"Tyler Blake!"
Professor McGonagall's voice rang clearly through the Great Hall. At last, it was Tyler's turn, and by then the Sorting Ceremony had already gone on for some time. His surname began with B, but because Professor McGonagall had paused the ceremony after Jamie's unexpected performance with the Sorting Hat, the order had become somewhat disrupted.
Tyler stepped out of the first-year line and walked slowly toward the four-legged stool where the Sorting Hat waited. For most of the evening, he had kept himself partially hidden among the other students, and during the earlier confusion at Hogsmeade Station, he had deliberately avoided standing where Dumbledore could study his face properly. Now there was no avoiding it.
For the first time, Tyler and Dumbledore met face-to-face beneath the floating candles of the Great Hall. Tyler lifted his head slightly, his pale blue eyes turning toward the white-haired old man seated at the staff table. Dumbledore's gaze came to meet his, calm at first, then suddenly sharpened with unmistakable shock.
If Jamie's face had resembled Gellert Grindelwald in his youth, then Tyler's looked painfully like Dumbledore himself when he had been young. The resemblance was not perfect, but it was close enough to strike straight through memory. The old Headmaster's hand trembled before he could stop it.
The golden goblet beside Dumbledore tipped over with a sharp clatter. It struck his plate, rolled once, and spilled a thin stream of pumpkin juice across the polished tabletop. Several professors turned toward him at once, startled by a second break in his composure during a ceremony where Dumbledore was usually the picture of calm.
Dumbledore did not seem to notice them. His wise blue eyes remained fixed on Tyler, as if the boy walking toward the stool had dragged a ghost out of the past and placed it beneath the candlelight. For a breath, the Great Hall, the students, and the staff table all blurred around him.
In that instant, it was as though Dumbledore saw his younger self walking toward him from another century. The boy's face carried echoes of ambition, brilliance, pride, and promise, the same sharp brightness that had once looked back at him from mirrors before age, grief, and regret carved their marks into him. It was not merely resemblance; it was the shape of a memory made flesh.
Dumbledore stood before anyone could ask him what was wrong. He stepped down from the staff platform and walked toward Tyler, one slow step after another. The hall grew quieter with each movement, hundreds of students sensing that something unusual was happening even if they did not understand why.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall said, frowning in concern. She had known him for too many years not to recognise when something had truly unsettled him. Dumbledore never interrupted the Sorting by leaving the staff table, and tonight he had already been shaken once by Jamie Bauer.
Soft whispers spread among the professors. "Dumbledore has acted strangely twice tonight," one murmured, careful to keep their voice low. "First his fork, now his goblet. That has never happened before."
"There must be something unusual about those two boys," another whispered. "The first one startled him, and now this one has drawn him out of his seat."
Professor Snape sat rigidly in black, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. He studied Tyler first, then turned his gaze toward Jamie, who sat calmly at the Slytherin table as if he had expected all of this. At the far end of the staff table, Professor Quirrell watched with a mild smile beneath his large purple turban, looking nervous and harmless in the way he always tried to seem.
Dumbledore stopped in front of Tyler and looked down at him. Up close, the resemblance was even more striking, and for a moment, the Headmaster's expression softened with something too complicated to name. "What is your name?"
"My name is Tyler Blake, Mr Headmaster," Tyler said with a polite smile.
He had known Dumbledore would be surprised when he saw him properly, but he had not expected the old man to leave the staff table and come to him in person. That reaction was more dramatic than expected, and much more interesting.
"Ah," Dumbledore said softly. "So you are the child of Mr and Mrs Blake. Your parents were remarkable people, brave and talented wizards."
Tyler's smile did not change, but Dumbledore's next words surprised even him.
"In fact, there is a distant connection between our families," Dumbledore continued. "My aunt once married your great-great-grandfather, which makes your great-grandfather a cousin of mine."
"So, Mr Headmaster," Tyler said, blinking as though genuinely astonished, "that would make you my distant great-cousin."
"In a manner of speaking, yes," Dumbledore replied, and this time his smile held real warmth. "A rather distant one, but family trees in the wizarding world do have a way of twisting back together. You truly do look very much like I did when I was young."
The revelation swept through the Great Hall like a gust of wind. Students at all four tables leaned toward one another, whispering fiercely. Even a few professors could not hide their surprise.
"Merlin's beard," someone hissed from the Ravenclaw table. "Professor Dumbledore looked like that when he was young?"
"He must have been handsome," another student whispered, sounding faintly scandalised by the idea. "I mean, he admitted it himself."
"I can't believe that boy is related to Dumbledore," a third murmured. "First Jamie goes to Slytherin, and now this one turns out to look like the Headmaster's younger self."
If Dumbledore had heard them, he might have chuckled and reminded them that old men had once been young too. No one was born with a silver beard, half-moon spectacles, and a reputation for defeating Dark Lords. Once, long ago, Albus Dumbledore had also been a brilliant young man whose presence could command a room.
"It is an honour, Mr Headmaster," Tyler said, placing one hand over his chest and giving Dumbledore a slight bow.
"Very good, child," Dumbledore said, stepping aside but not returning to the staff table. "Let us see where the Hat places you."
He remained nearby, clearly intending to watch the Sorting with his own eyes. Professor McGonagall looked as though she had several questions but chose not to ask them in front of the entire school. She picked up the Sorting Hat and placed it on Tyler's head.
Tyler sat down on the stool. The freshly cleaned and heavily perfumed Hat settled over his hair, and its brim slipped just low enough to cast his eyes in shadow.
"Oh," the Sorting Hat's voice sounded inside his mind, dry and intrigued. "Here comes another unusual young wizard. Tell me, what method did you use to block my probe?"
"Sorry, Mr Sorting Hat," Tyler replied silently. "I don't like anyone looking into my heart. Jamie and I are best friends, so we both prefer to keep certain things private."
"Hmm. Yes, I see. Or rather, I do not see, which is the point." The Hat seemed almost amused. "Very well, for Jamie's sake, I will not be difficult. Which house would you prefer? Slytherin, perhaps?"
"No," Tyler answered. "Jamie went to Slytherin, so there's no need for me to go there too. I think Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are both acceptable."
"That is a broad choice," the Sorting Hat said. "Do you intend to decide by mood?"
"Not exactly," Tyler said, and his smile deepened beneath the brim. "Let me try something. If I can draw the Sword of Gryffindor, I'll go to Gryffindor. If I can't, I'll go to Ravenclaw."
Before the Hat could reply, Tyler lifted it from his head and slipped one hand inside.
Professor McGonagall's eyes widened, completely unsure what he was doing. Dumbledore, however, understood immediately. A brief, sharp light flashed in his eyes, though he did not move to stop the boy. He did not know how Tyler had learned that particular secret, but since the boy had chosen to test himself this way, Dumbledore wanted to see the result.
The Great Hall watched in baffled silence. Tyler's arm remained inside the Sorting Hat for a moment, and then his fingers closed around something solid. Slowly, he drew his hand back out.
A silver sword came with it.
The blade shone beneath the floating candles, bright and sharp, with rubies gleaming in the hilt. It was not large in Tyler's hand, but its presence was impossible to ignore. The moment it appeared, whispers exploded across the hall.
"What is going on?" someone cried. "How was there a sword inside the Sorting Hat?"
"Merlin, that's dangerous," another student said, staring at the blade. "There's been a sword hidden in the Hat during the Sorting all this time? What if it fell out on someone's head?"
"We never knew the Sorting Hat had a secret like that," a third student whispered, voice shaking with shock. Many young witches and wizards cried out in shock.
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