The door closed softly behind Aurelian and the twins as they left. The echo of their footsteps descending the spiral staircase faded away, leaving a heavy silence in the headmaster's office.
Dumbledore remained seated, staring at the closed door as if he could still see what lay beyond. McGonagall and Snape remained standing in front of his desk, the fire in the fireplace casting shadows on the walls covered with bookshelves and magical artifacts.
It was McGonagall who spoke first.
"Albus, I have taught many talented students, but Mr. Gaunt's strength was not that of a second-year student."
Snape narrowed his eyes.
"Not only was it not typical of a second-year," his voice was low, calculated, "even many adult wizards could not channel so much magical energy without burning themselves in the process. Gaunt did it effortlessly."
McGonagall looked at him sternly.
"Are you suggesting that he has a level of control close to that of a Invoker?"
Snape shook his head.
"Not yet. But her ability to channel, the steadiness of her execution—that is someone who has at least already mastered the level of Conjurer in its entirety. Minerva, at his age, is... alarming."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, his fingers drumming on the desk.
"In my entire life, I have seen very few wizards with such early magical development," he pondered his words for a moment. "At least he shows emotional stability."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
"I don't think there's much emotional stability in electrocuting ten students."
"Perhaps not," replied Snape, "but observe the precision. Not a single bolt was missed, not a single bystander was hit. He hit his target exactly and stopped the discharge at the precise moment to avoid permanent damage. It wasn't blind rage."
The headmaster stared into the fire with a distant expression.
"He did it for them. Not out of pride, not to show strength, but to protect the Carrow sisters. Those kinds of motivations can shape or destroy a wizard, depending on which path he takes."
McGonagall crossed her arms.
"With what we already know about this world, we cannot ignore that a wizard like this could attract attention. Even from..." she lowered her voice slightly, "other Archmages."
Snape nodded.
"Not everyone has good intentions."
Dumbledore rose slowly, walking toward the window from which he could see the night sky and the silhouettes of the Hogwarts towers.
"Aurelian is on a dangerous path. He has power, ambition, and now an emotional bond that is his greatest strength, but also his greatest weakness."
McGonagall sighed.
"And what will you do, Albus?"
"The same thing I've done up until now," replied Dumbledore, with a slight smile. "Watch him, make sure that when the time comes, he chooses the right side of history."
The fire crackled louder, and for a moment, the headmaster's face darkened.
In a world where only seven Archmages walked among the living, Aurelian Gaunt was growing up to perhaps become one of them, and no one in that room could predict whether that would be a blessing or a curse for the world.
The third week of punishment was coming to an end. On the last night, Aurelian silently walked down one of the oldest corridors at Hogwarts, wielding a bucket and a rag that Mr. Filch had given him as if they were weapons in a war against dust.
The air smelled of old stone and candle wax. The suits of armor, lined up against the wall, watched him with their empty visors as he wiped them down with mechanical movements. Filch, further ahead, muttered to himself about "students who needed discipline" and "how good they would look in chains from time to time."
Aurelian barely heard him. His mind was far away, reviewing the last three weeks.
Since that night in the common room, no one in Slytherin had looked at him with hostility again. There were no more whispers behind his back, no more veiled laughter, let alone direct provocations. The warning had sunk in deeply, the show of power had made it clear that insulting Hestia and Flora was tantamount to seeking one's own destruction.
He smiled slightly as he remembered how the twins seemed even closer to him. Now there was a silent certainty between the three of them: they had each other, against everything and everyone.
His thoughts turned to Cedric.
One afternoon, on the Hufflepuff training field, Cedric had taken him aside, his face serious.
"I heard what happened in your common room."
"And?" Aurelian had replied.
Cedric smiled.
"I just wanted to tell you... if someone messed with the people I care about like that, I wouldn't stand idly by either. I can't blame you."
With the Weasley twins, the conversation had been different. Fred found him first, in the corridors, and dragged him straight to George. Both wore that smile that could only mean they were about to say something that could end in trouble. They almost seemed proud.
"That's right, Aurelian!" laughed Fred. "A good electric shock to put people in their place."
"Too bad we weren't there to see it," added George. "Although..." they exchanged a knowing glance, "it wouldn't be a bad idea if you taught us that trick someday."
He returned to the present when Filch cleared his throat behind him.
"That there," said the caretaker, pointing to a corner, "is still dirty."
Aurelian sighed and bent down to clean the last dusty corner.
As he did so, he noticed that, despite the monotony of the punishment, something had changed in him. His decision to protect the twins no matter the cost had not weakened; on the contrary, it had been reinforced. Every day of work had been a reminder that he was willing to endure any consequences in order to remain true to his decisions.
When Filch finally let him go, he walked calmly to the dungeons that night. He knew that when he walked through the door of the common room, they would be waiting for him. And so it was: Hestia and Flora, sitting together on the sofa closest to the fire, looked up as soon as they saw him enter, their smiles lit by the flames.
Aurelian thought that the dust and grime of those three weeks had been worth it.
