Forced By OAA To Be His Sucessor.

McGonagall's lips tightened into what could only be described as the faintest hint of a smile, a rare expression of approval for those who knew her well.

She allowed a beat of silence to stretch, as if giving the parents time to absorb Leo's words.

When she finally spoke, her voice carried the calm authority of someone who had spent a lifetime standing against prejudice and fear.

"Leo is correct,"

she said, her tone resolute.

"Hogwarts is not just a school—it is a place where young witches and wizards learn to harness their magic, but also a place where they discover who they are and the strength they possess. It has seen its challenges, yes, but it has also stood firm as a haven for those willing to fight for what is right."

She glanced briefly at Leo, a silent acknowledgment of his words, before addressing the parents again.

"Your son will be sorted into a House, surrounded by peers who will support and challenge him in equal measure. The faculty at Hogwarts are deeply committed to ensuring the safety and well-being of every student. You have my personal assurance that any form of discrimination or harm will not be tolerated."

The mother shifted in her seat, her hand still clasped around her son's.

She glanced at her husband, whose face now bore a semblance of cautious optimism.

Finally, she turned back to McGonagall and Leo.

"I just... want him to be safe,"

she said softly, her voice trembling slightly.

Leo leaned forward, his gaze kind but firm.

"He will be safe. And he will thrive. Fear has a way of blinding us to opportunities,"

he said gently.

"I promise you, Hogwarts is where he'll find his strength—not just as a wizard, but as a person."

The boy, who had been quiet through most of the exchange, finally spoke up, his small voice breaking the tension.

"I want to go,"

he said, looking up at his parents with determined eyes.

"I want to learn magic. Please."

His mother's lips pressed together, her eyes misting slightly as she looked at him.

After a long pause, she nodded, exhaling deeply.

"Alright,"

she said, her voice steady despite the emotion in it.

"Alright. But if anything happens..."

"Nothing will,"

McGonagall interjected, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

The father stood, offering his hand first to McGonagall, then to Leo.

"Thank you,"

he said sincerely.

As the family left, McGonagall turned to Leo, her piercing gaze softening.

"You handled that well,"

she said, the closest thing to a compliment he had ever received from her.

Leo chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"It's not every day you have to sell the magical world to Muggles, but I guess I managed."

McGonagall allowed herself a small smile.

"Indeed. Let us hope the boy finds Hogwarts as welcoming as you described."

As McGonagall stood in Leo's potion shop, his light-hearted teasing brought a faint flush to her cheeks.

It was an unusual moment for her—being caught off guard by someone who spoke with both confidence and wit, yet with no hint of disrespect.

Her expression softened, and a wry smile tugged at her lips.

She cleared her throat to regain her composure.

"I see...,"

she said, her voice steady, though her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment.

"My apologies for the misunderstanding, Mr. Morningstar."

Leo's grin widened.

"No apology needed, Professor. Though I must say, it's quite rare to see you flustered. It suits you."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him, her usual stern demeanor returning with a touch of amusement.

"You're quite bold, Mr. Morningstar. Most wouldn't dare tease me like that."

Leo shrugged with an air of playful nonchalance.

"What can I say? I find honesty refreshing, and I meant no harm."

She gave him a long, considering look, her thoughts briefly drifting back to her early days at the Ministry of Magic.

Flashback...

The memory of her time at the Ministry was both a point of pride and a reminder of the isolation she had endured.

As a young assistant in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,

she had quickly gained a reputation for her unwavering adherence to the law, even when it meant challenging the powerful and influential.

Her colleagues had respected her competence, but few had dared to approach her beyond formalities.

Her icy resolve and the way she dismantled excuses of the elite made her a thorn in the side of many noble families.

It wasn't a life that allowed for camaraderie, much less levity.

After two years, McGonagall had realized her true calling wasn't in upholding the law but in shaping the future of young witches and wizards.

Leaving the Ministry had been one of the best decisions she had ever made.

Teaching at Hogwarts under the guidance of Albus Dumbledore had given her purpose and fulfillment.

Present...

Leo's teasing, she realized, reminded her of something she hadn't felt in years—a playful challenge, not born of arrogance but of genuine interest.

"You have a way with words, Mr. Morningstar,"

McGonagall said finally, her tone light but measured.

"I imagine you're just as persuasive with your customers."

Leo chuckled.

"I prefer to think of it as a talent for connecting with people. Though, if I'm being honest, running this shop is as much about staying grounded as it is about business."

McGonagall tilted her head, intrigued.

"Staying grounded? From what, may I ask?"

Leo's expression shifted subtly, the teasing edge softening into something more reflective.

"When you're the heir to a noble house, the world has expectations. The shop is my way of stepping away from all that—being myself, meeting people for who they are, not who they think I should be."

For a moment, McGonagall found herself nodding in agreement.

She could understand the weight of expectations, though hers had always been self-imposed.

"That's... commendable,"

she said after a pause.

Leo smiled warmly.

"High praise from you, Professor. Thank you."

The two shared a moment of quiet understanding before McGonagall straightened.

Her professional demeanor was back in full force, though there was a hint of warmth in her voice as she spoke.

