Soon, all the professors learned that Hagrid had been taken away by the Ministry of Magic for questioning.
Most of the professors were indignant about this.
Hagrid, possibly the heir of Slytherin?
It was nothing short of a joke.
A few days later, during breakfast in the Great Hall, Adrian was discussing the matter with Professor Flitwick.
"When I saw those Ministry officials appear at the school," he said, his voice carrying the tones of disbelief, "I considered numerous possibilities. Perhaps they'd come about the Chamber of Secrets, or to implement new security measures."
He paused, setting down his spoon with a soft clink against the plate. "But never—not in my wildest imagination—did I consider they would ultimately drag poor Hagrid away. I would stake my reputation on the fact that Hagrid is absolutely a good man."
The morning light filtering through the tall windows caught the worried wrinkles in Flitwick's face.
"It's simply incomprehensible," Professor Sprout said from across the table, and her usually cheerful demeanor was replaced by a grave expression. "The Ministry officials must be crazy. Hagrid, heir of Slytherin?"
She bitterly laughed and murmured. "The man who weeps over injured pixies? They might as well accuse the castle ghosts of conspiracy."
At that moment, the oak doors of the Great Hall creaked open. Professor McGonagall entered and approached the staff table with a dark expression, holding a piece of parchment in her hand.
.
"Good morning, Minerva," Professor Sprout said looking at her in concern as she took in her haggard appearance. "Merlin's beard, those dark circles beneath your eyes are quite severe. You look positively dreadful—no offense intended, of course. Perhaps you need some Calming Draught? I always keep a supply on hand...."
Without waiting for a response, Sprout began rummaging through the pockets of her robes and produced a small bottle.
"Your kindness is... most appreciated, Pomona," Professor McGonagall sat down beside her, placed the parchment on the table, and accepted the Calming Draught, drinking it in one gulp.
"So..." Sprout prompted gently, settling back into her chair but keeping her worried gaze fixed on McGonagall's face. "What exactly happened? You appear as though you've spent the entire night wrestling with Devil's Snare. Please don't tell me the basilisk—"
"Worse than that," McGonagall interrupted with a sigh. She turned over the parchment, revealing its contents on the table. "Look at this. After you see it, you'll understand everything."
The professors gathered around the parchment. What they discovered made each of them wince as if they'd been struck by lightning.
It was an official dismissal order. But it was the subject of the dismissal that struck them—their headmaster, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
At the bottom were twelve gleaming signatures, which meant it had gained the approval of the Board of Governors, making its contents legally binding.
"How... how can this possibly be?" Professor Flitwick stammered. "This must be some sort of joke, mustn't it?"
"No rational person would fabricate such a document, not even during the unruliest Halloween celebration," McGonagall replied, her voice sounding heavy. "As you can see, Dumbledore is no longer the headmaster of Hogwarts."
The air in the Great Hall seemed to freeze.
Adrian's fingers unconsciously tapped the table, producing dull sounds.
"Twelve signatures," Professor Sprout whispered uneasily. "How could the entire Board of Governors possibly agree to such an absurd request? Everyone knows that Hogwarts is currently facing its most dangerous crisis in decades. Without Dumbledore's protection, who else has the power and knowledge to shield these innocent children from the monster?"
"Who orchestrated this abomination?" Professor Flitwick asked, his voice rising to an almost shrill pitch. "You must have some knowledge about this, Minerva."
Professor McGonagall's lips pressed together into a thin line, her expression growing even more grim.
"As far as I know, it was Lucius Malfoy,"
Now the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. Malfoy must have used various threats and bribes on the Board of Governors members.
But the question that appeared in everyone's mind was the same: what possible benefit could Lucius Malfoy get from removing Dumbledore from his position as headmaster?
"That despicable, manipulative bastard," Professor Flitwick snarled through gritted teeth. He looked ready to march to Malfoy Manor and challenge Malfoy to a duel.
Adrian had never seen their Charms professor so angry.
"Where is Professor Dumbledore at this moment?" Adrian asked.
In fact, he had known this would happen sooner or later; he just hadn't expected Lucius to act so quickly.
"I don't know where he is," Professor McGonagall said, shaking her head with obvious frustration. "However, before his parting, he specifically requested that I spread a message to the entire staff."
Every pair of eyes turned toward her, as if her words might somehow provide the key to navigating the crisis that had overwhelmed them.
