Chapter 19: The Interview
The Hogwarts entrance hall stretched empty and vast in late August, its stone walls echoing with the phantom whispers of a thousand departing students. Professor McGonagall waited in a small office adjoining the Great Hall, her tartan robes crisp despite the summer heat, her expression stern but not unkind. When Adam entered, his footsteps seemed to thunder against the ancient stones.
"Mr. Wright," she said, gesturing to the chair across from her desk. "Please, sit."
Adam lowered himself into the seat with careful control, his hands resting casually in his lap while his heart hammered against his ribs like a caged bird. Every detail mattered now—posture, expression, the precise cadence of his breathing. One slip, one moment of obvious deception, and everything would crumble.
"Advanced Occlumency. Keep the surface calm. Show her a grieving orphan seeking education, nothing more."
"Your guardian's name appears in no registry of British magical educators," McGonagall began without preamble, her sharp eyes fixed on his face. "Where exactly did he train?"
Adam had rehearsed this moment countless times. "He studied abroad extensively, Professor—Romania for dragon handling, Egypt for curse-breaking, Greece for ancient magical theory. He valued practical knowledge over institutional credentials."
"I see. And his specialty?"
"Acquisition and authentication of rare magical artifacts. He worked primarily with private collectors who preferred discretion."
McGonagall's quill scratched against parchment as she made notes. "Your education under his guidance—how was it structured?"
"Practical application supported by theoretical study. Morning lessons in core subjects, afternoon field work examining his acquisitions, evening research into historical context." The lies flowed smoothly, backed by the System's educational knowledge packet. "He believed magic was best learned through hands-on experience."
"And you have proof of this education?"
Adam produced his carefully prepared documentation: essays on Transfiguration theory written in his own hand but guided by System knowledge, potion brewing logs that demonstrated progressive skill development, records of practical magic demonstrations complete with fictional witness signatures.
McGonagall reviewed each document with meticulous attention, occasionally glancing up to study Adam's carefully neutral expression. His Advanced Occlumency held perfectly—his mind presented a calm surface that revealed nothing beyond surface thoughts about the interview's importance.
"These demonstrate considerable skill for a homeschooled student," she said finally. "However, I'll need to verify your practical abilities. Please transfigure this matchstick into a needle."
"Transfiguration. Thank god I bought that upgrade last week."
Adam drew his wand with practiced ease, the hawthorn wood warm and responsive in his grip. "Acus," he said clearly, his wand movement precise and controlled.
The matchstick shimmered, its wooden surface rippling like water before reforming into a perfect steel needle that gleamed in the office's afternoon light. The transformation was flawless—no rough edges, no lingering traces of its original form.
McGonagall's expression softened slightly. "Your practical skill is adequate. More than adequate, in fact."
Relief flooded through Adam's chest, but he kept his expression modestly pleased rather than triumphant. "Thank you, Professor. My guardian was an excellent teacher."
"I'm sure he was. Now, regarding your—"
The office door opened without warning.
"Minerva, I heard we have a late admission candidate. May I observe?"
Adam's blood turned to arctic water. Albus Dumbledore stood in the doorway, blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles, his silver beard catching the light like spun starlight. The man who had tried to Obliviate him two years ago now stood three feet away, studying him with the focused attention of someone solving a particularly interesting puzzle.
"Does he recognize me? Think. The orphanage encounter was brief, I was younger, looked different—half-starved street kid versus well-fed merchant."
"Of course, Headmaster," McGonagall replied. "Mr. Wright, this is Professor Dumbledore, our Headmaster."
"Mr. Wright," Dumbledore said slowly, his gaze never leaving Adam's face. "You seem... familiar. Have we met before?"
Adam's Occlumency screamed under the strain as panic tried to surface, but he forced his expression to remain politely curious. "I don't believe so, Headmaster. I would certainly remember meeting someone so renowned."
"Stay calm. Show respect, mild confusion, nothing more. He's fishing."
Dumbledore continued studying him with those terrible blue eyes that seemed to see straight through flesh and bone to the soul beneath. Adam felt the familiar wrongness emanating from him—the same sensation Dumbledore had detected during their first encounter, the fundamental displacement that marked him as something that didn't belong.
"Perhaps I'm mistaken," Dumbledore said after an agonizing moment, though his eyes never fully left Adam. "Please, continue with your assessment."
The interview proceeded, but Adam remained hyperaware of Dumbledore's presence like a sword hanging over his neck. Every answer had to be perfect, every gesture calculated to avoid suspicion. When McGonagall asked about his guardian's death, Adam let genuine grief color his voice—not for the fictional Marcus Wright, but for the life he'd lost, the family he'd never had, the childhood that had been stolen by forces beyond his control.
"Your education is unconventional, Mr. Wright," McGonagall said finally, "but adequate for third-year placement. However, you will be assigned remedial work in areas where homeschooling typically falls short—Magical History, proper wand safety protocols. Do you accept these conditions?"
"Yes, absolutely," Adam said, perhaps too quickly. The desperation leaked through despite his best efforts.
McGonagall noticed but interpreted it charitably—an orphaned boy seeking stability rather than a deceiver desperate to infiltrate the school. "Very well. You are accepted. Term begins September first. Your house will be determined by the Sorting Hat as usual."
She handed him a supply list, and Adam clutched it like a lifeline. After two years of struggle, rejection, and careful planning, he was finally in. The parchment felt warm in his hands, proof that he belonged somewhere in this magical world.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Wright," Dumbledore said as Adam rose to leave. "I do hope we'll have the chance to speak more during the term."
The words carried layers of meaning that made Adam's skin crawl. Not quite a threat, but definitely not a welcome. Dumbledore suspected something but couldn't identify what.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Adam replied with perfect politeness. "I look forward to learning from you."
He escaped the office before his composure could crack, walking with measured steps until he was safely beyond the castle's walls. Only then did he collapse against an ancient oak tree, shaking with relief and residual terror.
[MISSION COMPLETE: PASS HOGWARTS INTERVIEW]
[REWARD: 5,000 SP]
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: INFILTRATOR]
[BONUS REWARD: 2,000 SP]
Adam laughed hysterically at the System's notifications. Two years of struggle, survival, and careful deception had led to this moment. He was going to Hogwarts. In four days, he would board the Express as a legitimate student and finally reach the place where he belonged.
Now he just had to survive being in the same castle as Dumbledore for an entire year without being exposed.
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