HR Chapter 62 The Unknown Conversation

In the corridors of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall hurried towards the headmaster's office.

At the entrance stood a gargoyle. Hogwarts had many such statues, but this one, guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office, was particularly striking.

"Acid Pops."

This peculiar password had only been used during Dumbledore's tenure. As the gargoyle shifted aside, Professor McGonagall quickly ascended the spiral staircase leading to the headmaster's office.

"Minerva, I trust the new batch of young wizards hasn't caused you any trouble?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes absorbed in an ancient book on the Deathly Hallows.

"No trouble, but I must admit, I'm feeling rather uneasy now," Professor McGonagall replied, her lips pressed together in concern. She stood before Dumbledore's desk, her expression serious and her voice laced with unease.

"Oh? What's happened?" Dumbledore looked up, his spectacles twinkling with curiosity.

"That boy who is related to Snape, today in Transfiguration class..." Professor McGonagall recounted the events that had unfolded during her lesson with the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students.

"I've never seen such exaggerated progress. It's as though he leaped several years ahead in his studies, accomplishing feats that even many older students couldn't achieve."

Her voice still carried a sense of disbelief, as though Ian's performance was fresh in her mind.

"This just goes to show how effective your teaching is, Minerva. Surely that's something to be proud of? I must admit, I'm a little envious— soon you'll have an exceptional Transfiguration assistant."

"Professor Snape will surely be jealous," Dumbledore added with a knowing smile, his tone calm in contrast to the concern that clouded Professor McGonagall's face.

"I've always hoped a talented young wizard would become my assistant, but his talent isn't just exceptional— it's somewhat unsettling."

Professor McGonagall sighed, her worry deepening.

"It's undeniable that Mr. Prince's performance is extraordinary. I've met many brilliant students, but never one who would make even me feel envious of their potential."

"He is brilliant, confident, composed... and he seemed unstoppable."

Dumbledore closed the book he was reading and met Professor McGonagall's gaze with calm eyes. "There have been wizards like this in history."

At Dumbledore's words, Professor McGonagall frowned.

"Who?"

She prided herself on her knowledge of magical history. Though she may have nodded off during classes as a student, over the years, she has revisited and refreshed her knowledge in numerous areas.

"Merlin Ambrosius."

Dumbledore's smile remained unchanged as he spoke.

"..."

Professor McGonagall's eyes widened with a mix of disbelief and horror flashing across her face. Merlin's name had not crossed her mind, and yet there it was. Merlin! The wizarding world invoked his name with reverence, often saying, "Merlin's beard!" That alone spoke volumes about the weight of that name.

"You're comparing the boy to Merlin?" Professor McGonagall's face contorted in disbelief. She wondered if Dumbledore was beginning to show signs of age.

"After the Sorting Hat made its decision, I delved into several books and documents to better understand certain things." Dumbledore placed his hand on the desk.

"There are indeed wizards who are fundamentally different from us."

"They perceive a magical world beyond our sight and experience wonders we can't even begin to fathom. That's why they rise like comets."

"Minerva, we must acknowledge genius when we see it. It's not their fault." Dumbledore spoke softly, as if imparting another lesson to the ever-curious, cat-loving professor.

"Aren't you also one of those geniuses?"

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow, her confusion deepening.

"Well, without boasting about myself but I am a genius." Dumbledore readily accepted the title, before his tone shifted slightly.

"However, compared to the four founders of Hogwarts, there is still a gap between them and me. And Ian, this boy, was chosen by the Sorting Hat as the heir of Rowena Ravenclaw."

"We must trust the Sorting Hat's judgment. The heir of Ravenclaw would not be someone of ill repute." Dumbledore spoke with a certainty that invoked the names of Hogwarts' founders.

Professor McGonagall remained unmoved.

"That's not the point. We're talking about Merlin!"

If wizards had a god, it would undoubtedly be Merlin.

Professor McGonagall was a firm believer in that.

"This is a fact, Minerva. Ian may not reach Merlin's heights, but he certainly has talent reminiscent of Merlin's. I trust my judgment on this."

Dumbledore's mind briefly wandered to recent events, his tone growing more resolute.

Professor McGonagall couldn't think of a rebuttal.

"Regardless, Albus, Mr. Prince stood beside young Grindelwald at the start of term," She said, attempting to change the subject.

She was baffled as to why Dumbledore seemed so unconcerned.

If Dumbledore believed Ian had talent akin to Merlin's, should he not be more cautious? The boy was already performing advanced Transfiguration techniques in his first year!

Will you, Dumbledore, still be able to keep him in check in a few years?

Has the trauma of Voldemort truly healed?

Then wouldn't those of us who've been living in fear under your leadership look like fools?

"Of course, I've noticed that."

Unaware of Professor McGonagall's inner turmoil, Dumbledore continued to reassure her. "But isn't this exactly what we want to see? Young wizards forming friendships at Hogwarts."

At this, Professor McGonagall nodded reluctantly.

"I know we shouldn't be prejudiced, and I'm doing my best not to be. But I need to know if your old friend has been filling their heads with... dangerous ideas."

"We all know the man's capabilities and methods. If he's already swayed them, even the four founders might not be able to guide them back to the right path."

Professor McGonagall's words were blunt, her unease palpable. Dumbledore paused, considering her words before speaking slowly.

"I can't confirm that for you, but I can assure you that Gellert Grindelwald's ideology cannot take root in those with firm convictions."

"I believe Mr. Prince will not disappoint us in this regard." Dumbledore's tone remained calm, not as stern as Professor McGonagall had expected.

"And what about young Grindelwald?"

Professor McGonagall's heart was filled with doubt and concern.

"Setting aside talent, I actually think Ian Prince resembles a younger version of myself in some ways. So you needn't worry about Miss Grindelwald influencing Ian."

At Dumbledore's words, Professor McGonagall was skeptical.

"Minerva, you've misunderstood something." Dumbledore spoke softly.

He looked up, his gaze steady and clear, his deep eyes cutting through the fog.

"That day, it was Miss Grindelwald who stood beside Ian Prince... That is something you must recognize." His voice was soft but carried an undeniable weight.

The words echoed softly in the office, then quickly faded.

The firelight in the hearth seemed to flicker in time with Dumbledore's contemplative gaze.

In the stillness, the portraits on the walls seemed unusually noisy, much like the swirling thoughts in Professor McGonagall's mind as her pupils constricted.

(End of Chapter)

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