Gael slowly turned around.
"Do you really want to keep living like this, Yorl?"
He opened with a question that struck straight at the soul.
Mediocrity should not be the life of a genius.
The second floor of the barn was quiet.
"I thought you would wait until Al arrived before saying this," John said, noticing that Al was nowhere to be seen.
"He got into an argument with that goat boy," Gael snorted coldly. "You still haven't answered my question, Yorl."
"Do you want to keep living like this?"
"Hiding all the time?"
Gael said excitedly, "Why should we live this way? We can change things!"
"Change?"
John found it somewhat amusing and asked with interest, "What exactly do you want to change?"
"To make life better for wizards!" Gael waved his right hand fervently, his sleeve flaring with the motion. "Why should wizards have to hide like rats?"
"We have power. We can bring about change."
"You're powerful—powerful enough that even I can't see through you. That's why I need you, Yorl."
Gael stared at John and said word by word, "Join us. For the greater good—so that wizards can live openly in this world."
Why?
Why should those Muggles live freely in the world, occupying most of the resources?
While wizards, who possess great power, are forced to hide, living like rats in the sewers, unseen by the world?
He wanted to change all of this.
He wanted to change the Statute of Secrecy.
At such a young age, Gael already possessed this kind of resolve.
He was someone with tremendous ambition.
When it came to ambition, John had to admit that Gael was formidable.
After all, John himself had never even considered changing the Statute of Secrecy.
Not because he was timid, but because wizards simply could not accomplish such a thing.
Hide… or be destroyed.
That was inevitable.
So John reached a conclusion about Gael's impassioned words.
This was a dream.
A fantastical Babylon that could spark endless imagination, yet existed only within someone's fantasy.
"Do you know what a hunter is?" John asked instead of answering him.
"Hunter?" Gael was taken aback.
At that moment, Al—who had just argued with Aberforth—arrived at the barn.
Here, Gael had once painted countless beautiful visions for him.
Those words had drawn two young hearts together.
Like poison, they slowly drew out and magnified the desires hidden within Al.
To change this world, to let wizards no longer hide in the shadows.
Ariana would no longer be trapped inside the house, and his own wings could finally soar.
It was a dream that could make people obsessed, even drive them mad.
He believed that two exceptionally talented wizards could accomplish it.
Aberforth, on the other hand, could not imagine any of this. His simple mind could only hold thoughts of a quiet life and his goats.
Gael wanted John to join them. Al understood that clearly.
Although they had not known each other long, Al could sense that John possessed talent and intellect just as outstanding as their own.
For some unknown reason he had become blind, yet the vast magical power within him constantly spoke of the strength of this boy their age.
Gael was like a golden eagle soaring freely through the sky, a beautiful flower that fascinated yet carried deadly poison.
John was like a dragon resting deep in the abyss, a snow-capped mountain whose power made others want to unleash it.
Al wanted to know what it would be like if someone like that stood alongside them.
When John mentioned hunters, Al also began to think about what it meant.
"When a hunter walks through the forest and sees a bush rustling, his first reaction is to pull the trigger of his shotgun."
John's unfocused eyes seemed to pierce straight into the heart.
"Muggles are that hunter."
"And we…"
"…are the prey."
A layer of skin was torn away, revealing the raw, tender flesh beneath.
With a single word—prey—John made the two exceptionally talented young wizards shudder.
"Muggles are weak," Gael immediately retorted. "They're just ordinary people who can't even use magic."
"Yes, but they have intelligence, and an enormous population," John cut him off. "If this were a thousand years ago, perhaps it might have been possible."
"But now—how many wizards are there?" John continued. "A thousand? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand?"
"And how many Muggles are there?"
"Billions."
A massive population formed the foundation of humanity's dominance over the world.
John drew his wand, and a mist began to spread.
The fog surrounded them, and within it came the sounds of thunder, explosions, and slaughter.
A fighter plane that looked ancient to John roared across the sky, its torrent of bullets easily taking dozens of lives.
Tanks encased in steel like iron shells—beasts of metal walking the earth.
One shell was enough to destroy a house.
A tiny bullet could travel faster than a spell.
Wizards and Muggles were the same in one respect—if their brains were shattered, they died all the same.
Whether it was the Killing Curse or a bullet, the result was identical.
Equally lethal. A shot through the left eye or the right eye made no difference.
