Merlin's Order

Quirinus Quirrell wasn't the first person Klein had played until he vomited blood, and he certainly wouldn't be the last.

Once he had recovered, Klein looked at Quirrell's horribly twisted face as the professor desperately tried to act as though nothing had happened. He found the game even more entertaining than he'd imagined.

"Wonderful."

Klein sighed inwardly.

On second thought, keeping Voldemort around seemed more worthwhile than getting rid of him.

Old Snake might not have a nose, but he could scamper around and draw attention from the outside world. At times, he could even indulge Klein's secret, unusual tastes.

What a perfect tool!

"Professor Quirrell, where are the research results? And why do you look so awful?"

If acting had levels, Klein would be a Grandmaster. While silently giving Voldemort a thumbs-up in his mind, he gazed at the ashen-faced Quirrell with an innocent expression, like a sweet little baby, his eyes full of surprise.

"N-nothing's wrong."

Quirrell closed his eyes in pain, doing his best not to look at that damned face. Fighting the urge to vomit blood, he took a deep breath and pointed toward the door.

"We can discuss the research results another time. Let's call it a day. I'm tired."

The pain of tearing his soul apart and fusing it back together was beyond words. What kept him from collapsing and howling in agony was his absolute loyalty to Voldemort.

One careless move, and the whole game was lost.

He absolutely couldn't afford to show any weakness now and arouse the suspicions of the person behind Klein!

"All right, then. It was a pleasure talking with you tonight, Professor Quirrell. Good night~"

Klein shrugged helplessly, drawing out his words as he left the office, where Quirrell had dispelled the spells.

"Bang!"

He glanced back at the wooden door that had slammed shut, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, then returned to the Slytherin dormitory with a spring in his step.

Since their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Quirinus Quirrell, had unfortunately come down with dragon pox, and none of the other professors had time to take over his class, Hufflepuff's Thursday lesson had been postponed until Saturday morning.

When the Hufflepuff first-years learned they wouldn't be able to sleep in during the weekend, their reaction could be summed up in three words: furious, trembling, and freezing.

(They were so angry they were shaking, drenched in cold sweat despite the hot weather, their hands and feet icy. Could Hogwarts get any worse? What did the Badgers have to do to make you happy? Tears streamed down their faces. Oppression of Hufflepuff was everywhere in this castle. When would Hufflepuff finally be able to stand tall?)

But none of this had much to do with Klein.

At that moment, he was standing with Dumbledore on the elevated bridge in front of the castle, waiting for the Order of Merlin to arrive.

"Klein, I'm sorry about your first Flying Class."

If the Order of Merlin hadn't been coming, Klein should have been standing on the lawn with the other Slytherin students, waiting for class to begin.

But...

Dumbledore didn't seem to see any regret on Klein's face.

"It's all right. This is even better."

Klein wasn't looking forward to Flying Class at all. He knew many better ways to fly than on a Flying Broom.

In fact, the Order of Merlin had arrived at just the right time~

"Neigh!"

The big names of the Magical World were as punctual as Klein had expected. At around 8:55, he and Dumbledore saw a huge carriage pulled by winged horses appear in the distant sky. By the time the horses' neighs reached them, it was exactly nine o'clock—not a minute early or late.

"Clip-clop, clip-clop."

Four tall, pure-white winged horses landed on the elevated bridge in front of Hogwarts Castle, then trotted up to Klein and Dumbledore.

A golden M, formed from several wands, adorned the huge carriage, which was decorated with copper and mithril.

It was the emblem of the Order of Merlin.

"Click."

The Magic Lock on the carriage door slowly released. Like a bashful rose unfurling its petals, the steps lowered automatically, and a white-haired head poked out.

"Have we arrived?"

Muttering, the old man in a dark green robe bent down and stepped out of the carriage.

"Nixlite, the Herbology Master," Dumbledore quietly introduced him to Klein.

Nixlite was only the first. Over the next few minutes, Klein met experts and masters from every field in the modern world.

Yafi Thompson, Wood Phoenix, Une Anglaus, Fila Hop, James White, Aberdo Hank—these were all talented people he would have tried to win over or eliminate back when he'd been emperor in his previous life!

And...

Seven of them?

To evaluate him, had the Order of Merlin really sent seven people?

Even if they were doing it out of respect for Dumbledore, this was unbelievable.

After all, every member of the Order was a master and leading figure in some field. They were eccentric, for one thing, and every last one of them was arrogant. Normally, they were either doing research or on their way to do research. They had no time to pay attention to something unrelated to their work, let alone investigate it.

Now, though, seven masters had gathered in one place. It was such an impressive lineup that it nearly rivaled a small Magic Summit.

"Haha, Dumbledore, my old friend! This must be Klein."

After the two sides exchanged a few meaningless pleasantries, Aberdo Hank, the current director of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, got straight to the point and turned his gaze to Klein.

The longer he looked, the more pleased he became.

There was no helping it. Even setting aside his magical talent, Klein's appearance was simply too adorable.

Who could resist a child as pretty as a porcelain doll?

"Good morning, gentlemen—and lady. I'm Klein. Klein Grindelwald."

Though he wasn't quite sure why the "Master Healer," Aberdo Hank, was looking at him so warmly, Klein suppressed his doubts, stepped forward, and greeted everyone with a graceful bow. He was respectful without being servile.

"Hmph."

Wherever there was light in the world, there was also darkness. Just as there were people like Aberdo who liked Klein, there were bound to be people like Fila Hop who didn't.

Of course, the eighty-six-year-old witch had no personal grievance against Klein. She hated his surname.

Grindelwald.

The name of the family that had once harmed her household and all of Europe!

When she received Dumbledore's letter and saw the words "Grindelwald family descendant," she had bristled. The Order of Merlin was actually going to welcome a Grindelwald?

She would never allow it!

Fila Hop was deeply prejudiced against Klein, and the others weren't much better.

In fact, apart from Aberdo, all the masters scrutinized the "most talented young man" mentioned in Dumbledore's letter: Klein Grindelwald.

He looked so much like him.

Far too much like him.

Those eyes and that blond hair looked as if they'd been copied from Gellert Grindelwald himself.

But...

The boy's eyes were clear, without the defiant arrogance of the Dark Lord they'd known.

Once they noticed that, the masters' expressions softened without them realizing it.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!"

Pretending not to notice the differing thoughts of his old friends, Dumbledore smiled and spread his arms in a warm welcome.