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Chapter Text

A Divine Metamorphosis

Prologue

A Worrying Record

            Albus Dumbledore could rightly claim to be an excellent judge of character. He said excellent, as to not admit infallible. His parents had been very worried about him as a child. When it had become clear that he was gifted with a genius like no other, his mother in particular had feared that he would be unable to understand other children of his age. She had been wrong, however. He understood them very well. And, more than that, being a man in complete control of his own image, he was able to understand others and see through them.

            At the age of 11, it had taken him only a few seconds to understand that Elphias would be a faithful and devoted friend to the end, motivated by his fear of loneliness and his gratitude for the helping hand that had been offered to him. Later, he had also understood that, behind his eccentricities, Nicholas Flamel was only looking for an intellectual heir with whom he could share his life's work, and Albus had been just that. He had sensed Minerva's moral rigor, Filius's mischievous curiosity, Pomona's patient benevolence and Severus's emotional tearing before he had even spoken to them. As a young teacher, he and his colleague Herbert Beery often amused themselves by guessing the sorting of the First Years before the Sorting Hat. Beery had stopped playing after seven years of consecutive defeats, understanding that he would never win against Albus. And still to this day, despite rumors of his senility, he had such a precise and clear-sighted view of the human soul that he was always one step ahead of the others in everything that truly mattered. And when it came to monstrosity... he had a nose for it. Or at least an instinct. He had sensed Gellert's darkness from their first kiss. He had sensed Tom's darkness from their first greeting. If he often refused to admit it - not until it was too late - deep down, he had always known.

            In the same way that, today, he knew that something was wrong with Hannibal Lecter.

            Of course, his simple file could have informed him of this. The boy's school record was... chaotic to say the least. The student had not attended school until he was thirteen, which was extremely rare for a wizard. And in just two years he had been transferred from Beauxbatons to Durmstrang. Then to Mahoutokoro. Then to Castelobruxo. Then to Ilvermorny. These repeated changes of school, in his experience, for children from important families, were often a dignified flight before expulsion. They could not afford to have an heir with anything but a clean record, so they usually managed to change their children's schools before they had to face up to the responsibilities of their actions. So, if the boy's record only stated one expulsion, Dumbledore could easily guess that there had been other inappropriate behaviours before the one that had brought him before that small assembly. Perhaps not as consequential, though. Because setting fire to a fellow student's room while he was sleeping was not the sort of action from which one could easily escape the consequences.

            Dumbledore took his eyes off the file in front of him and looked at the boy again. Hannibal was relatively tall for his age, with shapely shoulders, which contrasted with his slim figure and slender waist, giving his body a surprisingly powerful and graceful appearance. His blond hair was straight, so dark that it appeared almost black, and his eyes were a strange shade of brown that looked on the verge of turning red when stared at too intensely. His face seemed complex, simply clothed in an expression of quiet cordiality, and Dumbledore sensed more than he saw that there was a deep and disturbing dissension between that face and the indiscernible abyss that veiled that gaze. It was this dissonance that screamed to Albus that there was something wrong with this boy. However, far more surprisingly, the old headmaster found himself unable to define exactly 'what was wrong'. The boy seemed... normal. Pleasant, even. He didn't exude the fanatical confidence that had exulted from Gellert or the cruel greed that had eluded Tom. There was none of that, or perhaps it was all of that that bubbled up, like a compact, indistinguishable magma, behind those eyes so red. Eyes that never seemed to blink.

            After observing him for a long time, without discovering the slightest flaw in his peaceful cordiality, Dumbledore turned his attention to the other young man. Will Graham was much frailer and punier than his classmate. He may have been the same age, 15, but he seemed easily two years younger. His curls hid his shifty blue eyes, and his hunched shoulders gave him an air of great fragility. However, the Headmaster knew not to trust all these obvious facts. The boy's resolute and unwavering silence showed a strength of character that no one here suspected except Dumbledore. The boy had not said a word since the start of the meeting an hour and a half before, not even when direct questions had been asked to him. However, he attracted more sympathy from the teachers than his classmate, Albus guessed. While their files showed them both guilty of the fire, the Headmistress's letters clearly hinted at Lecter's far more important role in the crimes. This, coupled with Hannibal's heavy record and Will's... peculiar condition, led the teachers to see the smaller of the two only as the collateral victim under the evil influence of a troublemaker. After all, Will had not caused any trouble himself before his encounter with Hannibal. But Dumbledore remained wary. He wasn't sure that the truth was as simple and contrasted as that. At times, Will glanced sideways at Hannibal, but where others saw it as a quest for approval, Dumbledore felt more like the two boys had some strange form of complicity, in the face of a private joke that only they understood and found funny. The way Will seemed to see through Hannibal's placid cordiality suggested that the two boys were far more important to each other than the simple unwilling victims of a follower-leader relationship. There was something between these two accomplices. An unspoken understanding and a mutual welcomed influence. Dumbledore, without explaining it to himself, felt it keenly. There was something beautiful and monstrous vibrating in the air between these two young men.

