After sending Harry back to bed, Karl followed Dumbledore to the Principal's office.
"I thought you'd be studying Transfiguration with Minerva until classes resumed; after all, not returning to your dormitory at night isn't a good habit."
Dumbledore motioned for Karl to sit down, then mischievously offered him a cup of black tea while he himself drank milk.
Karl: ( _ )
"Albus, did you get them mixed up?"
"No, because I'm old and don't have your boundless energy, so I need a cup of milk to help me sleep."
Dumbledore hinted that a certain kitten wasn't acting human, often ambushing him, a centenarian.
"Oh, I see. Well, here's a fun fact: milk tea is even better for sleep, so you should mix these two and drink them together."
"Is that so? Sounds good. I can try it with Minerva next time."
Karl: —.
Did Grindelwald corrupt you?
He pushed the black tea towards Dumbledore, then took out the Slytherin locket fragment from his wristband.
"Look! My spoils from last night!"
"Hmm—what is this?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise, adjusting his half-moon spectacles, looking somewhat incredulous.
"Slytherin's locket," Karl leaned back dramatically, "Please get me a glass of fruit juice, thank you."
"All right, I can't refuse now."
His suspicion confirmed, Dumbledore chuckled and handed Karl a glass of juice.
"Did you chat with your senior, Tom? He might not know about the miserable situation he's about to face."
Karl glared at the cunning old man, "Not this time, maybe next time. I was too busy getting revenge for Regulus."
"Regulus? The child from the House of Black? Sirius's brother—"
Dumbledore thought of something, his expression becoming complicated, "I remember he was a Slytherin, joined the Death Eaters very early, but then there was no news of him."
"Some speculated he was killed for offending Lord Voldemort, but you seem to have made a different discovery, correct?"
Karl nodded seriously, opened the fake locket, handed it to Dumbledore, and then recounted in detail what Regulus had done.
As Karl spoke, Dumbledore fell into sorrow, his blue eyes dimming.
He gently stroked the locket, carefully picking up the last letter inside.
"To the Dark Lord: I know when you read this, I will be dead, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have taken the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as possible. I face death willingly, so that when you meet your match, you will be but a mortal man of flesh and blood—"
"Regulus, he was a true warrior, a true hero, worthy of everyone's respect and remembrance."
Karl strongly agreed with Dumbledore's sentiment, "His body was properly preserved. I told the House-elf of the House of Black that one day in the future, you would clear Regulus's name."
Dumbledore's expression was solemn, "Of course! This is something I must do! And that day won't be far off!"
Placing Regulus's last letter back into the fake locket, Dumbledore put it and the fragments of the Slytherin locket into a drawer in his office.
He composed himself, then showed a faint smile, "Karl, thank you for everything you've done."
In Dumbledore's original plan, eliminating Lord Voldemort was a long, complex, dangerous, and uncertain task.
But now, it seemed he might not even need to do anything himself; he could just sit in his office and await news of victory.
He even suspected that Lord Voldemort might be cursed, destined to stumble when dealing with young Wizards.
Although he didn't know how Karl found the Horcrux, Dumbledore didn't intend to ask, because everyone has their secrets, and as Principal and elder, he only needed to give trust.
"Albus, you're too polite!"
Karl elegantly swirled the juice in his cup, then gave Dumbledore a "you know what I mean" look.
"First, put the credit on my tab, and then, this year's House Cup, isn't it, hehe!"
Dumbledore: ( one _ one ")
It's a perfectly normal thing, but why, when this child says it, does it sound like some shady deal?
"Ahem! In principle, this sort of thing isn't allowed—"
"Okay! Then I understand!"
Karl immediately understood. In principle, not allowed means it's allowed, and in principle, allowed means it's not allowed. It seems this matter is settled.
Dumbledore: — ·
This child is born to be a Principal!
"By the way, Albus, how is senior Tom doing? This year's Defense Against the Dark Arts Class results at school definitely won't be good; he's entirely responsible."
Because of Quirinus Quirrell's garlic smell and his feigned weakness and stutter, the popularity of Defense Against the Dark Arts Class had plummeted, with Potion Class becoming the biggest winner.
The young Wizards who had previously enjoyed the finer things hoped that the current vegetable patch manager would resume his post, and Karl was no exception.
Huh? Did I just insult myself again?
Hearing Karl mention this, Dumbledore was also a bit helpless, "Hagrid's Cerberus, Fluffy, has clearly caused quite a bit of trouble for Tom and Quirrell, but that won't stump him; he should be making his move soon."
"Alright then," Karl drained his juice in one gulp, his heroic manner comparable to drinking alcohol, "If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave?"
"Good night, Karl."
"Good night, Albus," Karl didn't forget to turn back and remind him before leaving, "Frugality is a beautiful virtue, so don't waste the black tea. Remember to finish it and get some rest early, alright?"
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