"Haagen-Dazs!"
Standing on the third floor, Dumbledore spoke the password, and the stone gargoyle sprang to life, jumping aside as the wall behind it split open.
A spiraling staircase slowly rose into view, moving upward like an escalator.
As soon as Dumbledore and William stepped on, the wall rumbled shut behind them, and they ascended smoothly, like an elevator.
William couldn't help but think that such a device should be available throughout the school. Why should only the Headmaster get an elevator while students had to take the stairs?
Soon, they arrived before a gleaming oak door with a brass griffin-shaped knocker.
William gave the knocker a wary look; he'd developed a sensitivity toward such objects lately.
They stepped inside, and Dumbledore began jotting something down on a piece of parchment.
William stood alone in the Headmaster's office for the first time, taking in his surroundings.
It was a spacious, beautifully round room, filled with an array of funny little sounds. Long-legged tables held peculiar silver instruments, each whirring, emitting puffs of smoke.
Portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses lined the walls, each one lightly snoring in their frame.
A massive claw-foot desk occupied one corner of the room, and on a shelf behind it sat the worn, crumpled Sorting Hat.
Before long, Dumbledore finished writing, tossed the parchment into the fireplace, and, with a flare of flame, it vanished.
William guessed it was a letter to the Ministry—why else would Fudge and his people have arrived so quickly?
With that done, Dumbledore turned to William, giving him a serious look but not yet engaging in any deep discussion.
"William, there are still a few things I need to verify. Stay here and don't wander," he said.
"You can have lunch here; feel free to browse the books if you'd like."
William nodded eagerly.
Dumbledore left, closing the door behind him.
Once he was gone, the portraits of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses stopped pretending to sleep, they opened their eyes and stared at William.
It seemed they hadn't seen a new face in some time, and there was a stir of excitement as some even left their frames to go call other portraits back.
Under such scrutiny, William felt slightly uncomfortable. But thankfully, there were familiar things around to distract him.
Slipping around the desk, he picked up the Sorting Hat, studying it closely rather than placing it on his head.
The hat was as ragged and stained as ever, as if it hadn't been washed in centuries.
Suddenly, a small voice spoke up, "So, you're still alive, William Stark?"
"I figured Snape would've finished you off by now."
Just the mention of Snape made William's temper flare. He grinned, not entirely kindly. "Well, thanks to your 'kindness,' I'm still here, and Professor Snape? He's went to Azkaban."
"…"
"Oh, right—where's that little spider?" William asked.
The Sorting Hat grew defensive. "Why do you ask?"
Before it could say another word, a small spider crawled out of a ball of tangled yarn. It looked as though it had just woken up.
"Still here, huh?" William mused, peering at the spider with suspicion. "Strange. I thought Acromantula hatchlings were supposed to be much larger."
After nearly a year at Hogwarts, William was no longer a clueless first-year; he'd picked up quite a bit of knowledge.
Acromantula eggs were typically the size of golf balls, and this spider was suspiciously small.
"It's a runt," the Sorting Hat explained. "Poor thing was shunned by its own kind for its size."
"That's… an extreme mutation," William muttered, frowning.
He had yet to encounter a creature whose parent was two meters tall while it was practically a dwarf. Either the spider was an anomaly, or there had been some suspicious business in its lineage.
Glancing at the Sorting Hat, William had half a mind to wash it while Dumbledore was away. But considering the situation, he decided against it.
Anyway, he wouldn't have to wear it again; he'd leave that "pleasure" to the younger students.
Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, sat nearby on its gold perch, the size of a large swan, its red and gold feathers shining brightly.
It tilted its head and blinked kindly at William, who swallowed. He had to admit he'd never tasted Scottish Longlegs before.
Leaving the hat, William walked to the window and looked outside.
Students were already making their way back to the castle, with Cho, Cedric, and the Weasley twins scanning the grounds, clearly searching for him.
Once they'd all left the Quidditch pitch, William stepped away from the window and returned to the office.
With Dumbledore yet to return, William grew bored and decided to take his advice and browse the bookshelves.
The prestige of reading in the Headmaster's office was unmatched.
He opened a side door, only to gasp at the sight of shelves crammed with books, like a small private library.
He gravitated toward a shelf labeled "Study Materials."
From experience, William knew that "study" folders on computers often hid not-so-scholarly contents, so he couldn't help but wonder if there were treasures hidden here as well.
But he was overthinking; these were indeed study materials.
Flipping through a few volumes, he noticed they were pristine, without even a crease, as though they'd never been touched.
Shaking his head, William figured that anyone keeping books in their office probably wasn't reading them.
Apparently, even Dumbledore wasn't immune to this tendency.
Wait… glancing at the author's name, William realized they were all written by Dumbledore himself.
Correction. My apologies.
Skimming further, he found that most of the books were either Dumbledore's own works or collaborations with other famous wizards.
There were also numerous prominent journals, like Charm Innovation and Practical Potions Mastery, each filled with articles authored by Dumbledore.
These journals were like the wizarding equivalent of academic papers.
For an average person, publishing even one article in these journals could be a monumental challenge. Dumbledore, however, had started publishing in fourth year and had authored thousands of articles over the last century.
The truly impressive part? He wasn't limited to any single field but had made contributions across nearly every area of magic.
This was true academic greatness.
Dumbledore's legendary status wasn't solely due to his defeat of Grindelwald.
That was merely one of his many accomplishments.
His greatness lay in the fact that he had advanced the wizarding world in every conceivable way.
Whether in matters of peace or academic achievement, his influence was undeniable.
And William knew that this was exactly the kind of wizard he aspired to become.
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