“All right, Mr Rowle.
Let’s continue.” With Professor McGonagall gone, Dumbledore took over the assessment.
“I’d like to see how well you’ve learned your charms.” He straightened and gestured towards the open space between them.
“Attack me with whichever spell you consider yourself most proficient in.” “Here?” David frowned.
“Are you certain?” Outwardly, he looked doubtful.
Internally, he had a different problem.
Which spell am I supposed to choose?
He was reasonably confident with most of them.
“I’m certain.” Dumbledore smiled.
“It’s part of the assessment.” He clearly wasn’t treating David as a serious threat.
Even so, he offered the courtesy any proper opponent deserved.
He drew his wand.
An old wand.
David nodded.
Then flicked his own almost casually.
“Oppugno!” A flock of birds burst into existence with a series of soft pops.
Pop!
Pop!
Pop!
They immediately swarmed towards Dumbledore.
The Headmaster remained perfectly relaxed.
As each bird reached him, he gave the slightest movement of his wand.
One vanished.
Then another.
Then another.
Within moments, the flock was disappearing faster than it could reach him.
But the birds had never been David’s real attack.
While Dumbledore’s attention was occupied, thick smoke suddenly began gathering inside the room.
David moved.
The instant the Smokescreen Charm took effect, he shifted position and cast again.
“Accio!” Then immediately— “Glacius!” Whether Dumbledore was deliberately cooperating with the test or simply wanted to see what David would do next, he actually allowed the Summoning Charm to pull him forward.
The Freezing Spell struck him directly.
A layer of frost briefly appeared across his robes.
Then vanished.
David didn’t stop.
Hidden inside the smoke, he kept moving.
“Diffindo!” “Expelliarmus!” The spells came from changing angles.
Then David burst from the edge of the smoke.
“Confringo!” BOOM!
The room shook.
Filch, standing safely to one side, visibly flinched.
Snape didn’t.
His dark eyes remained fixed on David.
It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
David still wasn’t finished.
He had never imagined for a second that he could actually defeat Albus Dumbledore.
He wasn’t an idiot.
This was an examination.
So he intended to show everything he could.
“Depulso!” He confirmed Dumbledore’s position.
Tracked him through the thinning smoke.
Then aimed his wand and cast the strongest curse he knew.
“Crucio!” BANG!
The remaining smoke exploded outward.
Dumbledore stood in the centre of the room, eyes narrowed slightly.
For the first time, he raised his wand as though he intended to counterattack.
David reacted instantly.
“Protego!” A Shield Charm flared in front of him.
Then he threw himself into a roll.
A red spell shot past the space where he had been standing.
“Expelliarmus.” Dumbledore’s Disarming Charm missed.
Possibly on purpose.
David avoiding Dumbledore’s spell wasn’t what shocked the other two men in the room.
The Cruciatus Curse was.
Filch’s face twisted.
“How dare you!” He turned sharply towards Dumbledore.
“This boy comes from the dangerous Rowle family!” His voice rose.
“His father is still a wanted criminal!
He shouldn’t even be eligible to attend Hogwarts!” Then he glared at David.
“And he’s a Dark wizard!” “He ought to be sent straight to Azkaban!” “No, Argus.” Dumbledore still had his eyes on David.
“The Ministry has suspended proceedings against John Rowle.” Filch looked deeply dissatisfied.
Dumbledore, however, continued calmly.
“And that curse…” He tilted his head.
“You learned it at Durmstrang?” David lowered his wand.
“Which one?” He gave a faint smile.
“The Cruciatus Curse?” Dumbledore waited.
“Second year.” David answered matter-of-factly.
“Applied Dark Arts.” “Compulsory course.” “Required knowledge.” Filch looked appalled.
Snape’s expression remained unreadable.
Dumbledore didn’t comment on Durmstrang’s curriculum.
Instead, he gave David a measured nod.
“Your duelling instincts are excellent.” “And your command of charms is very good.” He lowered his wand.
