"Something important?" Dumbledore looked even more surprised than before. He had been sitting in the quiet of his office, pondering what Ginny Weasley had lost—or rather, attempting to deduce the true nature of the Horcrux. He hadn't expected guests, let alone the Weasley twins.
"Must you tell me now?"
"We think it's best to tell you before the next attack," Fred and George said, shrugging in perfect synchronization.
This piqued Dumbledore's interest immediately. If this matter pertained to the attacks, the fog currently clouding his mind might finally lift.
"Please, have a seat, gentlemen." He stood and personally poured them each a cup of tea. "I believe I can spare the time for a story. Do not leave out a single detail."
"This matter is… a little related to our sister," Fred began.
"Professor, you might not know, but her dormitory was robbed. Something very important was stolen," George added. "A magical item."
Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. The answer he had been hunting was being delivered to his desk. The Horcrux. It is about to reveal its face.
"I had heard whispers of a theft," Dumbledore said, leaning forward with controlled anticipation. "So, you know exactly what she lost?"
"Of course. It was originally ours," the twins said.
Dumbledore blinked. "Yours?" Had a piece of Voldemort's soul truly been passed around by the Weasley twins?
"Not exactly ours," Fred clarified. "But we discovered its secret."
"Pray, tell me in detail!"
The twins launched into their tale. Dumbledore listened intently as they described the discovery of a parchment in their first year—a map that revealed the location of everyone in the castle.
"So, it shows everyone?" Dumbledore asked, his mind racing. "Even me?"
"Everyone," George confirmed. "Made by Padfoot, Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail. Genius, really. They made it for people like us—those determined to break the rules."
"But now," Fred said, his expression turning somber, "the map has likely fallen into the hands of the Heir. Ginny wanted to use it to find/avoid the attacker, but then it was stolen. If the Heir has it…"
"He can move with total impunity," George finished. "Or hide wherever he likes."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, his mind weaving through the implications. He knew exactly who those four "Marauders" were, and he was privately impressed—and unsettled—that they had created an item capable of tracking even him. If Riddle held the map, he could navigate Hogwarts like a ghost, choosing paths where Dumbledore was absent.
"Your concerns are exceptionally reasonable," Dumbledore said. "I am very grateful you shared this secret with an old man."
He looked at the twins, his gaze turning pensive. "Does the map show every location in the castle?"
"Not quite," Fred replied. "It doesn't show the Chamber of Secrets. Clearly, even the Marauders had their limits."
"Hogwarts always keeps a few secrets for herself," Dumbledore murmured. "Tell me, what are the secret passages leading out of the castle?"
"There are seven. Filch knows four, but we doubt the Heir cares about him. Of the remaining three, one is behind the mirror on the 4th floor, and another is behind the one-eyed witch statue. That leads to Honeydukes' cellar."
"George!" Fred hissed, swatting his brother's head.
"Sorry. Slipped out."
Dumbledore laughed softly. "Do not worry, I won't punish you. A little adventure makes life worth living, does it not?"
"A kindred spirit!" the twins exclaimed.
"The last one," George continued, "is near the Whomping Willow. But the Heir would need to be strong—or loud—to get past that tree."
Dumbledore knew that passage better than anyone; he had planted the tree to protect Remus Lupin. While the twins thought the tree was an impassable guard, Dumbledore knew Riddle would find it a trivial obstacle. A simple touch to the knot on the trunk would silence the beast.
"This information is vital," Dumbledore said with genuine gratitude. "It may determine whether we catch the attacker at all."
"Happy to help, sir."
"In return," Dumbledore added with a playful wink, "I promise that if I recover the map, it will be returned to its rightful owners. And I shall keep your secret until the day you graduate."
The twins' eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Really."
After seeing them off, the light left Dumbledore's face.
He sank back into his chair, staring into the flickering embers of the fireplace. Which path will you take, Tom? And can Harry truly stand against you?
March arrived without further blood on the walls. The Mandrakes grew rowdy, throwing boisterous parties in Greenhouse Three, a sign that they were nearing maturity. In a month or two, the petrified would wake.
