I always thought I knew the limits of human capability. By seventeen, I had four PhDs; by twenty-one, my name meant nothing to the world because I had already consumed its knowledge and surpassed it. Yet, in the split second before death, I realized something curious: even the mind that houses an IQ of 200 can be utterly powerless. The plane shook violently, and a roaring metal scream filled my ears. Calculations, probabilities, solutions—they all collapsed into irrelevance. And then, nothing.
When I opened my eyes, I expected darkness, or perhaps oblivion. Instead, I felt power—so much power—that it made my head spin. I was still me, yet… not me. My vision cleared, and I saw the world through someone else's eyes, someone familiar yet impossibly distant. I was staring into a mirror and not seeing my own reflection. I was staring into Albus Dumbledore.
It was not just a body; it was a lifetime. His memories, his experiences, his triumphs and regrets—they rushed into me all at once. The first thing I noticed was the magic. Dumbledore's magic was immense, practically unfathomable by my former human standards. But now it flowed through me with my own intellect guiding it, amplified, sharpened, refined. I could feel it in every fiber of my being: every spell, every rune, every incantation I had ever learned as a child prodigy now fused with centuries of magical mastery.
I took a deep breath and focused. The room around me—the dimly lit study of Godric's Hollow, as it appeared from his memories—was alive with power. I could sense every charm woven into the walls, every spell lingering on parchment and stone. I could feel the pulse of magic, raw and rawly potent, as though the universe itself had decided to bend toward me.
And then, I remembered: it was 1991. Hogwarts was as it should be, bustling with the usual nervous energy of students and the subtle hum of old magic. I had… time. Time to shape everything. To prepare for the chaos I now knew was coming. Voldemort's rise, the war, the delicate web of events that the wizarding world had been blindly stumbling into—I had foresight, intellect, and the might of Albus Dumbledore himself at my command.
I rose from the chair, feeling the ancient weight of Dumbledore's body under my control. It was strange, yet exhilarating. I could remember every duel he had fought, every lesson he had taught, every subtle political maneuver he had pulled off. But now, my mind—the genius from another world—could improve upon it. I could strategize with perfect clarity, anticipate the impossible, and manipulate the very threads of destiny itself.
A flick of my wand summoned light, and the room glimmered with the warm glow of magic. I smiled, just slightly, at the thought. The world had no idea what was coming. They had always underestimated him. And now, with me… they would never underestimate him again.
First, though, I had to understand the extent of this fusion. I had to master my newfound body, my expanded magical reserves, and the intricate web of Dumbledore's memories. I raised my hands, feeling the surge of power in my fingertips, and closed my eyes.
Let's begin.