Loren raised Gryffindor's Sword in his hand, his mind flickering through the lore he remembered:
"Forged a thousand years ago by goblins, the most skilled craftsmen in the wizarding world, this sword was enchanted as it was made. Crafted of pure silver and set with rubies, the name of Godric Gryffindor is engraved beneath the hilt. It was made by Ragnuk the First especially for Godric Gryffindor."
Turning the blade, Loren found the inscription beneath the hilt. He brushed it lightly with his magic, and the sword gave off a resonant hum before it began to tremble.
He could feel his own magic being siphoned into the weapon. His guess was right—if the sword could absorb basilisk venom, then it could also absorb magical essence.
Power flowed steadily from Loren into the blade. Though he lacked the official recognition of a demigod, his half-divine body gave him an abundance of magic. Since Godric Gryffindor had placed the sword in the Sorting Hat, it had never been fed so freely. For centuries, the sword had only drawn faint trickles of power through its bond with Hogwarts, barely enough to sustain it, never enough to grow.
Now, as Loren poured more into it, he felt his bond with the sword deepen. Through magical sight, he saw strands of light stretch outward from the sword into the vast aura of Hogwarts Castle, and some threads link directly into his own.
It was clear—he had gained a portion of Hogwarts's authority. To Loren, who had long wanted to study the castle itself, the sword had become a key. Such a chance was priceless, and he was determined to exploit it fully.
If the sword's appetite exceeded his recovery rate, he would have had to drink potions from his personal space. But those stored were common restoratives, barely better than his own half-divine regeneration, and swigging them here under the eyes of the portraits would only draw Dumbledore's attention.
Luckily, the sword's draw leveled out, never draining him faster than he could recover. Relief washed over him—but it was also a warning. He had grown used to treating his strength as inexhaustible, relying on his body's durability. This experience reminded him that unknown powers could still threaten him.
He also realized something chilling: in his senses, if his protective shield were broken, Gryffindor's Sword could pierce his body easily. And this was only in the Harry Potter projection world. Who knew how many other projection worlds existed, each with their own dangers?
That thought sobered him. No matter how much leeway he had to boast, recklessness could still end him.
At last, the sword ceased drawing his magic. Loren felt the new authority settle firmly within him. Even if he returned the sword to the Sorting Hat, that power would not fade.
Perhaps Gryffindor had intended for his heir to keep the sword close, its passive absorption slowly infusing them with Hogwarts's power. But Loren's unique control let him invert the process, feeding the sword with torrents of energy in moments, binding its legacy to himself.
Satisfied, Loren slipped the sword back into the Sorting Hat.
As it drank in the sword's overflowing magic, the Hat shuddered and let out a low, satisfied moan. The sound sent a shiver crawling over Loren's skin; he nearly hurled it to the floor. Scowling at its blissful look, he hastily set it back on its shelf.
Then he sat down and closed his eyes, focusing inward. With his rare magical sight and sensitivity, he could now perceive exactly what Gryffindor's legacy granted him: a fragment of Hogwarts's administrative authority.
It wasn't complete control—the founders' shares of power had long lain dormant—but it was real. Through it, he now knew things only a Headmaster would normally learn. Hogwarts itself was a magical artifact, encompassing not just the castle but the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake.
The authority structure fascinated him. At the top were the Founders and the Headmaster, with equal ultimate authority, though the Headmaster's role had grown dominant over the centuries as founder-legacy went unused. Professors held limited powers—like awarding and deducting points or commanding house-elves. Students were like ordinary members of a vast system, signing their contract upon crossing the lake at Sorting, permitted to study and contribute their magic to the castle's growth.
Over the centuries, Headmasters had wielded and expanded their powers, while the Founders' shares remained largely symbolic. Still, the original rights endured.
Now Loren possessed Gryffindor's portion. The implications made his heart race, but he held his excitement in check. He was still in the Headmaster's Office, and this was not the place to experiment.
So he waited.
When Dumbledore returned, everything in the office appeared unchanged. Still, something in the air felt different to him, though he could not pinpoint it.
"My apologies for keeping you waiting, Mr. Angus," Dumbledore said warmly as he crossed to his desk.
Loren stood politely. "Not at all, Headmaster. Affairs take time."
As Dumbledore sat, he gestured with a faint smile. "Please, sit. We may begin our conversation."
Yet even as he spoke, his sharp blue eyes wandered the room, searching. Something, he was sure, was out of place.
//Check out my Patreon for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810