Every portrait on the entire wall—the male and female headmasters—stared at Jon with wide, unblinking eyes.
"I've never been some gifted wizard..." Jon said slowly. "Maybe I have some talent with herbs and potions — since they don't rely on mindless wand-waving, many don't even consider them magic."
"Only the most foolish would think so!" grumbled the white-haired Headmaster Armando Dippet.
"Perhaps! I also performed reasonably well in spells and magic related to the mind and memory. Of course, that's about it... Everything else—whether it's charms, Transfiguration, or Defence Against the Dark Arts—my talent is only average..."
He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Even the Sorting Hat tried to place me in three houses—Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. It never once considered Ravenclaw."
As he spoke, Jon glanced at the worn, patched, and filthy pointed wizard's hat sitting on the corner of Dumbledore's desk.
"I actually think you'd be perfect for Ravenclaw!" Principal Everard murmured softly. He himself was a Ravenclaw alumnus and current Headmaster of Hogwarts. "And I've always thought our sorting rules were a bit arbitrary."
"Perhaps they are," Jon nodded. "But it does reveal something, something I realized years ago."
"What exactly?" Headmaster Phineas Black inquired, curiosity piqued.
Everard shot him a sharp glare from the side.
"Nothing," Jon smiled, shaking his head at Headmaster Everall before continuing. "When it comes to actual spells, I've never been a magical prodigy... I'm no protagonist. I can't cast spells effortlessly just by looking at them, like some wizards can; I can't master the most complex metamorphosis like Animagus in half a month; nor can I grasp most of the deepest magic by first year..."
Seeing the headmaster's bewildered expression, Jon explained: "Of course I'm no complete failure either. At least, aside from the first half of my first year, I didn't face too many obstacles learning spells. I'm just a poor comparison to the true geniuses... Like Professor Dumbledore, like Tom Riddle, and of course, like you."
"That's natural!" Phineas Black nodded with satisfaction. "Compared to us and Albus, your talent is, of course, poor!"
The words had barely left his mouth when Headmaster Black clutched his head in agony, letting out an "Ouch!"
Several headmasters simultaneously appeared in his portrait, each delivering a sharp tap to his head.
...
A brief silence fell over the Headmaster's Office.
"I recall your grades were consistently top-tier, in nearly every subject?" Headmaster Oliver Cromwell spoke up this time, his voice carrying not just coolness but also a hint of concern.
"Just average, really. Probably because I worked a bit harder than my classmates," Jon chuckled. "Plus, I've got a decent memory."
"Don't be so hard on yourself!" Principal Dexter Fortescue, with his red nose, shook his head. "Remember? This time last year, you were the Triwizard Tournament champion!"
Jon began counting on his fingers. "In the first Triwizard task, I used Devil's Snare and Ghost Vine; the second task, I utilized Bladderwort and Ashwinder; and the third task, I employed Polyjuice Potion and Veritaserum, plus Fawkes' help..."
Headmaster Fortescue sighed softly. Headmaster Dipett let out a few coughs, while Headmaster Black lowered his head in embarrassment.
"You can use these things..." Headmaster Oliver spoke slowly. "These are also part of your strength."
"Exactly!" To everyone's surprise, Jon Hart's face broke into a radiant smile.
A touch of pride crept into his voice. "Because this is my philosophy of magic!"
...
The Headmasters exchanged puzzled glances, not quite grasping Jon's meaning.
"I just said... the greatest difference between wizards and Magical Creatures lies in wizards' ability to use tools," Jon replied calmly. "Tools aren't limited to wands—potions, herbs, Magical Creatures can all become our tools, and of course, many muggle items too."
"...A wizard's true strength lies not in magic, but in wisdom." Jon's voice brimmed with confidence. "Facing any problem and immediately resorting to casting a spell is a sign of weakness... I've always believed such people are nothing more than barbarians who happen to know magic."
"Flexibly employing every tool at our disposal, using our brains to solve unsolvable problems... rather than relying solely on magic or brute force—that is what defines a truly outstanding wizard!"
Jon plopped down onto the floor and took a sip of pumpkin juice. "Well, that's my take on it, anyway!"
Headmaster Cromwell was the first to begin clapping, followed by Phineas Black. Soon, every portrait of past headmasters and headmistresses joined in, their hands pounding the frames with enthusiastic applause.
Soon the whole office echoed with applause.
...
An hour later, Jon Hart had already burrowed into a sleeping bag, emitting faint snores.
Whispers still drifted from the portrait wall; they seemed to be discussing something.
"Ever since Albus told us three years ago that Hogwarts had chosen an eleven-year-old child, I couldn't understand..." Headmaster Oliver Cromwell sighed softly. "And today, I finally get it."
"Indeed, Hogwarts never errs," Brian Gagwilde, the most senior Headmaster among the portraits, nodded thoughtfully.
"Then what about that matter?" Phineas Black asked softly. "Should we tell him?"
"That concerns Albus's privacy. Besides, he is the Headmaster. We have no right to violate his authority," Cromwell said coldly.
"Very well..." Headmaster Black sighed. "Given the timeline, it won't be long before Albus tells him everything himself..."
...
Hearing their whispers, Jon's lips curled slightly.
Yet he remained motionless, continuing to emit faint snores.
In this world, portraits weren't the only ones who could pretend to be asleep.