"...Remus, over here."
Mundungus urged Lupin softly, seeing him staring dazedly at the giant cage in front of them—by now, the two had left the office and Mundungus was guiding Lupin to the room he had just prepared for him.
"Alright, I know..."
Lupin shifted his gaze from the cage on the wall, paused for a moment, and then couldn't help but ask, "I remember that Fire Dragon...it's the same one from before—isn't it that it already flew away with that Black Wizard?"
Seeing the Black Dragon just a few iron bars away, Lupin's eyelids twitched involuntarily.
The impression of this Fire Dragon was impossible for Lupin to forget; he nearly got burnt to death by a blast of Dragon Flame at the time, and if it weren't for that boy, William, stepping in...wait, the Black Wizard who flew away on a dragon, the Black Dragon that returned to the circus, Mundungus becoming the "management" in the circus...?
Lupin suddenly realized, did he stumble upon something crucial?
"...Black Wizard?"
Mundungus' face instantly turned ominous; he lowered his voice, carefully looking around, "Our boss doesn't like that title—"
"..."
Lupin paused in silence, Mundungus' words revealed a lot: it confirmed that the youth who was just chatting and laughing with Dumbledore is the mysterious Black Wizard dubbed the second-generation Dark Lord by the Prophet Daily—
After all, the methods used by the other party were undeniably ruthless, and this was barely a few years into the peacetime following the war.
And during this era, he burned alive a dozen Wizards with Dragon Flame.
Although those were criminals deserving a decade's worth of Azkaban, this was enough for journalists to depict him as the new Dark Lord who disregards human life in pursuit of clicks, with some even proclaiming it as a sign of the return of You-Know-Who, though this notion was mysteriously suppressed.
"So, does Dumbledore know about this?"
Lupin instinctively turned his head back, then lowered his voice to ask again.
"How would I know if Dumbledore knows; I'm not a worm in his belly—"
Mundungus frowned in some confusion, his private relationship with Lupin was fairly good, after all, both were Hogwarts graduates, albeit a few years apart; after leaving school, they both mingled at the lower rungs of the British Magic Realm, occasionally helping each other.
Thus, he had a good understanding of Lupin, he knew the other was a good person.
He also knew Lupin's ordeals: three friends, two dead, one imprisoned in Azkaban...and all these stemmed from one culprit: the long-absent You-Know-Who, so Lupin seeming sensitive about this topic was quite normal, considering how the Prophet Daily nearly demonized their boss—
"Actually, I think Dumbledore probably knows."
Mundungus fell silent for a moment, then rubbed his chin, thinking aloud; under Lupin's somewhat puzzled gaze, he continued to explain, "Because I recall Dumbledore walked into the office through the door, and this place is a necessary passage—"
He pointed to the floor below, here was the corridor that one must pass to reach the office, and the Fire Dragon "Norbert" was reverted to its original form and moved into the room prepared along the corridor after William boarded the ship—
Though being shrunk by Ancient Magic wouldn't harm Norbert, since it discovered the Niffler could change size at will and empty pockets, it always wanted William to give it the same ability, but for the safety of all Hogwarts staff and students, William never agreed.
Not until leaving the castle did he let it revert and relax.
Hearing Mundungus' explanation, Lupin nodded instinctively; yes, with Dumbledore's observation and wisdom, he couldn't have missed this. But this only raised more suspicion—
He couldn't understand, hadn't Dumbledore always harbored hatred towards Black Wizards?
Indeed, due to his narrow perspective and limitations, Lupin unconsciously trusted the reports in the newspaper, though the title of Dark Lord remained in doubt, he still believed William might be a Black Wizard, as he burned twelve people alive in front of so many Aurors and Muggles—
...
But if Dumbledore were present to hear Lupin's thoughts, he might have just smirked—Burn alive a dozen people?
Boasting, are you? Have you witnessed the Forbidden Forest during the 90s?
Did you know the widespread tale back then that with every three steps in the Forbidden Forest, you'd stumble upon the corpse of a Black Wizard or a Poacher?
Sometimes, Dumbledore felt thankful, it's fortunate that the tales told back in his memory were not far off; this "Black Wizard Butcher" wasn't habitually killing innocents, nor did he burn the Aurors who sought to attack him—
Otherwise, he wouldn't know how to face his "old alum".
He's unsure if he could defeat William, like he did Voldemort, not to mention the disadvantages brought upon by aging, even at his prime it's hard to say whether he could overcome the one hailed as the "Savior" who single-handedly quelled the Goblin Rebellion.
Thankfully, even after risking a confrontation by revealing his disguise, William showed little displeasure, which made Dumbledore breathe easier.
At least he can ascertain the adversary hadn't deliberately arrived at this century using some forbidden technique, aligning closely with the casual discussions he had with William; peaceful coexistence and trying hard to rub the opponent the right way was a "strategy" imparted by a predecessor Professor.
"Why agree to that bastard's employment application?...I was simply scared, scared he'd mistake me for a Black Wizard and obliterate me."
Once, a Mr. Black who preferred anonymity candidly shared.
However, William's emergence caused a rupture in Dumbledore's pre-conceived plans, requiring an understudy he didn't fully understand, alongside the ever-present threat from Voldemort yet unabated, he couldn't decipher William's actual intent, nor could he afford to wager—not on this.
He knew what he shouldered, and failure isn't an option.
Therefore...he needed assistance.
Perhaps...no, it was certainly a dreadful choice, yet...
The elder sighed, gazing at the darkened castle not far ahead.
The leaden clouds hung low above the castle, lightning split the sky in its timing, rain lashed upon the elderly man's robes, soaking it through, yet he remained motionless, standing quietly in the muddied pathway, gazing at the castle with flickering light blue eyes.
Finally, after ages, the elderly man began to take steps forward—