The Spiral

By RaistlinofMetallica

Chapter 6:

A Matter of Procedure

"...And then Lucien just disappeared!" the second year exclaimed, throwing up his arms. "One minute, he was sitting right there, and the next, he was gone! Poof! ...Into thin air!"

The headmaster, an aged man by the name of Hollandus Lully, sighed and readjusted his glasses. "Thank you. That will be all, Mister Madison."

"Look, my best friend just vanished right in front of me! I want to know what's going on!" the small boy shouted, his brown eyes flashing red. The table shook slightly, but none of the assembled staff seemed to notice. None save one, that is.

Professor James Figulus, Deputy Headmaster and Head of Slytherin House, took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to focus on the situation at hand. Not less than two hours ago, the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade – minus one student, a second-year from his own house, Lucien Malfoy. The boy's best friend and housemate, Tobias Madison, had been the sole witness to the young Malfoy's disappearance and maintained that his friend had been holding some sort of fancy key in his hand prior to the event.

Headmaster Lully was addressing the upset boy again. "Mister Madison, we will do everything in our power to find Mister Malfoy, but there are procedures we must see to first..."

"But I want to help!" Madison said stubbornly, crossing his arms.

The table shivered again and Professor Figulus raised an eyebrow in curiosity, his gaze wandering to the short second-year with the multi-coloured hair.

Lully continued, seemingly oblivious to the minor tremor. "As do we all, Mister Madison, but these are matters for the staff to handle-"

"I know! I can call Lucien's sister!" Madison interrupted loudly. "She works at the Preventers, in the Special division – he talks about her a lot...!"

The headmaster looked to the staff table and gave the deputy headmaster a brief strained glance. "Now, Mister Madison, be reasonable. Do you even recall her name?" Seeing the boy's face fall, Lully continued, "There is no reason as of yet to suspect that anyone has deliberately taken your friend. We cannot just go calling up the Preventers without any evidence, you see?"

"Yes, headmaster," the boy mumbled, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Professor Figulus took this as his cue to stand.

Lully guided Madison towards the door, talking as he did so. "Rest assured, Mister Madison, we will find him. Now, if you'll just wait outside, your head of house will be along shortly to escort you back to your common room."

"Yes, sir," came the half-hearted reply as the boy left the staff room.

The aged headmaster closed the door and returned to the head of the table. He sank slowly into his chair, seeming fairly worn, the lines on his face deepening perceptibly. "Please sit, James. I still require your presence here."

The deputy headmaster resumed his seat hesitantly. This did not bode well.

Lowering his eyes to the folder on the table before him, Lully paused a moment and then raised them once more. "We have a great problem on our hands," he said, finally, with a sombre face. "A potential political nightmare, actually."

Professor Figulus inwardly swore. There were some secrets about certain students that were meant to be kept just that and this was especially true in the case of the current Malfoy family. As Head of Slytherin, he was the only other person privy to the information in the files of the students in his house. What the headmaster chose to reveal now could potentially be disastrous.

"I don't understand, sir. As far as I am aware, the current Malfoy family is not involved in politics," stated a prim witch sitting immediately across from the deputy headmaster. Her name was Antonia Kepler and she was the Head of Ravenclaw house; she was the head of the astronomy department as well.

Headmaster Lully nodded absently and then spoke, looking at each member of the staff in turn. "What I am about to say does not leave this room, is that perfectly clear?"

An assortment of nods in the affirmative confirmed that the assembled staff had agreed to keep the information to come a confidential matter. Professor Figulus considered it fortunate that only a comparative handful of the school's staff was in attendance – the department chairs and Heads of House, mostly. The Hospital Wing was represented by the only mediwizard they could spare at the moment, Galen Blackwell; he was a pale, sickly looking young man, still fresh from mediwizard training and no doubt still recovering from the lingering effects of his lunar affliction, as evidenced by the dark circles under his eyes. Blackwell was skilled, a fact that had contributed heavily to his appointment, and the deputy headmaster had no doubt as to the trustworthiness of the young man.

Finally satisfied, the aged headmaster stated, "It is true that the Malfoy family, at current, appears to have no political connections. This public image that they have maintained is a means of deception. The Malfoy family is in fact connected very closely to the Constantine royal family of Nemesis. Should anything happen to the Queen Mother, the prince or his heirs, the Malfoy family will stand next in line to inherit the throne of Nemesis."

Professor Figulus suppressed a smirk, knowing which of these facts had been twisted to hide the greater truth.

"You mean to tell us that we've got a missing prince on our hands?" managed a rather astonished Darwin Crick, professor of evolutionary magical biology. He was not a man to be easily unsettled, but these were not normal circumstances.

Blackwell spoke, then, his soft voice taut. "It's worse than that, Crick. Remember what the Madison boy said? Malfoy's older sister is a Preventer, Special division. That's one of the highest risk jobs in the universe." A slight Irish lilt coloured his words. "It's got a worse mortality rate than the job of second entry man in a SWAT team."

