The castle was unusually loud for this time of month, with all the students away on summer break. The only sounds were shuffling footsteps and hushed, worried voices. The stone walls loomed over them. The ghost of Eddie Cleaver wafted through every once in a while, trying to eavesdrop on what he could report back to the other ghosts. 

"Poppy has him in the infirmary now. He's injured quite badly." Pomona Sprout dragged a hand across her face, running a hand through deflated salt and pepper hair, rollers taken out prematurely. 

"Badly is an understatement, the fact that he's not five times dead is nothing short of a miracle." Filius Flitwick said gravely, pushing back his hair, as he fidgeted with the sleeve buttons on his navy crushed velvet pyjamas. 

"Hagrid, exactly what happened?" 

 "I told yer, I Let Fang out to do his business, and the great lump comes runnin' back, howlin' his head off, he was. And that's when I found 'im—lyin' face down in the mud, still as the graves, I swear ter yeh." Hagrid paced up and down, clearly distraught. His large figure cast huge shadows on the castle walls, rippling and fast-paced. Fang was lying down on the floor and whining, clearly upset by the night's incidents. 

A pair of familiar black patent low heels clacking against the stone floors made themselves heard, as Minerva McGonagall made herself known. Face severe and nightgown swishing behind her like a river of red. A fitting colour for the situation at hand.  

"Poppy sent me a Patronus message, our unexpected guest is in the infirmary?" She said, getting right down to business. If there was one thing she was known for, it was being punctual. 

"That's right, we're all heading up to Dumbledore's office now, we're just waiting for-" 

"I'm here," Severus Snape seemingly materialised out of nowhere, vampire-esque black robes donned. But if you looked closely, you could see the buttons near the collar were askew. 

"Hagrid, I think it would be better if you got some rest, you've done more than enough." Filius said kindly. 

"Alright, I s'pose I should be gettin' to bed, eh? Fang too, poor lad needs his rest. " Hagrid rang out his hands as he prepared to leave, Fang trailing behind him loyally. 

"But if somethin' else happens to 'im, will ya let me know? Promise me that, yeah?"

"Of course, Hagrid," Minerva said kindly.

They watched as his giant figure retreated down the hallway, and they all gave each other varying degrees of nods. 

None of them bothered to say anything and instead opted for silently making their way up to the headmaster's office in utter silence. The ghosts watched from afar, wondering about the poor, unfortunate soul who was currently face down on a bed in the hospital ward, looking no better than they did. They wondered if they would have a new ghost in their ranks soon enough. 

"Liquorice Allsorts," Minerva said to the gargoyle, which nodded its stony head and revealed the staircase. Various robes swished and various types of footsteps clacked as they all made their way up the spiral staircase.    

 The flickering glow of enchanted candles cast soft, dancing shadows along the walls, illuminating shelves overflowing with books and gold trinkets. The air was decadent with the scent of old parchment, a faint trace of lemon drops, and the warmth of aged wood.

Fawkes was perched on his golden stand near the desk, looking extremely annoyed at this intrusion at such an ungodly hour. The expression showed quite well on his face, considering he was a bird. 

 The portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses lined the walls. Most were either asleep or absent, but a few gazed down at the commotion with a mix of curiosity and slight worry, their frames creaking softly as they shifted. 

 Albus Dumbledore was at his mahogany partner's desk, looking alert, ready for the conversation about to begin. Some of them briefly wondered if he had gone to bed at all.

"I understand that a visitor has made their way across the wards." Dumbledore interlaced his fingers. His eyes were careful and calculative, every single possibly going through his brain one at a time until he found one that made a modicum of sense. 

Before anyone could say anything, the fireplace flashed bright green, and Madam Pomfrey emerged, her usual dimpled smile replaced by nothing but stone-cold professional seriousness. All eyes instantly turned to her.

