The Phantom of Nurmengard

Isaac cleared his throat, mimicking the tone and mannerisms Gellert had just displayed as he spoke to Dumbledore:

"Albus, you look so much older."

"Gellert..." Dumbledore's eyes flickered repeatedly before he drew his wand.

"Isaac, I am very sorry, but I would like to inspect this house first, if you don't mind?"

"Of course, please, help yourself~" Isaac didn't care; this place was, after all, the love nest Gellert had once prepared for him and Dumbledore.

Strictly speaking, the ownership of this place belonged to Gellert, and it stood to reason that Gellert would also consider Dumbledore to be another master of this house.

He, Isaac Waldore, was at most a poor student staying here on loan, subsidized by the "man of the house."

Now that the other master of the house said he wanted to perform a fast-forward version of spring cleaning, could he really refuse?

When Dumbledore began to cast his spells, Isaac finally experienced firsthand how the greatest mountain in the wizarding world performed magic.

Dumbledore made no grand gestures; he simply flicked his wand, and a massive amount of shimmering dust poured out from the tip.

Immediately following, the glowing dust rolled and swept across the entire house.

After confirming that there was no magic-related feedback in the house—or to put it bluntly, no feedback related to Gellert—Dumbledore put away his wand.

"Is he still in Nurmengard?" Dumbledore suddenly asked Isaac.

"Of course. What appeared here just now was merely an illusion that only I could see.

This is a byproduct of a Seer's development of their prophetic talent.

It only takes effect on Seers."

Isaac gestured for Dumbledore to follow: "Then, would you like to have something to eat, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Certainly!" Dumbledore blinked: "I smelled the aroma of beef and apple pie just now, and I was wondering how to subtly hint at a free meal~"

"You are joking, surely. This was prepared specifically to host you."

Isaac noticed that the people in the kitchen and dining room were completely oblivious to Dumbledore's actions just moments ago.

It wasn't the composure of professional training; it was more as if they hadn't seen anything at all.

Clearly, while inspecting the house, Dumbledore had used a spell to "shield" them.

When the final dessert was served, Anthony followed Isaac's instructions to settle the final payments for the chefs and the maid team.

Then, he politely escorted both teams out.

Their presence would only prevent Isaac from speaking freely with Dumbledore.

"Are they all Muggles?" Dumbledore suddenly asked a redundant question.

Isaac nodded, wearing an expression that suggested it was a matter of course.

"Of course."

"I live here, and my neighbors are, unsurprisingly, ordinary people.

Oh, that is, Muggles, as you call them.

Before receiving my Hogwarts acceptance letter, I attended a Muggle school as well.

Anthony is a Muggle too, but hosting a decent dinner party certainly requires help."

"Fortunately, the account Anthony manages is quite substantial, so there is no need to dip into the small treasury I've earned from helping people experience prophecies."

Isaac had nothing to hide from Dumbledore, nor was there any need to.

He was just an eleven-year-old child right now; even if he said the wrong thing, Merlin would forgive him.

"Oh, right, I heard from Professor McGonagall that you also provided a prophecy for a young witch who hadn't yet enrolled, is that correct?"

"Actually, that wasn't really a prophecy." Isaac laughed along with Dumbledore.

At the time, he had simply seen that Professor McGonagall would be heading to Hermione Granger's home the following day.

Since Professor McGonagall was going in person, and given that Hermione was one of the "Golden Trio" from Harry Potter, their family's concerns would inevitably be dispelled once she arrived.

A small prophecy combined with a bit of deduction, along with some ambiguous phrasing and auspicious words—this was the main reason Isaac's stall was so successful in the Barnet District.

In short, in the eyes of some "old customers," Isaac was not some Seer whose words became reality.

He was just a lucky, likable young lad.

To some, prophecy was nothing but hocus-pocus to be kept at arm's length; but when they met a lucky and charming boy, who wouldn't want to step forward to hear a few kind words and perhaps rub off some of that good fortune?

Business, after all, isn't about giving customers your best; it's about giving them what they need.

After listening to Isaac's business philosophy, Dumbledore laughed heartily.

The same status as a seer, the same gift of prophecy. At Isaac's age, Grindelwald was likely already thinking in the manner of an International Confederation of Wizards Supreme Mugwump.

Dumbledore could not say that Grindelwald was wrong, because in that era of rapid technological advancement, Muggles were charging ahead while wizards stood still.

For a seer with his own convictions like Grindelwald, this was agonizing.

Isaac's background, combined with his long-term residence in an affluent Muggle neighborhood, destined him to be unable to identify with certain viewpoints proposed by Grindelwald.

However, Dumbledore was well aware of his old flame's ability to bewitch others.

Isaac was a good child, so before he grew up, Dumbledore felt obligated to ensure the boy did not ingest too much of Grindelwald's extremist ideology.

After Dumbledore finished his amusement, he invited Isaac to join him in enjoying the delicacies on the table.

Come to think of it, among the dishes on the table, what Isaac liked most was the German pork knuckle and sauerkraut.

Eating this stuff at least allowed Isaac to find some semblance of home.

In his past life, Isaac was a Northeasterner.

As Isaac gnawed on a pork knuckle, Dumbledore suddenly asked casually:

"Isaac, do you know when Gellert left Nurmengard?"

Hearing Dumbledore's question, Isaac shook his head decisively.

"Actually, I have tried to peer into the future of Nurmengard many times, but unfortunately, I have never been able to directly observe that place or Gellert himself.

In other words, unless I go to Nurmengard in person.

Otherwise, like the situation just now, it can only be Gellert coming to find me; I have no way to use the same method to find him."

Isaac was not at all surprised by this result.

Over a hundred years ago, Gellert Grindelwald had already become a seer, and after being locked in Nurmengard by Dumbledore, he had not stepped foot outside for days on end.

In this wizarding world where the older you get, the more cunning you become, Isaac wouldn't find it strange no matter how much Grindelwald's prophetic abilities had been strengthened.

He felt no frustration at all.

Give me a break, this man was a ruthless figure who once stirred up the entire European wizarding world. How many Ministers of Magic had been made to look like whimpering fools by Grindelwald?

He was only an eleven-year-old brat right now; wasn't it normal that he couldn't compare to Grindelwald?

At least so far, Isaac had not discovered any cheat that would allow him to "level up with one click."

As an eleven-year-old young wizard, he was nothing more than someone with better magical talent and a few extra special gifts.