Hogwarts: Third Dark Lord

Wentworth paced back and forth three times in front of the blank wall, muttering under his breath:

"I need a place to practice magic. I need a place to practice magic. I need a place to practice magic!"

Suddenly, where there had previously been nothing but a bare wall, a wooden door appeared out of nowhere. Smiling slightly, Wentworth reached for the handle and stepped inside.

After today's duel, Wentworth felt an intense sense of urgency. Watching his peers, all so adept at casting various spells with ease, stirred an unease within him. It was like a memory from his past life: everyone agreeing not to study for an exam, only for his classmates to turn in their papers half an hour early, leaving him behind.

In that moment, Wentworth reflected bitterly: as someone with the unique advantage of having reincarnated, ending up in such a state was utterly embarrassing.

Yet compared to his peers, who had grown up immersed in the magical world, perhaps his only edge was his knowledge of the future—and his familiarity with certain special items and places.

For instance, the Half-Blood Prince's notes he had obtained earlier, or the Room of Requirement standing before him now.

Tonight, Wentworth came to the Room of Requirement to gain extra time and opportunities to practice spells. For this, he even brought the Half-Blood Prince's notes along. After all, unlike his peers, his body had endured a ten-year void of magical learning.

Wentworth believed he had planned everything perfectly. What he failed to consider, however, was that both the Headmaster's office and the Room of Requirement were located on the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle.

No sooner had Wentworth entered the Room of Requirement than two figures silently appeared at its door.

"The Room of Requirement?" Professor McGonagall said, her voice tinged with surprise. "Headmaster Dumbledore, Wentworth even knows about this hidden room? Many students graduate without ever discovering this extraordinary place."

Dumbledore, however, seemed unfazed.

"It's not so surprising," he replied. "Perhaps someone in Grindelwald's circle who once attended Hogwarts shared its location with him. Or maybe he stumbled upon it by chance. There's even a possibility it's linked to a latent ability from Grindelwald's bloodline."

Seeing the confusion etched on McGonagall's face, Dumbledore elaborated:

"During his time, Gellert Grindelwald was renowned as a Seer, a gift tied to his bloodline. You can see it in his unique eyes.

"Although Wentworth has not yet exhibited such abilities, that doesn't mean he lacks them. A sudden flash of insight could be all it takes for him to glimpse a fragment of the future."

McGonagall took a deep breath, her expression solemn. "A terrifying family, a formidable foe."

Dumbledore immediately corrected her.

"No, no, Minerva. Wentworth is not our foe—at least not yet. Now, shall we return? You mentioned earlier that you received a letter from the Ministry of Magic?"

As they walked back toward the Headmaster's office, McGonagall's face darkened with frustration.

"Yes, Headmaster. The Ministry sent a letter. They're planning to come to Hogwarts to investigate whether the students' safety is being adequately ensured. It's preposterous! Such a blatant display of distrust! Do they think this is some ordinary place? This is Hogwarts!"

By the time they reached the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore gave a gentle wave of his hand, and several small cakes appeared on the desk, merrily dancing about.

Picking up one of the cakes and taking a bite, Dumbledore gestured toward McGonagall.

"Try one. I got these from Filius. I must say, our dear Professor Flitwick's talent for confectionery doesn't quite match his skill with Charms, but they are delightfully novel, don't you think? Have a taste."

McGonagall scowled, clearly displeased with Dumbledore's apparent indifference.

"Headmaster," she said sternly, "I don't think you understand the implications of this letter! To question Hogwarts is to question you. For years, the Ministry has sought to extend its influence into this school!"

Dumbledore dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand.

"Relax, Professor McGonagall. Let me guess—was the letter from Thomas Vole, the Head of the Auror Office? A Slytherin alumnus, if I recall correctly?"

McGonagall's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How do you know, Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore smiled knowingly.

"Not only can I guess it was Thomas, but I can also tell you this is likely a personal matter. The Ministry itself isn't involved."

Before McGonagall could voice her doubts, Dumbledore continued:

"Think about it. Fudge has just taken office. He needs my support to secure his position as Minister. Whatever he might plan in the future, he won't challenge me now."

Dumbledore's calm yet commanding tone carried an unmistakable message: without my approval, Fudge wouldn't even be Minister.

"And how do you explain tonight's letter, then?"

McGonagall retrieved the letter she had brought, which had been delivered by owl earlier in the evening. She had been on her way to see Dumbledore about it when she noticed Wentworth's suspicious behavior and alerted the Headmaster.

After a quick glance, Dumbledore dismissed it with a chuckle.

"Minerva, I believe you're overthinking this. You seem to have forgotten—Thomas Vole is Cassandra Vole's father. This is merely a father concerned about his daughter's well-being, trying to exert some pressure on the school under the guise of his position. Nothing more."

"And has he said when he intends to arrive?" Dumbledore asked.

"The letter states he'll finish his duties tomorrow morning and come here in the afternoon," McGonagall replied.

Dumbledore smiled. "After all these years away, surely he wouldn't visit his old professors empty-handed, would he?"

For the first time that evening, McGonagall allowed herself a smile.

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