"Why did they leave?" Thops asked, approaching Skyl.
Skyl shook his head without saying anything.
Little Moli raised her hand. "They had an argument with Skyl."
"What? How could that happen?" Thops scratched his bald head.
Doniel shook his head knowingly. "There were warning signs. From what I've observed, Skyl has always been exceptionally good at making people angry."
"That's right."
Skyl turned toward Doniel with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Doniel immediately ducked behind Moli.
"Has anyone ever told you how terrifying you are?!" Doniel shouted.
He crouched on the ground with his arms folded across his chest, looking like a quail caught in the rain.
Thops hesitated for a moment before stepping forward to comfort Skyl.
"It's all right. I'm sure they'll come back."
"I appreciate the thought, but there's no need to comfort me. Whether they return or not has already been decided by fate."
"That doesn't sound like something you should be saying."
Thops carefully studied Skyl's expression.
"What should I be saying, then?"
"I don't know. But certainly not something as defeatist as claiming everything is predetermined."
Thops gathered his thoughts.
"If everything were truly predetermined, I would have grown old and died out there, never returning to the Academy. My theories, the meaning of my life, everything I ever valued would have vanished when I died."
"Your arrival changed my fate. Of all people, you should be the last person to believe in destiny."
Skyl shook his head.
"This time is different. I can change other people's destinies because I'm an outsider who disrupts the natural course of events. But now, I've become the very thing that needs to change."
Thops looked confused.
Doniel, however, suddenly understood.
"So this is all your fault. Because you're unwilling to change, certain... unpleasant things are inevitably going to happen."
"Shh!"
Thops hurriedly silenced him.
He looked rather nervous.
"Nobody should be forced to sacrifice themselves for someone else."
Doniel gave him a bewildered look.
"Of course not. I was just stating the facts Skyl was trying to explain. Did he mean something else?"
Thops awkwardly rolled up his sleeves, then rolled them back down again.
He felt terribly embarrassed by the whole situation and eventually could only shrug at Skyl.
"I suppose that's life. There will always be problems that magic can't solve."
Skyl glanced calmly at Thops before turning to look in the direction Millicent had gone.
"Give someone an infinite lifespan, and they'll eventually discover that all those supposedly unsolvable problems in life are nothing more than dark jokes."
"At first, they might send a chill down your spine. You might even laugh at them. But after seeing the same thing enough times, they become incredibly tedious."
Thops desperately wanted to comfort him.
All this time, Skyl had been the one taking care of him.
Seeing Skyl force himself to maintain a smile made Thops feel genuinely miserable.
He had adopted such a cautious attitude because he was trying his hardest to console Skyl from the perspective of a mature adult.
Unfortunately, the moment he remembered that his mentor from the Tower of Tomes was a godlike spellcaster who had experienced far more than he ever could, he realized that he had no qualifications to offer advice, whether in terms of ability or experience.
The thought made him feel as though he was overstepping his bounds.
Here he was, a man who could barely take care of himself, trying to shoulder the problems of the entire world.
"So, what do we do now?"
"I'll take you all back to the Academy first. How does that sound?"
"Whatever you think is best."
Suddenly, Skyl's phone began to ring.
He picked it up and saw that Dumbledore was calling.
"Hello, Professor Dumbledore! It's been a long time. What can I do for you?"
Skyl's voice was warm and cheerful.
That was how adults behaved.
No matter how miserable their lives became or how terrible they felt, they always tried to present themselves as composed and respectable whenever they interacted with others.
"Can't I call you unless I need something?" Dumbledore replied. "How long has it been since we last met and had a proper conversation? If you have some free time, come back to Hogwarts. I'll be waiting for you in the Headmaster's office. The password is Licorice Wand."
"Is that today's password?"
"Until you arrive, it'll remain the password forever."
Skyl nodded.
"All right."
Just before he hung up, Dumbledore spoke again.
"Skyl."
"I'm here. What is it, Professor?"
"...Please, make sure you come."
Skyl raised his head and looked beyond the universe.
His gaze penetrated the barriers separating worlds and entered another river of fate, allowing him to glimpse Dumbledore's future.
