A Certain Magical Hogwarts

An explosion rocked the Hogwarts castle, and black flames engulfed the air. Under the blazing fire, the spire of the castle began to sink, seemingly consumed by the fire.

However, the collapsing structure was halted mid-air by an invisible barrier, sparing the students gathered nearby from harm.

All the young witches and wizards huddled together, watching as Dumbledore appeared in the breach on the fourth floor of the castle.

Voldemort's current state was dire as Quirrell's soul was on the verge of collapse.

With a wave of his wand, Voldemort summoned surging black flames, forming a massive serpent that lunged at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore responded with a flash of crimson light from his wand, shattering the serpent into nothingness.

Wrapped in a swirl of black wind, Voldemort turned and fled into the sky.

Dumbledore did not pursue him. Instead, he aimed his wand at the castle.

"Reparo!"

The flames vanished, and the broken structures of the castle reassembled themselves as if nothing had happened.

All eyes were on Dumbledore, their faces filled with awe. The headmaster was as powerful as ever!

William observed Dumbledore thoughtfully. At his age, most wizards would experience a significant decline in strength, yet Dumbledore seemed unaffected by time.

He suddenly recalled stories Nicolas Flamel had shared, particularly those about the most powerful wand.

…

Today would be a day to remember.

William Stark had scored 260 points in the Quidditch match, breaking Hogwarts' all-time record and securing Ravenclaw's place in the finals.

He had also slain a giant Basilisk during the match.

The two seemingly unrelated events—a victory over Slytherin on the pitch and the slaying of the snake symbolic of Slytherin—together wove a narrative that was like a legend.

William's popularity skyrocketed, and his fanbase at Hogwarts grew to near-worship levels.

Roger Davies bragged to everyone that he and William had worked together for 270 points, taking shamelessness to new heights.

Soon, another rumor began circulating: the Boy Who Lived had thwarted You Know Who's attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone.

Most people dismissed this, as they had witnessed the events firsthand. Dumbledore, standing amid the flames, had driven off the mysterious wizard, and no one had seen Harry Potter anywhere near the scene.

…

Headmaster's Office

Sitting in a chair, William asked, "How's Harry?"

"Harry is fine," Dumbledore replied with a satisfied smile, "I stopped him from swallowing the Philosopher's Stone at the last moment, though he'll need some time in the hospital wing to recover.

"Madam Pomfrey won't let me visit him. She'd chase me out with a feather duster if I tried."

William nodded slightly, glancing at the Philosopher's Stone on the desk.

The stone was dull, its lusted faded.

It's magic power was nearly depleted.

This was normal; the Philosopher's Stone wasn't a perpetual motion machine. Its magic couldn't last indefinitely without replenishment.

A stone's lifespan depended on its maker's skill. Poorly crafted stones could exhaust their magic in mere days.

Furthermore, possessing a Philosopher's Stone didn't guarantee immortality. It was merely a key ingredient in the Elixir of Life, which required careful brewing.

"I'll publicly announce that the Philosopher's Stone has been destroyed," Dumbledore said calmly.

William wasn't surprised. Nicolas had already mentioned this plan.

It was also a sensible move to avoid attracting further trouble.

Of course, Nicolas wasn't planning to die just yet. He'd often said he hadn't lived enough and intended to craft a new Philosopher's Stone. Which was partly why he'd sought William.

"What about Professor Snape?" William asked.

"He's demanding a rematch," Dumbledore chuckled, "He claims the Basilisk disrupted the game, making it unfair for Ravenclaw."

William had seen his fair share of shamelessness, but Snape's audacity took it to a new level.

As William often said: Don't be too much of a Snape in life.

Dumbledore smiled. "According to the rules, a rematch is possible if both heads of house agree."

"Professor Flitwick left the decision to me," William said with a smirk, "I'm confident we'd win again, but let's give Slytherin a bit of face.

"Otherwise, we might set a new record for the largest point gap next time."

Dumbledore nodded. "Do you think you'll win the championship?"

"Of course."

"What a pity," Dumbledore sighed, "Gryffindor didn't make it to the finals."

William shrugged. "Even if they had, they wouldn't stand a chance. By the time the finals roll around, Harry will still be in the hospital wing."

He had a premonition that any Gryffindor Quidditch team with Harry Potter on it would face constant challenges every year.

"The Quidditch matter is settled. What about the Basilisk?" Dumbledore asked, leaning back in his chair.

With a sigh, William said, "I'm willing to part with some of it, but Snape must provide me with any potions I request, no questions asked."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed, his tone approving, "You've done remarkably well, William.

"I think you'll be awarded another Special Award for Services to the School. That's quite an achievement."

William remained calm. Having already received such an award, he no longer found it particularly exciting.

His gaze shifted to a piece of parchment on the desk.

Dumbledore noticed and said with a hint of frustration, "We're always in need of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Any applicants?"

"None, Even after raising the salary by thirty percent."

It wasn't surprising. The position's notorious curse made it highly undesirable.

William couldn't help but wonder who the next unfortunate soul would be.

"Remember Gilderoy Lockhart?" Dumbledore asked suddenly.

William thought for a moment. "I do. He wrote me a few letters inviting me to his book launches."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said brightly, "Since you know him, could you write him a letter inviting him to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts?"

"You think he'll come?" William raised an eyebrow, doubting his own influence.

"He will," Dumbledore said confidently, "Just hint that being a professor would boost his book sales."

William was speechless. He had long suspected Hogwarts received kickbacks from Diagon Alley merchants. Now it seemed they were extending the scheme to Lockhart.

"Oh, by the way," William said, "have you considered updating Hogwarts' acceptance letters?"

"What's wrong with them?" Dumbledore asked, interested .

"They're outdated, practically medieval," William replied, shaking his head. "I've heard some students considered transferring to Beauxbatons after reading them.

"A bit of modern flair wouldn't hurt. It would help with recruitment in Britain."

"Oh, then do you have any suggestions?"

William quickly jotted down a draft and handed it to the headmaster.

Dumbledore read it with great interest, smiling as he did.

"Good night, Professor," William said, standing to leave.

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