Milk_Is_My_Drug
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Chapter 99: The Spark of Change
🕑 Added 2025-05-05 18:09:36 +0000 UTCThe school was alive with chatter, students still abuzz with excitement from the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. At the house tables, students speculated about the upcoming challenges, praised Cedric Diggory for his victory, and debated the fairness of the scoring. However, Dante Malfoy paid little mind to the noise as he made his way toward the Great Hall, his mind occupied with his own thoughts.
As he turned a corner, he encountered Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape. The two professors were engaged in quiet conversation but fell silent as Dante approached. Without a word, the three fell into step, walking side by side down the corridor in an unusual but not unwelcome silence. Both Dante and Snape were comfortable with the quiet, but Dumbledore, as always, was not one to let a silent moment linger too long.
“I did not see you in the stands during the first task, Dante,” Dumbledore remarked, his voice carrying its usual warmth and curiosity. “I had expected you to be watching.”
Dante, without breaking stride, gave a slight shrug. “Didn’t feel like watching. I already knew how it would go.”
Dumbledore hummed in amusement. “How different was the scoring compared to what you remember?” he asked, clearly interested in the comparison between Dante’s past and this timeline.
Dante considered for a moment before responding. “The other schools got the same points, and their ranking is pretty much the same. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang placed third and fourth. I got forty-six points, while Potter ended up with forty-five.”
Snape finally broke his silence, his tone carrying its usual disdain. “And yet, somehow, that incompetent boy still managed second place?” He glanced at Dante. “And you… I would expect you to complete such a task with ease.”
Dante replied “I did. Finished it in less than twenty seconds.”
Snape’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Then why was your score reduced?”
Dante let out a short chuckle, his voice tinged with amusement. “Because they didn’t like my method. I was docked points for relying solely on brute force. The Headmaster, in particular, decided to deduct two points because I was ‘too heartless’ in dealing with the dragon.” His smirk widened. “He preferred that I take my time and beat it painlessly.”
Snape turned to Dante with a strange look, curiosity and suspicion flickering across his usually guarded expression. Just what had Dante done to warrant such an evaluation?
Meanwhile, Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. The mention of reduced points and ‘brute force’ sparked an old memory—the basilisk. He recalled how Dante had handled that particular situation. If he had reduced points from Dante now, then it likely meant that Dante had dispatched the dragon in a similarly ruthless fashion. Probably without hesitation. Without mercy.
Yes, Dumbledore thought to himself, nodding slightly. I would have reduced points in such a scenario.
As they approached the entrance of the Great Hall, the murmuring of students grew louder, but the trio remained silent. Each to his own thoughts.
Dante took his seat and began to eat his dinner in silence, though his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts drifted toward Argus Filch, Hogwarts' resident caretaker. The man should have approached him by now—two months ago, to be precise. Yet, he hadn’t.
Dante tapped his fork against the edge of his plate. Had his actions altered events enough that Filch no longer saw a reason to reach out? Or was it simply a delay? Either way, Filch’s dedication and lifelong hope deserved acknowledgment. He had waited too long already.
By the time dinner ended, Dante had made his decision. He would seek Filch out himself.
Taking his time, Dante walked the familiar corridors of Hogwarts, ignoring the hushed whispers of students who had adjusted to his presence as a professor and began treating him as such. Eventually, his search led him to the trophy room, where he found Filch dusting the glass cases with his usual meticulous care.
The old caretaker straightened when he saw Dante approaching, eyes wary but respectful. “Professor Malfoy,” Filch greeted stiffly. “How can I help you?”
Dante regarded the man for a moment before offering a small, knowing smile. “Have you made any progress with Magic Circuits?”
Filch went rigid. His grip on the cloth tightened, and he swallowed thickly before managing to speak. “Did the first years tell you?”
Dante shook his head. “No, they didn’t. Find me later after the students have gone to sleep.”
Without another word, Dante turned and walked away, leaving Filch standing there, bewildered and filled with curiosity. The question gnawed at him—why would Professor Malfoy be interested in him?
___________
The next morning, Hogwarts woke to astonishing news.
