The morning sunlight streams through the tall, arched windows of the Headmaster’s office, casting golden patterns on the ancient stone floor. The warm glow does little to soften the tension in the room. Rowena Ravenclaw’s portrait, framed in an intricate border of swirling bronze and blue, observes Adam and Dumbledore with an expression that remains calm. Her painted eyes seem to pierce directly into their thoughts, her poised demeanor commanding silence from the other portraits, who fall quiet the moment she begins to speak.
“At his prime, Merlin created nine forbidden spells,” Rowena begins, her voice rich with the weight of centuries. Her words echo, each syllable carrying an undeniable gravity. “But even in his brilliance, he understands the danger they pose. These spells are far too powerful for a single wizard to wield, and if they ever fall into the wrong hands, chaos will undoubtedly ensue.”
Rowena pauses, her painted gaze moving deliberately between Adam and Dumbledore, as if measuring their worth before revealing more. “Merlin didn’t want anyone to know all nine,” she continues, her tone growing quieter yet no less commanding. “So, he shares only seven with those closest to him, hiding the remaining two—never to be revealed.”
Adam exchanges a brief glance with Dumbledore, whose expression betrays nothing but quiet contemplation.
“The seven spells he shares,” Rowena resumes, her voice steady, “are entrusted to those he deems worthy. Of these, we four founders discovered three after great effort and deliberation. Even then, we tread carefully. To seek knowledge of all nine would have been reckless—dangerous even for us.”
Adam can’t help but wonder what it takes for the founders to unearth those spells. How much risk do they face? And why stop at three? The questions swirl in his mind, but he doesn’t dare interrupt.
Rowena’s tone sharpens as her painted figure seems to straighten in her frame. “The three spells we use are instrumental in the creation of the Room of Requirement. Without them, the room would never exist in its current form.”
Rowena’s gaze pins him in place, her words now directed solely at him. “Adam, you must never reveal this knowledge to anyone apart from Dumbledore. This secret is not to be shared, not even with your closest friends. The risk is far too great.”
Adam meets her eyes, feeling the weight of her words settle on his shoulders like an iron mantle. He nods solemnly, his voice quiet but resolute. “I understand.”
Her expression softens ever so slightly, but her tone remains firm as her eyes flick to the other portraits lining the walls. “I trust that all of you, as former Headmasters, understand the gravity of this knowledge and will keep silent about it.”
The portraits, who remain still and watchful, now stir. Murmurs of agreement fill the room, their voices a blend of different eras and accents. A few nod, while others simply bow their heads in solemn acknowledgment. Their collective resolve seems to pulse through the office, an unspoken oath binding them all.
Dumbledore, who has remain silent throughout, finally speaks, his voice gentle yet filled with authority. “Thank you, Miss Rowena. Your wisdom, as always, is invaluable. We will honor this trust.”
Rowena’s painted figure inclines her head gracefully. “See that you do.”
Rowena continues, her voice as steady and commanding as ever. “The first spell is bound to space itself and is called חלל מתפוצץ—‘Space Explode.’ The second is tied to creation and is known as ϯⲕⲧⲏⲥⲓⲥ ⲁϣⲁⲓ—‘Creation Magnify.’ The third pertains to nature, प्रकृतिः प्रकाशयति—‘Nature Reveal.’ I will not go into detail, but their names alone should tell you the magnitude of their power.”
The foreign words hang in the air, their weight making Adam feel as though the room has grown even quieter. His mind races as he considers the implications of these names, their meanings unfurling in his thoughts like ancient scrolls. Space Explode sounds like devastating destructive magic, but as he ponders, a different idea takes shape. It seems more likely to involve manipulation of space itself—perhaps expanding, compressing, or even bending it in ways unimaginable. Creation Magnify conjures images of something forged anew, as if raw existence itself can be shaped and amplified at will. And Nature Reveal—the most mysterious of all—seems to hint not merely at the natural world but at something deeper, perhaps the unveiling of a person’s very essence or the truth hidden beneath layers of illusion.
