Ron and Harry stared at Hector in shock. Mr. Draco Malfoy, who had been spouting nonsense just a moment ago, had turned from crimson-red to deathly pale. He backed away rapidly, clearly deciding that he wouldn’t be finding trouble with this trio anytime soon.
Hector was quite pleased with the stir he had caused. It was evident that the name "Dumbledore" still carried immense weight in the wizarding world.
Mr. Malfoy, that truly dedicated straight man for his comedy act, had done a marvelous job. Hector silently gave him a thumbs-up. With this little scene, he figured he wouldn't be bothered for a good while.
"You’re a Dumbledore? Wait, the Dumbledore? Albus Dumbledore?" Harry asked, looking at Hector with suspicion.
Hector nodded. "Unless there’s another Dumbledore in the wizarding world, I suppose I am."
"That was so cool! Did you see Malfoy’s face? It looked like he’d swallowed a slug," Ron said, looking quite excited. He was clearly delighted to see Malfoy put in his place.
"Wow, you must know a lot of magic, then," a girl’s voice came from behind them. The voice sounded somewhat bossy, yet inexplicably familiar to Hector. Beside him, Ron ducked his head, deliberately avoiding the girl’s gaze.
Hector turned around to find a young girl with bushy, thick hair staring at him. He recognized Hermione Granger instantly, looking as if she had just stepped out of the film, and his heart skipped a beat. The girl’s eyes were bright; she tilted her head slightly, waiting expectantly for Hector’s reply.
Hector’s mind went blank for a fleeting second. He glanced at Ron, who was trying to bury his head in the ground like an ostrich, and whispered a silent apology to him.
In his previous life, Hector had struggled between the Ron-Hermione, Harry-Hermione, and even Malfoy-Hermione ships. Now, he realized: forget that! From this moment on, he was sticking to the "Hector-Hermione" principle!
He was determined to poach this talent; not even Merlin himself could stop him. That was a promise.
"Not that many, actually. I’ve only just started learning. And you are?" Hector immediately wiped the smug look off his face and asked with a gentlemanly grace.
"Hermione Granger. You can call me Hermione."
"A pleasure. You can call me Hector." Just as Hector was about to delve deeper into the topic of their studies with Miss Granger, Professor McGonagall emerged from behind the door. Seeing Hector standing in the front row, still looking back and talking, she stepped forward and tapped him on the back with a rolled-up piece of parchment.
"Everyone ready? Follow me."
As the young wizards trailed behind Professor McGonagall, Ron poked Hector with his elbow and leaned in close, whispering, "Be careful with her. There’s something wrong with her head," he added, glancing back to make sure she wasn't listening.
Hector chuckled without responding, his eyes reflecting a hint of guilt as he looked at Ron.
"What?" Ron noticed the look, touched his face uncomfortably, and asked, "Is there something on my face? I remember cleaning it off on the train."
Hector patted Ron on the shoulder, satisfied with his oblivious state as his "wall" was about to be dismantled. "You have no idea what happened on the train..."
The young wizards passed through the heavy doors and a corridor, finally reaching the Great Hall under the guidance of Professor McGonagall.
Ron stopped talking about the train ride, his attention completely captured by the ceiling of the Great Hall.
Hundreds upon hundreds of candles floated in the air. The ceiling had been replaced by the sky itself, where clouds drifted alongside a bright, full moon, casting a captivating glow. As the students entered, fireworks shot up, blooming in the night sky above the hall, decorating the entire space.
Four long tables were set up in the hall, each bearing the banners of the respective houses, embroidered with a serpent, an eagle, a lion, and a badger.
"Look at the sky, it's bewitched to look like the ceiling. I read about it in *Hogwarts: A History*," Hermione’s voice drifted from behind. Ron nudged Hector. "Just like I told you." He shrugged, looking proud to have his words confirmed.
Hector shrugged back, remaining calm on the surface while laughing heartily on the inside.
He had to admit, Ron’s initial impression of Hermione was quite something. He had intended to quietly poach her and nudge Ron in the wrong direction, but since the boy was handing him the shovel and practically stuffing the potion bottle into his mouth, he might as well accept the gift.
Professor McGonagall stepped up to a stool, behind which stood a long table where the professors were seated.
"Please wait here," Professor McGonagall said, stopping the trio who had been walking at the front. She turned around and produced a dusty, battered wizard’s hat.
She placed the hat on the stool, and every eye turned toward the unassuming object. The hat twitched, a wide rip opened up, and under the gaze of everyone, it began to sing.
(The song omitted as per instructions.)
As the music ended, applause erupted. The hat straightened itself like a proud gentleman, wiggling its body as it bowed to the applauding young wizards.
"Before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words," Professor McGonagall announced.
Taking the opportunity, Hector scanned the faculty table. The most eye-catching figure was undoubtedly the professor whose head was wrapped in layers of purple bandages like a ball. Needless to say, that was the year's "discarded" Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell. Presumably, the remnants of Voldemort residing on the back of his head were currently directing Quirrell to scan the crowd for the boy who had caused his downfall. That would explain why he was standing in such a secluded corner, looking around anxiously.
