The chamber was silent except for the faint crackling of torches mounted along the stone walls. You stood in the center of the room, your breath steady despite the weight of DumbI/dore’s gaze.

The air was thick with magic, charged with something unspoken, something waiting to shatter.

Across from you, DumbI/dore sighed, his expression unreadable but heavy with meaning. “You inherit too much power.”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why?” you asked,. “Because I have ancient magic?”

Behind you, you could feel the shift in the boys’ stance—Mattheo, Tom, Draco, Blaise, Regulus, Lorenzo, and Theodore—their interest piqued, their focus entirely on the exchange unfolding before them.

DumbI/dore didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied you, as if contemplating whether to say what came next.

“Because you are the daughter of Gr/ndeIwald.”

Silence.

It hit the room like a thunderclap. The torches seemed to burn brighter for a moment, the magic in the air thickening as if even the castle itself recognized the magnitude of his words.

Your lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

You turned just slightly, just enough to glance over your shoulder at the boys behind you. You didn’t need to see their faces to know what you'd find—shock, confusion, disbelief.

Mattheo’s jaw tensed, eyes narrowed with something unreadable.

Tom tilted his head ever so slightly while Draco exhaled sharply.

Blaise merely raised a brow, intrigued but composed.

Regulus stood frozen, his eyes unreadable.

Lorenzo shifted his weight, an almost amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he had suspected something all along but never had proof.

And Theodore—his lips parted slightly, brows furrowed, before his gaze flickered toward you, waiting for your reaction.

You let the silence stretch just a little longer, reveling in it.

Then, you exhaled softly, tilting your head as you turned fully back to DumbI/dore, your smirk never faltering. “Well,” you said smoothly, “that explains a lot, doesn’t it?”