HP : Hogwarts, mashup, multiverse more with gacha, GOT, marvel, dxd dc

Draco's POV

I stepped onto the moving staircase as the gargoyle slid aside, stone grinding against stone. It spiraled upward slowly, and by the time I reached the top, I was already mentally preparing myself for whatever dramatic nonsense Dumbledore had cooked up.

The door opened with a soft creak.

The office was empty.

Or at least, looked empty.

Typical.

Dumbledore was probably hiding under a Disillusionment Charm, watching like some kind of oversized magical Santa Claus with trust issues.

My gaze wandered across the room, landing on the portraits lining the walls—dozens of former headmasters and headmistresses. Most pretended to be asleep, but I knew better. Half of them were peeking from under their lids. One even shifted slightly when I caught its eye. Nosy, the lot of them.

I ignored them.

My attention turned instead to the phoenix perched beside the desk. It blinked at me slowly, its orange-gold feathers shimmering in the dim light like a living flame.

I walked toward it.

It stared.

I stared back.

It tilted its head.

Honestly, if I had to pick between this fire-chicken and that fire turkey from Pokémon, I'd go with the latter. Pretty sure it was immortal too, but it could also revive others.

I stopped just a foot away from the perch.

Fawkes didn't move. Just kept watching me, like it was trying to figure out what flavour of idiot I was.

In fanfics, this is usually the part where the bird lets the main character pet it, and then Dumbledore appears behind them with a knowing smile and says something like:

"Fawkes doesn't usually let anyone that close."

And sure enough—

"Fawkes doesn't usually let others so close."

I turned.

There he was.

The man himself.

Albus Dumbledore.

I met his gaze evenly. "Professor," I said with a polite nod, making sure my Occlumency walls were firmly in place. Not a single thought leaking through.

Of course I knew he could easily break through the defense, but not without me noticing.

His expression didn't shift. But the damned twinkle in his eyes? It only grew stronger.

He gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Come, take a seat."

I moved calmly, deliberately, and sat down in the plush chair opposite him. He settled into his own seat with a casual grace that somehow made me more on edge than a glare would have.

I wasn't in the mood for a drawn-out silence game, the kind where he sipped tea and waited for me to spill my soul.

So I cut right in.

"Professor, I assume you wanted to speak with me about something."

He nodded slowly, folding his hands on the desk.

"Yes. Several professors have informed me that you've been missing their lectures rather consistently. I wanted to hear your reasoning directly, rather than rely on reports."

Straight to the point.

"Well," I began, meeting his eyes without flinching, "there's no special reason, really."

I kept my tone even, respectful, but not apologetic.

"I've just been reorganising my priorities. Focusing on certain subjects over others. I still attend classes, just not all of them. Not on the usual schedule."

His expression remained unchanged, but I could feel him watching every word, every inflection.

"It's not out of disrespect, Professor," I added quickly. "Far from it. I value our professors. But lately, I've found that self-study and practical experimentation work better for me."

A faint hum from one of the portraits behind me. I ignored it.

"I still ask for guidance when needed. I haven't shut myself off. It's just... theory can only go so far. And I'm more interested in what spells do when they're cast under pressure, not how they're broken down in footnotes."

I paused.

"I know it's unconventional. But I am learning. Just in my own way."

He didn't say anything.

Just stared.

No expression, no smile, not even a twitch of his long fingers. And yet somehow, the silence pressed heavier than a Howler. I could feel the sweat gathering at the back of my neck, creeping down under my collar despite the fact that the room was magically temperature-controlled.

He tilted his head, voice soft but piercing.

"You've changed, Mr Malfoy. You are quite different from last year."

My stomach tensed.

Does he know?

Does he know I'm not the same? That something shifted? That the Draco Malfoy sitting in front of him isn't the one who used to smirk his way through lectures and pick fights in hallways?

Or maybe he doesn't need to know. Forget it. Whatever.

"It's just," I said evenly, "I realised I was wasting time. Focusing on things that have no use to me."

His gaze sharpened slightly. I pushed on.

"I decided I should spend my time on what actually matters. Like magic. The real kind. Not just scribbling essays about goblin rebellions or playing pranks on others."

There was a faint flicker of something in his eyes. Curiosity? Amusement? Approval?

"I mean," I added, voice steady, "at the end of the day, we're wizards. Magic is our tool. Might as well take it seriously."

"A tool?" Dumbledore repeated.

I didn't flinch.

"Yes," I said simply. "A wand is a wand. A spell is a spell. But how well they work depends entirely on who's holding them."

He leaned back slightly in his chair, hands folded over his robes. His expression didn't change, but I could feel his attention sharpen, like a knife hidden under velvet.

"Magic," I continued, "can build or destroy, depending on intent. And skill. And understanding."

It wasn't just a power you threw around in duels or exams. It was discipline. Reaction time. Adaptation. Knowing the limits of what could be done, and how to push them.

"Even a hammer," I added, "is just a lump of wood and metal until someone uses it properly."

The silence hung for a beat too long.

Then Dumbledore smiled, faintly.

"Curious," he murmured. "Most students your age speak of magic as a gift, not a tool."

I shrugged. "Maybe they're not wrong. But I didn't come to Hogwarts just to be gifted. I came to learn how to use it."

Another pause.

Then he said, gently, "And what, Mr Malfoy, do you intend to build with this tool of yours?"

He was testing me.

"That," I said, "depends on the world I find myself in."

************

Suggestions for Malfoy family