The circular office atop the Headmaster's Tower was unusually occupied that afternoon.
Golden sunlight streamed through the tall windows overlooking the Hogwarts grounds, illuminating shelves lined with curious silver instruments whose delicate arms spun and clicked with quiet precision. Fawkes rested peacefully upon his gilded perch, his crimson feathers gleaming in the light while the portraits of former headmasters observed the gathering with varying degrees of interest. Some appeared engrossed in newspapers, others whispered amongst themselves, and a few simply watched the living occupants with practiced patience.
Around the large circular table sat the heads of the four houses alongside the Headmaster.
Stacks of examination papers, parchment rolls, and neatly organized ledgers occupied nearly every inch of the tabletop.
The annual grading was finally drawing to a close.
Professor Flitwick carefully placed another bundle of Charms examinations onto the completed pile before stretching his shoulders.
"We've finally finished grading the papers."
His voice carried a mixture of relief and satisfaction that was shared by nearly everyone present.
Professor Sprout smiled warmly as she closed one of the record books.
"Yes, and I must say, this year's results have been rather encouraging. More students than usual managed to achieve passing grades, and the number of Exceeds Expectations has increased considerably."
Professor McGonagall nodded in agreement while reviewing a summary sheet.
"The improvement isn't limited to a single year either. Nearly every class has shown progress to varying degrees."
A soft snort escaped Professor Snape.
"There were also noticeably fewer explosions in my classroom this year."
The room fell silent for a brief moment before Flitwick chuckled.
"Coming from you, Severus, I assume that's considered high praise."
"It is merely an observation," Snape replied evenly, though there was the faintest trace of approval hidden beneath his usual impassive expression. "A surprising number of students finally understood that brewing potions requires discipline rather than enthusiasm."
Professor Sprout laughed quietly.
"I'll gladly take fewer visits to the Hospital Wing caused by exploding cauldrons."
Dumbledore listened to the discussion with his fingers lightly folded before him, the familiar twinkle present behind his half-moon spectacles.
"That is excellent news."
His calm voice settled comfortably over the conversation.
"It seems our students have begun taking their studies more seriously."
McGonagall glanced toward the collection of statistical reports lying before her.
"Most of the students showing the greatest improvement happen to be members of the Study Club."
Flitwick's eyebrows rose slightly.
"When you compare their previous performance with their examination results, the difference is rather remarkable."
Sprout looked over one of the attendance records.
"They've not only improved academically, but several of the younger students appear considerably more confident during practical examinations as well."
Even Snape offered a slight inclination of his head.
"Their discipline has certainly improved."
Dumbledore shifted his attention toward McGonagall.
"You supervised the club well throughout the year, Minerva."
A small smile appeared on her usually stern face.
"I would hardly claim much credit."
She folded her hands neatly atop the table.
"Apart from approving the schedules and ensuring no rules were broken, we professors interfered very little. The students managed the club almost entirely on their own."
She paused before continuing.
"To be more precise, it was mainly Mr. Salvius."
Several professors exchanged knowing glances.
"He established the structure from the very beginning," McGonagall explained. "Different years helped one another, attendance remained consistent, students held each other accountable, and disputes were surprisingly rare. Once the routine was established, the club practically managed itself."
Professor Flitwick smiled.
"I've occasionally observed the sessions from a distance."
His admiration was evident.
"The older students willingly tutored the younger ones, while the younger students were motivated to improve rather than intimidated. It became... self-sustaining."
"Quite unusual for students," Sprout agreed.
"They rarely maintain that level of organization without constant supervision."
Snape leaned back slightly.
"Especially Slytherins."
No one misunderstood what he meant.
Competition among Slytherins was hardly uncommon. Older students often guarded useful knowledge instead of sharing it freely, believing every advantage should remain their own.
Yet somehow that attitude had gradually begun changing over the course of the year.
Dumbledore quietly absorbed every observation.
His gaze lingered momentarily upon the parchment detailing the Study Club's attendance records.
"Hmm."
A thoughtful sound escaped him.
"Mr. Salvius has exceeded even my expectations."
His expression remained warm.
"And, if memory serves me correctly..."
He smiled faintly.
"...he has managed to avoid causing any significant incidents since the Study Club was established."
Flitwick laughed softly.
"That may be his greatest achievement."
Several professors couldn't help smiling.
Only McGonagall maintained a measured expression.
"He is not a troublemaker just stubborn."
Dumbledore nodded gently.
Outwardly, his demeanor betrayed nothing beyond quiet approval.
Inwardly, however, his thoughts traveled a different path.
He has indeed changed.
Or perhaps... refined himself.
The Alastair who had first arrived at Hogwarts possessed confidence beyond his years, but that confidence had often manifested through calculated provocations, carefully orchestrated spectacles, and an uncanny ability to remain one step ahead whenever questions arose.
The hourglass incident.
The projector demonstrations.
The formation of the Study Club.
Each action had appeared isolated at first glance.
Yet when viewed together, they formed a remarkably consistent pattern.
Alastair rarely forced anyone to follow him.
Instead, he created circumstances in which following him became the most reasonable choice.
Students joined the Study Club because they wished to improve.
Older students volunteered because helping others elevated their own reputations.
Professors supported the initiative because it benefited the school.
Every participant believed they had acted entirely of their own accord.
And they had.
That, Dumbledore reflected, was precisely what made the young heir remarkable.
Influence gained willingly is far stronger than influence demanded.
People obey authority because they must.
They follow conviction because they choose to.
His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest.
Mr. Salvius possesses an unusual gift for inspiring voluntary loyalty.
Such charisma can accomplish extraordinary good...
His gaze drifted briefly toward the window overlooking the castle grounds.
...or extraordinary harm.
He had only seen such charm in once close friend—
Before his thoughts could continue further, one of the portraits stirred.
A middle-aged wizard with an impressive beard spoke out of his painted frame.
"Headmaster."
The room's attention shifted toward him.
"There is a student standing outside the gargoyle requesting to see you."
Dumbledore looked up.
"Oh?"
The portrait nodded with barely concealed amusement.
"When informed that he required the password, he simply began naming every sweet he could think of."
Professor Flitwick blinked.
"He did what?"
"'Lemon Drops.'"
The portrait counted upon his fingers.
"'Chocolate Frogs.' 'Fizzing Whizzbees.' 'Sherbet Lemons.' 'Acid Pops.' 'Peppermint Toads.'"
Even McGonagall's lips twitched slightly.
The portrait continued.
"At this rate, he may accidentally discover the correct password eventually."
"What would you have us do?"
Dumbledore chuckled quietly.
"Who is our persistent visitor?"
The portrait frowned thoughtfully.
"I recognize him."
He snapped his fingers.
"The same young gentleman who broke the hourglass."
A collective sigh traveled around the table.
"Alastair..."
The name escaped almost every professor simultaneously.
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Of course."
McGonagall simply shook her head.
"I should have guessed."
A gentle smile spread across Dumbledore's face.
"Please let him in."
The portrait inclined his head before disappearing from the frame, presumably relaying the instruction through the network of enchanted paintings.
Silence settled over the office once more.
Only the soft ticking of the silver instruments disturbed the quiet.
A minute later, three measured knocks echoed against the heavy oak door.
"Come in," Dumbledore called.