She gave him her "friendly" smile, which still bared her teeth and illuminated her eyes against the dark sky. She patted his shoulder.
"Excellent. Welcome to the club, Mr. Longbottom."
Sirius Black, Professors McGonagall, Moody, and Lupin, and Viktor Krum caught up to them. They looked over the group. Neville remembered the puddle of blood and panicked, but when he stole a glance behind them, the ground was clear.
Harry was once again dog-piled in hugs and overprotective adults checking over his skin for injury. He hissed at the tight grips on his skin and McGonagall tutted over him, looking older than ever, her hair falling loose from its bun.
"What happened?" Professor McGonagall demanded. "Mr. Potter, do you need to go to the hospital wing?"
"I'm not sure what it was," Harry said quietly. He leaned against Sirius' body, his mum on the other side as they both kept him upright. "I'd had some of the punch, and it tasted funny. I thought it was spiked because I felt very dizzy. I had this strong urge to go into the forest, alone. It - er - seemed like a good idea to listen to it at the time. I only snapped out of it when I felt the Cruciatus."
"The Cruciatus!" Sirius looked horrified, running his hands over Harry's body to check (again) for injury.
"I'm fine!" Harry grumped. "Just very sore."
"It was like he was under the Imperius," Ron explained. "We tried to keep him back but he didn't listen to us. Hermione was about ready to stun him when something hit him. It was dark, it came from the forest, we couldn't see anything - and then Professor Adams came running over and scared them off."
Professor Moody took off into the woods without a word. He noticed Sirius Black give the retreating man a confused look. Missus Adams also followed the man with her eyes and Neville saw the shadows of the forest bend to her will, probably to hide the undead Death Eater.
"It couldn't have been Imperius, I'm immune," Harry argued, pawing weakly at Sirius. "Everyone saw that in class."
"Exactly," Professor Adams interrupted. Her hand carded through Harry's hair in a soothing motion. The whiplash of watching her murder someone and then worry herself over Harry's safety with a gentleness he'd never witnessed was bizarre. She clutched at Harry like he would disappear.
"You were dosed with a strong compulsion potion. A rare kind, designed to emulate drunkenness. It's subtle and works off of persuasion until you are completely trapped in its grasp. It was likely supposed to lure you into the woods, which with you being a reckless idiot, was not something you'd protest - and then whoever was after you was going to kidnap you while you were vulnerable."
"It must be someone in the castle," Professor Lupin said in horror. "We have to figure out who!"
"I'll send a patronus to the aurors," Professor McGonagall said. "And alert the Headmaster."
"Right, to the hospital wing, children." Sirius Black ordered.
...
Nothing came of it, of course. Alabasandria was at the end of her rope. Control was slipping through her fingers like fine sand. The Hogwart's staff, joined later by a contingent of aurors, had found nothing. Nothing! Either the Death Eaters had managed to infiltrate the castle without a single trace, or it had been the actions of one of the people helping comb through the castle. She wasn't familiar with most of her colleagues. She avoided the staff room like the plague and really only tolerated Minerva, but she hadn't gotten the impression any of them were turncoats. Could it be Moody? He was rolling in Dark magic, but he was also a decorated auror. His reputation during the last war, at least according to Sirius, had been brutal and unflinching in the face of curses but undeniably anti-Voldemort. His aura could be explained by considering his curse scars. It made no sense for it to be him…
Perhaps Karkaroff? He was a former Death Eater, although a notorious coward.
She had no idea. No clues! Nothing!
Even Rookwood was useless. Voldemort was smart. No one soldier knew more than was necessary for him to know. Rookwood was told to wait in the forest until Harry went waltzing up to him. There was another party inside to be doing the punch lacing, who was to meet up with Rookwood and take a portkey back to Voldemort. Who this person was, Rookwood did not know. Voldemort had tried his hand at a solstice resurrection, a logical choice, being the darkest night of the year. But any plans beyond that - nothing.
Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!
She considered sending him back to his Lord, but news of his failure had no doubt reached him, and all Voldemort would do was kill him again. Not to mention, she had no idea if he was familiar enough with necromancy to recognize a living corpse. She couldn't play her cards that boldly, not yet. Not until she knew exactly who she was dealing with.
(But she didn't know! She knew nothing!)
She paced the length of her office, eroding holes into the hardwood flooring.
There was very little control she had here. Voldemort was either confident or desperate, the difference mattered little. Harry was in danger.
There was nothing she could do!
Well… she thought, an idea popping into her head. If there was one thing Alabasandria was good at, it was murder.
Her cackle would have made plenty of grown men piss themselves in fear, had there been any nearby to witness it.
She met Dumbledore in his office.
"Ah, Professor Adams, good evening." It was inappropriately late in the evening, nor had she informed him of the impromptu meeting beforehand, but whatever. "How has Harry been? The poor boy has had a rough year."
"Indeed he has," she leaned over the back of the chair across his desk, staring into his eyes. "Have you any guesses as to whom the rat in our midst is? It is obvious now that someone at the school has placed his name in and is trying to hand him off to Voldemort!"
Dumbledore sighed. "Of that, I have nothing more than speculation. Wild speculation. The plotters are not amateurs. They have left no traces."
"It must be someone at the castle, how else would his drink have been tampered with!"