"I hope you are able to assess the gravity of the situation.”

            Dumbledore was snapped out of his worried thoughts by Minerva's voice to his left. The small group had gathered at the Ministry for this meeting, unable to hold it at Hogwarts. To discuss the situation, Dumbledore had surrounded himself with the four Heads of House, and they were seated beside him to face Hannibal and his aunt, Lady Murasaki, widow of the late Count Robertus Lecter. To Hannibal's left, Will sat, or rather stooped, while his father, William, watched the surroundings in bewilderment.

            William Graham appeared to be a relatively simple man. He was a Muggle who made his living repairing boats in the ports of America. It couldn’t be denied that he seemed rather simple-minded, self-effacing and quiet, but gentle and kind. He was obviously greatly overwhelmed by the situation, unable to explain it or to guess what decision to make. This was the opposite of

Lady Murasaki, at the other end of the round table. She was calm, exulting in a power and elegance similar to that of Hannibal. She stared at the teachers as equals and seemed neither surprised nor impressed by the situation. Her goal was obvious, to secure her nephew's future, and she served that interest before worrying about what others might think. Clearly, she was a much better ally to Will and Hannibal than William. Dumbledore even guessed that, without Lady Murasaki's wise counsel, William might not even have had the presence of mind to think of Hogwarts to save his son's education.

"Hannibal and Mr Will Graham are well aware of their situation. And that is why they are grateful for the opportunity that Hogwarts offers them today.”

            It was Lady Murasaki who had said this in her soft, clear voice. William stared at her for a moment, then finally nodded his head in agreement. It was far easier and safer for him to follow her lead.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, "believes that it is essential to give everyone the opportunity to learn. But we cannot ignore what has happened. The acts that have been committed are extremely serious. A student has died."

"Hannibal and Mr Will Graham have not been found guilty, in the eyes of the law."

"Simply because there was not enough evidence to go after the heir to the Lecter family," Severus pointed out. “That doesn't mean we don't know for sure who is guilty."

"But it is not for you to judge them in place of the law.”

"Indeed," Albus temporized. "We are not here to judge. But we must understand. If you could inform us on what happened that night…”

            The two boys remained silent. Hannibal, however, gave Will an amused look, as if he was curious to know what his friend would say on the subject. But when it was clear that he was not going to answer, Lecter turned to Albus and, staring straight into his eyes, he opened his mouth before being immediately interrupted by Lady Murasaki.

"It has been acknowledged that this tragedy was the result of an unintentional accident. Admittedly, Hannibal and Mr. Graham did not behave in a very enlightened manner, but, as is often the case with accidents, there is no explanation that can be given."

            For a brief moment, Dumbledore stared straight at Lady Murasaki. The exchange lasted half a second, during which no words were spoken. But Dumbledore understood. The widow Lecter knew. She knew who her nephew was and what was wrong with him. But he also understood that she loved him dearly and would protect him to the end. And Lady Murasaki had most certainly understood that he respected nothing more than those feelings.

"I see. If that remains your version of events, I will not..."

"That boy was a brute. That Francis boy, he'd always pick on Will, ever since their first year.”

"So that means he deserved what happened to him?" Minerva asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Er, no..." defended William, unnerved by the obvious question. "But... what I mean is... the school didn't do its job to protect my child. "

"Dad, stop. "

            Those were the first words Will had spoken, and he seemed genuinely annoyed by his father's behaviour. Hannibal and Lady Murasaki also seemed to share Will's disapproval but showed almost nothing of it. However, William must have sensed that the other three were forming a coalition that he wasn’t able to be a part of, for he finally fell silent, mumbling a few unintelligible words that sounded like a vague apology, and the attention of the room turned away from him.

            Dumbledore was not so reluctant to accept Will and Hannibal into his school. True, he had a bad feeling about them, but he didn't think that denying them an education would in any way improve their situation. And, furthermore, he could not say that he had no empathy for the particular situations in which each of these two boys found themselves. He also knew that his colleagues would mostly agree with him. Even his deputy headmistress, who was extremely critical, would never consider the idea of turning them away as acceptable. Nevertheless, it was not a pleasant situation for any of the adults in the room. And it was Dumbledore's duty to listen to the concerns of his colleagues.