His curiosity flares, but he stays silent, sensing that pressing Rowena for more details would be futile.
Rowena’s painted figure shifts slightly, her tone firm but cautious. “Each spell has a unique and complex hand movement, which we will not teach you. Furthermore, even the most advanced wizards struggle to perform these spells without a wand of immense power to channel their magic. That, above all, is why these spells remain out of reach for centuries.”
Adam suppresses a sigh, schooling his features to remain neutral, though disappointment gnaws at him. The knowledge of the spells is tantalizing, but their use is far beyond his current abilities—or even his understanding. Still, the seeds of possibility have been planted. Perhaps, in time, he thinks, I might uncover more—if not from Rowena, then maybe from the others.
Dumbledore, who has been silent throughout the exchange, finally moves. He returns to his chair with a thoughtful expression, his long fingers steepled under his chin. His blue eyes hold a contemplative gleam, though he does not voice whatever thoughts occupy him.
“Thank you for sharing this with us,” Adam says earnestly, turning his attention back to Rowena. “Your wisdom and trust mean a great deal.”
Rowena inclines her head slightly, her expression inscrutable. “Guard this knowledge well, Adam. What you choose to do with it—or not to do—will shape more than just your future.”
Breaking the silence, he turns to the other portraits lining the walls. “Where should I place the founders’ portrait?”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The other portraits exchange glances, some muttering quietly among themselves, before Phineas Nigellus Black speaks up, his tone as imperious as ever. “There’s an empty space beside me. It’s the most fitting spot for such a distinguished portrait, of course. You wouldn’t dare place it anywhere less prominent.”
Adam smirks faintly at Phineas’s typical arrogance but decides not to comment. Instead, he carefully lifts the large, intricately framed portrait of the four founders. He carries it to the space Phineas has indicated, positioning it with care. The frame settles into place with a soft click, as though the office itself recognizes its rightful home.
Stepping back, Adam observes the portrait. The founders, now fully animated, glance at their surroundings before exchanging pleasantries with the other portraits. Salazar Slytherin’s gaze sweeps the room critically, while Helga Hufflepuff greets the former Headmasters with warmth. Godric Gryffindor asks an elderly wizard about recent advancements in magical dueling, and Rowena Ravenclaw herself begins an animated discussion with a witch in an elaborate Elizabethan gown about changes in magical education.
Adam can’t help but smile at the sight. For the first time in centuries, the founders are actively engaging with the wizarding world they have helped shape, their influence still alive through their words and knowledge.
Dumbledore rises from his chair, walking over to stand beside Adam. “You’ve done well,” he says quietly, his voice carrying an undertone of approval. “Sometimes, history needs a nudge to reconnect with the present.”
Adam doesn’t reply immediately, his eyes still fixed on the portrait as the four founders converse with the other figures on the wall. “I suppose it’s my turn to make sure their knowledge isn’t lost again,” he says finally, his tone laced with determination.
“Indeed,” Dumbledore replies, his gaze twinkling with a mix of wisdom and encouragement.
Before leaving, Adam hesitates, lingering at the door. A question nags at the back of his mind, and he can’t leave without asking. “May I ask one more question? It’s just out of curiosity,” he says, his voice cautious but eager.
Helga Hufflepuff’s warm smile lights up the portrait. “Of course, child. Ask away.”
Adam glances at the four founders, his brow furrowed slightly in thought. “How is your portrait able to move and speak? The concept of enchanted portraits isn’t developed until much later—at least, not in the form we know today.”
For a moment, the founders exchange amused looks, as if they’ve heard this question countless times before. Godric Gryffindor lets out a hearty laugh, his voice booming through the office. “Ah, Adam, that’s an excellent question! You’re right—our portrait wasn’t always like this. It begins as a simple, ordinary painting.”
He leans forward slightly, his expression animated as he continues. “Then, sometime in the 11th century, a particularly curious and powerful wizard stumbles upon it. He seeks answers from us, determined to learn more about the magic we’ve left behind. In his quest, he casts a spell upon the portrait, one that unexpectedly gives us the ability to move and speak as you see now. It was never his original intention, but in doing so, he inadvertently plants the seeds for the concept of enchanted portraits as we know them today.”