"Well, Mr. Morningstar, I should take my leave. Hogwarts waits for no one, after all."

"Of course,"

Leo said, giving her a slight bow.

"Feel free to stop by anytime, Professor. The shop is always open to friends of Hogwarts."

As McGonagall stepped out of the shop, she made a mental note to keep an eye on this intriguing young man.

He was, as she had suspected, far more than he seemed.

As the family prepared to leave, McGonagall observed Leo's interaction with them.

His thoughtful advice, calm demeanor, and gentle reassurance were doing more than just selling potions—they were bridging the gap between two vastly different worlds.

She couldn't help but feel a flicker of admiration for the young man who carried himself with such poise and maturity.

Flashback...

McGonagall's thoughts drifted back to her final year at Hogwarts.

Those memories, both cherished and painful, remained vivid even now.

The thrill of Quidditch had been the highlight of her school years.

As Gryffindor's star chaser, she had led her team to victory countless times, earning the admiration of students from all houses.

Her prowess on the field was legendary, and it wasn't uncommon for students—especially boys—to linger by the pitch just to watch her practice.

Among her admirers had been Nobrain, a fellow Gryffindor who had captured her attention with his charm and wit.

Their two-year relationship had been the envy of many, and McGonagall had believed they had a future together.

That belief had shattered alongside her dreams on the fateful day of the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin final.

The deliberate foul by the Slytherin beater wasn't just a violation of the game—it was the moment her life took a turn.

The fall from her broom had left her with severe injuries, and while magic could heal the surface wounds, the damage to her body—and spirit—was irreversible.

Her dream of becoming a professional Quidditch player ended that day.

The betrayal that followed stung even more.

Nobrain had distanced himself almost immediately after her discharge from the hospital wing, breaking things off with feeble excuses.

It was clear to McGonagall that his affection had been tied to her status, not her as a person.

The heartbreak, combined with the loss of her dream, had been a harsh lesson in trust and resilience.

From that moment on, McGonagall had poured herself into academics and self-improvement, determined to rise above the pitying looks of her peers.

Her journey to becoming one of the most respected figures in the wizarding world had been shaped by those difficult days.

Present...

"Ms. McGonagall? Are you alright?"

Leo's voice pulled her from her reverie.

She blinked, realizing she'd been lost in thought.

Leo stood before her, concern etched across his face, waving a hand to get her attention.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Morningstar,"

she replied, regaining her composure.

She coughed lightly and straightened her posture.

"I was just... reflecting on something. My apologies."

Leo's perceptive gaze lingered for a moment, but he didn't press further.

Instead, he offered her a reassuring smile.

"No need to apologize, Professor. Memories have a way of sneaking up on us."

McGonagall nodded and turned her attention back to the Joy family, who had finished their purchases and were preparing to leave.

The young boy's face was alight with excitement as he clutched a small bag of potions and magical supplies.

"Mr. and Mrs. Joy,"

McGonagall said with her usual authority tempered by kindness,

"I want to assure you again that Hogwarts will be a place of growth and discovery for your son. Should you ever have concerns, you're welcome to reach out to me directly. And as Mr. Morningstar suggested, an owl will serve as an excellent means of communication."

The Joys thanked both McGonagall and Leo profusely before departing, their spirits visibly lifted.

As the door closed behind them, McGonagall glanced at Leo.

"You handled that exceptionally well,"

she said, her tone carrying genuine respect.

"You've given them more than just advice—you've given them confidence."

Leo shrugged modestly.

"It's the least I can do. Stepping into the wizarding world can be overwhelming for Muggle families. A little understanding goes a long way."

McGonagall studied him for a moment longer.

"You're quite the remarkable young man, Mr. Morningstar. Perhaps our paths will cross again."

With that, she turned and made her way to the door, her robes billowing slightly behind her.

Leo watched her leave, a faint smile playing on his lips.

As she exited the shop, McGonagall felt a renewed sense of purpose.

For all the challenges and heartaches of her past, moments like this reminded her why she had chosen to dedicate her life to shaping the future of the wizarding world.

And individuals like Leo Morningstar only reinforced her belief that, despite its flaws, the magical community had great potential for growth and understanding.

As the chime of the door faded, Leo stood still for a moment, processing McGonagall's parting words.

A small, amused smile tugged at his lips.

"Well, that's unexpected,"

he murmured, glancing at the shop around him.

The suggestion from McGonagall that she would bring more students and families to his shop was not only flattering but a potential turning point for his business.

For someone as respected as her to endorse his store spoke volumes, and it would undoubtedly attract attention from both the wizarding and non-magical communities.

Leo turned his gaze toward the shelves, his mind already ticking with thoughts of expanding the inventory and ensuring the shop was equipped to handle a wider range of customers.

Outside, McGonagall quickened her pace, catching up with the Joy family as they walked toward the bustling streets.

Her usual composure was slightly rattled, though she wouldn't admit it to herself.

Why had she felt the need to tell Leo she'd return? And why had she hesitated so much before speaking?

She attributed it to a mix of curiosity and admiration for the young man's demeanor.