Yes, wizards were powerful. That was an advantage written into their very existence.
But the destruction ordinary people could cause was countless times greater.
Scene after scene unfolded, leaving the two wizards speechless.
"One average wizard kills one Muggle, maybe two. But it only takes a hundred Muggles to kill one wizard."
John shook his head and said, "Hogwarts was originally founded to protect young wizards from persecution by Muggles, Al."
Looking at the young Al, he said calmly, "From beginning to end, we have always been the prey. And the hunters with guns are many."
"The best wizards can do is make as little noise as possible, so the hunter's gun won't turn toward them."
The truth was just that cruel.
Wizards could never replace the position of Muggles. In this era of explosive population growth, no one could accomplish such a thing.
The passionate youths found that their ideals, under John's words, seemed childish and laughable.
Gael fell silent, unable to accept it.
Al's mouth seemed sealed shut, the bitterness in his heart impossible to describe.
For countless nights they had spoken here of the future, of their anger at the plight of wizards.
They had wanted to change it.
Yet now they were being told that nothing could be changed.
Destroying ideals was far crueler than killing a person.
John was like a demon, raising a butcher's blade to slaughter their dreams and tear down the paradise they had imagined.
"So you know all this, and that's why you don't want to change anything?" Gael's gaze sharpened, no longer carrying the careless arrogance it had before.
"Change?" John laughed hoarsely. "We're different, Gael."
John waved his wand, and the mist along with the visions disappeared.
He smiled faintly. "Power is what decides everything."
"Power above all. I've never cared about the conflict between wizards and Muggles. To me, they're both people."
"Only the strong have the right to stand."
"Victory walks with me."
John's philosophy struck the two young wizards like a shock.
He was a thoroughbred Slytherin, possessing a charm different from Gael's.
It was the kind of charisma that came from overwhelming strength, drawing others toward it unconsciously.
Power above all. The victor becomes king.
That was why John had never been defeated. He was a king, a strong man, someone destined to stand above the masses.
Gael murmured to himself, "Power above all."
Yes...
With enough power, the world itself could be pried open.
Enough victories would make the Muggles submit.
But the power of one person was destined to be thin. He needed followers of his own.
At that moment, Gael's eyes burned with intensity.
He was like an idealist who knew he might die, yet still wanted to try. Even knowing the hunter's gun could be fatal, he still wanted to find out whether he was a lion or a rabbit.
If the power of wizards alone was not enough, then he would borrow a greater power.
The power of the Deathly Hallows.
Al thought of his sister, of his stubborn younger brother. And of his father and mother.
The responsibilities on his shoulders made it hard to breathe.
He would rather believe in the dreamlike visions they had painted together through countless nights than remain trapped here.
He was a Gryffindor.
And within the nature of Gryffindor lay a thirst for adventure.
He did not want to be bound. He wanted an unforgettable adventure, even if it meant death.
At that moment, the two hearts were drawn together.
Before them stood a mountain—a mountain raised by John.
It pressed down on them so heavily they could barely breathe, yet it also brought the two of them closer to one another.
"Come with us, Yorl!"
Gael strengthened his resolve and once again extended the invitation to John.
"Let us strive to become the victor."
Fate was a storm, whispering for them to abandon resistance.
But warriors faced the storm, shouting into the dim world.
It was a revelry, a madness, and also a struggle.
Those who die for their ideals should not be mocked.
Al stood beside Gael, firm with him.
"Let us do it together," Al said.
They invited John, inviting him to become another voice in their cry.
So that wizards could hear their voices, so that hunters would tremble at the sound coming from the bushes.
Unfortunately, the two of them were wrong.
John was never the one who faced the storm.
He… was the storm.
"We're destined not to walk the same path."
John shook his head. With nearly a hundred years between them, what was he supposed to use to go mad alongside them?
He looked at Al and asked, "Are you going to run away, Al?"
"Huh?" Al didn't understand.
John's calm words carried a terrifying destructive force.
"Your sister. Your family."
His words made Al grow uneasy.
"You chose the Invisibility Cloak. You chose escape."
The power to see through a person's heart struck Al like a storm.
"Face yourself, Al."
John turned and walked away, his voice drifting back.
"Gael may have given you the key, allowing you to break the chains of your family and escape that suffocating responsibility—but what about your own heart?"
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