Neither Albus Dumbledore nor the former Hogwarts headmasters hanging on the office walls paid much attention to the sharp complaints coming from the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black.
To everyone present, Phineas’s constant grumbling had long since become background noise.
Meanwhile, far below the Headmaster’s Office, Adam remained completely unaware that several legendary witches and wizards were discussing him at that very moment.
At dawn, the central courtyard of Hogwarts was quiet and empty.
Thin mist drifted over the stone pathways while the first rays of sunlight slowly spread across the castle grounds.
Dew sparkled atop the grass, and the chilly morning air carried the scent of rain and old stone.
In the middle of the courtyard— Swish!
A silver flash sliced through the air.
Adam’s sword cut downward with clean precision.
Step.
Turn.
Slash.
Every movement flowed naturally into the next.
Even though he had already entered the magical world, Adam never abandoned his physical training.
In his opinion, magic alone was not enough.
A wizard who relied entirely on spells without discipline or physical awareness would eventually become careless.
And careless people died early.
Especially in the world of magic.
Swish!
The blade whistled once more as Adam completed another smooth sequence.
Suddenly, his movements paused.
A faint feeling crawled across the back of his neck.
Someone was watching him.
Adam’s silver eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced around the courtyard.
The surrounding area appeared completely empty.
No students.
No professors.
Nothing.
“…Could that old rogue Dumbledore actually be spying on me?” Adam muttered under his breath.
Even as he said it, he didn’t genuinely suspect Albus Dumbledore.
After all, the old headmaster needed his sleep.
At this hour, Dumbledore was probably still drinking tea in bed or reading one of his strange magazines.
“Maybe another student was watching earlier.” After thinking briefly, Adam stopped worrying about it and resumed training.
High above the courtyard, hidden within the Headmaster’s Office, several portraits exchanged looks.
“This child possesses very sharp instincts,” said one of the former headmasters with a black beard.
They had all clearly seen Adam react to their observation.
Another portrait turned toward Dumbledore curiously.
“Albus,” he asked, “what exactly is this boy’s background?” “Muggle-born?
Or from a wizarding family?” Dumbledore stood beside the Pensieve quietly observing swirling silver memories within it.
Without lifting his gaze, he replied calmly, “A wizarding family.” “However, there is no information regarding his parents or the Ambrosius family itself.” That answer immediately caused several portraits to frown.
The reason Dumbledore believed Adam came from a wizarding family was simple— Lance.
Back when Professor Minerva McGonagall escorted the Granger family home after their Diagon Alley trip, she had immediately reported Adam’s existence to Dumbledore upon returning to Hogwarts.
Naturally, she had also mentioned the mysterious House-elf constantly accompanying him.
And House-elves did not usually serve Muggle families.
“A wizarding family?” another portrait repeated in confusion.
“Then why is there no information about his parents?” “Not even in the Book of Admittance?” The question caused several portraits to become thoughtful.
Inside Hogwarts existed two ancient magical artifacts— The Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance.
For more than a thousand years, those objects had been responsible for recording every magical child in Britain.
The moment a child displayed signs of magical ability, the Quill of Acceptance would attempt to write the child’s name into the Book of Admittance.
Hogwarts relied entirely upon those records when sending acceptance letters.
And in over a millennium— The system had never failed.
Dumbledore finally lifted his gaze slightly.
“Their names do not appear within the Book of Admittance either,” he said calmly.
That answer made the portraits even more confused.
“If his parents were British wizards,” one portrait muttered, “their names should absolutely exist within the records.” “Unless,” another portrait suggested slowly, “they immigrated to Britain after reaching adulthood.” That possibility made sense.
Foreign-born wizards who arrived later in life would naturally not appear within Hogwarts’ magical records.
However, Dumbledore shook his head lightly.
“According to Madam Malkin, the Ambrosius family does not appear to be foreign.” Every year Adam visited Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions to purchase clothing, he would occasionally chat with Madam Malkin.
Through those conversations, she had gradually learned small details about him.
“She also mentioned,” Dumbledore continued, “that Adam’s parents likely died during the previous war.” At the mention of “the previous war,” several portraits fell silent immediately.
Everyone understood what Dumbledore meant.
The war started by Voldemort.
Even now, years after Voldemort’s disappearance, many witches and wizards still refused to speak his name aloud.
One portrait lowered his voice nervously.
“You mean… You-Know-Who?” A tense silence followed.
Finally, another portrait spoke again.
“That only makes this stranger,” he said.
“If his parents were British wizards, how could they possibly avoid being recorded by the Book of Admittance?” The portraits began discussing the issue seriously.
The Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance were among Hogwarts’ oldest magical objects.
Created during the school’s founding era, they possessed extraordinary accuracy.
A child capable of magic could not easily escape their notice.
At that moment, another portrait finally spoke.
This time, it was Dilys Derwent, one of Hogwarts’ former headmistresses and a famous healer from St.
Mungo’s Hospital.
“There is one unusual exception,” she said thoughtfully.
The other portraits turned toward her.
“When magical ability first manifests,” Derwent explained, “the Quill of Acceptance tends to react more easily than the Book itself.” Several portraits immediately recalled the old rule.
The Quill was lenient.
The Book was strict.
Even a tiny magical reaction could excite the Quill enough to begin writing.
However, if the magical signs were too weak, the Book of Admittance would slam itself shut and refuse to record the child’s name.
Only sufficiently strong magical evidence would force the Book to open again.
“But such cases are extremely rare,” another portrait argued.
“Unless the child is nearly a Squib.” The room fell thoughtful once more.
If Derwent’s theory were correct, then Adam’s parents might have possessed incredibly weak magical talent.
So weak that they barely qualified as wizards at all.
Almost Squibs.
The idea sounded absurd.
The former headmasters exchanged skeptical looks.
“Could such people truly exist?” one portrait asked quietly.
As former headmasters of Hogwarts, they had encountered countless students over the years.
Gifted students.
Average students.
Terrible students.
But no matter how poor someone’s magical ability was, being only slightly better than a Squib seemed nearly impossible.
A wizard with magic that weak might only manage the simplest charms.
Perhaps levitating a feather once per day.
Beyond that— Nothing.
Such a person would practically live as a Squib anyway.
Dumbledore remained silent for several moments before finally speaking again.
“There is another possibility.” Despite his advanced age, his blue eyes remained incredibly sharp.
“If a child grows up within an isolated location hidden by powerful protective enchantments,” he explained, “the Book of Admittance and Quill of Acceptance may fail to perceive them.” Several portraits frowned deeply.
That theory was indeed possible.
But it raised another question.
Within Britain— Did such a hidden place truly exist?
No one answered.
Dumbledore lightly waved his hand over the Pensieve.
The swirling silver memories vanished instantly.
“Yawn…” The elderly wizard stretched tiredly.
“When one grows old,” he sighed dramatically, “maintaining proper sleep becomes extremely important.” “Young people may waste their energy however they wish.” “As for me…” “I believe I shall return to bed.” The portraits watched silently as Dumbledore slowly walked toward his private chambers.
One by one, the lights within the office dimmed.
Eventually, silence returned.
Then, from the darkness, came the irritated voice of Phineas Nigellus Black once more.
“If you already knew all that,” he grumbled bitterly, “you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed just to spy on that Mud—Muggle-born boy.” Nobody bothered responding.
Meanwhile, completely unaware of the discussion occurring above him, Adam continued training in the courtyard.
His concentration remained fully focused upon his swordsmanship.
As time passed, more students gradually began waking up and leaving their dormitories.
Some older students noticed the silver-haired first year practicing alone in the courtyard.
“Hm?” A fourth-year student paused nearby.
“What’s he doing?” “Looks like sword practice,” another student replied uncertainly.
“Swordsmanship?” The girl sounded confused.
“What’s the point of practicing that in a magic school?” “No clue.” Several students stopped briefly to watch.
One Ravenclaw student suddenly recognized Adam.
“Wait… isn’t that the first-year Ravenclaw freshman from yesterday?” “The really handsome one?” Another older student blinked.
“Instead of studying books or practicing spells this early in the morning, he’s practicing swordsmanship?” “That doesn’t sound very Ravenclaw.” A nearby Gryffindor laughed.
“It sounds pretty Gryffindor to me.” Several girls quietly watched Adam’s movements while whispering among themselves.
To be fair— A handsome silver-haired boy calmly practicing swordsmanship beneath the rising morning sun was genuinely eye-catching.
Especially with the elegant precision of his movements.
One fifth-year girl sighed dramatically.
“He’s actually kind of handsome…” Her friend immediately rolled her eyes.
“Wake up.” “He’s a first year.” “And you’re preparing for your O.W.L.s.” “Your priorities are seriously broken.” The older girl coughed awkwardly and quickly looked away.
Meanwhile, Adam completely ignored the growing attention around him.
His sword continued moving steadily through the chilly morning air.
Focused.
Calm.
And entirely unaware that, after only a few days at Hogwarts— People had already begun noticing him.
Give me more motivation!