Moriarty stepped out from the green flames in Diagon Alley and emerged inside Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.
He cast a glance at the wall of portraits. The Headless Horseman's image was conspicuously missing. Only the solemn visages of past headmasters gazed silently upon him.
Without a word, Moriarty exited the office. The castle was unnaturally quiet, as if it were submerged in a slumbering fog.
"This isn't right. Hogwarts should be lively on a Saturday."
He wandered the silent corridors. Where the classrooms would normally be buzzing with students, there was now only stillness. In the library, Madam Pince was dusting shelves with a weary expression. Even the Great Hall's long tables sat deserted.
The very air of the castle felt stagnant. The suits of armor in the corridors were dull and unmoving. The paintings on the walls were silent, their occupants strangely absent or slumbering. It was as though the magic itself had gone dormant.
Moriarty traveled to the Black Lake and then the Forbidden Forest. In the depths of the lake, magical creatures lay hidden, disturbed by the unnatural stillness of the castle.
Within the forest, the centaurs, unicorns, goblins—even the monstrous Acromantulas—were nowhere to be found.
Even Hagrid, usually the embodiment of cheery enthusiasm, appeared listless. Though Moriarty suspected the real reason for Hagrid's gloom was the lack of interaction with his beloved creatures.
He questioned a pair of Slytherin students strolling near the lake. They informed him that most Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were still asleep in their dorms. The whereabouts of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, however, remained unclear.
What was happening to Hogwarts?
"The students' magical fatigue is worsening."
Jericho's recent anorexia was no longer an isolated incident—it was just the first symptom.
Hogwarts wasn't just a school—it was Moriarty's stronghold, his command center in the intricate web of plans he had laid. Anyone foolish enough to endanger it would face his full wrath.
With a narrowed gaze, Moriarty turned back toward the castle. He needed to gather Lilith and Jericho, and seek out the Headless Horseman.
That's when he heard someone call his name.
"Moriarty? Moriarty! Moriarty!"
The voice rang out, urgent and panicked, drawing closer.
He turned to see Penelope Clearwater sprinting toward him, her Ravenclaw Quidditch robes fluttering in the wind.
"Moriarty!" she gasped, breathless. "Thank Merlin I found you!"
"Come with me!" Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed Moriarty's arm and tugged.
"Quidditch pitch?" Moriarty noticed her attire and deduced trouble. Penelope would never panic like this otherwise.
"Yes! The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws are about to fight—really fight!" she cried, on the verge of tears. "Oliver's gone to get a professor, but I don't know if he'll make it back in time!"
"Hold onto my neck."
"What?" Penelope blinked, confused.
"Just do it. Now."
Before she could process his words, Moriarty slipped one arm beneath her shoulders and another under her knees, lifting her into a princess carry.
Penelope's breath caught in her throat. Her cheeks turned bright red, and her mind filled with images from romance novels.
She was about to object when Moriarty muttered a series of unfamiliar incantations. Suddenly, the ground dropped away from beneath her feet.
"Ahh!"
Clinging to him tightly, she instinctively looped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek to his chest. A roaring wind rushed past her ears.
They were flying.
"Moriarty, you—can fly?"
Her voice was soft, filled with awe and a touch of embarrassment. Now she understood why he asked her to hold tight. She'd been imagining something else entirely.
"We don't have time to waste," Moriarty said coldly. "I don't want to see House rivalry turn into civil war."
He held her securely as they soared over the castle grounds.
"But why did Oliver go to the professor? What about Charlie? He's Gryffindor's captain. He should be handling this."
Penelope's voice trembled as she explained.
"Ravenclaw had a tryout at two. I signed up along with half our House. Everything was fine—until Gryffindor stormed in. Charlie led them. He claimed they had booked the pitch for their own tryouts. Percy wasn't there, but Charlie looked furious. A seventh-year shoved Oliver, and our captain got into a shouting match with Charlie. It got worse. More students gathered, and it turned into a screaming match. Oliver ran to find a professor, and I went searching too... That's when I found you."
Tears welled in her eyes. She nestled deeper into Moriarty's arms, trying to calm her pounding heart.
He didn't stop her, so she relaxed slightly, curling up like a kitten and enjoying the warmth of his chest.
But just as she began to find comfort, Moriarty descended rapidly toward the Quidditch pitch.
From above, the situation was dire.
Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were locked in a brawl. A Ravenclaw girl lay crying on the ground, likely with a twisted ankle. Gryffindor boys brandished their brooms like weapons, ready to strike. Charlie Weasley, his face as red as his hair, was chasing after the Ravenclaw captain, fury blazing in his eyes.
Penelope gasped. "My new Nimbus Seven-Star! Someone's smashed it!"
She spotted Gryffindor girls pulling at Ravenclaw girls' hair, and fury flared in her eyes. She squirmed in Moriarty's grasp, ready to leap into the chaos.
Gryffindor clearly had the upper hand in numbers and aggression. But the Ravenclaws hadn't forgotten who they were—more than twenty students had drawn their wands.
Twenty Gryffindors lay groaning on the ground, clear proof of retaliation.
Moriarty's eyes turned glacial. This wasn't a skirmish—it was a war zone.
He summoned the Slytherin Staff from the system space, raising it high toward the sky. Magic surged from his body like a tidal wave, distorting the very air around them.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
He cast the spell, not once, but dozens of times in rapid succession. The silver ropes burst from the staff like a hail of arrows, binding students in place mid-action.
Some dropped their brooms. Others froze mid-lunge. The entire pitch fell into eerie stillness.
Charlie tried to rise again, rage burning in his eyes, but Moriarty fixed him with a stare so cold it made him falter.
A seventh-year Ravenclaw transfigured into a golden blade and cut through the restraints—but Moriarty was quicker.
"Stupefy."
A burst of red light knocked both Charlie and the Ravenclaw back.
Landing gently on the pitch with Penelope still in his arms, Moriarty tapped the ground with his staff.
"Stupefy."
Both instigators crumpled.
He ignored their unconscious bodies. Their punishment would come later.
He strode between the rows of immobilized students. When he reached each one, he pointed the staff at their foreheads, eyes filled with unspoken judgment.
They could feel it—his disappointment, his fury, his authority. It hit harder than any hex.
PS :
5 chapters every two days on Patreon!!
1 chapter every day here!
JOIN MY PATREON TO READ ADVANCE CHAPTERS
We're already at Chapter 150 on Patreon!
▶ patreon.com/HACKDWORLD ◀