgeour found the suspicion credible. His conclusion? The Dementors must have gone missing.
Scrimgeour glanced at Mad-Eye again. Mad-Eye's normal eye narrowed, staring unblinkingly until Scrimgeour looked away first.
Scrimgeour sighed faintly. "Professor Anthony, I must ask… Has Dumbledore… has he… Does he know?"
"Know what?"
"About this whole business." Scrimgeour leaned forward slightly, choosing his words with care. "I know he's never approved—but circumstances are complex. Very complex, Professor… The situation is always in flux. What was true then may not be true now. Destroying it would be the simplest solution. Save a lot of trouble. But it would also be a loss… a significant loss…"
Anthony said, "Things are always complex."
"Precisely, Professor! Precisely!" Scrimgeour seemed relieved. "So, it is intact?"
"No, I mean your masterful verbal acrobatics are making everything more complex," Anthony said. "Let's be clear. First and foremost, unless you're looking for Chocolate Frogs and Peppermint Toads, I have nothing to do with your missing item. What went missing?"
"So, Dumbledore…" Scrimgeour began.
Mad-Eye cut in impatiently. "Drop the conspiracy theories, Scrimgeour. If Dumbledore wanted to pull something at the Ministry, he wouldn't need to hire a Dark creature. He could do a better job himself."
"The Dark Lord's wand," Kingsley said abruptly. "It's missing."
That answer hadn't even crossed Anthony's mind. Scrimgeour and Mad-Eye both looked as if they hadn't expected Kingsley to say it either, glaring at him.
"Last Friday afternoon," Kingsley continued, ignoring his colleagues. "The thief must be exceptionally skilled at bypassing our security. And they've hidden it somewhere that nullifies all our tracking charms."
Anthony frowned. "Hogwarts?"
"No, no," Scrimgeour said, his eyes locked on Anthony. "Dark magic."
"We layered numerous tracking charms on the wand after recovery," Kingsley explained. "Unraveling them one by one would be nearly impossible. Only two things in the world can suppress them all at once: Gringotts, or a significant concentration of Dark magic."
"Or snapping it in half?" Anthony suggested.
"Or snapping it in half," Scrimgeour conceded grudgingly.
Kingsley nodded to Anthony. "Through certain channels, we concluded the thief likely hid it among many Dark objects. We checked certain establishments, Borgin and Burkes, for instance… No luck."
"Except for a few items of dubious provenance," Mad-Eye grumbled. "Shifty vermin…"
Kingsley went on. "Then we received information placing you, quite coincidentally, as unaccounted for that afternoon, Professor Anthony. And we happen to know you possess a number of Dark artifacts."
Mad-Eye sneered. "He's one of them himself."
"But it sounds like you have no connection to this. He's not lying, is he, Mad-Eye?" Kingsley asked.
Mad-Eye scrutinized Anthony with deep suspicion. "His kind are always good at masking their lies."
Scrimgeour fell silent for a long moment, a slight frown on his face. Finally, he stood. "It seems we won't get anything further. In any case, I must request your discretion regarding this conversation, Professor Anthony. This matter remains top secret. Leaks benefit no one."
"Understood," Anthony said, rising and shaking the hand Scrimgeour offered. "But you can't pretend it never happened forever."
Scrimgeour gave a tired, cold laugh. "I almost wish it had been you, Professor. At least you're willing to talk."
"I didn't take it," Anthony said.
"I believe you," Kingsley said calmly, shaking Anthony's hand as well. "We'll find the one who did. Thank you for your cooperation, Professor."
Mad-Eye stood by the door, his gaze still fixed warily on Anthony.
"Let's go, Mad-Eye," Scrimgeour said, a thread of bitterness in his voice. "Any other brilliant ideas? A free-roaming Death Eater, perhaps?"
"Those cowards haven't got the guts to break into the Ministry," Mad-Eye said dismissively.
"At least Hogwarts is secure," Kingsley said. "You should feel a bit easier now, Mad-Eye."
"I've never felt easy a day in my life," Mad-Eye growled. "The scum will seize any chance… Last time I dealt with a Dark creature that didn't need a wand… Oh, right. That deranged vampire. Never let your guard down! Even in Hogwarts, you never know where the enemy will pop out from—"
He yanked the door open and jumped aside, his wand raised, as a figure stormed into the room like a whirlwind.
Filch stood there, panting and furious. "Who threw the dung bomb?"
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