The Hidden Hand of the Past
After Roy finished curing Dumbledore's curse and extending his lifespan, the Headmaster sat silently at his desk, flexing his now-healed fingers with wonder. The gleam of youth did not return to his skin, but the black burnt corruption of the ring was gone—eradicated by Roy's Ope-Ope no Mi precision.
Dumbledore finally exhaled."Fifty years… Roy, you have given me something I no longer expected—time."
Roy shrugged with a half-grin."You're Headmaster Dumbledore. Hogwarts still needs you not to crumble into dust on a windy day."
Many of the portraits chuckled. Phineas Nigellus actually clapped.
Dumbledore's Request
Dumbledore cleared his throat. The twinkle in his eyes dimmed slightly.
"Roy… the reason I originally called you here was to ask that you help Harry. His path will grow darker."
Roy's expression deadpanned instantly.
"Old man, I already made a deal with Fudge. He stays away from you and Harry—and I give him no reason to panic. If I openly help Potter, the deal breaks."
Dumbledore blinked, stunned.
"Cornelius Fudge… agreed to that?"
"I held certain… negotiations," Roy replied smoothly.
Even the portraits leaned in, deeply curious.
Dumbledore finally sighed."Very well. Then help him from the shadows."
Roy nodded."That's the plan."
The Revelation: The Past is Not Dead
Roy sighed, leaned back, and finally explained everything he discovered in the Chamber of Secrets—
the hidden living quarters of Salazar Slytherin,
the empty shelves, old bed, and traces of forbidden study,
the faint, chilling signature of a soul fragment,
and how everything connected to Voldemort's rise.
As Roy laid out the pattern—Peter's escape, Fenrir's orders, Voldemort's ancient knowledge—the room temperature dropped. Portraits went pale. Some whispered in fear.
Dumbledore stiffened."You mean to say… someone from Hogwarts' ancient past—Salazar or his disciple—may still be influencing these events?"
Roy's voice dropped."Everything fits too perfectly to be coincidence. Someone with knowledge older than Tom… older than Grindelwald… older than you."
Even Phineas Nigellus swallowed nervously.
"Merlin's beard…" Dumbledore whispered.
Dumbledore's Decision
Dumbledore straightened in his chair, face grave.
"You said you need someone with the ability to see fragments of the future? Someone who specializes in prophecy?"
Roy nodded."If we're hunting someone who's been planning for centuries, we need every advantage."
Dumbledore hesitated. His fingers tightly gripped the armrest.
"There is… one man."
The portraits went silent instantly—every single one.
Dumbledore continued in a low voice:
"He is the greatest seer of the last millennium. A master of prophecy magic. But he is also the last person I ever wished to meet again."
Roy lifted an eyebrow."You mean he's dangerous?"
"Dangerous?" Dumbledore whispered."Roy… He is the man I once considered my equal. And my greatest mistake."
The portraits gasped.
Roy frowned. Only one name fit that level.
"You're talking about Grindelwald."
Dumbledore nodded, eyes heavy.
"Yes. Gellert Grindelwald. And to seek his guidance… we must go to Nurmengard."
The Journey Begins
Without another word, Dumbledore stood, retrieved his cloak, and gestured for Roy to follow. The phoenix Fawkes chirped sadly, as if warning them.
The portraits murmured anxiously.
"To Nurmengard… to the Dark Seer…"
"Gods preserve them…"
Roy cracked his knuckles, unfazed.
"Let's go meet the greatest dark wizard of the last century."
"And perhaps," Dumbledore whispered, "the only one who might know the truth behind the mastermind you've uncovered."
Together, they Apparated—destination: Nurmengard Castle.