If Dumbledore were still in his former, aged state, he might have chosen compromise.
Or passivity.
At most, he would have focused on protecting Morin and little else.
But now-
His first thought was to strike back.
A person's mindset naturally grows more conservative with age and experience. There are exceptions, but they are rare.
Dumbledore was not one of them.
He, too, had once felt powerless in the face of time. Growing old, he had chosen to place his hopes in the next generation, leaving unfinished matters for others to resolve.
But now, everything was different.
With Morin's magic and the Philosopher's Stone, Dumbledore had reclaimed time.
More time.
And with it came a younger, stronger body.
Along with it-
The ambitions of his youth.
Young people take risks.
They fight.
They struggle.
Not merely because they lack experience, but because they have room to fail.
They can fail again and again.
If one refuses to fight for an uncertain future, if one chooses so-called "stability" over action, then what meaning does stability even hold?
Having regained both time and his peak condition, Dumbledore chose reform.
He no longer sought stagnation.
He no longer made conservative decisions like those of the original timeline.
His heart was filled with ambition-to change everything that displeased him.
And this aligned perfectly with Morin's plan.
Naturally, this outcome was not beyond Morin's expectations.
When someone gains a weapon, the desire to wield it follows.
Time itself was a form of capital.
A weapon.
This was not exploitation.
It was mutual benefit.
Even though Dumbledore could see through Morin's intentions, he still chose cooperation.
Their interests aligned.
So cooperation was inevitable.
"Actually," Dumbledore said slowly, a trace of hesitation in his voice, "there is one more matter."
"If possible, I would like to inform someone else. To ask whether he would be willing to join us. His participation would be... extremely helpful."
Morin raised an eyebrow.
"Who?"
Dumbledore paused.
"Grindelwald."
As expected.
"Gellert Grindelwald."
"Of course," Morin replied without hesitation.
Dumbledore froze.
He had been prepared to explain.
To persuade.
"You... what did you just say?" he asked, unsure if he had heard correctly.
"I said, of course," Morin nodded. "I know who Mr. Grindelwald is. I know your relationship with him, and I know what he's done."
He continued calmly.
"But that doesn't change the fact that he's a charismatic wizard with powerful ideals. Especially with your guarantee."
"You'll guarantee him," Morin said plainly. "Won't you?"
"Of course," Dumbledore replied immediately. A flicker of gratitude passed through his eyes. "I swear it. Until I fall, he will never harm another innocent."
"That sounds a bit dramatic," Morin said. "If the descriptions are accurate, once you explain our plan, he'll be interested."
He paused briefly.
"This isn't a reform that can be imposed overnight. A real revolution inevitably invites conflict. Those with vested interests won't simply step aside. Not everyone will agree."
"I hope to minimize unnecessary bloodshed," Dumbledore said quietly.
"So do I," Morin shrugged. "Let's hope they feel the same."
...
"Good morning, Professor Morin."
"Morning."
"Hello, Professor Morin."
"Hello."
As he walked through the corridors, Morin was greeted repeatedly by students from different years.
Almost all of them.
And not out of obligation.
Although Morin assigned a great deal of homework.
And although it was difficult.
And although the punishment for cheating or copying was terrifying-
More exam papers.
Still, under Morin's instruction, his students respected him deeply.
Some even joked, "The more handsome a man is, the more ruthless he becomes."
Fortunately, while Morin's punishments were harsh, his rewards were generous.
An "E" on an exam earned ten Galleons.
For most students, that was a substantial sum.
Money solved ninety-nine percent of problems.
At least ten Galleons did.
This only solidified Morin's reputation as "stinking rich."
Which he didn't mind.
Other rumors spread as well.
Many students suspected Morin was a master of Legilimency.
After all, he always caught them copying homework.
Which meant-
They could only rely on themselves.
Otherwise, the workload would never end.
Someone once joked that Morin would eventually run out of exam papers.
The next day, Morin invited the entire class to his office.
And casually showed them his stockpile.
An absurd number.
The visiting students were instantly demoralized.
From that day on, rumors about Morin's office grew increasingly exaggerated.
Some even claimed he possessed a magical artifact capable of generating endless exams with a single tap of his wand.
In reality, it wasn't far off.
Morin simply didn't have the patience to write exams himself.
He had input years of Ministry exam questions into an AI and let it generate them.
No wand required.
A hundred exams cost him ten units of electricity.
Meanwhile, news about Morin inevitably spread beyond Hogwarts.