Rowena Ravenclaw interjects, her tone measured but proud. “Wizards and witches who come across our portrait in later centuries observe its magic and begin replicating it for their own purposes. Over time, the practice evolves into an art form.”
Adam nods slowly, the pieces of history falling into place in his mind. “That makes sense. I suppose it’s fitting that even in this, the four of you lead the way.”
Helga chuckles softly, her painted eyes twinkling with kindness. “We’ve had our part to play, but history has a way of building upon itself, Adam. Remember that even the smallest actions can inspire something greater.”
Feeling a newfound respect for the living portraits around him, Adam gives a small bow of gratitude. “Thank you for answering my question.”
Godric grins, Helga waves, and Rowena inclines her head in farewell. Even Salazar Slytherin gives a curt nod, his expression neutral but not unfriendly.
With a final glance at the gathered portraits, Adam turns and exits the Headmaster’s office. The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving the hum of conversation among the portraits to fade into the background.
As he walks through the familiar, winding corridors of Hogwarts, Adam’s thoughts are filled with everything he has learned.
He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the small parchment Hermione gave him earlier. It is covered in her neat, precise handwriting—questions she has entrusted him to ask the founders. He scans the list and smiles faintly.
Pausing by a window overlooking the grounds, Adam leans against the cool stone and begins scribbling down his responses. The simpler questions are easily answered by him, while the more complex ones have already been addressed and carefully noted.
Back in Gryffindor Tower, Adam finds the common room nearly empty, with most students already gone for breakfast. He enters his dormitory and notices that his dorm mates have also left for the Great Hall. Spotting Seraphina on her perch nibbling at her food, he walks over and gently pets her, a small smile forming on his face.
After a quick change into his robes, Adam grabs his bag and heads down to the Great Hall, his thoughts still lingering on the conversation with the founders from earlier.
As he enters the hall, the usual buzz of morning chatter greets him. His gaze instinctively travels to the Slytherin table, where he spots Elara. She is laughing with a group of her housemates, her previously somber expression replaced by a genuine smile. It is a small but welcome change, and it brings an unbidden smile to Adam’s face.
Turning his attention back to his own house table, he joins Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Plates of eggs, toast, and sausages are spread across the table, and the smell of freshly brewed pumpkin juice fills the air.
“Good morning,” Adam says cheerfully, sliding into the seat beside Hermione. He hands her the parchment she entrusted to him the day before. “Every question is answered. Take a look.”
Hermione’s eyes light up as she takes the parchment, unfolding it eagerly. “Thank you, Adam!” she exclaims, her excitement unmistakable.
She immediately immerses herself in reading his responses, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration as her lips move silently with the words. Harry and Ron exchange amused glances, clearly used to Hermione’s focus when it comes to academics.
“Er, Hermione,” Ron says, trying to stifle a laugh, “you’re about to eat your cornflakes with your nose.”
Harry snorts as Hermione, engrossed in the parchment, absentmindedly brings her spoon to her face at an awkward angle. Adam can’t resist joining in. “Hermione, the paper isn’t going anywhere,” he teases, grinning. “Eat your breakfast, and you can read it later.”
Hermione freezes mid-motion, realizing what she’s done. Her cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as she hastily sets the parchment aside and adjusts her spoon. “Right. Breakfast. Of course.”
The boys laugh good-naturedly, and even Hermione chuckles despite her embarrassment. She tucks the parchment carefully into her bag, though her gaze keeps flickering toward it as if itching to read more.
Once they have all finished eating, the group grabs their bags and heads out of the Great Hall together.
As they make their way to their first lesson, Ron leans over to Adam, smirking. “So, mate, what did you write that got Hermione so hooked? Some ancient spell to keep her from nagging us?”
Adam chuckles. “Nothing so dramatic, Ron. Just answers to her questions. Though, maybe I should create a spell like that after all.”