Sunday morning, Adam wakes early, the faint light of dawn spilling through the narrow gaps in the heavy drapes of the dormitory windows. The dormitory is steeped in a hushed stillness, broken only by the soft snores of his dormmates, who remain deeply nestled in their beds. It’s a weekend, after all, and none of them seem inclined to give up the comfort of sleep just yet. Adam freshen up as quietly as possible, ensuring he doesn’t disturb the serene atmosphere.
His gaze shifts to Seraphina, who dozes lightly on her perch by the window. Adam steps closer, speaking softly so as not to startle her.
“Care to join me today?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Seraphina cracks open one amber eye, blinking sleepily at him. She tilts her head, her movements deliberate, as though she’s actually considering his offer. After a moment, she lets out a soft hoot and hops onto his outstretched arm, before gracefully settling onto his shoulder.
Adam chuckles under his breath, stroking her feathers gently.
With Seraphina perched comfortably, Adam strides through the castle, heading toward the Headmaster’s office.
The corridors are empty this early, the portraits along the walls either snoozing or greeting him. When he arrives at the familiar gargoyle statue guarding the entrance, he leans in and whispers the password.
When he pushes open the door to the Headmaster’s office, he isn’t surprise to find it empty. Adam steps further in, immediately greeted by the soft trill of Fawkes, the phoenix perched serenely on his golden stand near the desk.
“Morning, Fawkes,” Adam says, his tone bright. The phoenix responds with a melodic chirp, its crimson and gold feathers shimmering as it turns to face him. Seraphina, ever alert, hoots quietly from Adam’s shoulder. The two creatures exchange a curious series of sounds—chirps, hoots, and soft whistles. Adam watches the interaction with amuse smile on his face.
“I have no idea what you two are on about,” he says with a chuckle, reaching into his bag and retrieving a small dish of food. He places it gently on the desk for Fawkes to eat.
Leaving Seraphina in Fawkes’ company, Adam turns his attention to the room’s other occupants the portraits. The figures within stir as he approaches, offering nods and murmurs of acknowledgment. Adam’s gaze lingers on the portrait of the four founders.
“How are you all today?” Adam asks casually, stepping closer to their frames. His question, though light, carries genuine interest. “And what do you think of the twentieth century?”
Godric Gryffindor is the first to answer. His deep, commanding voice fills the room, yet it carries a warmth that draws Adam’s attention. “I find it remarkable that magic is now accessible to anyone with the ability, regardless of their bloodline. It was not so in my time, and I’m glad to see the world evolving.”
Salazar Slytherin, leaning against the side of the frame with a calculating gaze, lets out a soft scoff. His tone is sharp, though it lacks its usual venom. “I still don’t agree with teaching Muggle-borns,” he admits with a dismissive wave of his hand, “but I’ve long since stopped caring. The world has changed beyond my preferences. However…” He pauses, his expression darkening as he strokes his pointed beard. “Grindelwald and Voldemort… their ideologies weren’t entirely without merit, though their methods were reprehensible.”
Helga Hufflepuff, interjects with a warm smile. “I think it’s wonderful how Hogwarts has flourished over the centuries. The castle grows, the students thrive, and the magic only deepens. It brings me joy to see the spirit of our school alive and well.”
Rowena Ravenclaw, who has remained silent up to this point, finally speaks, her sharp eyes fixed on Adam. “Hogwarts has indeed drawn many brilliant minds to its halls,” she says, her voice smooth and deliberate. “Speaking of which…” She leans forward slightly, her gaze piercing. “What is it you truly want from me, Adam? Don’t feign ignorance—I can see there’s something on your mind.”
Caught off guard but quick to recover, Adam flashes a sheepish grin and shrugs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Founder. Must be nothing.”
Rowena’s expression doesn’t soften; her penetrating stare lingers a moment longer before she finally leans back, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to press further. Sensing the subtle tension, Seraphina flutters from her perch near Fawkes and lands back on Adam’s shoulder, letting out a soft hoot.
Taking it as his cue to leave, Adam straightens and offers a polite bow to the founders. “Great talking to you all. See you around.”