Filch, the squib caretaker who had spent decades among wizards without an ounce of magic, was now a wizard. The rumors spread like Fiendfyre. The following days, Filch was seen in the library, checking out books on magical theory. He was spotted in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, sitting among the fifth-year students, listening to the lecture.
Even more bizarre, Filch had begun visiting Dante’s office regularly, leaving with assignments like the students.
Students and staff alike struggled to process this new reality. Whispers filled every hallway, and speculative theories ran rampant.
“How is this possible?” a seventh-year Ravenclaw asked, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Did he always have magic, and it just suddenly… awakened?” a bewildered Gryffindor wondered aloud.
Professor McGonagall was seen staring at Filch as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head. Flitwick nearly dropped his wand upon seeing Filch successfully perform a Lumos spell. Even Snape, the ever-stoic potions master, had paused mid-step upon witnessing Filch flipping through a book on magical materials.
But no one was more intrigued than Albus Dumbledore himself.
The headmaster attempted to read Filch’s surface thoughts during a casual conversation. He expected no resistance; after all, Filch had no Occlumency training.
And yet, Dumbledore found nothing.
The old man’s eyes twinkled with rare surprise. Filch’s mind was not just unreadable—it was protected by a charm unlike any he had encountered before. It was a peculiar sort of magic, complex and unfamiliar.
Dumbledore had no doubts now. This had Dante Malfoy’s fingerprints all over it.
And if that was the case, then the question changed from how Filch had gained magic to why Dante had chosen to make it happen.
___________
Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick stood outside Dante Malfoy's office, exchanging a glance before knocking. When a calm "Enter" sounded from within, they stepped inside, greeted by the sight of their young colleague seated at his desk, flipping through students' assignments.
Dante looked up, offering them a small, polite smile. "Professors. What brings you to my office?"
McGonagall took a deep breath, then exhaled as she spoke. "Our school caretaker became a wizard overnight. I can't believe anyone but you could pull off something so miraculous out of nowhere. How did you do it?"
Dante leaned back in his chair as he regarded the two professors. He didn’t deny it. "It doesn’t matter how. Argus proved himself to have the passion and will despite his age, so I decided to give him a helping hand."
Flitwick, who had been quietly observing, now stepped forward. "A helping hand? Professor Malfoy, this is more than that—this is unheard of! A miracle, really. Do you understand the implications behind this? What people might think or do?"
Dante nodded. "Muggles becoming wizards while wizards can become muggles. This is the end of the blood supremacy theory."
McGonagall frowned slightly. "It’s not only that. Many will try to do everything in their power to learn how this was done or replicate it."
Dante merely smiled. "That’s fine. If anything, it might push some to think more critically and explore new possibilities. Either way, I did this because Filch deserved it."
Flitwick narrowed his eyes. "How did you do it?"
Dante shook his head. "That is a secret I’m not willing to share. And even if I did, no one else in the world would be able to replicate it. The requirements are simply impossible to meet in a single lifetime."
McGonagall studied him intently. "But you did."
Dante’s expression didn’t change. "I’m a special case."
The two professors exchanged a glance before finally turning to leave. However, McGonagall hesitated at the door and turned back to Dante. "I would appreciate it if you could share some notes on advanced body transfiguration and magical abilities. I’ve seen what you’ve given the students, and I believe I could learn from them as well."
Dante's lips curled slightly in amusement. Without a word, he reached into his drawer and pulled out two notebooks, placing them on the desk. "The first notebook contains what I will be sharing with the students. The second holds more advanced information, including methods on how to create new races, like the merpeople."
McGonagall accepted the notebooks as though they were the most precious treasures in the world. Flitwick, watching the exchange, pursed his lips in thought before glancing at Dante. Before he could say anything, Dante reached into his drawer once more and retrieved two additional notebooks. "These are similar, but for charms."
Flitwick’s eyes lit up as he eagerly took the offered notebooks. "Thank you, Professor Malfoy. This means more than you know."
With their prizes in hand, the two professors left, each filled with excitement at the prospect of what they might learn.
