The room erupts into chaos as men descend through the ceiling windows, a helicopter hovering above with ropes attached to their gear. Suddenly, a man with gray hair, dressed in black gear and sunglasses, also drops down. The headmistress, Miss Fritton, approaches him.

Miss Fritton: "Quite the entrance. Of course, one could have used the front door."

The man removes his sunglasses. "Yes... but it wouldn't have looked nearly as cool." He walks around the girls' sleeping quarters, surveying the room. "I hope you don't mind me dropping in," he says with a growl, barking at some of the girls and making the girls jump.

He grabs a wooden pillar and spins back to face Miss Fritton. "I've just come to collect on a debt you Frittons have owed for... oh, 420 years, or so." Miss Fritton looks surprised. "You're a Pomfrey."

The man smiles, eyeing her up and down. "Clever girl, Sir Piers Pomfrey, to be exact." He grabs the headmistress’s hand, seemingly as an introduction, and quietly slips off her ring. As this exchange takes place, a sudden commotion from you draws their attention.