"We have been through the files and formalities, but I must now confer with my educational team, I hope you will understand."

            Lady Murasaki nodded diligently and rose from the seat, followed immediately by the two young men. She then turned to William with a cordial smile.

"Mr. Graham, my nephew and I are going to see if we can get some tea around here. I hope you will give us the pleasure of your company.”

            William accepted awkwardly and rose to his feet, following the other three who were now exiting the room, leaving Dumbledore alone with his four colleagues. There were a few seconds of silence between them before it was interrupted by Filius.

"It's hard to imagine that a young man as charming and polite as this Hannibal Lecter could have been involved in such a sordid affair.”

"I don't think we have all the circumstances," Pomona agreed. "These two boys don't seem like the kind of people who would get themselves into a situation like this. I wonder if the report of the Headmistress of Ilvermorny was not a bit alarmist."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Severus muttered, "If this Lecter was as quiet as he seems, why change schools so many times? Such a chaotic course is often a reflection of chaotic behaviour.”

"We must also take into consideration the personal tragedies that this boy must have gone through. The death of his uncle last year... And there is no mention of his parents among his legal guardians. Do we know anything about that, Albus?”

"Officially, no.”

"And unofficially?”

"No more. I know, as you do, that the Lecter family is one of the oldest and most noble one in Europe. It originally comes from Lithuania, which explains why it is not so well known in the United-Kingdom, however... "

"Robertus Lecter.”

"Yes. Robertus Lecter's move to France 20 years ago marked the family's emergence from its isolationism and made it more widely known. Furthermore, his marriage to Lady Murasaki, who is, as you may not know, the descendant and sole survivor of the greatest line of Samurai Sorcerers in Japan, was much talked about ten years ago. As for Hannibal's parents, less is known.”

"Robertus was the youngest, wasn't he? "Minerva asked. "I remember some pointing out that Lady Murasaki's marrying the second son showed the decline of her dying line.”

"Yes. The head of the Lecter family was Hannibal's father. He had married the second child of another very large wizard family, the Sforzas."

"Sforza?" pointed out Filius. "Like the House of Sforza?"

"Like the House of Sforza. From a ruling line of the Renaissance that took power in Milan, following the extinction of the Visconti family. They had two children, Hannibal Lecter and Mischa Lecter.”

"A sister?” Pomona wondered, flipping through the parchments in front of her. "There is no mention of a sister...”

"In general," Minerva remarked, pursing her lips, "I find this young man's record to be very incomplete.”

"Indeed, it is." Dumbledore admitted. "There is no mention of Mischa Lecter, nor of Hannibal's parents."

"Where are they today?"

"No one knows. The Count, his wife, and their two children disappeared one night without a trace. To this day, no one knows what happened to them."

            There was a moment of silence in the room as each of the four wizards tried to make sense of Albus' explanation. A family couldn't just 'disappear' without any explanation.

"Something must have happened."

"That much is obvious. But what happened, that is another question entirely."

"We did find Hannibal Lecter. We should be able to ask him where his parents and sister are.”

"When the Lecter family disappeared, Hannibal was eight years old. It was only through constant effort and a huge amount of resources that Robertus Lecter finally found him, almost four years later, in a Muggle orphanage in Lithuania. He was interrogated by Lithuanian and French Aurors, and it seems that Hannibal has no memory of what exactly happened. All he said was that he knew they had died, though he was unable to say how."

            And Dumbledore was convinced, beyond anything he could explain, that while Hannibal may indeed have forgotten some of what happened, he was no longer as ignorant as he had claimed to be a few years earlier. At the time, Albus had taken an interest in the case. It was a singular mystery, after all. And he had seen, through the reports that a friend of his at the Paris Wizarding Hospital had shared with him, that Hannibal showed all the signs of traumatic amnesia. But something had changed between the boy described in the report and the young man Albus had just observed. He didn't know if Lecter had regained all his memories, but he must be knowing something about it, that much was obvious to the old headmaster. However, curious as he was, it was not Dumbledore's place to interfere with the boy's traumas, and he was not far from sharing the pained expression on the faces of most of his colleagues, who were clearly distressed by the boy's tragic and mysterious fate. Most of his colleagues. Because there was nothing but cold suspicion in Severus' eyes.

"Lecter may have had a tragic childhood, but that should in no way distract us from the Ilvermorny incident. A boy lost his life there.”

"That's absolutely right. And it will not be forgotten. Obviously, some measures will have to be taken to supervise these young people."

