*Narrator pov*
Lord Mulciber felt suffocated as he entered his lord's chambers. He grumbled in his mind at how he was always the one elected to deliver the bad news.
"Mulciber what is it?" Voldemort snipped as he paged through an old-looking tome
Tension formed on Mulcibers face. He hesitated before speaking carefully, "Im sorry to interrupt your study, my lord but, it seems we have some trouble." he winced as Voldemort looked up sharply from his book
Squinting Voldemort didn't bother to ask permission and immediately made eye contact dipping into Mulciber's mind.
Mulciber didn't resist he instead brought the memory of him learning of the unfortunate demise of their members to the forefront of his mind.
Voldemort watched the memory intently a scowl starting to form on his face, it deepened as he saw the names of his people that died. Then he saw the photos and a growl bubbled at the back of his throat, "Who did this?" he asked sharply knowing Mulciber didn't have the answer
Mulciber made a strangled noise, "We don't know, our contacts inside the ministry say no one saw anything. There weren't any residual traces of magic either whoever did this was a professional."
A hiss broke out from Voldemort's lips as he said something in parseltongue, "ARGH!" Mulciber grunted in pain as the torture course fell over him
The intense soul-wrenching pain bulldozed through his body and just as he was about to scream again the pain vanished now just phantom jolts remained.
"Find him!" Voldemort hissed, "I don't care how long it takes! Find HIM!"
Mulciber stood shakily nodding, "Of course my lord." he bowed slightly then backed out of the door
Once left alone Voldemort snorted, "Antagonizing me after my last attack? How moronic!" he swore moving over to his desk he moved the book he was reading earlier revealing a poster that lay beneath it
It read 'Ballycastle bats versus the Kenmare Kestrels! Saturday: six pm start time'
***
Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour paced the room, his golden eyes blazing behind his wire-rimmed glasses as he growled, "How could an attack on a multitude of unknown Death Eaters go completely unseen? And in broad daylight, no less?" His frustration reverberated through the chamber, causing a few nearby Aurors to flinch.
Aurors Greaves, seated across the room, raised an eyebrow. "It's like they vanished without a trace, sir. We've checked every inch of the alley, the apothecary, the bookstore, and the pub where the bodies were found. Not a single residual trace of magic was left behind."
Scrimgeour's scowl deepened. "No one saw anything? Not one witness? Not one wizard wandering past? This is the middle of Diagon Alley we're talking about, not some dark corner of Knockturn."
The room exchanged glances, a ripple of unease passing through the team. They had handled brutal attacks, mysterious spells, and endless dark magic artifacts, but never anything so flawlessly hidden.
"That's not all, sir," Auror skye spoke up, looking both hesitant and serious. "The bodies… well, they were arranged. Laid out almost… ceremoniously. Whoever did this, they wanted us to find them like that. It wasn't just an attack—it was a message."
Scrimgeour's lips twisted in distaste. "So we're dealing with a vigilante who knows enough to erase magical traces but also has the gall to leave bodies on display? Do we have any leads?"
Greaves shook his head. "Nothing solid. Whoever they are, they're no amateur. There wasn't a hair out of place at the scene—no fingerprints, no magical signatures. They're a ghost."
Scrimgeour sighed, running a hand through his wiry hair. "Ghost or not, someone knows something. Someone saw something. I want every contact questioned, every surveillance spell checked. And if anyone so much as mutters a rumor, I want to hear about it."
An uneasy silence filled the room as the Aurors nodded.
***
A radiant harmonious smile bloomed upon Morpheus's lips, "Wards are protective enchantments woven around places, objects, or people. They prevent certain types of magic, creatures, or even people from entering an area. To create truly powerful wards, you need not just strong intent but a precise structure—a structure that is often enhanced with numbers. Just as numbers resonate in Divination, they hold energy that amplifies magical barriers."
He gestured to a triangle on the board with the number 3 written in each corner. "Three, as many of you know, is a number of harmony and stability. A ward created using the number three will create a balanced, enduring structure—a simple but resilient shield, often used to protect small spaces like a single room or an object."
"To create a ward using the number three," he continued, "you might perform the incantation three times or draw the protective symbol in three layers. Warding rings on doors or windows often follow this rule, creating a balance that subtly reinforces the magic's intent."
"Now, for a more complex ward," he said, "we turn to the number 7. Seven is the number of magic itself, of completeness, and is often associated with the mystical and the hidden. A ward based on seven is meant to conceal or protect against powerful threats. Many ancient tombs and magical libraries are shielded by wards designed with sevens."
He inscribed a circle on the board and divided it into seven segments. "Each segment of a seven-part ward represents a layer of magical energy. When you cast a ward using seven, you're creating a multi-layered barrier, each layer defending against a different form of intrusion—one for physical trespassers, another for magical influence, another for detection spells, and so on."
"Let's say you're casting a ward over an enchanted room. You could cast seven different spells, each with its own purpose, building layers of defense that make it nearly impenetrable to outside forces."
Morpheus paused, letting the implications settle in. "For the truly grand wards—those that guard entire estates, entire buildings—you might employ the number 12. Twelve is a number that binds together, used when the ward must be versatile yet absolute. It aligns with the cycle of the twelve hours, the twelve months, encompassing all times, all seasons."
He drew a larger diagram on the board, a dodecagon divided into twelve points. "A twelve-part ward is known as a master ward, sometimes called a 'Cycling Ward' because it maintains constant protection, day and night, without needing to be refreshed. Each point of twelve is a separate anchor in the protective enchantment, drawing strength from the energies that pass through the day. Such wards are formidable—ideal for vaults, ancestral manors, and places where magic must be sustained."
"Any questions?" he asked the group of students staring dazedly at him
"Um sir isn't this class supposed to be about divination? Not that I don't appreciate the lesson but we don't know anything about wards." Narcissa Black spoke up causing Morpheus to beam
"Yes, of course, you see I think you all need to understand more about numerology before we get into the divination practices that will take place next class. I noticed you all dozing off the other day, not in a mind-blown reality-shifted way either. You were disappointed in the subject matter and I understand that so, today I decided to show you how important numerology is to one of the most lucrative professions warders." He explained easily
"I see thank you, sir." She replied with a small smile though she looked embarrassed
"Listen, today's lesson had to do with divination too. A lot of these numbers have double meaning it's about understanding them at their core. Learning how they are used in other disciplines will help trust me. Now let's focus on your homework."
The class groaned in unison