The morning sunlight flowed slowly through the Great Hall's stained glass like melted honey.
Shafts of light cut across the floating candles and the long tables of the Four Houses, yet could not dispel the faint tension in the air.
Douglas leisurely leafed through the Daily Prophet, his fingertips passing over reports of personnel changes at the Ministry of Magic and other dull news.
His gaze finally settled on a tiny corner of the classified ads.
The notice was squeezed between a clearance sale of secondhand flying broomsticks and job listings, utterly unremarkable.
[Lost item notice]
[I inadvertently lost a sterling silver cufflink near the Quidditch World Cup grounds. It is finely crafted in the shape of a small rodent (a beaver, with lifelike detailing), with the family crest abbreviation M engraved on the back.
This cufflink is a family heirloom. Though not valuable, it holds considerable sentimental significance.
Should any kind soul find it, please deliver it to the steward of Malfoy Manor. A reward will be offered.
- Respectfully, Lucius Malfoy]
There was not the slightest ripple in Douglas's gaze, as though he were reading the most ordinary lost-and-found notice.
Yet the fingers holding the edge of the newspaper tapped lightly three times on the illustration of the "beaver," in a distinct rhythm.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Crisp, and laden with meaning.
Suddenly.
"Thud! Click... thud! Click..."
Heavy, uneven footsteps approached from the entrance to the Great Hall.
The sound was like a troll pounding on a wooden door, or some old machine struggling to run.
The bustling Great Hall fell still in an instant, every clink of cutlery and murmured conversation swallowed by the abrupt noise.
The students turned their heads in unison.
Alastor Moody limped inside.
His electric-blue magical eye spun wildly in its socket like a