Sitting beside him, radiating a dark aura and searching the crowd with wide eyes, was their ace spy—the double agent for both the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters, Professor Snape. Dressed in long, black robes with a melancholic, gloomy temperament, his expressionless face paired with hair that looked as though it hadn't been washed in years, made it easy for one to assume he was a villain—had Hector not known the truth.
Hector also noted the short Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, and the plump woman beside him, likely Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher. Right in the center sat the one Hector was most familiar with: Professor Albus Dumbledore.
Dumbledore wore brand-new purple robes today and a tall, pointed hat. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed, making the hundred-year-old man look quite spirited.
He caught Hector’s gaze, winked with a smile, and stood up.
"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore said politely before turning to the students. "We have said farewell to our seventh-year students and welcomed some fresh blood. Now, I have a few start-of-term notices to announce."
"First-years, please note that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all students. Additionally, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that the third-floor corridor on the right is also restricted. Anyone who does not wish to meet a painful death should stay away from these areas," Dumbledore said solemnly. "Thank you."
Without any long-winded lecture, Dumbledore sat back down.
Hector knew perfectly well that these warnings were mere noise to the likes of Ron and Harry. These two would visit those forbidden places every year and stir up trouble. For the little lions of Gryffindor, school rules and prohibitions were just words. Dumbledore, a former Gryffindor himself, knew this—he was likely just trying to deter the non-Gryffindors. After all, Hogwarts had its daredevils, but not everyone was one. Besides, Dumbledore himself appreciated such courage; he was the one who had coined the pearl of wisdom: "It’s not a violation if you don't get caught."
As for Hector, he had adopted that as his own life motto. After keeping such a low profile for so long, one had to have some ambitions, right?
"When I call your name, come forward. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and it will determine your house," Professor McGonagall said, opening the scroll and picking up the hat.
"My brother told me we’d have to fight a dragon," Ron said, looking a bit indignant. "I’ve been terrified for weeks!"
"Hannah Abbott!"
A girl with a ponytail ran up to the stool, tripping slightly in her nervousness. Once she was seated, McGonagall placed the hat on her head.
"Hufflepuff!" the hat shouted.
Applause broke out at the table on the far right. Hannah took off the hat and ran over.
"Susan Bones!"
"Hufflepuff!" Susan took off the hat and sat next to Hannah.
McGonagall glanced at the list, paused, and looked back at Dumbledore, who nodded with a smile.
"Hector Dumbledore." Professor McGonagall’s voice remained steady, but she smiled as she watched Hector walk out of the crowd.
The name caused quite a stir in the hall. McGonagall cleared her throat, and the room slowly quieted down.
Hector turned and sat on the stool. He immediately saw the Weasley twins looking at him with shocked expressions. He smiled.
"Be ready, Hector. I, for one, would love to see you in Gryffindor," McGonagall said, looking uncharacteristically kind.
Hector gave her a bright smile. He took a deep breath as the professor placed the hat on his head.
"Hmm, a Dumbledore? A rare young wizard indeed. The last time I saw a little Dumbledore was over a hundred years ago... how nostalgic. Now, let me see your mind. Let me see."
Hector felt uncomfortable as the Sorting Hat twisted his head left and right, and he prayed for it to be over quickly.
"Don’t be impatient, young man. Choices take time. This is truly difficult. Eccentric ideas, abundant knowledge, and a thirst for learning... you would truly fit well in Ravenclaw. But I feel something else—courage. Yes, you have plenty of courage. But this courage is flickering. Are you making a decision? Never mind, it doesn't affect the outcome." The hat swayed, thinking hard. Hector didn't want to just yank it off—though he had considered it, he decided against doing something that would make Old Dumbledore jump out of his seat.
"Oh, young man, that is a rude thought for an old hat like me. Very Gryffindor of you, yet you dismissed it? A very clear mind, knowing exactly what you want—very Ravenclaw."
The hat paused its swaying. It was clearly very conflicted.
"A difficult question, isn't it? Just like Albus. He asked me the same thing a hundred years ago, and I still find it difficult today," the hat muttered.
"A strong thirst for knowledge paired with ample courage, extraordinary talent paired with a clear mind. If only your willpower were stronger, though that can be cultivated. I think I know where to put you."
"Gryffindor!" the hat shouted.
The cheers were deafening. The Weasley twins stood up, clapping enthusiastically and shouting, "We’ve got a Dumbledore! We’ve got a Dumbledore!"
Hector took off the hat and handed it to the beaming Professor McGonagall. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall."
"My pleasure, Mr. Dumbledore. Welcome to Gryffindor." Hector glanced at Dumbledore, who had stood up, his smile bright and proud.
Hector looked at the house banners hanging from the ceiling. Even in the still air, all four were fluttering, as if cheering for him.
He headed to the long table and sat down. An older boy with red hair reached out to shake his hand. Fred and George crowded around, speaking in unison: "You never told us your name was Dumbledore!"
"Well, you know now, don't you? It’s just a surname, not a big deal."
Hector appeared quite casual, though his attention was caught by Professor Quirrell, who was still craning his neck to look around. Presumably, the master on the back of his head hadn't expected a "little Dumbledore" to appear.
They had outlasted Dumbledore, but not entirely. Poor Tom.
Hector was very happy, so happy that he didn't notice the Weasley brothers clenching their fists behind him.