Albus Dumbledore settled into his chair, recalling the misty expanse of Thistlecroft Hollow. The surrounding woods whispered secrets, but his mind remained preoccupied with thoughts of one Vale Windrow.
The boy's sudden appearance and the magic that radiated from him stirred a certain uncanny unease within Dumbledore's heart.
Initial doubts had seemed to have clouded Dumbledore's judgment; the Quill of Acceptance's hesitation being the root of it all.
The traces of an Obscurial were but supporting factors.
Vale manifested magic in a way that transcended the ordinary capabilities of Muggle-born wizards. Especially those emotional outbursts.
Magic without a wand?
Only those of sufficient calibre could perform such feats.
Was Vale merely an anomaly, or did he harbour something darker? Especially given his history of abuse under his foster parents.
Dumbledore pondered this often, questioning whether Vale could be a threat waiting to unfold.
Unfortunately for Dumbledore's doubts, as days passed, Vale's facade began to settle into the old man's consciousness. The boy indeed presented himself as innocent and curious, despite Dumbledore's keen intellect seeing through the layers.
Was Vale protecting himself or simply weaving a complex deception?
The latter possibility did not escape Dumbledore's scrutiny; it was a tactic he recognised from others who had borne heavy burdens.
"Tom…"
Dumbledore closed his eyes, after Voldemort, he began recalling another boy who would be soon attending Hogwarts.
It was going to be quite the line up this year.
'A possible Obscurus and The Boy Who Lived…'
Dumbledore had noted Vale's subtle manipulation of magic during their clandestine observations — those accidental outbursts seemed too deliberate to be mere accidents.
Each flicker of power hinted at something more profound than innocent ignorance; the boy was calculating his control, aware of how close he danced to danger.
Reports from Snape were invaluable, yet Dumbledore understood that only direct observation could paint a complete picture.
He grappled with his emotions: was Vale merely a child burdened by immense power or someone who cleverly concealed his true potential… and underlying threat?
It weighed heavily, particularly since Vale lacked the typical manifestations associated with Obscurials.
'The child should have made a connection somehow,'
Dumbledore turned his gaze back to Thistlecroft Hollow, pondering its isolation.
'But he never revealed any sign of recognition. If the Obscurial itself cannot see his own symptoms, then I must pass judgement myself.'
While Snape's instincts were sound, with each passing moment spent observing Vale, Dumbledore kept questioning himself.
Again.
And again.
…And again.
Perhaps this child had been forced into maturity before his time; perhaps the storm of magic within him resulted from pain and fear instead of pure ambition. As much as he desired to protect the boy from harm, he knew too well the dangers of this confinement.
Their interactions had long simmered while Dumbledore maintained distance.
His previous assumptions no longer felt likely. Instead, more possibilities had sprouted within the old man's mind.
Those other, weaker doubts, now rose to the ocassion.
'I hope this is indeed the case.'
Otherwise…
—Sigh.
Dumbledore wasn't fond of that thought.
'…I guess it's time I end this farce.'
* * *
This time, Vale sat on the edge of a worn chair in the study, the cracked mirror reflecting a distorted image of himself.
He traced the runes etched into the surface out of boredom.
The air thickened as Snape entered, his dark robes swirling like a storm cloud.
"You've proven quite the enigma, Windrow,"
Snape began, his voice low and measured.
"Your magical abilities are… remarkable, to say the least."
Vale straightened at the remark, uncertainty creeping into his thoughts. Did he make a mistake? Did he reveal… too much power?
"However," Snape continued, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Vale, "raw strength alone can be dangerous."
Vale managed to feign feeling a pulse of defiance rise within him yet somehow keeping his expression neutral.
"What do you mean?" he asked, curiosity mingling with caution.
Snape's lips curled into a faint smirk—an expression that sent chills down Vale's spine.
"You see," Snape leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret only they could hear, "this sanctuary wasn't merely for your protection. I needed to observe you—to ensure you weren't a threat."
Vale remained silent.
"However, we've seen how you've lived," Snape added, straightening up and withdrawing an envelope from his robes. "Your ability to control your magic has dispelled our initial concerns."
Vale's brow furrowed as he eyed the letter in Snape's hand.
"Consider this your admission," Snape said with a touch of coldness, unbecoming of a congratulations. "You've proven yourself."
He extended the envelope toward Vale, who hesitated before taking it. The parchment felt warm against his fingers—a stark contrast to the chill creeping into his bones from uncertainty.
"You are fit to go to Hogwarts," Snape declared.
Vale glanced down at the letter and almost yelped in joy.
'Finally,'
He could have a little more leeway in the way he portrayed himself. Nonetheless, the act continued.
"Is this truly my way out?" Vale whispered more to himself than to Snape.
"Just read it," Snape snapped back, impatience lacing his tone as he stepped back into shadowy depths of the room.
"When you're done… We'll head to Diagon Alley."
Vale nodded, feeling a genuine tremble spread across his hands.
This was it.
The reason why he kept acting.
The reason why he kept going.
Vale's fingers trembled slightly as he carefully broke the wax seal on the envelope, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.
Despite his outward appearance of innocence, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through his mind.
'Hogwarts... A place chockfull of possibilities, ripe for the taking...'
Pulling out the parchment, Vale unfolded it with a careful reverence, his eyes scanning the flowing script that welcomed him to the esteemed school of witchcraft and wizardry.
[]=[]=[]=[]=[]
Dear Mr. Windrow,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
[]=[]=[]=[]=[]
Vale's lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile as he read the letter.
This was his chance—his opportunity to blend in, to learn, and to ultimately understand just how he had found himself here in this world.
No longer would he be at the mercy of his abusive foster family or the close scrutiny of Snape and Dumbledore.
"Excellent," he murmured, folding the letter and slipping it back into the envelope.
Glancing up, he met Snape's piercing gaze, quickly schooling his features into an expression of polite gratitude.
"Thank you, Professor Snape," Vale said, his voice soft and sincere. "I'm... I'm honoured to be accepted."
Snape studied him for a long moment, his dark eyes seemingly searching for any hint of deception. Vale held the professor's gaze, allowing a touch of wonder and nervousness to shine through, masking the calculating intelligence that lurked beneath the surface.
"See that you don't disappoint," Snape replied, his tone unforgiving.
Vale nodded solemnly, inwardly marvelling at the irony of Snape's words.
'If only you knew the true extent of my power, Professor,' he thought, the corners of his mouth twitching with the effort to maintain his façade.
"I understand," Vale said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I will do my best."
Snape regarded him for a moment longer before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the study, his robes billowing behind him.
As the door clicked, Vale allowed himself a small, triumphant smile.
'Hogwarts, here I come.'