Elijah was equally pleased. The prospect of resurrection had lightened his mood enough that he could finally produce a discernible Patronus—a giant, shimmering bird of prey.
Once the Mandrakes mature, I'll take a leaf for the Animagus process, he thought. Voldemort had found such things beneath him, but Elijah valued the freedom of a secondary form.
One morning at the Slytherin table, Elijah read a letter from Lucius Malfoy.
He had been manipulating the elder Malfoy through letters, urging him to pressure the Ministry into removing Hagrid. Elijah liked the giant, but for the sake of the endgame, "..A few nights in Azkaban are a necessary sacrifice."
"What about Azkaban? Why are you still sitting here?"
He looked up to see Ginny standing over him. "Isn't it Slytherin versus Ravenclaw today?"
Elijah raised an eyebrow. "I simply forgot. No wonder the hall is so empty." He stood up, finishing his sausage. He wasn't particularly invested in the sport, but since he occupied Draco's body, he figured he should experience the cultural phenomenon at least once.
They walked toward the pitch, the stands already roaring with the sound of a thousand spectators.
"Mr. Riddle… are you nervous?" Ginny whispered.
"What is there to be nervous about?" Elijah asked. The game he was playing with Dumbledore was a matter of life and death; this was merely a distraction.
They parted at the changing rooms. Inside, the Slytherin team looked as though they had seen a ghost. Terence Higgs, the previous Seeker, clutched his broom with trembling hands. Marcus Flint, the captain, looked even worse. Ever since Draco had "disciplined" him in the common room, the team had been terrified of him.
"Marcus said you weren't playing," Terence stammered.
Draco (Elijah) looked at Flint. "I believe I said I would participate. Is your hearing failing you?" He casually produced Flint's own wand. "Do you need me to fix that?"
The team recoiled, hiding behind their brooms.
"You didn't come to practice," Flint gritted out.
"But I'm here now." Elijah snatched the Nimbus 2001 from Terence's hand. "Sorry, Terence. You can have the next one."
He enjoyed the fear he inspired; it kept life simple. He didn't want trouble; he wanted compliance.
"I'm the captain—" Flint started.
Elijah silenced him with a flick of his fingers. "Not today. I am in charge, and I will lead you to victory." He paused at the door. "By the way, who is the Ravenclaw Seeker?"
...
"You're late, Ginny!" Hermione called out, waving from the top of the stands.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had managed to snag a prime view. Harry looked at Ginny with a confused smile. "Where were you?"
"Finding Riddle," Ginny said, taking her seat. "He actually forgot the match was today."
"Typical," Hermione remarked. "He's more interested in Alchemy than sports. You two could learn something from his work ethic."
Ron groaned. "I never thought I'd be cheering for Slytherin. If they win, Harry, you'll have to face those Nimbus 2001s in the final."
"Mr. Riddle is our friend!" Ginny snapped.
Harry laughed it off. "The chances of them winning are low. Riddle hasn't practiced once. I think he just wants the experience."
"Don't worry," Ron added, looking at the girls' worried faces. "Nobody flies worse than Malfoy used to, anyway."
They all laughed, though Harry's eyes drifted toward the Ravenclaw end of the pitch. He watched the Ravenclaw Seeker, a girl named Cho Chang, emerge from the tunnel.
"Ravenclaw is strong," Harry said, trying to sound objective while staring at Cho. "Top four, easily. If Slytherin plays fair, it'll be a close game."
"Simp," Ginny muttered, clipping Harry on the back of the head. "Get a grip. We're here for Mr. Riddle."
On the field, the Ravenclaw captain, Roger Davies, was giving a grim pep talk. "Watch out for their rough play. They have the brooms, but their Seeker is a joke. If Harry Potter can beat him, so can we."
"Exactly!" Cho Chang said with a confident smile.
The whistle blew. Madam Hooch stood in the center of the pitch, looking sternly at the two teams. She gave Marcus Flint a particularly long, warning look, then turned to Elijah.
"I want a fair game," she barked.
"I am the fairest soul you'll ever meet," Elijah said, mimicking Draco's arrogant posture, his chin held high.
"Mount your brooms."
Elijah straddled the Nimbus 2001. The silver whistle shrieked, and he kicked off.