Harry Potter: The Progenitor Of Dark Arts

Another year passed, and Dante Malfoy turned ten years old. By now, his name had become synonymous with brilliance in the world of potion-making. His improvements to several advanced potions, including the Antidote to Veritaserum, had earned him widespread recognition—though not without controversy. Many in the wizarding world remained skeptical, unable to believe that a child of ten could possess such knowledge and skill. Rumors swirled that Severus Snape, his collaborator, was the true mastermind behind the discoveries, with Dante merely serving as a front to boost the Malfoy family's prestige.

Despite the skepticism, Dante's reputation attracted the attention of several renowned potion masters. Eager to meet the so-called prodigy, they traveled to Malfoy Manor, hoping to take him on as a student if the rumors proved true. Dante, ever curious, agreed to meet them—not out of any desire for mentorship, but to gauge whether any of them had something worthwhile to offer.

The meetings, however, proved disappointing. The potion masters, though accomplished in their own right, were stagnant in their thinking, clinging to outdated methods and theories. Dante's conversations with them left them speechless, as he effortlessly dismantled their arguments and demonstrated a depth of knowledge far beyond their own. One by one, they left the manor, humbled and bewildered.

Dante, for his part, was unimpressed. "The wizards of this era are… uninspired," he remarked to Lucius after the last visitor had departed. "They lack the curiosity and ambition to push the boundaries of magic."

Lucius nodded, though inwardly he thought that the problem wasn't the wizards of this era—it was Dante himself. The boy was an ancient wizard, a being whose knowledge and power transcended the limits of ordinary wizards. But Lucius knew better than to voice such thoughts aloud. Instead, he simply agreed, "Indeed, they pale in comparison to wizards of old."

As the months passed, Lucius found himself growing increasingly curious about Dante's motivations. Despite his unparalleled skill and knowledge, Dante seemed determined to attend Hogwarts—a school that, by all accounts, would be a waste of time for someone of his caliber. One evening, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Lucius broached the subject.

"Dante," he began cautiously, "why are you so intent on attending Hogwarts? Surely, there's nothing there that you haven't already mastered."

Dante looked up from the book he was reading, his grey eyes sharp and calculating. "Hogwarts was created for three reasons," he said, his tone calm. "First, it was meant to serve as a safe haven for wizards during a time when they were hunted by muggles. The problem back then was that many wizards came from muggle families, leading to a civil war rather than a straightforward conflict between wizards and muggles."

Lucius nodded, familiar with the history. "And the second reason?"

"Hogwarts was designed to archive all information related to magic," Dante continued. "Its library is one of the most extensive in the world, and it has been nearly four hundred years since I last perused its contents. I am curious to see how it has grown."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "And the third reason?"

Dante's expression grew thoughtful. "Hogwarts was created as part of a larger goal—a goal I have been working toward for thousands of years. My oldest goal, in fact."

Lucius's curiosity deepened. "What is your relation to the founders of Hogwarts?" he asked, unable to resist the question.

Dante's lips curved into a faint smile. "The four brats were my students. I entrusted each of them with a legacy from one of my previous lives. Hogwarts itself is built on top of my first tomb—the one from over ten thousand years ago."

Lucius felt a chill run down his spine. The founders of Hogwarts—Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin—were legends in the wizarding world. To think that they had been Dante's students, that Hogwarts itself was built upon his ancient resting place… it was almost too much to comprehend.

"You've guided so much of magical history," Lucius said, his voice barely above a whisper. "What… what is this goal of yours? The one that spans thousands of years?"

Dante's gaze turned distant, as if he were looking through Lucius rather than at him. "That," he said slowly, "is not something you need to know."

Lucius swallowed hard, a sense of unease settling over him. He had always known Dante was dangerous, but now he realized just how far-reaching his influence was. This was no mere Dark Lord—this was a being who had shaped the very foundations of the magical world. And whatever his ultimate goal was, it was clear that it was something monumental—and potentially terrifying.

Despite his burning curiosity, Lucius knew better than to press further. The thought crossed his mind that if he learned too much, Dante might see him as a liability—and he had no desire to find out what his ancient ancestor was capable of when provoked.

As the conversation ended and Dante returned to his reading, Lucius couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing on the edge of a precipice. The world he thought he knew was far more complex—and far darker—than he had ever imagined. And at the center of it all was an ancient dark wizard, the oldest wizard in existence, whose plans stretched across millennia.

__________

The halls of Hogwarts were quiet, the students having retired to their common rooms after a long day of classes. In the headmaster's office, Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his half-moon spectacles perched low on his nose as he studied a stack of papers. The latest issue of The Potioneer's Quarterly lay open before him, its pages filled with articles detailing groundbreaking advancements in potion-making—all credited to a ten-year-old boy named Dante Malfoy.

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled with curiosity as he looked up at the man standing across from him. Severus Snape, his potions professor and most trusted confidant, had been summoned to discuss the matter. The headmaster had heard the rumors, of course—how could he not? The wizarding world was abuzz with talk of the Malfoy prodigy. But Dumbledore was not one to rely on hearsay. He wanted the truth, and there was no one better to provide it than Snape.

"Severus," Dumbledore began, his voice calm but probing, "I've been hearing quite a lot about young Dante Malfoy. These papers—his improvements to the Antidote to Veritaserum, his theories on advanced potion-making—are they truly his work?"

Snape's expression was as inscrutable as ever, his dark eyes meeting Dumbledore's gaze without flinching. "They are," he said simply.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "And what is your assessment of the boy? What about other branches of magic?"

Snape hesitated for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. "He is… extraordinary," he said at last. "His knowledge of potion-making far surpasses that of most adults, and his ability to innovate is unparalleled. Even his spell casting is on an advanced level, if he continues on this path, he may very well surpass even you."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly at the admission. It was rare for Snape to speak so highly of anyone, let alone a child. "I see," Dumbledore said, his tone thoughtful. "And his character? What kind of person is he?"

Snape's lips thinned, and for a moment, he seemed to struggle with how to answer. "He is… difficult to read," he admitted. "He is not like other children. He is detached, almost unnervingly so. But he is not cruel or malicious. He simply… exists on a different plane."

Dumbledore nodded, his expression unreadable. "And his family? How does Lucius Malfoy factor into all of this?"

Snape's eyes flickered with something—disdain, perhaps, or unease. "Lucius is… proud of his son, as any father would be. But he does not control him. If anything, it is the other way around."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again, though this time there was a hint of something sharper beneath the surface. "Fascinating," he murmured. "A child with such power and intellect, yet so enigmatic. I must admit, I am looking forward to meeting him next year."

Snape's expression darkened slightly. "You should tread carefully, Headmaster. Dante is not a normal child."

The two men lapsed into silence. Dumbledore's mind was already racing, piecing together what little he knew of Dante Malfoy and trying to discern his true nature. Snape, for his part, seemed lost in his own thoughts, his usual mask of indifference slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of unease.

After a moment, Dumbledore broke the silence. "Thank you, Severus. You've given me much to consider."

Snape inclined his head slightly. "If that is all, Headmaster, I have potions to brew."

"Of course," Dumbledore said, waving a hand dismissively. "Do not let me keep you."

As Snape turned and swept out of the office, his black robes billowing behind him, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the window. Dumbledore's thoughts turned to the future. Next year, Dante will arrive at Hogwarts and as the headmaster, he must ensure that this child is guided properly, never to repeat the old mistakes of Tom.