Professor Figulus raised an eyebrow at the rather interesting – and quite astute – observation. He had looked into the field of law enforcement himself, some time ago, and it had not suited his interests. For a wizard, the opportunities in law enforcement currently came in two forms: that of the Auror and the Preventer, Special division. Aurors were assigned on a local and national level, while the Preventer Specials operated internationally and in space as well. Of the two, the Specials held the higher risk and it was widely joked that no insurance agent – magical or otherwise – would ever give them a policy, much the same as with members of the muggle police's SWAT teams.

It was Leslie Pascal, the chair of the arithmomancy department, who piped up next. "I'm not quite sure I follow, Mister Blackwell. What do you mean?"

The mediwizard frowned slightly as he explained. "Say you wanted a clear path to the throne that holds the most influence over the wizarding world and you happened to know that there's only one other branch of that family. And say that you know that at least one member of that family is in a dangerous job, in which death is a very high possibility..."

The deputy headmaster nodded in agreement, choosing to remain silent. He knew, however, from the records that the missing boy's elder sister had not been the only one to join the Special division; the elder brother was there as well.

"And if you had the opportunity to get your hands on the last heir in line," Crick finished, eyes widening in realization. "My god... the Madison boy was right. We should call the Preventers –"

"With what?" asked Headmaster Lully, calmly interrupting. "Theories and conjecture? We have no evidence that Lucien Malfoy was kidnapped, only the certain knowledge that he disappeared, possibly via portkey or by an artefact as of yet unknown to us. That is little cause to panic. We will follow school procedure regarding this, is that understood?"

Crick glanced away, seeming chastised. The rest of the staff remained silent. There were rules that had to be followed in cases like this, and they all knew that.

"Now," the aged headmaster said, turning his attention to delegating the course of action to be taken. "James, as Head of Slytherin House, you will contact the Malfoy family. Please inform them that they are welcome to stay on school grounds until their son is located if you think it will put them at ease."

Professor Figulus nodded. "Of course, headmaster," he replied, quickly going over what he could say without getting hexed or worse. The last Head of Slytherin House had warned him of Mrs. Malfoy, claiming that the woman was more dangerous than an angered Hungarian Horntail when it came to her children; his predecessor swore that she had shot at him with a muggle rifle when he had informed her that her daughter had been accidentally poisoned in a Potions classroom accident.

"Oh, and James, Mister Madison is waiting outside to be escorted back to his common room," Lully added, absently. "If you would, please talk to the boy about his hair, James."

The deputy headmaster took that as his cue to leave and nodded, rising from his seat. He knew that he would not miss much. There were only matters of procedure to follow now.

The Madison boy – or 'Trouble Incarnate,' as Professor Figulus had dubbed him the year prior – was waiting in the hallway outside, his multi-coloured hair seeming to have doubled in length. How curious. Perhaps it was more than just a dress code violation after all.

"Mister Madison," he said, nodding sharply to the boy.

The boy's head snapped up quickly, a visible ripple passing through his features.

Definitely something more than a dress code violation, he noted.

"Professor," the small boy piped up, "Where do you think Lucien is?"

The deputy headmaster drew a deep breath and started walking, his black cape swirling around him. He knew the boy would follow. "His family keeps many secrets, Mister Madison. I would not be surprised if I was to find out that that key of his was probably a gift from his family."

"But why? Why give him something like that?" the second-year demanded, confused. "It doesn't make any sense!"

Professor Figulus raised his eyebrow as he noticed at least three new colours having appeared in the boy's hair. "If the key was a transport device, I do not think it was intended to spontaneously activate. Perhaps your friend accidentally triggered it?"

"Lucien isn't like that," Madison said solemnly, black streaks spreading through his hair. "He's not like me..."

The deputy headmaster stopped and tapped his hand twice against the right wall, revealing a hidden staircase; it was a shortcut that led down to the Slytherin dungeons, but not many students knew of it. "This way," he said, starting down the staircase. "I am well aware of that fact, Mister Madison. It is a shame that you do not follow your friend's example more often."

"It's not my fault, Professor," the boy complained. "I've been getting tested for Newtype abilities for months and nothing! Things just happen around me that shouldn't be able to..."

There was a sudden silence as Madison seemed to freeze in place, colour draining from his face.

Professor Figulus turned to look at the second year and inwardly sighed in annoyance. He disliked showing any open concern for the students. They needed someone to push them to work harder, someone to keep them from getting too cocky. He had maintained an image as a stern and pragmatic teacher in the classroom and an imposing, harsh figure as a disciplinarian. He was affectionately referred to as a barmy, evil, vindictive bastard by the vast majority of his students; on the other hand, those students that went on in their education to harder and more complex studies would thank him later. Unfortunately, this happened to be one of those rare times where he had to let that 'evil bastard' reputation slip to the side.