“You may prepare for the Sorting Ceremony now, Mr David Rowle.” A faint smile returned.
“Good luck.” Dumbledore nodded to Snape and Filch before leaving the room.
Filch watched him go.
Then immediately turned back towards David.
“I’m still not convinced.” His eyes were cold.
“You watch yourself.” He jabbed a finger in David’s direction.
“Don’t cause trouble.” “I’ll be watching you.” David looked at him.
Then nodded thoughtfully.
“I’ll pass your warning on to my father word for word.” Filch stiffened.
David continued innocently, “You’re telling John Rowle to watch himself and stay out of trouble, correct?” Filch’s neck went rigid.
David seemed to remember something.
“Oh, right.” He looked genuinely curious.
“What was your name again?” “You will show the staff of this school the proper respect, David Rowle.” Snape stepped between them.
His black robes seemed to swallow the light around him.
He looked down at David.
There was something about the boy’s gaze that Snape distinctly disliked.
Too sharp.
Too fearless.
Too accustomed to pushing back.
Then— “Oh, one more thing.” Dumbledore’s voice came from the doorway.
Everyone turned.
The Headmaster had returned.
He looked directly at David.
“Hogwarts and the British Ministry of Magic are both very cautious regarding the Dark Arts.” His expression remained mild.
“You understand that, I assume?” “Of course.” David turned towards him.
“Absolutely.” His answer was perfectly sincere.
“I’m only a student.” He smiled.
“I listen to my professors.” Snape’s eyes narrowed.
Filch looked as though he wanted to argue.
Dumbledore merely nodded.
“Good.” “I believe you.” His eyes lingered on David for another moment.
“The Sorting Ceremony has already begun.” “I imagine you won’t want to miss it.” Then he vanished from the doorway again.
Apparently he had returned solely to give that warning.
Filch muttered angrily under his breath and stalked out.
David watched him leave.
Then looked up at Snape.
“Professor.” Snape paused.
“You’re my Head of House?” Snape slowly looked down at him.
His answer was immediate.
“I sincerely hope not.” With that, he swept his cloak behind him and strode away like an enormous black bat.
David watched him disappear down the corridor.
Interesting.
By the time David returned to the Great Hall, the Sorting Ceremony was already well underway.
Hundreds of students turned to look at him.
Whispers followed him as he crossed the hall towards the shrinking group of children still waiting to be Sorted.
On the way, David stopped beside an older student.
“Excuse me.” The student looked over.
David pointed subtly towards the staff table.
“Which House is Professor Snape Head of?” “Slytherin.” The older student answered.
“Slytherin House.” David nodded.
That explained quite a lot.
He extended a hand.
“Thank you.” “David Rowle.
Third year.” The student blinked, then shook it.
“Kenneth Towler.
Seventh year.” He had clearly heard the rumours.
Yet the supposedly dangerous member of the Rowle family standing in front of him was impeccably dressed, unfailingly polite, and carried himself like a young gentleman.
After David walked away, Kenneth turned towards his friends.
“He’s remarkably well-mannered.” One of them snorted.
“Of course he is.” Herman raised an eyebrow.
“A gentleman hooligan.” Kenneth frowned.
Herman nodded after David.
“Just be careful.” “He’ll probably keep smiling while he punches you.” At the front of the hall, Professor McGonagall checked the parchment in her hands.
“And finally…” Her voice carried across the hall.
“We have one transfer student from Durmstrang.” The whispers immediately surged again.
Blaise Zabini had just been Sorted into Slytherin.
McGonagall looked towards David.
“David Rowle.” “Please come forward.” David approached.
“Thank you, Professor.” He calmly sat down on the three-legged stool.
It had been a very long time since Hogwarts had received a transfer student.
Apparently, even the Sorting Hat found the situation unusual.
It almost seemed excited enough to start singing.
McGonagall gave David a small smile.
“Good luck.” Then she lowered the ancient, patched, filthy, and extremely talkative hat onto his head.
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