After the opening feast ended, the first-years followed their respective House prefects out of the Great Hall and toward their new common rooms.
Dumbledore, meanwhile, returned to the Headmaster’s office, where Professor McGonagall joined him not long afterward.
She barely waited for the door to close before saying, “Dumbledore, I’d like to borrow your Pensieve.” Without waiting for a lengthy response, McGonagall approached the basin, raised her wand to her temple, and slowly drew out a silvery strand of memory.
She lowered it into the Pensieve and looked toward Dumbledore.
“I think you should see this for yourself.” Dumbledore offered no objection and leaned over the Pensieve.
Within its swirling surface, he watched Alistair stand before the first-years outside Hogwarts and deliver his unconventional introduction to Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.
When the memory ended, Dumbledore straightened with a thoughtful expression.
“It was certainly an unusual introduction, Professor McGonagall, but perhaps you’re worrying too much.
I understand what concerns you, but Alistair’s little performance wasn’t nearly as inflammatory or aggressive as Gellert’s speeches once were.” McGonagall’s expression made it clear that she wasn’t reassured.
“Dumbledore, you cannot seriously tell me you learned nothing from that,” she said.
“That boy knows far too much about Hogwarts for someone who had never set foot inside the castle before tonight.
He knew enough about every House to make jokes that the other students immediately understood.” Her eyes narrowed.
“What does that suggest?
That the people around the Grindelwald family have continued gathering information about Hogwarts all these years—perhaps even keeping watch on the school and on you.” Dumbledore remained calm, but McGonagall wasn’t finished.
“I still don’t understand why you were so willing to bring him here.
We’re responsible for every student in this castle, not only Alistair.” She hesitated before adding, “And do you know what the Sorting Hat suggested while it was sitting on his head?
Azkaban.” Dumbledore’s mouth twitched slightly, and he glanced toward the ancient hat resting nearby.
“Professor McGonagall, the Sorting Hat has been known to make the occasional joke.” The Sorting Hat immediately objected.
“Don’t drag me into this, Dumbledore.
I still think Azkaban might suit that boy surprisingly well.” The brim shifted as though it were shrugging.
“It’s hardly unheard of for a Hogwarts student to eventually end up there.” McGonagall turned toward it sharply.
“That’s because they went astray later in life.
Most of them were perfectly decent students while they were here.” Her response came so quickly that even Dumbledore looked faintly amused.
“Exactly,” Dumbledore said.
“Most were simply students when they first arrived, which is why I see no reason not to treat Alistair the same way.” He folded his hands calmly.
“A magical child needs education, discipline, and guidance.
Whatever his family name may be, leaving him outside Hogwarts merely because we’re afraid of what he might become would hardly improve matters.” McGonagall frowned, still unconvinced.
“You can’t persuade me that easily, Dumbledore.
Durmstrang would almost certainly accept him.
I want to know why you specifically wanted him here.” Dumbledore fell silent for a moment before looking directly at her.
“If I remember correctly, Harry Potter will be old enough to begin Hogwarts next year.” McGonagall blinked at the sudden shift in topic.
“If you mean the boy who survived Voldemort’s attack, then yes.
Harry Potter should arrive next September.” Dumbledore slowly nodded, and the lightness disappeared from his expression.
“And if the prophecy concerning Harry and Voldemort means what we believe it does, then their story is not finished.” McGonagall’s eyes widened as she began to understand where he was going.
“You mean…” She stopped, staring at him in disbelief.
Dumbledore’s expression remained perfectly serious.
“I believe Alistair and Harry Potter may become good friends.” That statement left McGonagall looking at him as though he’d proposed something completely absurd.
Dumbledore continued quietly, “We’re growing older, Minerva.
The Wizarding World will eventually belong to their generation.
Rather than pushing children away because of the names they inherited, I’d rather give them the opportunity to grow under proper guidance.” Alistair, naturally, knew nothing about the conversation taking place in the Headmaster’s office.
He was following the Hufflepuff prefects through the lower levels of the castle with the rest of the new students, and it didn’t take long for one of Hufflepuff’s greatest practical advantages to become obvious.
Their common room was located near the kitchens, only a short walk from the Great Hall.
The prefect led them along a stone corridor until they reached a stack of large barrels set into a shadowed recess.
After demonstrating the correct rhythm for tapping the proper barrel, the entrance opened and allowed the first-years inside.
The Hufflepuff common room was warm and comfortable, decorated in yellow and black with round doors, low ceilings, polished wood, plants, and soft chairs arranged throughout the cozy space.
One of the male prefects stepped forward once everyone had gathered.
“Welcome to Hufflepuff.
Your dormitories are already assigned, so you’ll find your names where you need to go.” He looked over the excited first-years and added, “You’re lucky this year.
Tomorrow is Saturday, so there are no classes.
You’re free to explore the castle, but stay away from anywhere you’re specifically forbidden to enter, especially the Forbidden Forest.” The prefect then pointed back toward the corridor outside.
“And if any of you somehow become hungry again, the Hogwarts kitchens are nearby.
The house-elves are usually very friendly to students who treat them properly.” That earned immediate interest from several first-years, including Alistair.
“Boys’ dormitories this way, girls’ dormitories that way.
Get some rest, and don’t wander around all night on your first evening.” Cedric waved to Alistair before heading toward the older students’ dormitories, and the two agreed to meet for breakfast the following morning.
Alistair soon found his own dormitory and met the three boys who would be sharing it with him.
He introduced himself normally and then opened the collection of snacks he’d bought aboard the Hogwarts Express, distributing Chocolate Frogs, Every Flavor Beans, and whatever else remained among his roommates.
Hufflepuff’s reputation for friendliness proved accurate almost immediately.
After receiving enough sweets to last several days, the other three boys jokingly declared that Alistair was obviously the leader of the room.
He accepted the title with amusement and let them continue enjoying the snacks.
After a while, Alistair quietly slipped back out of the dormitory and crossed the common room.
Instead of returning upstairs, he headed toward the nearby corridor leading to the kitchens.
It didn’t take him long to find the familiar painting hanging on the stone wall—a large fruit bowl filled with painted apples, grapes, bananas, and one particularly inviting pear.
Alistair stopped in front of it and smiled.
His eyes settled on the pear.