Dumbledore's office was quiet in the way only deeply magical places ever were, soft whirring from the silver instruments lining the walls, the gentle snores of portraits pretending not to listen, and the low crackle of the fire beneath Fawkes's perch.
Harry stood in the centre of it, hands loosely clasped behind his back, while the four Heads of House formed a loose semicircle around him.
Minerva McGonagall was the first to speak.
"Mr Potter," she said, voice measured but eyes bright behind her spectacles, "what you did to the Gryffindor common room was… extraordinary."
Snape gave a faint, disapproving sniff. "Extraordinary is one word for it. Reckless is another."
Harry met his gaze evenly. "I didn't force anything, Professor. The magic was already there. I just reminded the room what it used to be."
Flitwick practically vibrated in place. "Yes! That's what fascinated me the spellwork wasn't additive. It was restorative. Like coaxing a memory out of the stone."
Sprout nodded enthusiastically. "The place feels happier. Like it's breathing again."
Dumbledore steepled his fingers, studying Harry with a look that held equal parts curiosity and quiet pride. "Hogwarts has always responded best to those who listen to her," he said. "You listened."
McGonagall's lips twitched. "The question, Mr Potter, is whether this… listening can be extended."
Harry tilted his head. "You mean the other common rooms."
Snape's eyebrow arched sharply. "You are not suggesting"
"I am," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "If you are willing."
Harry considered it only a moment. "I can do it," he said. "The rooms are different, but the principle's the same. Hogwarts Legacy showed me how each house once shaped its space around what it valued."
Flitwick clapped his hands together. "Oh, I must see Ravenclaw's first!"
McGonagall nodded. "Ravenclaw Tower, then."
They filed out of the office, the spiral staircase unwinding beneath their feet. As they passed the office entrance, Harry slowed and then stopped entirely.
The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black was awake.
Very awake.
He eyed the group with thinly veiled disdain. "Leaving without so much as a goodbye, Headmaster? Typical."
Harry turned slowly, a grin spreading across his face.
"Hello, Professor Quidditch Blocker."
There was a heartbeat of silence.
Then,
"HOW DARE YOU!!!!"
Phineas Black spluttered, face reddening in a way that suggested his painted blood pressure had just spiked. "That is not...who told you...insolent, impertinent, insufferable boy!"
Harry laughed, openly now, the sound bright and utterly unapologetic. "Still works," he said to McGonagall, who looked scandalised despite the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Snape demanded.
Dumbledore's smile was positively radiant. "Ah," he said. "An old school tradition. If Phineas responds with indignation rather than dismissal, it means he considers the speaker… worthy of irritation."
Phineas pointed furiously at Harry. "I do not respect him!"
Dumbledore merely hummed. "Of course not."
They left him sputtering as the staircase rotated, Harry's laughter echoing faintly behind them.
Ravenclaw Tower
The Ravenclaw common room was already filled with curious students when Professor Flitwick ushered Harry forward. Blue and bronze banners hung neatly, but the space felt… restrained, its high ceilings oddly bare.
Harry closed his eyes.
He could feel it, layers of thought embedded in the stone, half-forgotten enchantments yearning to be recalled.
He lifted his wand.
The transformation was subtle at first.
The ceiling rose into a vast domed observatory, enchanted constellations slowly spinning overhead. Bookshelves unfurled in elegant spirals, ladders gliding smoothly into place. Study desks rearranged themselves into tiers, each nook shielded by gentle silencing charms.
A collective gasp swept the room as a massive central table emerged, inlaid with runes that shifted and rearranged themselves like puzzles.
Flitwick wiped at his eyes. "It's… perfect."
Ravenclaws surged forward, awe-struck, fingers tracing glyphs that responded with faint glows.
Hufflepuff Basement
Sprout's hands trembled as she led them into Hufflepuff.
Warmth bloomed instantly.
The room expanded outward like a burrow opening into a sunlit meadow, rounded alcoves, living wood woven into the walls, planters bursting with enchanted herbs. A communal hearth grew wide and welcoming, surrounded by circular seating that invited conversation.
"Hogwarts remembers kindness," Harry murmured, finishing the spell.
Hufflepuffs laughed and cheered, some openly crying as the space seemed to hug them back.
Sprout pulled Harry into a brief, fierce embrace. "Thank you," she said thickly.
Slytherin Dungeons
The final stop.
Snape watched Harry like a hawk as they descended beneath the lake.
"This house values control," Harry said quietly. "Precision. Ambition."
The dungeon responded accordingly.
Stone sharpened, not harsh but refined. The room elongated into elegant corridors and chambers, dark green light filtering through enchanted glass panels that showed the lake above. Seating arranged itself into strategic clusters, private but not isolating.
The common room felt powerful.
Intentional.
Slytherins stared in silence, respect dawning slowly but unmistakably.
Snape exhaled through his nose. "Acceptable," he said, which, by his standards, was high praise.
By evening, the castle buzzed with wonder.
Each house explored its renewed heart, students laughing, touching, discovering. The Heads of House stood back, watching with expressions that ranged from astonishment to quiet reverence.
Hogwarts had been reminded of herself.
And Harry Potter, once again, had changed her, simply by remembering.