"Extremely strict measures," Minerva asserted. "The Ministry is already waiting for the slightest misstep on your part, Albus. If you accept these boys, their every action will reflect on your ability to run Hogwarts in the eyes of the public."

"That's quite true. But I would be a very poor Headmaster if I allowed the Ministry's persecution to affect the future of the students."

"Besides," Filius began, his nose in the boys' files, "he has rather positive recommendations from his teachers."

"Unlike Mr. Graham," Pomona remarked. "He's had fewer detentions and incidents than Mr. Lecter and yet his teachers seem to have a very low opinion of him. Do you think that's due to his condition?"

"I must confess that I have never met a student with this condition before."

"Empaths are extremely rare," nodded Dumbledore. "I myself have only encountered them in scientific literature, never in real life.”

"What are they, exactly? "Pomona asked. "You can hear a lot of things about them, but it’s hard to know what's real and what's not..."

"Empaths suffer from an unstable and perverted form of legilimencic hypersensitivity. Their legilimency abilities are both innately overdeveloped and atrophied, which prevents them from controlling them. Simply put, an Empath does not read minds, like a Legilimens, but they do feel the emotions of people around them and can naturally guess the contours of their personalities. They may not know what you are thinking, but they know who you are. This is considered an affliction, because Empaths are unable to control their abilities, and often this causes great instability in their magic, which is parasitized by all the amplified emotions they feel as their own. Furthermore, it is not uncommon for Empaths to grow up to lose their own personality and eventually become an empty reflection of their surroundings. This is an extremely serious condition, for which there is no known cure. And such is the rarity of this condition that very little research has been done on the subject."

"That's dramatic! "exclaimed Pomona. "And nothing can be done?"

"As I said, there is no cure. However, mental techniques can be taught to manage the symptoms. I see that Will Graham has never received professional care. I don't know if this is a lack of understanding or a lack of means on the part of the father, or if it is both. But he seems to have naturally developed mechanisms that allow him to navigate relatively healthily so far. He's never lost control of his magic in a serious or dangerous way, never completely adopted someone else's personality, at least according to his teachers. That's pretty encouraging."

"So his condition doesn't explain his teachers' sour opinion," Minerva pointed out, not losing sight of where the conversation was coming from.

"No, it doesn't. At least not directly. But usually Empaths develop pronounced associability as coping mechanisms, in order to keep their empathy under control, and, if the teaching staff and students are not well educated on the matter, it is easy to mistake the condition for shameless rudeness."

"Apparently, Will Graham was very poorly integrated into the class group, and was often marginalized by the other children. This may have been a trigger for the incident, according to the Headmistress. Obviously, the education work has not be done sufficiently."

"I think so too," nodded Dumbledore. "Will's condition is a heavy and disabling one, and it cannot be ignored simply out of a desire for ease and normality."

"But," Severus began, his fingers drumming on the wood of the table, "if Graham has such an impressionable identity, so much so that he can adopt the identities of others in spite of himself, is it really reasonable to leave him with Lecter, who seems to have so many behavioural defects."

"Maybe separating them a bit wouldn't hurt."

"I think it's not that simple..."

            Dumbledore could picture again in his head the way the two boys' attitudes seemed to respond to each other, as if they needed neither words nor looks to share and communicate. The Headmaster had realized this almost the second he had seen them sitting next to each other. In their minds, it was just them against the rest of the world.

"There is an evidently strong friendship between Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. Separating them in such an overbearing way will only strengthen their bond. They will find a way to unite in the face of what they will see as an attack. However, it is certain that it would be better for Will to multiply his influences, rather than just attach himself to Hannibal's. We must do everything in our power to ensure that his integration into the Hogwarts community is better than the one he experienced at Ilvermorny. We must not prevent these two young people from being with each other but encourage them to move on to other people."

"They'll be in the same year as Mr. Potter," Filius pointed out, "they're not the most cohesive class I've ever seen, but they're mostly young people who care about others, and who can be very valuable and trustworthy friends."

"It will depend on their house. I think my students would be a good influence on Will. I can't imagine Mr Macmillan or Miss Abbott picking on another student just because they're not as social as you'd expect a Hufflepuff to be."

"That would depend on the Hat’s decision. "

"They used to be in the same house, weren't they?" Filius asked as he flipped through the papers in front of him. "Yes. Horned Serpent. They took the same classes, even shared the same room. Maybe they'll be put in different houses... On the other hand, have you seen Mr. Lecter's school records?"

            The other teachers turned to the score report and discovered that there was indeed much to be impressed by.

"He started straight into his Third Year, with no wizarding education, and yet he's always had nothing but perfect scores. That's pretty exceptional..."

