--
In one of the highest towers of Hogwarts castle, an office was situated: Dumbledore's office, a magical and enigmatic space, brimming with fascinating details that seemed to reflect the wisdom and eccentricity of its owner.
The walls, covered with towering bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling, contained myriad books, some ancient and dusty, others bright and new.
The spines of the books were engraved with enigmatic titles and strange symbols.
The room also contained furniture and decor that showcased its owner's peculiarity with a somewhat antique style.
Comfortable chairs and armchairs were scattered throughout the room.
There was also a variety of small tables and shelving units housing curious objects, such as crystal balls, astronomical instruments, and ancient artifacts.
The office was filled with bizarre and wonderful gadgets and contraptions like these.
There were telescopes that rotated on their own, clocks that ran backward, and devices that emitted strange lights and sounds.
One of the most prominent objects was the Pensieve, a stone bowl filled with a silvery liquid that allowed one to review memories.
The lighting was dim and magical.
Floating candles softly illuminated the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls and objects.
There were also lamps and lanterns placed strategically around the room, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.
The windows were tall and arched, offering panoramic views of the Hogwarts grounds.
Through the windows, one could see the shimmering lake, the dark and mysterious Forbidden Forest, and the rolling hills that surrounded the castle.
Similar to the interiors of the castle, the walls were adorned with living portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts.
A large, dark wood desk sat at the center of it all, covered in parchments, quills, inkwells, and other magical implements.
Sitting in the chair behind the desk was Dumbledore, who gently stroked his long, silvery beard.
The amber light of the candles danced on the half-moon lenses of his glasses.
In front of him was the Sorting Hat, who had previously selected the new students entering the school.
Although lacking definite facial features, a palpable current of nervousness emanated from its frayed seams and patched crown.
"It's not my fault, you know that very well!"
Exclaimed the Sorting Hat, its voice raspy and resonant. An imaginary bead of sweat trickled down its nonexistent forehead.
"Hmm..." Dumbledore murmured, with an expression of feigned bewilderment.
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, Hat. Could you be more specific?"
"You!" Accused the Hat, its voice rising in a crescendo of indignation.
"It was you who entrusted me with the task of thoroughly probing the boy's mind! You ordered me to examine every nook and cranny! You said I should spare no effort in discovering the truth about him!"
The memory of the experience seemed to make the Hat's fabric shudder. "And now you pretend you know nothing?!"
"Eh? Is this old man getting even older? I don't recall something like that..." Dumbledore said, his voice tinged with a feigned senility that fooled no one.
"You despicable old coot!" Bellowed the Hat. "Is it just because you don't like getting your hands dirty? Pretend and pretend... don't I, the Sorting Hat, know you well enough?!"
"Besides," it added, with a tone of justification.
"You can't blame me for sending him to Slytherin! If you had seen what I saw in his mind, you'd be just as rattled as I am! By Merlin's beard, that boy is a crucible of contradictions!"
Dumbledore's facade of cluelessness crumbled, revealing a glimpse of the cunning that lay hidden behind his twinkling blue eyes.
"I believe I indicated that you should place him in Gryffindor," he said, his voice laden with undeniable authority.
The atmosphere in the room turned colder.
The Sorting Hat cringed under Dumbledore's piercing gaze. "I know, I know! But... it was an accident! A simple mental lapse!"
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, observing the Hat with an intensity that seemed to penetrate it.
"You know," he said slowly, changing the subject abruptly.
"Now that I remember... how long has it been since you were washed? Now that I think about it, I've received several complaints from students about a certain... peculiar... odor emanating from you."
The Hat seemed to pale. "No! Anything but that!" it groaned, horrified.
The idea of a thorough wash, with all the detergent and vigorous scrubbing it would entail, was its worst nightmare. "Please, Albus! Anything, but don't wash me!"
"Why didn't you tell me he was a demigod? I would have been more careful!" exclaimed the Sorting Hat, its voice resonating with a mixture of exasperation and fear.
For a moment, there was silence, tense and thick as a potion about to explode. The silence was abruptly broken by a chorus of exclamations coming from the portraits that adorned the walls.
Especially that of Phineas Nigellus Black, whose name was elegantly calligraphed on a golden plaque below his frame.
"Ha! Interesting! A demigod wizard? How ironic! And best of all, he's a Slytherin!" he said with evident delight.
Another portraitist, Niamh Fitzgerald, a woman with a serene face and piercing gaze, commented, "It's truly rare. Not since Godric Gryffindor do I recall hearing about another case like this."
"After all, the conditions for it are difficult to achieve... Since the First Wizarding War in the Middle Ages, Merlin and other leaders signed a pact with the gods to avoid more unnecessary conflicts," explained a portrait of a portly man with a thick beard, Brian Gagwilde.