"You are not responsible for your friend's disappearance, Mister Madison," he stated, staring the boy directly in the eyes. "That much I am certain of."

"You don't know that, Professor!" the boy protested, his eyes flashing red again.

A short fierce blast of wind filled the passage and Professor Figulus felt a slight sting race across his cheek. Slowly, he raised his fingers and gently touched the spot where he'd felt the sting. Only a drop of blood, he noted; he was aware that the small cut had probably already healed itself. It was an ability that served him well.

Madison looked terrified. "I'm sorry, Professor," he mumbled, shaking. "I – I didn't mean to!"

"How long has this been going on, Mister Madison?" the deputy headmaster asked, narrowing his eyes at the boy. "These... outbursts of yours... How long?"

The boy chewed on his lip anxiously, the colours in his hair shifting again. "Since last year," he replied, finally. "That's why I got in trouble so much."

"And how long has your appearance been altering itself like this?" the professor asked, indicating the boy's hair.

Lowering his head, Madison whispered, "It started a few months ago. I began to notice... little things. It got worse when I went home for holiday. M-mum thinks I might be a-a metamorphmagus, but dad... dad's scared. He thinks something's not right."

"Try to concentrate on your normal appearance," Professor Figulus suggested, now quite concerned.

The boy closed his eyes and grimaced. His hair shortened somewhat, taking on a dull brown colour, and the boy's cheekbones raised slightly, but this was a far cry from what the boy had looked like the year previous. If anything, it had changed his features even more drastically.

"Your father was right, Mister Madison" the professor said, slowly. "If you were a metamorphmagus, you wouldn't be changing this drastically and you would at least have some measure of control over it. No, something is definitely wrong here."

Madison gave a weak half-laugh then, his face caught somewhere between amusement and despair. The boy's best friend had disappeared before him with no explanation and the most 'evil' of his professors was now telling him that something was wrong with him; perhaps this was too much for the child.

"Mister Madison, look at me," Professor Figulus said sternly, placing a reassuring hand on the second year's shoulder. "I can promise you this: I will find your friend and I will help you solve this problem of yours, no matter what the cost."

The boy looked up at him, relief and bewilderment in his brown eyes. The colour seemed to whorl and twisted into a familiar emerald green – the same colour as the professor's own eyes – before sparking with red once more and returning to that muddy brown.

Silence remained for a moment and, finally, the deputy headmaster resumed his descent, the second year trailing behind him. Eventually, the stairs opened out into a passageway in the potion dungeons. A short walk beyond that lay the bare stretch of wall that served as the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

"David Lee Roth is Van Halen," Professor Figulus said briskly.

The wall slid open. He was going to have a chat with the prefects about passwords, one of these days. Their latest had been rather creative. Although, he had to concede that these were a great improvement on past passwords.

Madison started to enter and then paused a moment, looking back. "Thank you, Professor."

The professor nodded sharply, his 'evil bastard' guise once more in place.

Turning away, the second year entered his common room, the wall sliding shut behind him.

Professor Figulus started back up the corridor and made his way to his office; there were lessons that needed planning, after all, and he had a new conundrum to solve. He would be able to get a little work done before the headmaster would, undoubtedly, require his presence once more. The matter of calling the Malfoy family also needed addressing, as did planning the method of telling them. He did not fancy the idea of being shot at, hexes, bullets or otherwise.

"Trinità Dorata," he quietly whispered to the serpent emblem on his office door. He did not trust the students that much, having once been young and mischievous himself, and his choice of using spelled passwords ensured that there would be no intruders.

His office was comfortable, lined with volumes of obscure texts and jars of strange, rare ingredients that he dared not keep in the Potions Storage room. The silver and green house shield adorned the wall above the fireplace and a warm fire roared in the grate; the house elves must have come through on their daily rounds a short while ago. An aged black carpet covered the cold stones, faded emerald Celtic knots twisting and turning in engaging patterns. The desk was left over from his predecessor and was currently cluttered with stacks of parchment, more than half of them waiting his corrections.

The professor moved towards the back of the room, lifting up the corner of a worn tapestry to reveal the door to his private chambers. He entered, making his way to the large wing-backed chair near the fire and took a seat, letting out a heavy sigh. His eyes flitted to the small bottle of clear liquid on the nearby end table. It was one of the few things that could get him drunk and he enjoyed the taste – bitter, like old memories. But, now was not the time to indulge.

"Pleased to meet you," he mused, smirking, and picked up the bottle.

There were some old memories he wanted to savour.

Back in the past, Prefect Harry Potter regarded the young time-traveller with a slight smirk as Draco led his charge to the Slytherin table. The Gryffindor lingered a moment at the entrance to the Great Hall, the last of the first years still straggling into the hall while he held the door for them. When the last straggler had passed, he moved into the hall and cast a brief look over at the two Malfoys once more.

"Pleased to meet you," he said quietly, a strange blue flame gathering in his eyes. "Hope you guessed my name."