Letters.
Family conversations.
Rumors were strange things.
Passed two or three times, they became something else entirely.
After being mentioned by hundreds of students and discussed among parents-
A storm began to form.
As for whether there was a mastermind behind it-
It no longer mattered.
Rumors were notoriously difficult to trace.
Especially with owl-post and word of mouth.
...
Nurmengard.
Central Europe.
A castle.
A fortress built by the first Dark Lord as his stronghold.
After a legendary duel, it became his prison.
Darkness clung to the structure.
Sentries stood watch.
Countless enchantments layered the walls.
All to restrain a single man.
To ensure he would never escape his chains and threaten either the wizarding or Muggle world again.
Footsteps echoed.
The guards verified the visitor's identity and stepped aside.
They showed no concern that he might free the prisoner.
Because the prisoner had been captured by him.
The visitor was Albus Dumbledore.
And the man imprisoned here was Gellert Grindelwald.
Blood brother.
Lover.
The first Dark Lord.
Compared to Voldemort, Grindelwald was far more formidable.
At the very least, he possessed vision.
Ideals.
A desire to reshape the wizarding world.
Voldemort was merely a powerful madman obsessed with blood purity.
Comparing the two was almost insulting.
Seals were undone one by one.
The key turned.
The heavy door opened.
And closed again once Dumbledore stepped inside.
"...A familiar scent," a voice murmured from the darkness. "Is that you?"
"It is," Dumbledore said. "Gellert."
"...Your condition is strange," Grindelwald said, slowly opening his eyes. Despite his white hair, his gaze was as sharp as ever. "Are you dying?"
"No," Dumbledore shook his head. "On the contrary. I am living very well. And I will live for a long time."
"This is odd," Grindelwald murmured. "The Philosopher's Stone grants longevity, not youth. And you are not the type to cling to life through cowardice."
"What happened, Albus?"
"I met someone," Dumbledore said slowly. "Someone very much like you. But not you."
"He, too, proposed reform."
"Would you like to join?"
The chains shifted.
Silence stretched between them.
They understood each other too well.
"If you are willing," Dumbledore continued, "and if you swear never to harm an innocent."
"...You've changed," Grindelwald said at last.
"So have you," Dumbledore replied. "People always change."
Grindelwald laughed softly.
"Well said."
"I need time," he said. "Time to consider."
"I'll return in three days," Dumbledore said, turning away. "You know what I've done. I know what you've done."
"The past ends today."
"In three days, I hope the one who answers me is a Gellert who has let it go."
With that, Dumbledore left.
The door closed.
Darkness reclaimed the cell.
So deep it swallowed all light.
"Light..." Grindelwald murmured.
"Reform..."
The chains rattled.
Then fell silent.
He had long grown used to darkness.
Silence.
Isolation.
He could have adapted again.
If not for that conversation.
Once light had been seen-
Returning to darkness was no longer simple.
...
"Professor Morin! Professor Morin!"
Urgent knocking followed.
"Enter," Morin said.
The door opened at once.
"Professor Flitwick?" Morin looked up in surprise.
"Still working?" Flitwick exclaimed dramatically. "Merlin's beard, it's Saturday! The exams you've prepared will last them until graduation!"
He put his hands on his hips.
"And have you forgotten? We had an appointment on Monday!"
"Ah-" Morin paused. "The drinks."
"Exactly!" Flitwick interrupted. "Nothing in this world is more appealing than a good drink!"
Then he deliberately darkened his expression.
"Or have you forgotten our agreement and made other plans?"
"Of course not," Morin replied immediately. "Let's go now."
The Three Broomsticks Inn.
The moment they arrived, Flitwick was greeted from all sides.
Clearly a regular.
"This is Professor Morin," Flitwick introduced loudly. "Morin!"
The pub erupted.
"So you're Professor Morin?"
"An honor!"
"I've heard so much about you!"
Morin smiled and responded politely, treating it as casual chatter.
Some, however, clearly knew his reputation.
Through rumors.
Through their children.
Comments drifted past him-
"Very rich."
"Very eccentric."
"Very terrifying."
Morin paid them little mind.
In a sense, they weren't wrong.
"When you drink, you drink the strongest!" Flitwick declared, enthusiastically ordering alcohol in bulk.
In his mind, Morin must have been avoiding alcohol to hide his weakness.
Today-
He would get Morin drunk.
And then-
He'd have something to brag about in class.
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