"Considering the widespread contempt of the gods towards humanity, and especially towards wizards, it is unlikely that they would wish to have offspring among us," added Limebert, a portrait of an intellectual-looking man with a monocle in his right eye.
"Olympus must currently be very far from Europe. Besides the treaty... It is really difficult for them to meet, and that's not to mention the monsters that are also included in the agreement," pointed out a portrait of a stern-looking woman with an elaborate hairstyle, Elizabeth Burke.
"Mmmh... Unfortunately, dear headmasters, I fear that the contract no longer functions as it once did," said Dumbledore, his voice resonating with an unusual gravity.
"Impossible! As proud as those bastards are, they wouldn't break the pact so easily. Unless..." said Fytherley Undercliffe, before making a terrible assumption.
"That's right, just what you imagine," confirmed Dumbledore, with a somber resignation in his eyes.
The faces of all the portraits looked noticeably scared and incredulous, even those who had not spoken exclaimed in surprise.
"This is..." murmured one.
"Unheard of!" exclaimed another.
"Impossible!" repeated a third.
"If that's the case, Albus... then the world is going to be chaos. Even the wizarding world may suffer a crisis!" said Edessa Sakndenberg, with a pale face.
"For what reason do you think I brought him to Hogwarts? In him I saw a ray of hope, capable of preventing the destruction of the wizarding world!" responded Dumbledore, his voice resonating with unwavering firmness.
"When I learned of his existence from an old friend of mine, I was very surprised, which is why I went to see him as soon as possible. Thank goodness I arrived in time and was able to save him from an attack by servants of the Underworld," continued Dumbledore, with a tone of relief mixed with concern.
"Albus, it's very risky too, you know that, right?" questioned Phineas Nigellus Black, his tone unusually serious.
"I'm just gambling," responded Dumbledore, with a defiant look in his eyes.
"You mustn't gamble with the future of the magical world, Albus! He could be a double-edged sword, or worse, a second Dark Lord!" warned Phineas Nigellus Black.
Hearing this, Dumbledore seemed to grow quite angry. "I never thought of him as a weapon, Phineas!" he exclaimed, his voice resonating with unusual force.
A momentary silence fell.
This time, in a calmer tone, Dumbledore said, "I will not make the same mistakes I made with Tom. Leo is a kind boy and is capable of forming affectionate bonds. I only hope I can guide him down the right path; he is still young..."
"Exactly. I believe the young man named Leo has the capacity to do great things, but there is also the possibility of falling into darkness," agreed Heliotrope Wilkins.
"You must keep a close watch on him. Not just for what he could become, but for what he could unleash. History tends to repeat itself, and the echoes of the past are dangerous," warned Phyllida Spore.
"Sometimes, Albus, the greatest danger is not the power itself, but the seduction of it. Remember the words of those who came before: 'The path to power is a labyrinth full of mirrors,'" recalled Vindictus Viridian.
"I know it all too well. The history of Hogwarts is full of forgotten lessons. We must be wise and act with caution. But young Leo also deserves to choose his own future," reflected Dumbledore, with a resolute glint in his eyes.
"Youth is arrogant, believing it can defy fate. But fate has curious ways of reminding us who we truly are. His choice will be crucial in the future of the Muggle world, as well as the magical one," emphasized Dexter Fortescue.
"Then, it will be our duty to guide him without interfering too much. Light and darkness are always in balance; perhaps he can find a way to stem the war that is to come," concluded Dumbledore, with renewed determination in his voice.
"Only time will reveal whether he can resist temptation or become another shadow in the history of the gods..." said Brian Gagwilde, and after his words, the portraits fell tacitly silent, pondering the uncertain future that awaited them.
Dumbledore sank heavily into his armchair, feeling the weight of the years and decisions upon his shoulders.
He looked at Fawkes, his loyal phoenix, who, sensing his master's somber mood, flew to him and perched gently on the back of the chair.
His golden feathers shone dimly, casting a halo of comfort.
With a trembling hand, Dumbledore offered a few gentle strokes to Fawkes, grateful for his silent companionship.
Then, his gaze drifted to the rolling hills surrounding Hogwarts castle.
"I hope I am not mistaken..."
--
The sun had already risen, but little of its light was reflected in the darkness of the great lake.
Leo, who had been sleeping soundly between the sheets, woke up naturally.
Still drowsy, he looked around and remembered that he was now at Hogwarts.
And today was his first day!
Glancing quickly at the small prop clock on his wrist, he realized that it was already late.
Apparently, Draco and his roommates had already left.
He quickly went through all his morning routines, dressed in his uniform, gathered the necessary books and tools, and rushed out the door.
If he remembered correctly, even though it was already nine in the morning, if he skipped breakfast he could make it to his first class on time.