"This is quite serious, the boy's wounds are dire, but not impossible to treat. I've stabilised him for now, but he'll need extensive treatment and enough healing potions to fill the lake. " She walked into the room, leaving no room for the usual greetings.  Everyone glanced at her surgical apron that was stained with blood and took a sharp breath in at the sight. 

"Poppy," Albus nodded his head towards her, the gold charms on his robe collar clinking every so slightly as he did

"Do you have any clue as to who he is, or what happened to him?" Albus rested his hands on his desk, his eyes were less twinkly and more concerned. 

"It wasn't a cutting curse like I thought.  He was whipped. Thirty-three times exactly...I think it was a punishment of sorts. They're precise. Whoever did this wanted to suffer for something he did. I think the number is significant somehow." Poppy looked positively nauseous at the words that came out of her mouth. 

Everyone seemed to mull this over in their head. He was whipped? Punished? Not even with a spell, but an actual whip that somebody went through the trouble of procuring? What could the boy, and he was just a boy, have possibly done to deserve something like that? Nobody was too sure if they really wanted to know. 

"Are we certain he's human? The Forbidden Forest is home to nymphs and dryads deep within, though they are seldom seen. If he was, then that would be how he got past the wards." Professor Flitwick interjected, grasping at straws. He knew he was grasping at straws, but that seemed like the only way somebody could have crossed the wards. 

"You forget that nymphs bleed blue. The boy's blood is red, and there is a lot of it." Severus hastily added as he gestured to Madam Pomfrey's apron. Filius winced at the mere sight of it. He never had the stomach for these things; the main reason why he never went down the career path of a healer. 

"Although the boy may not be a nymph, his magic seems, old. Ancient even. Powerful, it's clear he's far from a novice despite his age." Minerva said thoughtfully.

 Yet another fact to ponder. He was someone powerful, and yet something like that managed to happen to him. Did he willingly take his punishment, was he incapacitated somehow? Perhaps someone bested him. 

"It's clear he is someone not to be taken too lightly. The mere fact he crossed the wards undetected warrants special treatment, he could be highly dangerous. A dark wizard, even." Severus said, ever the suspicious pessimist. 

"I highly doubt it, Severus," Poppy said, her protectiveness for the boy rising higher and higher by the second. She could usually tell right away whether somebody had an evil heart. Call her an optimist, a Legilimens, or perhaps most accurately, a Hufflepuff. 

But she just knew when somebody was good or evil. And whatever punishment this boy had received, she just knew he didn't deserve it. 

"I don't think he could have crossed them with the state he's in now." Minerva pondered the idea in her head for a few more moments..It was a slight stretch but, it wasn't a completely outlandish concept. 

"What do you mean?" Filius interjected, wiping a smudge on his glasses with his sleeve as he did. 

"It has not been the first time Hogwarts has given aid to someone in need. It would be best if you remembered the castle is an entity of its own. It has emotions and judgement." Dumbledore said, weighing the idea. he tilted his head to the side as though he agreed with Minerva. 

"You think the wards gave him sanctuary?" Severus questioned. Everyone in the room seemed to evaluate the statement.

 It wasn't completely impossible, the wards had let people in before. A weary travelling potions salesman caught out in a bitter storm, a second-year student fleeing from an abusive household, and a battle-hardened Auror running from their latest brush with danger.

 It...made sense. Out of all the theories they thought up, it made the most sense. If anyone had a reason to seek out sanctuary, it would probably be the nymph-like boy currently lying face down on the hospital gurney.  

"We shall do our best to find out whether he is truly a threat very soon. But for now, we will tend to his wounds and do our best to keep him in a stable state. The term has not started, so there is no major rush. Once he wakes, we will find out exactly who he is and where he belongs." Albus evenly said, his tone relaxed.

Everyone agreed with that, preparation and certain spells would need to be put in place just in case things didn't work out in their favour. They had their work cut out for them, and a sleepless night ahead of them. But one thing would be sure, they would find out just who he was. And if he needed more than physical help, they would try to provide it.