Hogwarts.
A magical school known far and wide by nearly everyone.
If you asked about its reputation among Muggles, I believe at least eleven out of every ten people would insist that it was the greatest wizarding school in existence.
And honestly, it was hard to disagree.
For countless people, it was the perfect ivory tower they dreamed of entering.
Of course, compared to the Muggle education system, it was probably closer to a magical vocational academy than a true university.
But no one could deny its contributions to the wizarding world—especially to magical Britain.
After all, it had practically supplied every employee for that bloated and sluggish institution known as the Ministry of Magic.
And really, what other organization deserved those descriptions more?
Because of that, you would never see the British Ministry divided like the Muggle political world, where graduates from Cambridge and Oxford sneered at each other while joining forces to look down on King’s College.
At the Ministry, nearly everyone came from the same school.
Still, as the saying goes—where there are people, there are factions.
Birds of a feather flock together, and whenever humans gather, they inevitably divide themselves into groups.
Honestly, it would be more miraculous than magic itself if they didn’t.
Wizards might wave little sticks around and mutter strange incantations all day, but they were still human beings.
After all, there was no reproductive barrier between them and Muggles, no matter how fiercely some people denied it.
So if Ministry officials couldn’t divide themselves by alma mater, how did they separate into factions?
Blood and birth.
A rather primitive distinction.
Pure-bloods, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns.
But the tedious and tangled conflicts between those groups aren’t worth wasting even a drop of ink on.
So let us leave politics behind and return to Hogwarts itself.
It was the summer of 1991.
Like every school, Hogwarts was in the middle of its holiday break.
The once lively and bustling castle now dozed quietly beneath the blazing July sun.
In two months, a new generation of students would arrive, but for now the ancient castle—and the professors within it—were enjoying a well-earned rest.
Especially the elderly wizard whose beard and hair had long since turned silver-white.
“Mmm…” Albus Dumbledore smacked his lips in satisfaction.
Honeydukes had released a new candy to celebrate the eleventh anniversary of the Dark Lord’s downfall, and it suited his tastes perfectly.
After finishing with the Ministry’s irritating letters, he considered indulging in sweets a fitting reward.
“Hah…” Dumbledore sighed contentedly, savoring the sugary syrup melting between his teeth.
“A perfect day should always begin with candy, shouldn’t it, Fawkes?”
Fawkes perched proudly on his golden stand, answering with a soft trill before stretching his magnificent tail feathers.
The phoenix was currently in the prime of its life, though another old age would soon come for him.
Still, for a creature reborn through fire, death was hardly something to fear.
After admiring the golden shimmer of Fawkes’ tail, Dumbledore tossed another wriggling sweet into his mouth, delighting in the crunch as the insect-shaped candy cracked between his teeth before its sugary filling burst free.
“Perhaps sharing sweets with one’s colleagues would be a wonderful strategy…
maybe Minerva would appreciate their charm?” Dumbledore mused uncertainly after swallowing the candy crumbs.
But just as he rose to find his colleague, the oak door to the Headmaster’s office was suddenly knocked upon.
Judging from the sound alone, whoever stood outside seemed extremely anxious.
“Come in!” Dumbledore sat back down in his cushioned chair, wise blue eyes peering through half-moon spectacles toward the unexpected visitor.
A dark figure swept into the room.
Severus Snape—Head of Slytherin House, Potions Master, member of the Order of the Phoenix, and also a notoriously infamous former Death Eater.
“Dumbledore,” Snape said in a low, urgent voice, his lips barely moving.
“We need to talk.”
Dumbledore studied him for a moment, only to discover with disappointment that Snape had shown absolutely no interest in the sweets on his desk.
Reluctantly abandoning any thoughts of sharing, he calmly replied, “It is the holidays.
Both of us have plenty of time—”
With a flick of his hand, another cushioned chair slid itself across the floor to the opposite side of the desk.
“Please, sit.”
Snape glanced down at the heavily carved wooden chair, stepped aside to avoid it, and said firmly, “Not here.”
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“If you’d prefer a walk, I happen to know a rather pleasant place—”
But before he could finish, Snape cut him off impatiently.
“There’s something beneath the castle.
Something you need to see.”
“I’ve spent nearly a century in this castle,” Dumbledore murmured, gazing around the enormous chamber before them, “and I’ve never heard of a place like this.”
After descending through a winding underground tunnel, they had arrived directly beneath the castle itself.
At the end of a marble staircase stood a magnificent circular hall.
Four structures resembling doorways were set into the wall opposite the stairs, yet aside from their reflective surfaces, there seemed to be nothing remarkable about them.
The chamber appeared carved directly into the mountain beneath Hogwarts.
Some master craftsman had hollowed out this enormous space from solid stone.
Pillars decorated with golden lines connected ceiling and floor as though they had been sculpted from a single piece.
At the center of the colored stone tiles lay a circular platform polished so perfectly it resembled a mirror, reflecting the gray-robed and black-robed figures standing above it.
“That’s Hogwarts!
I’ve never seen it from this angle before!” Dumbledore exclaimed in amazement.
Upon the floor appeared a bird’s-eye view of the castle itself.
“How did you discover this place, Severus?”
“That isn’t important,” Snape replied through clenched teeth.
He raised his wand and tapped lightly through the air.
Ripples spread across the floor, and the image of Hogwarts vanished.
“Watch carefully,” Snape warned.
He tried very hard not to listen to Dumbledore’s disappointed sigh behind him—and failed completely.
Honestly, he couldn’t understand what was so fascinating about a place filled with fools and idiots.
When the ripples finally settled, a new image appeared upon the mirrored floor.
It was a child sealed within crystal.
Messy black hair framed pale skin, and though the boy looked young, one could already predict the trouble he would someday cause with that face alone.
(End of Chapter)