Chapter 660: Moonlit Skeleton
The bones gleamed under the moonlight, a cold, hard blue-white, as if crafted by some meticulous artist—each bone unnaturally pristine. Luna’s breath hitched slightly. She took an instinctive half-step back, fingers tightening around her scarf, her wide eyes widening further in shock.
“Oh…” she murmured softly. “This is… unusual. I never thought I’d see something like this inside the School…”
Rolf’s face went pale. His throat bobbed as he forced out a reply:
“Do you think… could this be part of the Maze’s decoration?”
Wade didn’t answer. Luna gave him a strange, searching look.
“The Maze’s decoration?”
“I heard… some Muggle schools have human skeletal specimens on display,” Rolf stammered, fabricating a justification he himself didn’t believe. “So I thought—maybe—”
“Then it should be hanging in some hidden corner of the Maze, ready to jump out and scare someone,” Wade said calmly. “Not buried beneath a bush out here.”
He’d seen far worse. With a flick of his wand, a silvery-white shape burst from its tip—flashing once, then vanishing.
Patronus…
Rolf whispered in awe, finally regaining his composure.
“But… this skeleton… it’s so strange,” Rolf continued. “No clothes. No flesh. Not even a trace of blood. If it’s been buried for long, the bones should be dirty… cracked… but they’re… clean. Too clean. And completely intact.”
Though this was his first time seeing a corpse, he wasn’t unfamiliar with animal bones. In his grandfather’s mystery space, mischievous magical creatures often buried bones in the soil, saving them for later meals. When dug up, such bones bore cracks, holes, or discoloration.
But this skeleton was unnervingly clean—like a work of art.
“It doesn’t look like anything ate it,” Wade said, sweeping the soil away and levitating the bones into the air.
No tiny tooth marks from animals or insects marred the surface.
“And the positioning is neat,” he added. “He was buried whole. The time underground couldn’t have been long—maybe just a day or two.”
He gently lowered the bones back into the hole, paused, then turned to the two students.
“You two should return to the Castle.”
Luna bit her lip, shaking her head.
“No. This was our discovery. If someone inside asks, we’ll share the blame. It’ll be easier to explain if we’re together.”
“Agreed,” Rolf insisted. “We’ll back each other up. If there’s danger later, you won’t have to face it alone.”
Wade studied their stubborn expressions, then sighed. He didn’t press further.
“Danger? Not likely,” he said. “Whoever did this had a bigger purpose. They wouldn’t waste time on a few students who found a body.”
“Do you know who it is?” Luna asked, her gaze lowered, pity in her eyes. “Could it be a student?”
“No,” Wade said. “I checked. His molars are worn down, his knee and spine show signs of osteoarthritis. He was an old man.”
“Huh,” she murmured, stunned. “I didn’t know you had such… deep knowledge of corpses, Wade Gray.”
A voice—oddly flat, almost mocking—came from nearby.
“I didn’t know Hogwarts even taught such knowledge,” it said. “Or perhaps Mr. Gray is willing to share his secrets freely?”
They turned. Snape strode forward, his black robes billowing. His thin lips curled.
“Or… were you watching from the shadows when someone buried this body?”
Luna stared at Professor Snape, her eyes wide with disbelief. She couldn’t believe a professor would make such a reckless accusation.
Rolf’s face darkened instantly. “That’s impossible! Wade wouldn’t do something like that!”
Wade’s gaze flicked past Snape—and he saw something unexpected. The man had moved unusually fast. Behind him, besides Dumbledore, were several others:
Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, Karkaroff, and Headmaster Adeso of Wagadoo.
McGonagall’s eyes sharpened immediately, fixing on the skeleton. Moody, ignoring his wooden leg, dropped to his knees and began examining it closely.
Karkaroff and Adeso merely glanced at the hole, exchanged a thoughtful look, then turned their full attention to the three young wizards—zeroing in on Wade.
“I’ve read a few books on anatomy,” Wade said calmly. “And I have basic common sense.”
He inclined his head slightly. “Good evening, Professors.”
Dumbledore nodded. His silver-white beard glowed faintly in the moonlight. The other professors returned the gesture with quiet courtesy.
Snape snorted. “Dumbledore, it seems Hogwarts’ library no longer satisfies students’ curiosity. Now they’re hunting for Muggle knowledge?”
Dumbledore smiled gently. “Severus, I believe curiosity is the most precious spark of wisdom. Don’t you agree?”
His gaze lingered on Wade, approval clear.
“And while Muggle knowledge lacks the elegance of magic, their understanding of the world is no less astonishing.”
Karkaroff let out a soft, disdainful tch. He said nothing.
“True,” Adeso added. “But knowledge is like Felix Felicis—too little, and it does nothing. Too much, and it brings disaster. Curiosity, too, can be a vice. Just as Gellert Grindelwald once proved.”
Had he not been consumed by an insatiable hunger for knowledge, Grindelwald would never have been expelled from his school in his youth.
Dumbledore nodded. “So Muggles say: Curiosity killed the cat. But I believe children can learn what balance means.”
He clapped Wade on the shoulder and stepped forward, crouching. His wand tip flared with a soft glow as he examined the skeleton.
Moody, already done, turned. His magical eye spun wildly in its socket, while his real eye remained sharp and piercing, fixed on the three students.
“Tell me,” he growled. “How did you find this body? Did you touch anything?”
