That Dream

"Professor, do you believe in fate?"

Klein leaned forward slightly, his expression utterly serious.

"I thought this was the sort of conversation you only found in novels. Well, I do believe in fate."

The old man couldn't help laughing. His eyes were relaxed, but he seemed to think that was inappropriate and quickly corrected himself, going along with Klein's story.

"One cold winter, I was driven out of the Grindelwald family estate. I was only a six-year-old child who knew nothing."

A look of reminiscence crossed his face as Klein spun his tale to Grindelwald.

"Other than the clothes on my back, which weren't very warm, all I had was a nearly broken wand with no owner and a tattered spellbook that nobody wanted. That night, I curled up in a street corner, leaned against a wall with the wand and spellbook in my arms, and drifted off."

He toyed with the Purple Sandalwood Wand, his gaze seeming to pass through endless years.

"I had a dream, a very real dream.

"In the dream, I scraped by on the streets of Berlin for several years. When I was eleven, I received an invitation to attend Durmstrang. After enrolling, my magical talent gradually became apparent. In class, I was always the first to raise my hand and answer questions, and the professors liked me very much. My abilities were developed even further, and I was even hailed as 'the most talented wizard in Durmstrang's history.'

"But it didn't last. My identity was exposed.

"'Grindelwald' was a surname they could never forget—a nightmare. As expected, I was targeted. First by my classmates, then by the school, and finally by the entire Magical World. In my sixth year, I was expelled for no reason and returned to the streets of Berlin."

It was a long story, but Dumbledore listened intently. He could clearly sense the emotions Klein felt as he described his dream.

Excitement, pride, disappointment, confusion, resentment.

The old man felt as though he had witnessed the fall of a heaven-blessed prodigy with his own eyes.

"After I was expelled, I still clung to a naive hope. I tried to change the Magical World's perception of 'Grindelwald' through my own ingenuity. So I kept inventing and improving spells, exploring Alchemy Formulas. I did everything I could think of to contribute to the Magical World.

"But I never expected that the more I did, the more nervous the outside world became. They enjoyed the conveniences my innovations brought them without a second thought, yet feared me—the 'monster' who stayed cooped up in his room studying magic.

"In the end, an anonymous vote sent me to prison."

Klein paused, the smile at the corner of his mouth turning bitter.

He was laughing at his own naïveté back then.

"So I killed my guards and turned them into ghouls. Those people weren't wrong—I was dangerous. Heh, someone raised on the streets and the word harmless didn't go together.

"The ghouls and ghosts broke out of the prison, and I decided to take revenge. To break into the German Ministry of Magic, I even summoned demons.

"Everyone—everyone who dared to stand in my way—died."

There was not a flicker in Klein's sapphire-blue eyes. His tone remained as calm as ever.

Dumbledore sighed and furrowed his brow almost imperceptibly.

"After that, my power grew and grew, and countless wizards chose to follow me. In less than three years, I became the first emperor of the Magic Empire."

Under ordinary circumstances, if an eleven-year-old claimed he had become emperor in just three years, people would laugh him out of the room.

But Dumbledore didn't laugh. His expression grew more serious instead.

No one understood wizards better than he did. There might be wizards who preferred to live in seclusion, but there was no shortage of ambitious ones either. Otherwise, Gellert and Tom would never have had so many fanatical followers.

If there truly were a wizard who could crush all opposition, then even if he himself refused, ambitious schemers would find all sorts of ways to put him on the throne.

"If nothing unexpected happens, the Empire will soon move from the Magic World into the Real World and go to war with ordinary people.

"Ha. Guns, missiles, even nuclear bombs are certainly powerful, but all it takes to secretly control the leaders of every country is a simple spell. In the end, the Empire will rule the world. There's no doubt about it."

Dumbledore remained silent, and Klein continued.

"And as emperor of the Empire, I can use things like the Philosopher's Stone and the Elixir of Life to extend my life forever. Even if there's a rebellion, the contingencies I've hidden around the world will ensure my soul isn't completely destroyed. After a century of recuperation, I'll always have a chance to make a comeback.

"But I know..."

His voice suddenly rose.

That's not what I want!

Dumbledore and the portraits of the headmasters on the walls were startled. After a pause, he continued.

"Later, I woke up, still curled up on the streets of Berlin. There was no Empire, no emperor, but my mind had gained a great deal of knowledge."

"So you had a 'prophetic dream' and gained a lot of knowledge and experience in it?"

Dumbledore stroked his white beard. After a long silence, he suddenly smiled.

"Perhaps 'an evil, powerful wizard possessed a young body' would make more sense. It's far more believable than some 'prophetic dream,' don't you think?"

"Fate, Professor. This is fate. Fate gave me a warning!"

Klein ignored Dumbledore and stressed his point again.

"If I were some evil wizard, I might be able to make up a lie like that. But what about the things destined to happen along the Destiny Trajectory? Could I make those up too?

"Before I become emperor, many major events will happen in the European magic world. Two of them are your death and Voldemort's return."

Voldemort?!

Dumbledore's pupils contracted. The ominous feeling that had been lingering in his heart suddenly grew many times stronger. But he said nothing, continuing to listen quietly.

"Voldemort, the man known as the second 'Dark Lord.' I don't know much about him, but I've heard a few things. You died, he came back, and in the end Harry Potter defeated him. That's everything I know."

After his initial shock, the old man quickly regained his composure.

"That isn't enough to prove anything. Perhaps you're just making things up."

"I knew you wouldn't believe me."

Klein shrugged and went straight for the King's Bomb.

"Severus Snape, our head of house, is the spy you placed by Voldemort's side, isn't he?"

"Hiss!"

Dumbledore drew a sharp breath inward, but his expression didn't change in the slightest.

"After Voldemort was defeated, Potter explained everything in the newspaper. Surely you believe me now?"

Klein winked at Dumbledore, hopped down from the desk, and stood quietly in the middle of the office.

"It seems I have no choice."

Dumbledore gave a bitter smile and stroked his white beard.

He needed to take some time to calm himself down.