"And he seems very invested," Filius commented further, flipping through the pages. "At Ilvermorny, he was the assistant professor for the Wizarding Arts and Literature class and helped tutor NEWT classes. He took Magical Theory as a first option and exceptionally asked to be excused from a second option so that he could instead work part-time in the school infirmary as an assistant to the School Healer. He was a member of the chess club, the choir and the duelling team. It was he who won for Ilvermorny the inter-school final against Koldovstoretz. If we omit his unexplained bouts of violence, he is an absolute model student.”

"If we omit his unexplained bouts of violence?"

"What I mean, Severus," Filius defended himself, "is that it's hard to reconcile those two images.”

"Will has a much more fragile level," commented Pomona, who had taken her eyes off Hannibal's results to focus on the other boy. "He passes in-extremis every year. Apart from Magizoology where he's extremely good and Astronomy where he holds his own, he doesn't seem to be that comfortable in class. However..."

            Pomona pulled two sheets out of the pile to compare them with each other, her eyebrows furrowed.

"His results have improved significantly, last semester, if you compare them to the previous three years. It seems he's adopted some of Hannibal's good work habits. It's still not exceptional, but there's an evident effort that's been made.”

"Not all influences are bad, it would seem," commented Filius. "Anyway, Mr. Lecter is obviously an academic genius. Hogwarts must stop him from wasting his potential with bad behaviour. He could become such a great wizard. He seems to have shown ambition to become a Mediwizard, and I think he easily has the abilities to do so. I think that if this boy has a real plan for the future, it must be possible to get him back on the right track.”

            Dumbledore looked absently at the files spread out before him. The question was not so much whether they were accepting the two young students, but rather who they were accepting. And he knew that the answer to that question was not to be found in the blackened pages of their files, but rather in the clear looks the two boys sometimes exchanged. Dumbledore sensed an apparent danger emanating from them, but for the moment there was nothing left for him to do but wait and see how things would play out on their own.

            And it had been a long time since Albus hadn’t known exactly how everything would end.

"Filius, would you mind fetching our two future students and their guardians?”

            The Head of Ravenclaw complied willingly and less than five minutes later Hannibal Lecter, Lady Murasaki, Will and William Graham were seated before them again.

"We were able to discuss with each other the possibility of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter enrolling next term," he began, "and agreed that we certainly didn't want to waste the obvious potential of these two young people. Despite the seriousness of their actions, depriving them of an education would be counterproductive for all concerned."

            William sighed, clearly relieved at the hearing of the judgment he had feared so much. Lady Murasaki did not react at all. It was obvious that she had guessed the outcome of the discussions long before they took place.

"However, certain measures will be put in place."

            Dumbledore took great care to look at each of the two boys, ignoring their guardians completely.

"You should expect increased attention over the coming year. We will not tolerate a fraction of the behaviours you displayed at Ilvermorny. You must understand that being admitted to a school is an incredible opportunity after what has happened, and you must act accordingly. The smallest infraction of the Hogwarts rules will be met with no leniency. It is now your duty to reestablish the bond of trust between you and the teachers.

            “You will not be allowed to take part in any of the excursion to Hogsmeade this year and you will be required to do two hours of community service each week, during which you will be able to reflect on the consequences of your actions. Also, I think it is important that we have a dynamic based on communication. So, once every fortnight, you will be asked to meet your head of house for a discussion. This is to enable us to keep an eye on your progress at Hogwarts, and to ensure that you can tell us about any difficulties you may be experiencing, so that you can learn to deal with them in a more healthy and tolerable way.

            "As you may know, the classes at Hogwarts and Ilvermorny are not quite the same. You will therefore be required to choose two options from the following: Divination, Muggle Studies, Study of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures. Mr Lecter, if you wish to continue with the arrangement you had with Ilvermorny, I am quite prepared to let you drop an option as to allow you to study with the school healer, Madam Pomfrey. You will also both be allowed to join any clubs that may interest you. I even think that getting involved in an extra-curricular activity will only benefit you on the long run.

            “No information about you will be shared with other students, so you can choose who you want to share your personal story with. However, I can only warn you that lies, no matter how elaborate, never stay intact for long at Hogwarts.

            "Finally, as at Ilvermorny, we divide our students into four houses. You will therefore be asked to submit to this sorting. However, there is no need to worry about it. The process is quick and does not require any special skills. Do you have any questions?”

            There was a long moment of silence, during which everyone remained contemplative before Will's low, veiled voice rang out, dressed in a hint of fatalism.

