Moriarty's trip to the Forbidden Forest ended when Hagrid gave the sage and mallow to the centaur Bane, but he got a tip from Firenze, and Marcus grew closer to Hagrid. Relationships, after all, could be rewarding.
The next morning, Moriarty began a new day. What differed from before was that whenever he encountered a student, a professor, or even a ghost, he would ask about Peeves.
Soon, the entire school knew Moriarty was interested in Peeves. At the same time, they realized Peeves hadn't been seen in a while. Just as if he could read minds, Peeves finally made an appearance.
However, Moriarty noticed that Peeves actively avoided him, going out of his way to steer clear of any encounters.
November arrived, and with it came the biting cold. The mountains surrounding Hogwarts turned gray, coated with snow and ice. The Black Lake, once fluid and rippling, now appeared as solid as hardened steel.
Each morning and evening, frost covered the ground. Moriarty took to venturing outside at these hours, allowing his water-elemental magic to attune itself to the freezing air. The forces of nature had a way of stimulating his magical abilities, and he could feel the barriers to his next breakthrough weakening.
Moriarty's daily routine was packed with activities: dueling Tonks at dawn, occasionally brewing potions, and, when not in class, practicing spells on the frozen lake.
At midday, he memorized potion formulas.
In the afternoon, he attended classes when scheduled. Otherwise, he studied Ancient Runes and Latin in the library, where he sometimes encountered Gemma Farley.
At night, he applied his knowledge to the spells left behind by Salazar Slytherin. He estimated that within days, he would have mastered the flight spell.
His rigorous schedule left little room for socializing, which frustrated Jericho, who was eager to discuss Quidditch tactics.
"We're up against Gryffindor soon!" Jericho exclaimed in the common room, slapping the table. "But Prefects William and Leon are busy with exams, and I can't even find Moriarty! Are we just going to let Percy Weasley gloat over our defeat?"
The heavy stone door to the common room swung open abruptly. Marcus burst in, looking flustered.
"Where's Mr. Moriarty? Professor McGonagall wants him in the headmaster's office!"
"Why?" Jericho asked, frowning.
"I don't know," Marcus said hoarsely, "but I saw the Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold, and a reporter—Rita Sturt?"
"It's Rita Skeeter," Lilith corrected, rising from the sofa where she had been seated with several other girls.
"She's a third-rate journalist who'll sell out anyone for a scoop," Lilith added, crossing her arms. "But oddly enough, she's respectful toward Moriarty."
"As for Minister Bagnold," she continued with confidence, "her position is shaky right now. If she's here, she probably needs Moriarty for something rather than to trouble him."
Jericho sighed. "So where is he? If he's not practicing spells alone, he's with Tonks or Gemma. Finding him is a nightmare."
Lilith merely flicked her long hair over her shoulder and exited the common room with an air of importance.
Marcus stared after her. "What's gotten into her?"
Jericho shrugged. "No idea. But ever since Moriarty started vanishing on us, she's been just as elusive. I feel abandoned."
"So… where should I look for him?" Marcus asked, glancing around hopefully.
Just as the common room began to buzz with concern over Moriarty's whereabouts, the Bloody Baron glided into the room.
"Go to the headmaster's office. The password is 'Fizzing Whizzbee,'" the Baron said in his usual eerie tone. "We'll discuss our business later."
"Understood," Moriarty responded, stepping onto the moving staircase that led up to the headmaster's office.
The Bloody Baron watched him leave, a fleeting trace of unease on his spectral face.
At the entrance, Moriarty addressed the stone gargoyle. "Fizzing Whizzbee."
"Ah, hello, Slytherin! Your ever-loyal guardian of the headmaster's office, Paro, salutes you!" the gargoyle bellowed theatrically before shifting aside to reveal the spiraling staircase.
Moriarty ignored the gargoyle's antics and ascended into the office.
The room was a grand circular chamber filled with peculiar silver instruments, all whirring and emitting puffs of smoke.
Portraits of past headmasters lined the walls, their painted eyes scrutinizing him intently.
"Ah, Mr. Slytherin, I've been waiting for you," the Sorting Hat chimed in from its perch.
Its comment drew the attention of those gathered in the room.
Dumbledore sat behind his grand desk, smiling serenely. Professor McGonagall was present, her posture rigid. Snape loomed in his usual ominous manner.
A woman Moriarty did not recognize stood near the desk, flanked by a burly wizard.
"Ah, Moriarty, my boy," Dumbledore greeted warmly. "This is the Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold, and her advisor, Cornelius Fudge."
So this was Fudge? Moriarty scrutinized the man, recalling that he would later rise to the position of Minister. He was stockier than expected—no doubt he'd gain even more weight in the coming years.
"Good morning, Minister. Mr. Fudge." Moriarty greeted politely.
Fudge exchanged a glance with Bagnold before extracting a parchment and a gleaming silver badge from his bag.
Reading from the parchment, he announced, "In recognition of Moriarty Slytherin's groundbreaking contributions to Transfiguration—particularly his works on 'The Art of Transfiguration: Ancient and Modern,' 'The Five Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration,' and 'Animagus and Elemental Metamorphosis'—the members of Transfiguration Today have awarded him the Most Promising Newcomer Award."
Applause followed.
Dumbledore beamed. McGonagall clapped heartily. Even Snape inclined his head slightly in approval.
Fudge handed Moriarty the badge and parchment before waving to the door.
Rita Skeeter entered, camera in hand.
"Come now, Mr. Slytherin," Fudge said eagerly. "Stand with the Minister for a photograph—it'll make the front page."
Moriarty narrowed his eyes. "I refuse."
The room fell silent.
"What?" Fudge stammered. "But—haha…" He turned to Dumbledore, searching for support.
Bagnold's already weary expression darkened.
Moriarty glanced at the politicians and spoke coolly. "I have no interest in publicity. When Rita wanted me to pose for Gilderoy Lockhart's books, I declined. Why would this be any different?"
Rita smiled awkwardly, lowering her camera slightly.
"As for the so-called prestige of being photographed with the Minister," Moriarty added, "I don't need it. Let's be honest—no one in this room is wealthier than me."
Another wave of silence swept through the office.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, Fudge, let's not trouble young Moriarty. It wouldn't do to upset a Slytherin heir, after all."
"Uh… yes, of course." Fudge wiped his brow, glancing at Bagnold.
The Minister stiffly nodded at Dumbledore. "Goodbye, Albus."
Then, sparing Moriarty a cold look, she strode out of the office.
Fudge trailed after her, bowing to everyone as he left. Rita followed, casting Moriarty one last unreadable glance.
"She won't be Minister for much longer, will she?" Moriarty remarked to Dumbledore.