“Well…” Rolf glanced at Luna, then took responsibility. “Our Tree Guardian friend’s been acting off lately. I thought I’d find it some treats…”
The truth was, there was no point hiding their earlier interest in the parasitic beetle on the Sigil Horse. Rolf had learned from his grandfather: honesty is stronger than lies.
But he also knew when to withhold part of the truth.
He recounted their evening in detail—though he left out the fight between Madam Maxime and Hagrid, pretending they’d only arrived at the stables later. He emphasized: “We saw Professor Hagrid leave.”
When Dumbledore and the professors had departed the Castle earlier, they’d been spotted by a few students still awake in the carriage. The girls ran to report to Madam Maxime, who hastily donned her cloak and hurried over.
The third Tournament was approaching. Even if Clementine’s chances were slim, Madam Maxime wouldn’t abandon her post—nor allow herself to be sidelined by other referees.
She paused mid-step when Rolf mentioned “Sigil Horse.” Her expression flickered, uneasy.
But when she learned they hadn’t witnessed the argument, her tension eased slightly. She stepped forward, studied the hole, glanced at the others, then said nothing—just listened.
In just minutes, Rolf had finished.
The half-recovered Tree Guardian, Aelo, still rested in Luna’s palm—silent witness to the events.
No professor asked follow-up questions.
Dumbledore straightened, his face grim.
“Someone used an extremely dark and ancient form of magic here—dissolving the flesh and clothing. I haven’t seen this kind of magic in years.”
He paused.
“As for the identity… Madam Maxime, what do you think?”
She hesitated. “I… I can’t say for certain. But I suspect… he was a male wizard. At least sixty years old.”
“Could it be an old wizard who went missing?” Karkaroff mused, voice oily. “We all know some elderly souls live alone. If they vanish, no one notices.”
Moody let out a harsh laugh. “Did you get your head kicked by a Giant? If he’d been dead and forgotten, why bury him like this? Why hide him in Hogwarts? Do you honestly think someone hides a corpse in another’s courtyard just out of affection?”
Karkaroff’s face turned ashen. His goat-like beard trembled. But when his eyes met Moody’s magical one, he blinked rapidly, looked away, and swallowed his anger.
“So the key question is…” Moody’s gaze settled on the skeleton. “Why is it here? Why this treatment?”
“Are you implying something, Moody?” Snape asked coldly.
Moody’s eyes—both of them—locked onto Snape. His voice was rough, laced with mockery.
“I’m just stating a possibility. The killer may be hiding something. Or—perhaps—someone helped him. Using the identity of a helpless man to get inside the School.”
McGonagall inhaled sharply. “You mean… the murderer could be walking among us right now—disguised as someone else?”
Moody nodded. His eyes never left Snape—his suspicion was unmistakable.
Snape’s eyes flashed with a dangerous glint. “If you’re implying—”
“Enough, gentlemen,” Dumbledore said gently—but firmly—stepping between them, forming a quiet barrier.
“This is not the time for suspicion. Alastor, I trust Severus is not the one you doubt. Severus, I know you understand the need for caution.”
Tension hung thick in the air. Luna gently stroked the restless Aelo. Rolf stared at the professors, feeling as if he might suffocate.
Moody turned away. “There aren’t many men over sixty in the School. Dumbledore, I suggest a full search—inside and out. Boy,” he added, his magical eye spinning toward Wade, who had raised his hand. “What is it?”
Everyone turned.
“I’m just curious,” Wade said, calm. “I don’t fully understand how certain magics work. If a dead person had been transformed—say, via a Transfiguration Charm, or Age-Enhancing Elixir, or even Polyjuice Potion—what would happen to the bones afterward? Would they reflect their true form… or the form they wore at death?”
Silence.
The wind rustled through the trees.
Several people shivered.
They all knew: death doesn’t erase a transformation.
A killer could even perform the charm after killing—altering the body, then burying it.
“Merlin…” Madam Maxime gripped her wrist tightly.
Karkaroff’s thin fingers twitched over his cufflinks, eyes darting.
McGonagall’s face was paler than ever, her lips pressed into a tight, rigid line.
Only Dumbledore remained unchanged—perhaps even more solemn than usual. But Wade couldn’t tell if he was surprised… or had already known.
Though Moody and Snape had been arguing about a hidden killer, everyone understood:
As Hogwarts professors, they couldn’t openly say it—but every magic school member still present could be the murderer’s next disguise.
But by limiting the age to over sixty, other schools were largely ruled out. Most adult wizards came only as heads—so the only possible targets were the school leaders.
And if a head could be replaced so easily… they wouldn’t be head.
But now? If age were no barrier… then every student became a suspect.
Adeso stepped forward, murmuring an ancient Wagadoo incantation. His wand flared with bright yellow light, which spread over the skeleton. After several minutes, it faded.
Adeso’s face was pale. He turned to the group.
“Can’t tell if the age was faked. Everything… was destroyed.”
“So the killer could have disguised themselves as a student,” McGonagall said, her voice trembling—something Wade had never heard from her, not even during Voldemort’s reign.
A chill wind passed through the clearing.
No one spoke. Even their breaths seemed held.
The Castle lights still glowed warmly. Carriages, boats, and other transport sat quietly by the lake, their reflections shimmering on the water—beautiful, almost magical.
But now, that beauty felt hollow.
Because every lit window might hide a pair of eyes—cold, hungry, full of malice.
(End of Chapter)
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