It wasn't every day she encountered someone who carried themselves with such confidence and warmth, especially someone from an old noble family.

"Are you alright, Professor?"

Mrs. Joy asked, noticing the faint flush on McGonagall's cheeks.

"Quite alright, Mrs. Joy,"

McGonagall replied briskly, regaining her usual poise.

"Just ensuring you have everything you need."

Mrs. Joy smiled warmly, and the young boy beamed up at McGonagall, clutching his bag of magical items as though it were a treasure chest.

As they walked away, McGonagall's thoughts briefly lingered on Leo Morningstar.

His unconventional approach and grounded demeanor were a refreshing contrast to the aristocratic airs she had come to expect from members of noble wizarding families.

She couldn't help but feel that their paths would cross again, and when they did, she would be interested to learn more about the enigmatic owner of the potion shop.

For now, though, her focus was on ensuring this Muggle family began their son's journey into the magical world with confidence.

That was her duty—and one she would uphold with unwavering resolve.

Hogwarts...

Headmaster Office...

The office is a circular room with high, arched ceilings, creating an atmosphere of grandeur and mystery.

Tall, narrow windows allow natural light to filter in, often casting shimmering patterns on the walls due to magical charms.

A large, ornate desk of dark wood sits at the center, often piled with ancient tomes, quills, and rolls of parchment.

Behind it is a high-backed chair.

There a oldman who seemed calm and composed, yet his expression was rarely severe.

He had a natural air of benevolence and open-mindedness, which immediately set others at ease he is none other than Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's gaze turned inward as he replayed the memory of his last encounter with Tom Riddle—now Voldemort.

The young man, full of ambition and charisma, had come to him more than once, begging for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

At first, Dumbledore had believed in Riddle's potential, seeing a brilliant, driven individual.

But with each meeting, Dumbledore's suspicions grew.

The more Tom asked, the more Dumbledore could sense that something darker lurked behind those requests.

When Dumbledore finally refused him, it was because he could not ignore the nagging feeling that Tom had an agenda—an agenda that involved far more than teaching.

Dumbledore had decided to bide his time, waiting to see where Tom's path would lead.

What he discovered, however, was far more troubling than he could have ever imagined.

The whispers about Tom's growing power, his influence over dark creatures like werewolves and vampires, and his gathering of followers—all of it pointed to a man who had embraced darkness fully.

His ambitions had grown far beyond the simple pursuit of power; he sought to reshape the entire wizarding world under his rule, regardless of the cost.

Dumbledore took another lemon drop from the dish, his fingers brushing over the candy absently as he thought back to when he had first met Tom.

He had hoped, at that time, that Tom could be guided, that he might walk a different path.

But now, after years of observing the man's descent into darkness, Dumbledore could no longer deceive himself.

With a sigh, he placed the lemon drop back on the edge of his desk.

His mind wandered back to the present.

News of Tom's recruitment of vampires, werewolves, and dark wizards was disconcerting.

The fact that Voldemort had begun to rally powerful families and use dark magic to further his reach was a dire sign that the time for quiet contemplation was over.

The wizarding world was on the brink of war, and Dumbledore knew that they would need all their strength and courage to resist the coming storm.

It was then that a voice from the Headmaster's portrait broke through his thoughts.

Dumbledore's gaze shifted from the lemon drop in his hand to the portrait of the former headmaster, who had spoken.

"Thank you,"

Dumbledore replied with a calm, measured tone, his voice still carrying an air of gentleness despite the weight of the thoughts that had been consuming him.

He set the lemon drop aside, placing it delicately on the edge of his desk, and took a moment to compose himself.

His fingers gently stroked the polished surface of the desk, as if gathering his thoughts before the conversation ahead.

The news about Tom Riddle, now Voldemort, was troubling indeed.

The rise of the Dark Lord and his growing influence among the wizarding world's elite was a matter of great concern.

The whispers about his gathering army of werewolves, vampires, and dark wizards—these were not mere rumors.

This was the beginning of something far darker, something Albus knew must be stopped before it could spiral beyond control.

With a deep breath, Dumbledore rose from his chair and moved toward the door to greet Professor McGonagall.

He was ever so grateful for her loyalty and dedication to the school.

Her unwavering sense of justice and responsibility made her one of the pillars of Hogwarts, but Albus also knew that her heart, like his own, carried the weight of an uncertain future.

The door to the Headmaster's office opened quietly, and McGonagall entered.

Her sharp, piercing eyes scanned the room, and she offered Dumbledore a slight nod, her face still holding a trace of her usual cool composure.

"Headmaster,"

McGonagall said, her voice low but steady,

"I trust I'm not interrupting?"

"Not at all, Minerva,"

Dumbledore said, his voice warm as always.

"I was just reflecting on some troubling news. Please, do come in."

McGonagall stepped further into the office, taking her usual seat across from him.

She glanced at the lemon drop sitting idly on the desk, an amused smirk briefly passing across her lips before she turned her attention back to Dumbledore, sensing the gravity of his mood.

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(Author's POV)

(A/N): 

I hope you guys enjoying the story.

Thanks for reading the chapter!

Please give a review and power stone!!!