In the corridors of Hogwarts, Professonagall hurried towards the headmaster’s office.

  At the entraood a gargoyle. Hogwarts had many such statues, but this one, guarding the entrao the headmaster’s office, articurly striking.

  "Acid Pops."

  This peculiar password had only been used during Dumbledore’s tenure. As the gargoyle shifted aside, Professonagall quickly asded 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 a book on the Deathly Hallows.

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

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

  "That boy who is reted to Soday in Transfiguration css..." Professonagall reted the events that had unfolded during her lesson with the Ravend Hufflepuff students.

  "I’ve never seen such exaggerated progress. It’s as though he leaped several years ahead in his studies, aplishis 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 teag 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 trast to the that clouded Professonagall’s face.

  "I’ve always hoped a talented young wizard would bey assistant, but his talent isn’t just exceptional— it’s somewhat uling."

  Professonagall 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, fident, posed... and he seemed unstoppable."

  Dumbledore closed the book he was reading a Professonagall’s gaze with calm eyes. "There have been wizards like this in history."

  At Dumbledore’s words, Professonagall frowned.

  "Who?"

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

  "Merlin Ambrosius."

  Dumbledore’s smile remained unged as he spoke.

  "..."

  Professonagall’s eyes widened with a mix of disbelief and horror fshing across her face. Merlin’s name had not crossed her mind, ahere it was. Merlin! The wizarding world invoked his h reverence, often saying, "Merlin’s beard!" That alone spoke volumes about the weight of that name.

  "You’re paring the boy to Merlin?" Professonagall’s face torted in disbelief. She wondered if Dumbledore was beginning to show signs of age.

  "After the S Hat made its decision, I delved into several books and dots to better uaain things." Dumbledore pced his hand on the desk.

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

  "They perceive a magical world beyond ht and experience wonders we ’t even begin to fathom. That’s why they rise like ets."

  "Minerva, we must aowledge 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?"

  Professonagall raised an eyebrow, her fusion deepening.

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

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

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

  Professonagall remained unmoved.

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

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

  Professonagall was a firm believer in that.

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

  Dumbledore’s mind briefly wao ret events, his tone growing more resolute.

  Professonagall couldn’t think of a rebuttal.

  "Regardless, Albus, Mr. Priood beside young Grindelwald at the start of term," She said, attempting to ge the subject.

  She was baffled as to why Dumbledore seemed so uned.

  If Dumbledore believed Ian had talent akin to Merlin’s, should he not be more cautious? The boy was already perf advaransfiguration teiques in his first year!

  Will you, Dumbledore, still be able to keep him in che 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 Professonagall’s iurmoil, Dumbledore tio reassure her. "But isn’t this exactly what we want to see? Young wizards f friendships at Hogwarts."

  At this, Professonagall nodded relutly.

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

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

  Professonagall’s words were blunt, her unease palpable. Dumbledore paused, sidering her words before speaking slowly.

  "I ’t firm that for you, but I assure you that Gellert Grindelwald’s ideology ot take root in those with firm vis."

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

  "And what about young Grindelwald?"

  Professonagall’s heart was filled with doubt and .

  "Setting aside talent, I actually think Ian Prince resembles a younger version of myself in some ways. So you worry about Miss Grindelwald influeng Ian."

  At Dumbledore’s words, Professonagall was skeptical.

  "Minerva, you’ve misuood 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 reize." 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 ptive gaze.

  Iillness, the portraits on the walls seemed unusually noisy, much like the swirling thoughts in Professonagall’s mind as her pupils stricted.

  (End of Chapter)

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