"I guess Hannibal and I won't be sharing a room anymore."

            Dumbledore was relatively surprised by this question. He had not expected Will to speak, let alone ask such an off-topic question in light of the current situation. However, he answered in a clear, calm voice, as if these concerns were conceivable.

"At Hogwarts, students are not housed in rooms of two, but in dormitories. Your dormitory will depend on your house. However, Mr. Graham, if you find sleeping in a dormitory difficult to bear, we can discuss the possibility of accommodating you in a single room. But I can tell you right now that this will not be the case for Mr. Lecter."

            Will did not react, probably expecting the answer, but his face closed slightly. And Dumbledore was unable to guess with any certainty what might be going through his mind. It was a new and frustrating feeling for him.

"Will the Board of Governors be informed of the circumstances of their transfer?" asked Lady Murasaki without appearing to be much concerned about it.

"No, I have no duty to disclose such information. Nevertheless, I prefer to warn you. The Ministry has been made aware of this story, and many of the council members are close to high-ranked employees of the Ministry. It is therefore not impossible that they will be quickly informed of the situation, if they decide to be curious about the subject."

            Lady Murasaki nodded, her absent gaze naturally falling on Hannibal, and Dumbledore was almost delighted. He knew that the Minister and his pawns would be quick to spread the word, as to discredit the Headmaster. And in doing so, they would make a dangerous enemy of Lady Murasaki. Who would consequently become Dumbledore's natural ally. And Lady Murasaki was not the kind of figure who could be ignored, in both tacit and frontal power plays. He was doing it for the sake of the students, of course, but the decision to accept Hannibal would later provide him with a substantial and welcomed helping hand, he was sure of that.

"Do you have any other concerns?”

            In the face of the silence that answered, Albus took out the dusty Sorting Hat from the small box he had brought with him.

"Normally, the sorting is done in a specific ceremony during the first year. However, I don't think the attention you would get if you were to be sorted in front of everyone would be welcomed. I think it is better for you to do it privately, right here and now, and go straight to your house table, on the first day of school."

            He handed the Hat to Minerva who stood up and walked around the table to the side of the two students.

"The Sorting Hat has the ability to read your mind, which will allow it to determine which house you really belong to. There's no need to worry, it is just a conversation. If you're ready..."

            She waited for Will to slightly straightened up, and then she placed the Sorting Hat on his head. It rustled in a hiss as it made contact with the wild-eyed boy's mind. Dumbledore couldn't help but notice that Hannibal's attention, which up until now had been politely amused, if not borderline inexpressive, turned entirely to Will, with a seriousness and a focus that couldn't quite disappear from his smooth, controlled features.

"Gryffindor!"

            Minerva removed the hat from the boy's head and he, who had closed his eyes to focus on the disembodied voice, opened them again, uncertainly. He seemed at a loss, and immediately looked around for Hannibal, as if hoping to find himself there. Minerva did not react to the name of her house and merely placed the hat on the dark hair of the second student. Again, silence fell in the room. It dragged on for long seconds, that then turned into long minutes, and Dumbledore understood that Hannibal's sorting had to be very complex.

"What does that mean, Gryffindor?" asked William finally, to fill the silence that was becoming awkward.

"As the Headmaster said, Hogwarts divides its students into four houses, according to the qualities that are most important to them." Pomona explained with a warm smile. "These houses are Hufflepuff for hard-working, loyal students who hold their values and ethics dear. Ravenclaw is often home to thoughtful and spiritual young people with curious and cultured minds. Slytherin, on the other hand, is made of students who are often ambitious and driven by high goals. These young people share a resourcefulness and a creative and astute form of intelligence. And Gryffindor, the house into which your son has been accepted, values courage and produces students who are able to overcome fear and hardship to do what they believe is right."

"Oh... so it's a good house. "

"Every house has its qualities, Mr. Graham," Pomona continued. "And its faults. It's up to each student to learn the best from the founders' visions."

            Again, Graham's father merely nodded. He just seemed relieved that this magical hat had found such a noble and positive quality in his son's troubled and incomprehensible mind. Dumbledore could easily imagine that William adored his child, but it was obvious that this father did not have any of the tools necessary to understand him.

"Why doesn't the hat say anything?" Will's rare, low voice asked.

"It can happen," reassured Dumbledore. "Some sorting are easier than others. Sometimes the hat needs a few minutes of thinking as to be certain of its choice.”

"Is there a rivalry between the houses?" Lady Murasaki asked in a conversational tone.

"Unfortunately, yes," admitted Pomona. "There is a competition to win the House Cup at the end of the year. Generally, however, this competition does not in itself tarnish relations between the houses. But one is forced to note that today's students have mostly inherited the enmity of their predecessors."