Fortunately, classes at Hogwarts started at ten o'clock and there were three courses per day, each lasting one hour.
Making a total of twenty-one sessions per week. After all, with the number of students the school had, there wouldn't be enough time to hold so many classes with the limited number of teachers.
When he came out, several older students looked at him and whispered.
"Isn't that the boy who made the hat scream...?"
"Yeah? His Sorting Ceremony was very interesting."
"Do you remember his clothes?"
"There are rumors that he's an orphan and his parents must be Muggles..."
"What! Seriously? Then why was he sorted into Slytherin...?"
"Poor guy..."
The whispers followed Leo from the moment he stepped out of the dormitory.
Though there weren't many, as each had their own affairs, Leo still felt uncomfortable; he had never liked being the center of attention.
Ignoring the murmurs as much as he could, he tried to focus on finding his way to his first class.
But it was difficult, as the prefect had warned them the day before, Hogwarts was a labyrinth of constantly moving staircases and corridors.
Some were wide and clear, while others were narrow and rickety.
Some led to different places on Fridays, and others had a step that disappeared halfway, forcing students to remember it to avoid tripping.
He experienced this firsthand, as without anyone to guide him, he struggled to orient himself.
After several failed attempts and a couple of close encounters with walls and suits of armor, he finally found a path that seemed to lead in the right direction.
Determined not to be late, he began to run, turning corners and jumping over steps with the agility of a cat, and at one of the crossroads, he ran into two figures blocking his way.
Stopping abruptly to avoid crashing into them, he made his presence known.
"Huh? Leo?" they both said.
"Harry! Ron, it's you."
With a simple glance among the three, they understood the whole situation.
Apparently, they had all overslept and lost their way through life...
He and Harry looked like they had been through a storm: their ties and hair disheveled, shirt collars askew, both with flushed faces and breathing heavily.
"Wait! This isn't the time for reunions. We're late!" Ron said in a shaky, breathless voice.
"McGonagall is going to kill us!"
As if struck by lightning, the three soon started running.
Leo quickly took the lead and swiftly overtook them.
By a significant margin, just a few minutes later, with a loud sound, he opened the door and burst in with great momentum.
"I arrived first....!" Leo said but soon froze; all the students were already seated with their books open and a quill in hand.
They all looked at him as if he were an idiot, even some laughter could be heard in the background.
Being stared at like that made Leo feel a bit embarrassed, and he scratched his head.
It was then that he felt a particularly cold gaze fixed on his back.
With cold sweat running down his forehead, he looked up and found himself staring into the penetrating yellow eyes of a tabby cat sitting on the professor's desk.
His face paled upon hearing her speak.
"Mr. Leo Jackson," she said slowly and precisely, each word laden with disapproval. "I'm afraid you have arrived quite late."
'Damn...'
A few minutes later...
The classroom door was opened again.
"Harry, we made it! That bastard Leo got ahead of us, but look, the professor isn't here yet," Ron said, a mix of relief and exasperation in his voice.
Harry let out a sigh of relief but soon felt that something was wrong.
Looking around, he noticed that all the students were staring at them as if they were two chickens about to be sacrificed.
Following his classmates' gazes, Harry saw Leo in a corner of the classroom, surrounded by a depressive aura.
He was staring at the wall with his head down, as if he were being punished. But the most striking thing was the huge bump protruding from his head.
Apparently, Ron also noticed and soon his voice echoed in the classroom.
"Pfff... hahaha! What the hell happened to you, Leo!" Ron exclaimed, unable to contain his laughter.
"You look so stupid, haha what an idiot..." Ron wanted to keep teasing him but soon felt a tug on his sleeve.
"Harry, did you see Leo...?" Ron stammered but felt another tug on his sleeve, this time stronger.
When he finally turned around, he found himself staring at Harry's face, paler and more haggard than ever.
His expression was as ugly as a baby's cry, and his eyes were fixed on something behind Ron.
With his heart pounding, Ron followed the direction of Harry's gaze.
He saw Harry pointing with a trembling finger towards the desk at the front of the classroom.
Ron squinted, trying to focus his vision. At first, he only saw a tabby cat sitting on the desk, with an impassive expression on its feline face.
But then, right before his eyes, the cat began to transform. Its fur darkened, its ears elongated, and its body stretched, taking on the shape of a human figure.
In an instant, the tabby cat had transformed into the stern Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House and Transfiguration professor.
Her face was a mask of disapproval, and her eyes shone with an intensity that made Ron tremble to his bones.
"...". Harry, Ron.
Soon three students could be seen with large bumps on their heads, staring blankly at a wall...
Leo, upon seeing his friends in the same predicament, felt a kind of schadenfreude, especially when he looked at Ron; the glee was evident in his eyes, which did not go unnoticed by his two companions...