Dark Wings Over Hogwarts

The Great Hall had long emptied, the echoes of students' chatter fading into the stone corridors as the first years followed their prefects to their respective dormitories. The castle, now bathed in the dim glow of enchanted torches, seemed to settle into a quiet, watchful slumber.

But in the highest tower of Hogwarts, three figures stood in the soft candlelight of the headmaster's office. The air carried a heavy sense of unease.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, fingers steepled together in thought, his piercing blue eyes shifting between the two men before him. To his right, Severus Snape stood rigid, arms folded, his dark gaze cold and calculating. Across from them, Zane Falconer leaned against the stone wall, his expression unreadable.

"The Philosopher's Stone is no ordinary artifact," Dumbledore began, his voice quiet yet firm. "We all understand what it is capable of… and why it must remain hidden."

Snape's lips curled slightly, his tone dripping with disdain. "Then perhaps leaving it in a school filled with children was not the wisest decision."

Dumbledore offered him a small, knowing smile. "Ah, but what safer place than Hogwarts?"

Zane, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "That depends on how many people know it's here." His voice was calm, yet sharp as a dagger. "The more who know, the greater the risk."

Snape gave a short, approving nod. "For once, I agree."

Dumbledore exhaled slowly. "There are only a handful who are aware of the Stone's presence. But there has already been an attempt to breach Gringotts. I have reason to believe that whoever sought it there may soon turn their attention here."

Zane narrowed his eyes slightly. "And you believe the threat is already inside the castle."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Professor Quirrell returned from his travels… changed."

Snape scoffed. "Weak. Terrified of his own shadow. If he is a threat, it is only because he is easily controlled."

Zane's gaze didn't waver. "That's exactly what makes him dangerous. A man with his own ambitions can be predicted. A man who's merely a pawn? Much harder to track."

Dumbledore's expression remained serious. "I agree. There are gaps in his story, and his behavior is... inconsistent. I cannot yet say for certain, but caution is required."

The name sent a slight shiver through the air. Even Snape, ever composed, stiffened slightly at the mention of the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore turned to Zane. "I need you to be watchful, but discreet. Your position as a new professor will allow you to observe things others might miss."

Zane didn't hesitate. "Understood."

Snape gave him a sharp look. "And what exactly do you plan to do, Falconer? You are not an Auror."

Zane met Snape's gaze, unbothered. "No. But I have my ways."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled ever so slightly. "That, I do not doubt."

With their roles set, the meeting soon ended, and the castle returned to silence once more.

---

The Next Morning

Sunlight poured through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall as students gathered for their first proper morning at Hogwarts. Owls soared in, dropping letters and schedules onto plates still filled with breakfast. The chatter of eager students filled the air as they examined their timetables.

Among them, second to sixth years noticed a new addition—Combat Magic (Outdoor Grounds, 2:00 - 4:00 PM, Professor Falconer).

Silence spread across some tables before a flurry of murmurs broke out.

"A combat class? Like dueling?"

"Maybe Defense Against the Dark Arts, but more advanced?"

"What if we get to use real spells?!"

Excitement buzzed through the hall, but there was also uncertainty. Some older students whispered that if a new class was being introduced, it meant Hogwarts was expecting trouble.

At the staff table, Zane Falconer entered, his usual composed demeanor unchanged by the curious stares thrown his way. He made his way toward his seat, where McGonagall was already sipping her morning tea.

She glanced up at him. "Good morning, Professor Falconer."

"Professor," he replied with a nod, settling into his chair.

She placed a parchment in front of him. "I've arranged for an open area near the Quidditch field for your classes, as you requested. It will be warded for protection, but I assume you'll be handling additional security measures yourself?"

Zane skimmed through the details before nodding. "Yes. The fewer distractions, the better."

McGonagall gave a small approving nod. "I also trust you have finalized your curriculum?"

"I don't require textbooks," Zane said simply. "This class isn't about theory. It's about application."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "You'll be teaching without any written material?"

"They'll learn through experience," Zane stated. "Magic isn't just about knowing spells—it's about reacting under pressure, anticipating moves, and adapting. You don't memorize a fight. You survive it."

McGonagall studied him for a moment before nodding. "Very well. But do remember, these are still students."

"I haven't forgotten," he replied, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Across the hall, a group of Gryffindors and Slytherins eyed the schedule with mixed reactions.

"I bet he's gonna be tough," one of them muttered.

"I hope so," another said with a grin. "About time we had a class that wasn't just theory."

With that, the school day began, and Hogwarts welcomed the start of a new, uncertain year.