Severus removes a folded up sheet of paper from his breast pocket, and hands it over - clearly a copy of the original, made from childish clippings of words and letters; it's the battle cry Penelope was left with, the attackers declaring they know what she is and what will happen to her, and those like her, who continue to practice magic.

"Considering the city runs on magic, I'd say they aren't the brightest, but there's probably a fair number, if not with the few I've tracked, then associated with them by proxy."