The tavern's lights remained dim and warm, but the night beyond the windows had grown ever deeper. The distant roar of the waves came and went, like some ominous portent.
Or the whisper of fate.
"So, that's the situation." Ian withdrew his gaze from the window and sat back down. His small figure looked somewhat out of place in the adult-sized chair.
Yet at this moment, no one dared underestimate him because of his childish appearance. His gaze settled on Dumbledore's face, a probing light glinting in those deep eyes.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, to be honest, I'd still like to presumptuously ask something." Ian spoke in the same calm voice. "There's something I've always been curious about."
He asked his question.
Dumbledore lifted his teacup, took a small sip, and gestured for him to continue.
"In that battle of minds, Voldemort should have possessed a Legendary-quality soul and mind," Ian said. "How did you defeat Voldemort?"
Yes, it truly was a baffling matter. Logically speaking, although Dumbledore was indeed extraordinarily gifted, such talent should have amounted to very little before the gulf of the Legendary realm.
As a Legendary wizard, Voldemort's mind was exceptionally powerful. It should have been nearly impossible for Dumbledore to find an opportunity to win, though Dumbledore had seized that one chance at victory.
But that chance itself should have been infinitesimal. The question made Dumbledore pause slightly. He set down his teacup, and a complex emotion flickered through his bright blue eyes—not pride, not boastfulness, but an almost pitying feeling toward that former student, now his enemy.
Grindelwald also set down her wineglass and looked at Dumbledore with keen interest through her mismatched eyes. She had not personally taken part in that confrontation, as she had been occupied dealing with those Horcrux duplicates at the time—but