He was concerned that Dumbledore might have encountered some trouble and was subtly asking him for help.
However, he couldn't see any future in which Dumbledore was attacked.
Skyl couldn't help chuckling.
With Dumbledore's current strength, who in the wizarding world could possibly hurt him?
Even if Merlin himself returned from the dead, the two would be evenly matched.
And if Sauron, who resided within Azura's Star, were added to the equation, Dumbledore could confidently be called the most powerful wizard in history.
Even Jesus himself would have his work cut out for him.
"All right. I'll be there shortly."
Skyl hung up.
After returning Thops and the others to Raya Lucaria, he opened a portal that led directly to the gates of Hogwarts.
His timing was perfect.
Today happened to be September 2, the first official day of classes.
Early that morning, the first-years hurried through the castle's mischievous moving staircases and gathered in the Great Hall to enjoy a hearty breakfast.
Everything about the magical world still felt wonderfully new to them.
Many of the students looked both exhausted and excited. They had probably been too excited to sleep the previous night.
Skyl rubbed his empty stomach.
Catching the delicious aroma of pumpkin oatmeal, he decided to make a quick detour into the Great Hall.
He casually helped himself to breakfast, found an empty seat at the Gryffindor table, and began enthusiastically devouring a bacon-and-egg sandwich stuffed with filling.
The students around him were chatting about all sorts of things.
Some were discussing the latest products released by the broomstick shop in Diagon Alley. Others were exchanging opinions about which professors were strict and which were easygoing.
There were also conversations about newly learned charms and spells, and how certain clever little tricks could make them more useful.
Someone mentioned the alchemical prank products being sold by the Weasley twins.
Their little business was doing exceptionally well.
Other students discussed the Quidditch World Cup held that summer.
With no Death Eaters causing trouble as they had in the original story, this year's tournament had proceeded smoothly.
It had been an enjoyable event, much like so many previous tournaments.
The only injury had involved a Bulgarian player whose nose was accidentally broken by an enthusiastic fan's swinging fist while they were posing for a photograph.
Skyl quietly continued eating.
As more returning students entered the Great Hall, someone finally recognized him.
The students nearby instinctively lowered their voices.
The silence seemed to possess a peculiar magic of its own. It spread through the air like ink dispersing through water.
Before long, the entire Great Hall fell completely silent for a brief moment.
Then the excited chatter of the first-years broke the stillness.
"Quiet!" the older students from all four houses barked.
"Graham, Malcolm, shut your mouths."
A Slytherin prefect spoke sternly to two particularly noisy first-years.
"Orla, shh. Don't say anything for now."
An older Ravenclaw student quietly issued a similar warning.
The same thing was happening at the Hufflepuff table.
As for the Gryffindor table, the students seated on either side of Skyl had already turned to stare at him.
They watched him without blinking, remaining completely silent.
At the staff table at the far end of the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Lily Potter couldn't help rising from their seats.
Professor Flitwick, who had some goblin ancestry, stood on his tiptoes atop his chair and stretched his neck to get a better look.
Eventually, the professors simply abandoned their seats and walked over to the Gryffindor table.
Under everyone's watchful gaze, Skyl continued eating with complete concentration.
He used his spoon to scrape the last mouthful of pumpkin oatmeal from the side of his bowl.
Then he wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin, stood up, and waved to the approaching professors.
After exchanging a few brief pleasantries with them, he nodded toward the students around him.
Everyone whose eyes met his unconsciously straightened their backs.
A large white dog came running over and circled his feet.
"Good dog."
Then, without looking back, Skyl picked up his breakfast tray and left the table.
He placed his dishes in the designated collection area and walked straight out of the Great Hall.
Only after he had departed did the enormous hall erupt into conversation once more.
The first-years couldn't contain their curiosity.
"Who on earth was that?"
"Why was he so rude?"
"Why weren't we allowed to talk while he was here?"
The older students answered in solemn voices.
"That was You-Know-Who. The former leader of Gryffindor and the uncrowned king of Hogwarts."
"He's the Dark Lord?!"
"No, no, you've got it all wrong. The Dark Lord isn't nearly as terrifying as him."
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