Snow had begun to slowly cover the grounds of Hogwarts, turning the towers and Quidditch field white. From the window of the common room, the lake looked like a gray, frozen mirror.
Aurelian was reclining on one of the leather sofas, a cup of hot tea in his hand, staring out the window. Hestia and Flora were chatting quietly beside him. His mind was far away from the castle.
The Christmas holidays were approaching. In a few days, the Hogwarts Express would depart for London, carrying hundreds of students eager to leave the school routine behind.
If he stayed at the castle, he would have quiet weeks to advance his personal study of magic and explore restricted areas. The holidays were the perfect time to move around without too much attention from the teachers.
But if he left, he could go to Gringotts and talk face to face with Kravix, and that, for his vision of the future, was no small thing.
In their last exchange of letters, he had informed him that GauntCorp was growing faster than expected. Noxum brooms had become a success not only in the United Kingdom but also in foreign markets. Contracts were already being signed with more professional teams, and there were proposals to expand production and create equipment branches.
Aurelian turned the cup in his hands, watching the steam rise. There were decisions that couldn't be discussed by letter. He needed to look Kravix in the eye, discuss projections, negotiate terms, and make sure his company stayed on the course he wanted.
In addition, there were movements in his Muggle investments and agricultural properties that required review. If everything went as planned, in a few years he could have a solid empire in both the magical and non-magical worlds.
"You're very quiet," Hestia commented, leaning in a little to get a better look at him.
Aurelian smiled slightly.
"I'm thinking."
Flora looked at him curiously.
"About what?"
"Whether I'll spend the holidays here or go home for Christmas," Aurelian replied.
The snow continued to fall outside the window as Hestia stopped pretending to be indifferent.
"Are you leaving for Christmas?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral, but the slight tremor in her words gave her away.
Flora put down the book she was holding.
"Does that mean... we're going to be left here alone?" she asked, but there was something else in her tone. Not fear, but rejection.
Aurelian tilted his head.
"No. Not alone. You'd go back home, wouldn't you?" he asked.
The twins looked at each other, and the discomfort was evident. Hestia spoke first, with a gesture of disgust.
"I'd much rather stay here than... that."
Flora nodded, her lips tight.
"As you know, our family is not" she searched for the right word "welcoming. It never was."
Her voice dropped even lower, almost to a whisper.
"To them, we are a problem that is tolerated out of obligation. If they see us, it is to criticize us or remind us that we are not what they expect."
Hestia added, with a cold gleam in her eyes.
"After meeting you, after being with you, going back to that house would be like locking ourselves in a cell."
Aurelian rested his elbow on the armrest, watching them closely.
"So..." he said slowly, "do you want to come with me to Gaunt Manor for the holidays?"
The two looked at him as if he had cast a spell.
"Are you serious?" asked Flora, with a mixture of amazement and hope.
"Of course I am," he replied. "I have plenty of room, and it would be better for you to spend the holidays somewhere you feel safe and where no one looks down on you."
Hestia leaned toward him, her intense gaze fixed on his.
"And you wouldn't mind having us with you?"
Aurelian smiled slightly.
"Of course not."
He paused, as if weighing his words, and then asked.
"But would there be any problem with your family if you stayed with me?"
The twins replied in unison, without hesitation:
"No."
Flora added, with a slight hint of satisfaction.
"I don't think they'd mind."
The silence that followed was not uncomfortable. The twins leaned close to him, as if they were already imagining their vacation there.
Aurelian's quill glided precisely across the parchment, finishing the last lines of a Transfiguration essay. It wasn't particularly difficult for him, but McGonagall demanded perfection, and Aurelian was not willing to settle for anything less.
The silence in his room was interrupted by a sharp knock on the window. A dark owl stared at him with yellow eyes.
Aurelian frowned, got up, and opened the window to let it in. The bird handed him a letter sealed with a dark blue wax seal that he did not recognize at first, until he saw the surname written in elegant calligraphy on the back: Carrow.
He hadn't expected Hestia and Flora's parents to write to him directly. He broke the seal and began to read.
"Mr. Gaunt:
We were interested and somewhat surprised to hear that Hestia and Flora will be spending the Christmas holidays in your care.
Although we are aware that our daughters may be... different from most people, we are glad to know that they have found in you a friend willing to accept them as they are.
We are not unaware that your position and surname could have allowed you to refuse this responsibility. However, you have decided otherwise, and for that we express our sincere gratitude.
We trust that, during these weeks, they will behave in a manner befitting the hospitality you offer them.
If at any time you require anything from us, please do not hesitate to let us know.
Sincerely, Alaric and Selene Carrow"
Aurelian finished reading with a raised eyebrow. There was no trace of familial affection in those words; rather, they seemed written out of mere formality, as if they were relinquishing custody of a couple of pieces they would rather not have in their home.
But what caught his attention most was the phrase "different for most."
He put the letter away in his desk and leaned back in his chair, thinking how strange it was that they were thanking him. For him, it wasn't a simple act of courtesy. He wanted them to be with him.
Perhaps it wasn't worth mentioning the letter to them... at least not yet.