"There is a historical rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, to the extent that it has become traditional. It's part of Hogwarts folklore now. And, generally speaking, each year, my Ravenclaw students tend to be closer to the Slytherins, while Pomona’s students are closer to the Gryffindors. But these are just general habits. Each student has their own sensitivities and friendship and understanding, as well as rivalry and conflict, can develop between each student, regardless of their house. In addition, most classes are shared with other groups in order to support diversity between houses, so everyone knows everyone else in their class, regardless of the colour of their tie."

            Again, there was silence, each occupant of the room having come to the end of their topics of conversation. Hannibal, with his eyes open, had a polite expression on his face, but the veil that covered his gaze gave away that he must be in deep conversation with the Sorting Hat. The minutes ticked by in an increasingly tense atmosphere, and it was only after a dozen minutes - one of the longest periods of hesitation in the history of the Sorting Hat - that the result was finally shouted.

"Hufflepuff!"

            Unlike the other teachers in the room, Dumbledore did a good job of hiding his profound surprise. He certainly wouldn't have bet on this house. He had sensed Hannibal as a Ravenclaw, and had imagined that the Sorting Hat was hesitating with Slytherin. Judging by the amount of doubts and thinking, it must have been a close call, but he wouldn't have imagined that Hufflepuff was part of the equation. Pomona, too, looked deeply surprised, but she quickly recovered and gave Hannibal one of her warmest smiles.

"Welcome to my house, Mr. Lecter. I hope you will find it to be a loving, enthusiastic and caring family.”

"But I'm sure I will, Professor."

            The rest of the formalities took place in a fog of uninterestingness. Everyone signed countless papers, repeated a few warnings, explained how the school worked, reminded them of numerous material details such as the list of supplies or the date of the start of the school year, and everyone left, eager to finally end it. William had a plane to catch to New York, Hannibal, Will and Lady Murasaki a portkey to France, and the teachers a floo network to Hogwarts. However, as he was about to follow his colleagues to one of the official hearths, Lady Murasaki let Will and Hannibal pass before turning back to him. The wizard and the witch stared at each other for a moment in attentive silence, trying to discern the words spoken behind those that were silent.

And finally, Lady Murasaki announced in a voice barely loud enough to be considered anything more than a whisper.

"Hannibal... Whatever you may think of him, he is the last family I have left. If you can help him, please do so..."

            Despite Lady Murasaki's extremely calm and composed facade, there was an urgency in her voice, a pressure that might have escaped an untrained ear, but which appeared in all its fear to Dumbledore's.

"Help him to what?"

"If you can't see, then you can't help. "

            And Dumbledore began to wonder if Lady Murasaki herself truly knew what was wrong with the boy, or if she just had a vague, horrible feeling. A feeling very much similar to his own.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Albus finally agreed, careful in his promises.

            The years and tragedies had taught him that he could not save everyone.

"I will keep an eye on him, and I will always do what I think is best for him."

"...Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. I certainly hope you will."

            The Headmaster's words had not assuaged Lady Murasaki's well-hidden fear. But they seemed to be what she had expected from him. So, she bowed her head slightly, and finally left, leaving him alone in the deserted room.

            The return to Hogwarts was quick, and Albus did not linger to debrief his colleagues. The new school year was less than two weeks away, and everyone had a lot to do. So, he didn't even have to apologize before retiring to his office, making sure he wouldn't be disturbed. He then placed the Hat on its shelf and sat down in his chair, turning slightly to face the mythical artefact.

"Hufflepuff?" he finally asked. "You are certain?"

"It was difficult," admitted the Sorting Hat in its tired voice, "but it was the only choice, in the end."

            Dumbledore did not answer, remaining thoughtful and concerned, and the Sorting Hat resumed on its own.

"I haven't come across such a complex and singular mind since... well probably since you. That boy... I won't tell you what I saw in that mind, but that boy would have been at home in any house. He's ambitious and cunning, no doubt about it. He is also cultured and intelligent in a way you have yet to discover. He is brave and proud beyond what is healthy for himself and others. But he is also loyal and dedicated. He follows a sense of ethics that, I must admit, is his own, but is as ingrained in him as her sense of justice was in Helga. In the end, it was not my analysis that was the deciding factor, but his untold choice. What is most important to him is neither pride, nor ambition, nor erudition. What is most important to him is his values and standards, his absolute devotion to the people and principles he holds dear, and the sacrality of his given word. Hannibal Lecter is an Hufflepuff. But... keep an eye on that boy. I can only speak in euphemisms when I tell you that you are far from guessing what is in the depths of that mind."