"His exact words were these," McGonagall said: "'Only when everyone has abandoned me will I truly leave this place. And remember—help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.'"
Everyone fell silent for a moment...
"When will the students be informed of this development?" Adrian finally asked, breaking the thoughtful silence. "Everyone should know what has happened. They have a right to understand the changes that will affect their safety and security."
"Very soon," McGonagall replied. "I intend to post the official notice within the hour. There's no benefit in delaying the inevitable, and rumors will only breed more fear and uncertainty."
That afternoon, as the sun reached its peak, the news of Headmaster Dumbledore's dismissal appeared on the central notice board like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
Students who had been chatting and laughing moments before fell into stunned silence as they read and re-read the notice, as if repetition might somehow change its meaning.
The news spread through the castle with the speed of a wildfire.
Within hours, all the students were overwhelmed by a mixture of disbelief, fear, and anger. For the students, Dumbledore had always been backbone of Hogwarts. Now, with the Chamber of Secrets open and a monster stalking the corridors and, in his absence, students inevitably felt panicked.
Without Dumbledore, who could protect them?
However, despite the shock and fear that gripped the school, the daily rhythm of Hogwarts life continued.
With the headmaster's chair now empty, Professor McGonagall, by virtue of her position as Deputy Headmistress, naturally assumed the role of Acting Headmistress.
Yet, as the days passed and the initial shock began to fade, the students made a surprising discovery:
It seemed... nothing had changed?
This wasn't surprising, since they rarely saw Dumbledore in their daily lives anyway.
Time flowed onward carrying them deeper into the spring term. By mid-May, with the Scottish Highlands burst into full bloom outside the castle windows and only a fortnight remaining until the crucial final examinations, the rhythms of student life had become normal over the chaos of recent events.
For Adrian, however, this apparent return to normalcy was more troubling than comforting. He was frustrated by the lack of progress in resolving the Chamber of Secrets crisis.
In his knowledge of the original timeline, events had followed a certain pattern, building toward a climactic resolution. But now, with Dumbledore's early removal and the various changes that had rippled through the school year, everything had been thrown into chaos.
He had developed suspicions about Professor Lockhart. But suspicion was a far cry from proof, and Adrian couldn't simply storm into a colleague's office and demand answers based on nothing more than gut instinct and knowledge he couldn't explain.
"Professor Westeros, I've brought the students for your class."
The cold, clipped voice cut through Adrian's thoughts, jerking him back to the present moment. He looked up to see Professor Snape approaching across the grounds. Beside him walked Professor Lockhart, and behind them came a group of students.
Today happened to be their turn to escort students to Care of Magical Creatures class.
The current security protocols required that all student movement between classes be supervised by at least one professor, but given Lockhart's... unique circumstances and questionable competence, Professor McGonagall had wisely insisted that he be accompanied by a more capable colleague.
The pairing of Snape and Lockhart was perhaps not the most harmonious, but it was certainly effective.
"Excellent, Professor." Adrian nodded in acknowledgment.
"After your lesson concludes, remember to escort them to the Potions classroom," Snape continued. "The next class period is Potions, and I expect them to arrive punctually and prepared."
"I understand," Adrian said. "We won't be late, don't worry, Professor Snape."
Honestly, he felt that constantly escorting students to classes like this wasn't a solution.
It took away much of his free time.
Snape snorted coldly and turned to leave.
As Adrian watched him leaving, he couldn't shake the feeling that Snape's mood was even darker than usual today. Adrian wondered if he had somehow offended him, or if Snape was simply in a bad mood.
Or perhaps, Adrian thought with a glance at Lockhart, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had managed to commit some new act of spectacular incompetence.
The thought prompted Adrian to turn his attention to Lockhart, and what he observed was... unusual.
The bubbling Lockhart stood quietly beside the students with his famous smile nowhere to be seen. Instead, he stared at the young faces gathering under the tree with a dazed expression.
Today was a practical lesson, and Adrian planned to introduce the students to Thestrals later, so he had first asked the students to form orderly lines.
"What's wrong with you, Professor Lockhart? Are you feeling unwell?" Adrian asked with concern.
"Er... ah, no, nothing at all," Lockhart snapped back to attention, forcing a stiff smile. "Simply didn't get adequate rest last night, you understand. I was occupied until the early hours responding to letters from my admirers. You know how it is—the burden of fame never truly allows for rest..."
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