Founders’ POV
As Adam exits the office, the soft click of the door echoes behind him, leaving the room steeped in an expectant silence. The founders’ portraits, however, remain animated, their gazes following the boy’s retreating figure until he is out of sight. Rowena Ravenclaw, her sharp features etched with a calculating expression, turns toward Helga Hufflepuff.
“That boy is far too intelligent for his age,” Rowena remarks, her tone crisp and laced with curiosity. “If I were alive, I’d pry open his mind to uncover his secrets.”
Helga shakes her head gently, the corner of her lips curling in a soft smile. “That’s far too harsh, Rowena,” she replies, her voice warm and steady. “Everyone has secrets, and knowing them doesn’t always lead to understanding—or peace, for that matter.”
Godric Gryffindor leans back in his chair, his relaxed posture a stark contrast to Rowena’s intensity. “Young wizards should be left to their own devices,” he says thoughtfully, twirling the hilt of his sword idly. “It’s their time to grow, to explore, and yes, to stumble along the way. That’s how they learn.”
Salazar Slytherin’s smirk deepens as he folds his arms across his chest. “At least the boy has brains,” he drawls, his tone both amused and tinged with pride. “Pity he wasn’t sorted into my house—I’d have given him some proper guidance. The ambition is there; he just needs a little refinement.”
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Their conversation is interrupted by the smooth, clipped voice of another portrait, its figure stirring as though it had been content to merely observe until now. Professor Black clears his throat pointedly.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Black begins, his drawl carrying an air of authority, “I believe the boy is after more than mere knowledge.” He pauses for effect, his dark eyes sweeping over the other portraits. “He’s asked about the Room of Requirement and how it was created. Naturally, I pointed him to your portrait, and, unsurprisingly, the boy found the room in a single day—though, between us, I suspect he already knew its location.”
Rowena’s gaze sharpens, her expression shifting to one of suspicion. “He’s after something specific,” she muses, her fingers drumming lightly on the edge of her chair. “Forbidden spells, perhaps? The hand signs for casting them, maybe?” Her voice lowers, tinged with both intrigue and unease.
“Possibly,” Black agrees, his tone grave. “The boy has an undeniable knack for finding what he seeks. If he doesn’t get the answers from us, he’ll find them elsewhere.”
A moment of tense silence falls over the room as the weight of Black’s words settles. Even Godric, who had seemed the least concerned moments ago, sits a little straighter, his expression growing serious. Helga looks between the other founders, her kind face shadowed with worry, but she doesn’t speak.
Salazar’s smirk doesn’t falter, though his eyes glint with something unreadable. “Then perhaps we should wait and see what the boy does with whatever he uncovers,” he says coolly. “After all, knowledge is a double-edged sword. It can build or destroy, depending on the hand that wields it.”
Rowena’s lips press into a thin line as she leans back in her chair, clearly dissatisfied but unable to argue with Salazar’s point. “Still,” she says, her voice soft but resolute, “we should keep an eye on him. He is clever, but cleverness can often lead to trouble when paired with ambition.”
POV Ends
Adam descends the spiraling staircase, his footsteps light but his thoughts heavy. They’re onto me, he muses, his expression betraying no hint of concern. The founders’ words echo faintly in his memory, their suspicions clear. If they won’t give me the answers I need, I’ll just have to find another way.
Adam strokes seraphina feathers gently, his touch calm and reassuring despite the ideas brewing in his thoughts. “It’s alright,” he murmurs to her. “We’ll figure this out.”
By the time Adam enters the Great Hall, the warm buzz of breakfast in full swing greets him. The long tables are filled with students chatting animatedly over plates piled high with food. Adam slips into his usual seat, setting Seraphina on the perch nearby. She ruffles her feathers and begins preening herself, unbothered by the noise.
Before long, the trio—Harry, Ron, and Hermione—joins him. Their lively chatter quickly draws him out of his thoughts.
It must’ve been Professor Lupin’s words yesterday that put Harry at ease now, Adam thinks.
After finishing his meal, Adam rises from the bench. “You two go ahead,” he says to Hermione and Ron. “I’ll catch up later.”
As he moves toward the Slytherin table to meet Elara, who is deep in conversation with another student. She notices him approaching and waves him over with a smile.
