High on the eighth floor of Hogwarts, the Headmaster's office gleamed in warm afternoon light.
It was a wide, circular room filled with the scent of parchment and phoenix feathers. Portraits of former headmasters lined the walls, pretending to nap but occasionally cracking an eye open to eavesdrop — proof that even in death, gossip was alive and well at Hogwarts.
Behind a heavy oak desk sat Albus Dumbledore, his half-moon spectacles glinting with mischief. On a tall stool nearby rested a shabby, tattered old hat — the Sorting Hat itself, silent and still.
Across from him sat Professor Severus Snape, his expression as sharp and unreadable as ever.
"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore began cheerfully, "would you care for some refreshments? Perhaps a lemon sherbet? A toffee finger? Or a small pile of—"
He peered at a dish. "—cockroach clusters?"
Snape's brow twitched. "No, thank you, Headmaster," he replied flatly. "I came to discuss a matter concerning Alex Gaunt."
Dumbledore's smile faded, though a faint trace of amusement remained at the corner of his mouth. He set down the book in his hands, interlaced his fingers, and regarded Snape with quiet interest.
"Then by all means, Severus," he said softly. "Tell me — what is your assessment of young Mr. Gaunt?"
Snape's tone was as measured as ever. "Calm. Decisive. Exceptionally talented. He knows precisely what he wants — and how to get it."
He paused. Then, with a faint curl of his lip, added dryly, "Also… somewhat of a flirt."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his lenses. "Oh? I must admit, I didn't expect such high praise from you. The final remark included."
Snape ignored the jab. "That is my honest evaluation. I have no interest in wasting time disliking a first-year. I have enough work as it is."
Dumbledore tilted his head, the light in his eyes growing brighter. "And yet, I recall thinking you might hold a touch of resentment after the Sorting. You surprise me, Severus."
Snape's voice was as cold as ever. "His name may be Gaunt, but his heart is not that of a Dark Lord. A future Dark Lord does not spend his first week flirting with girls and charming half the school. He is ambitious, yes, but not twisted."
The ghost of a smile flickered over Dumbledore's lips. "Oh, Severus. I think you misunderstand me. My interest in Mr. Gaunt is not born of fear — only curiosity."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming with that peculiar mix of warmth and cunning that only Dumbledore possessed.
"You see," he continued, "his surname alone is bound to draw attention. And as you know, Voldemort's return is inevitable. In the darker corners of magic, bloodlines are often… valuable commodities."
Snape's jaw tightened, but he didn't speak.
Dumbledore went on. "Tom Riddle was fascinated by ancestry and the power of lineage. Even I must admit his understanding of magical bloodlines was extraordinary."
He folded his hands again. "That is why I asked you to keep an eye on young Gaunt — not as a warden, but as a guide. He'll need one."
Snape didn't respond, though his silence said enough.
Dumbledore smiled faintly, as if sensing his thoughts. "I may have done a little research myself, over the summer," he added lightly.
Snape's eyes narrowed. Of course you did.
Dumbledore winked, unabashed. "I visited the orphanage where he grew up. They spoke highly of him. Every year, he donates enough money to cover most of their expenses. Admirable, isn't it?"
Snape looked unimpressed, but Dumbledore wasn't done.
"And there's more," the Headmaster said, voice lowering. "He possesses a phoenix — a living phoenix. Such creatures gravitate only to hearts that shine. They bring courage where there is fear, light where there is darkness. He is not another Tom Riddle, Severus."
"Then why the concern?" Snape asked curtly.
"Because I believe he will stand against what Tom represents," Dumbledore answered simply. "And for that, he'll need guidance. Your guidance."
Snape's expression soured instantly. The mere thought of tutoring a student who'd refused Slytherin was like being asked to drink undiluted doxy venom.
But then he remembered his conversation with the boy after class — the calm reasoning, the lack of arrogance. For a moment, he hesitated.
Dumbledore, of course, noticed.
"Of course," the Headmaster said with a twinkle, "Professor Flitwick also mentioned Mr. Gaunt's exceptional aptitude in Charms. I imagine Ravenclaw will be proud to claim such a prodigy."
"No."
Snape stood abruptly, cutting him off. His voice was firm, clipped.
"He may not wear green and silver, but his blood belongs to Slytherin. As Head of that House, I have a duty to its founder's descendants — whether they claim us or not."
He straightened his robes, his tone colder than ever. "I will handle it."
And without waiting for dismissal, he turned and swept toward the door, his cloak flaring behind him like the wings of a shadow.
The office door closed with a soft click.
Dumbledore watched him go, the faintest curve playing at his lips. "Ah," he murmured to himself, "another interesting soul walks our halls. To move Severus Snape's heart — now that is no small feat."
A low voice broke through his thoughts. One of the portraits on the wall — a stern-faced wizard with silver hair — had finally "woken up."
"As a descendant of Slytherin, to choose Ravenclaw," the portrait thundered, "is a disgrace to pureblood heritage!"
Dumbledore chuckled. "Headmaster Black, Mr. Gaunt isn't pureblood at all. His mother carried the Gaunt line, yes — but his father was a Muggle."
Headmaster Black's painted face twisted in outrage. He began muttering a string of words that made even a few ghosts gasp.
Before Dumbledore could intervene, another portrait — a burly wizard with a short temper — stormed across his frame and punched Black square in the jaw.
The wall erupted into chaos. Portraits shouted, cheered, and jeered. A few even tried to climb into the scuffle.
Dumbledore didn't bat an eye. He simply steepled his fingers, eyes shining faintly behind the spectacles.
Amid the cacophony, he whispered softly to himself — almost to Fawkes, almost to fate.
"Yes... another boy with power, potential, and a heart tested by choice. Let's hope this one walks a brighter path."
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