            Dumbledore slightly smoothed the folds of his robes with an absent gesture. He couldn't say that he was surprised by such a warning. He had sensed it the second Hannibal had entered the room. And he was an excellent judge of character.

"What about Will Graham?"

"That one, too, was more complex than he appeared. His mind is elusive and changeable, and even I couldn't tell for sure what was coming from him and what was coming from others. Many shadows hover above this mind, and nothing looks familiar in the darkness. Something was swarming there, growing, but I could not discern it clearly. Yet, that is not the point. For even more than this mass, it is Will's constant courage to live in spite of it that defines him. In spite of it or according to it. I still can’t truly tell. And did I tell you that you were nowhere near guessing what was playing in Hannibal Lecter's mind? "

"Yes..."

"You have to conceive the inconceivable there. But Will Graham's mind... it's an infinite number of inconceivabilities reflected in the myriad of mirrors that line his mind.”

            Dumbledore leaned slightly forward, watching the old hat. The latter had never been one for metaphor and fine words. And the Headmaster had the impression that the last sentence that had just echoed through the office was not poetic license, but a factual description of what was currently going on in the minds of the two new students. Albus didn't know exactly what he had just invited to Hogwarts, but he guessed that a blossoming birth was about to take place before his eyes, a birth he would have to understand if he didn't want it to be the end of his school.

            He knew there was a darkness rising outside of Hogwarts, he now had to be wary of the ones inside too.

            The lake was quiet and dark, its surface barely scratched and crumpled by the heavy August wind that fell on the Essonne. Will sat in the light-bathed grass on the shore, his legs stretched out before him, but his mind was somewhere in the dark depths of the lake. Behind him, Robertus Lecter's large castle stood tall against the blazing sun. The slate roofs of the towers were creaking under the heat, letting out a strange music that mingled with the rustling of leaves and the calls of birds. This polyphonic melody was a wonderful accompaniment to the light and relaxing tune that Hannibal, sitting on his right, was playing on his aunt's old lute.

"I think this is the first time I've ever wished the summer wouldn't end.”

            If the lute player heard him - and he always did - he said nothing, his fingers dancing insolently across the strings while his eyes never strayed off his friend’s face, not even for a moment. Hannibal was watching Will with the same quiet fascination that Will had when he was watching the lake. And as he detailed the black, unfathomable lake, Will felt as if he were looking into Hannibal's soul.

"There's a lake at Hogwarts too," Hannibal remarked with amusement.

"That's true..."

            Will stroked with his fingertips the burning grass that tickled his hand. The summer was saturated with the scent of smoke, salt and freedom that pricked the Empath's nostrils and filled his lungs with their colourful perfume. It must have been even more peculiar for Hannibal and his sensitive and sharp sense of smell.

"We'll have to be more careful. We can't be so... impulsive anymore."

            Hannibal sighed, but his fingers did not slow down.

"It was hardly impulsive. More like the inescapable result of months of slow rising. But yes, surely you must be right," he finally agreed. "Though there's not so many reasons for impulsiveness now. We have found each other. And Dolarhyde was necessary for that singular find. Now that we see each other clearly, such ostentation would be of poor taste. For the moment, at least. We have freed ourselves from the world, our future, now, will be between the two of us, for our eyes alone if that is what we desire."

            "We..."

            The "we" resonate in the air between them for a moment, as if Will had been ringing it to see how it would evolve, and it eventually faded into an echo, somewhere over the lake. Hannibal finished the last notes of the melody he had probably composed himself - Will didn't know enough about music to be sure of it - and set the lute down beside him.

"We should get back. The meal is probably already waiting for us."

"Does she know?"

            Hannibal, who had already straightened up, held out his hand to Will, to help him rise in turn.

"Lady Murasaki? No. She guesses some of the outlines. But no one can really know. Because no one can really understand."

            Will grabbed the outstretched hand. He was always surprised by the warmth of Hannibal's body. It was as if his skin itself was not able to guess the entity it covered and travestied in person clothes. But Will had no trouble seeing through it, through its cracks and crumbling, and seeing the whole of the sublime creature, the unsuspected deity, that was barely concealed under that veil of humanity. And even now, just as on the day Francis Dolarhyde lost his life, Will could not help but find it beautiful.

            He let Hannibal pull him to his feet and stared into those red eyes.

"No one but me."

"No one but you," conceded Hannibal.

            And Will knew that he was in the middle of a divine metamorphosis and that soon he would be staring into those red eyes as their only equal.