Before the third-year Gryffindors could even begin plotting their classroom interrogation, the immediate aftermath of Molly's departure left the first-year table in a state of stunned fascination.
Harry sat quietly next to Ron, watching the heavy doors of the Great Hall settle back into place. He looked down at his half-eaten plate, then back at Ron, who was still massaging his temples as if trying to prevent his head from exploding.
"Ron?" Harry asked quietly, leaning in so the surrounding students wouldn't overhear. "Why was your mum in such a massive hurry to contact her brother? I mean, if he's been right here at Hogwarts for weeks, why did she act like he'd gone missing?"
Ron let out a long, exhausted sigh and finally dropped his hands. "Because until three weeks ago, Harry, we hadn't seen or heard from Uncle Richard in nearly ten years. To be honest, none of us kids had ever actually met him until he walked into the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast."
Harry blinked, his green eyes widening behind his glasses. "Ten years? But he's your mum's brother."
"Yeah, her youngest brother," Ron said, nodding grimly as he tore off a piece of toast. "Mum's the oldest of the Prewetts, see. Then came our late uncles, Fabian and Gideon, and then Uncle Richard was the baby of the family, quite a bit younger than all of them. But the thing is, Harry... Uncle Richard is a bit of a myth in our house. We grew up hearing nothing but stories about him, but he was always completely unreachable."
"Why?" Harry asked, his curiosity thoroughly piqued. "Did he have a falling out with your family?"
"Not with Mum, not really," Ron explained, leaning closer and lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It was more about what happened at the end of the first war against You-Know-Who. Fabian and Gideon were ambushed by a whole crowd of Death Eaters—it took five of them to bring our uncles down. When it happened, Uncle Richard was only a sixteen-year-old fifth-year here at Hogwarts. A total prodigy, sure, but still just a kid."
Ron's eyes grew wide, filled with a mixture of awe and skepticism. "Supposedly, he found out about the ambush while it was happening and rushed straight there to try and protect his brothers. But he was too late. The story goes that when he arrived, Fabian and Gideon were already dead, and something inside him just snapped. Mind you, nobody knows for sure, but the rumor is that he took on the entire group of Death Eaters right there over his brothers' bodies. They say he used some terrifyingly compressed Transfiguration variants he'd invented, disintegrated the dark wizard mob, and completely destroyed their leaders—including Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr."
Harry stared at Ron, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth. "He took on a whole group of dark wizards? By himself? As a fifth-year?" The sheer scale of it left Harry breathless. He couldn't even imagine fighting a single fully trained dark wizard, let alone wiping out an entire ambush party while still a student. "Is that really what happened?"
"Well, that's what Bill tells us, but nobody can prove it," Ron whispered fiercely, tapping his fork on the table. "Barty Crouch Sr. arrived moments later and found the carnage. Since his own son was among the dead, he went completely mad with rage. He and the Ministry prosecuted Richard with everything they had. They knew he was the only one there, so they claimed he did it. But they couldn't prove a single thing."
"How?" Harry asked, completely captivated. "If he was right there?"
"Because for some reason, the Trace never even activated," Ron explained, shaking his head in disbelief. "Since he was underage, the Ministry expected the alarm to sound, but nothing went off. And when the Aurors seized his wand to perform Prior Incantato, the spell check showed only harmless Transfiguration practice for his upcoming NEWTs. It was completely clean of curses. With no hard evidence linking him to the deaths, the Wizengamot had no choice but to find him innocent and acquit him."
"If he was innocent, why did he leave?"
"Because the pure-blood factions in the Ministry were furious, and the story goes he knew he'd be a target for vengeful supremacists the second he stepped off school grounds. On top of that, they looked for a loophole to ruin him anyway. During the entire ordeal—the ambush, the fight, and the trial—Uncle Richard had vanished from Hogwarts for weeks without permission. The old dark families used their leverage on the Board of Governors to get him expelled for his 'unexplained absence'. He didn't even get to finish his fifth year. After that, with his brothers gone and finding no real protection from Dumbledore, he just cold-shouldered Britain entirely and vanished off the grid."
Hermione, who had been listening intently from across the table despite pretending to read her book, slid closer. "An expulsion like that would completely strip a regular wizard of their standing," she offered softly, her eyes wide. "To be forced out so young..."
"It didn't break him, though," Ron whispered forcefully. "It just made him dangerous. Allegedly, he went deep into Europe, hunting down old magic on his own terms. Bill said he was obsessed with finding a way to master magic on his own, to never be caught off guard by dark wizards or a crooked Ministry again. The rumors say he went into the Black Forest in Germany, vanished into ancient, cursed ruins in Greece, and apparently spent two years in some forbidden underground archives in Paris. The Ministry tried to track him down a few times to drag him into the Auror Office when things got bad later on, but they said sending owls to him was like throwing letters into a black hole. They'd just disappear or burn up."
Ron took a bite of his toast, chewing quickly before continuing. "Then out of nowhere, Dumbledore tracks him down this summer and convinces him to take the Defense job. Mum was ecstatic, but the second he got back to Britain, he locked down his mail and reinforced the manor's wards so nobody could get through. That's why she was so furious yesterday. She thought he was deliberately shutting her out after ten years of silence."
Harry looked back up at the staff table. Richard Prewett was conversing with Professor McGonagall, his posture perfectly rigid, entirely unaffected by the dramatic scene that had just unfolded. Harry felt a sudden, profound shift in how he viewed his teacher.
He had assumed the professor was just naturally severe, born into power and prestige. But hearing Ron talk about the betrayal by the school governors, the years of isolation, and the intense, singular focus on becoming strong enough to survive... it resonated with Harry in a way he couldn't quite explain. He knew what it felt like to have institutions turn against you before you even had a chance to grow up.
"Blimey," Ron muttered, interrupting Harry's thoughts as he looked down the table toward his older brothers. "Fred and George have that look in their eyes. The one they get right before they do something that gets us all grounded until summer."
Harry followed his gaze. At the other end of the bench, Fred and George were huddled together, their heads practically touching, their quills furiously scribbling a list of questions on a scrap of parchment. Wednesday's Defense class was looming, and the third-year Gryffindors clearly had no intention of letting the legend of their long-lost uncle remain a mystery.