“Are you free today?” Adam asks.
Elara shakes her head, an apologetic smile playing on her lips. “Not today, sorry. I’ve got some important work to handle, but maybe another time?”
Adam nods, returning her smile with one of his own. “No worries. Just let me know when you need a break.”
With that, he turns and exits the hall, heading toward the castle’s main gates. The brisk morning air greets him as he makes his way to Hogsmeade Village.
At the far end of the village, away from the busier streets, Adam stops in front of a his small headquarters again.
The old man behind the counter greets him warmly, his lined face breaking into a smile. “Ah, young master,” he says, setting down a ledger he’d been poring over.
Adam nods in acknowledgment, stepping further into the dimly lit room. “How are things progressing?” Adam asks, his tone measured.
The man’s expression brightens as he gestures toward a stack of papers on the counter. “My son will handle the management from now on, and we’re working on recruiting more people.”
“Good,” Adam replies, his voice firm yet calm. “If you run into any issues, send word through the owl.”
The old man inclines his head respectfully. “Of course, young master. You’ll be informed immediately.”
Adam nods once, satisfied, and glances around the room one last time. Everything appears to be in order. With a final word of thanks, he steps back out into the sunlight, the door creaking shut behind him.
Adam makes his way back toward the heart of Hogsmeade, where the lively chatter of students fills the air. The Three Broomsticks Inn is bustling as usual, its windows glowing warmly against the crisp daylight. As Adam steps inside, he immediately spot Ron and Hermione seated at a corner table with a group of other students. They’re deep in conversation, laughter ringing out from their little group. Adam hesitates for a moment, not wanting to intrude on their fun.
Instead, he strides toward the bar, where Madam Rosmerta is expertly juggling drink orders while chatting with her patrons. She notices him approach and offers a welcoming smile. “Young Master,” she greets, her voice warm but curious.
“Always offer my friends a discount,” Adam says with a small grin, leaning casually against the counter. “And keep an eye on things, yeah?”
Rosmerta raises an eyebrow at his words, her hands deftly pouring butterbeer into a tankard. “Master Adam,” she begins, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution, “if I may ask—what are you doing involving yourself with old Barry?”
Adam shrugs, his expression nonchalant. “Just a little side project,” he replies smoothly. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just… don’t mention it to my mother, all right?”
Rosmerta’s brow furrows slightly, but she nods. “Of course,” she says, though there’s a knowing edge to her tone. “But you know, if anything happens in Hogsmeade, your mother will hear about it.”
Adam smirks at that, as though expecting her response. “That’s fine,” he says lightly. “She doesn’t need the details, though.”
Adam reaches up to stroke Seraphina’s feathers. “Speaking of which—stay here with Rosmerta for a bit,” he says, addressing the owl directly. “She’ll spoil you with treats.”
Seraphina wastes no time fluttering onto Rosmerta’s shoulder, her golden eyes gleaming with delight. Rosmerta laughs as the owl nuzzles her affectionately. “Well, aren’t you charming,” she says, reaching into a jar behind the counter and pulling out a small treat.
Adam clicks his tongue in mocking way. “Greedy girl,” he teases with a chuckle, glancing toward Seraphina.
With that, Adam gives Madam a quick nod and heads toward Ron and Hermione’s group. He sits with them, listening to their lively conversation. Ron is in the middle of recounting a dramatic—though likely exaggerated—tale about a mishap in Potions, his arms flailing for emphasis. Hermione rolls her eyes but can’t hide her amused smile, and the rest of the group laughs heartily.
Adam doesn’t say much, offering his usual quiet observations and chiming in only when directly addressed. His calm presence contrasts with their boisterous energy, but it’s clear he doesn’t mind.
As the afternoon begins to creep closer, Adam stands. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, his tone easy but final. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
The group offers their goodbyes, Ron and Hermione waving cheerfully while others gives him a curious look, as though trying to puzzle out his thoughts.
The bustling village fades behind him as he makes his way down the winding path toward the castle grounds, with Seraphina perched on his shoulder. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds accompany him, a peaceful contrast to the lively energy of Hogsmeade. Soon, the Great Lake comes into view, its still waters reflecting the pale blue sky above.