Kyle wandered through Hogwarts Castle after night had fallen. The portraits lining both sides of the corridor were dozing off, and the surroundings were deathly quiet, with only darkness as his companion.
Perhaps because of the years he'd spent as the Dark Knight in New York, Kyle greatly enjoyed this silent, lightless environment. Darkness made him feel profoundly safe and at peace.
So even when he was alone, Kyle liked to sneak out for nighttime strolls after curfew.
Simply wandering aimlessly through this ancient castle by himself was enough to relax both his body and mind to the greatest possible extent.
Tonight, however, an uninvited guest shattered this perfect tranquility.
In front of a tall suit of armor, a white-bearded old man accurately grabbed Kyle, who was under the Disillusionment Charm.
"Dad, it's not even midnight yet."
Kyle fished the permission slip personally signed by Dumbledore out of his pocket and waved it in front of him.
Dumbledore let out a helpless sigh. "Very well."
"Instead of worrying about me, shouldn't you be paying more attention to your precious Boy-Who-Lived classmate?"
Kyle nodded toward a half-open door to the left side of the corridor.
A few minutes earlier, someone invisible had slipped through that door right under his nose. Beyond the door was an unused, abandoned classroom.
That invisible person thought they had concealed themselves perfectly.
In reality, in the stillness of this quiet corridor, their footsteps and breathing could be noticed with even the slightest attention as long as one was within ten meters.
Anyone who frequently roamed the castle at night would never make such a rookie mistake. This person was definitely a beginner.
Therefore, there could only be one answer.
Not long ago, Kyle had seen an Invisibility Cloak in Dumbledore's office — the heirloom that once belonged to Harry's late father, James Potter.
Dumbledore had returned that Invisibility Cloak to its rightful owner, Harry, as a Christmas present.
So the person who had just slipped through that door could only be none other than our famous Boy-Who-Lived.
For Dumbledore to appear in the fifth-floor corridor at this hour, he must have come precisely because of this matter.
"Since you've noticed as well, come along with me."
Kyle silenced his breathing and followed behind Dumbledore, stepping through the half-open door.
"So — you're back again, Harry?"
Harry, sitting with his knees hugged to his chest in front of a huge mirror, felt his stomach and internal organs freeze solid in an instant.
He scrambled up from the floor in fright and turned around, only to see an old man and a young man — two Dumbledores — sitting at a table against the wall, watching him.
"I… I didn't see you, sir," he stammered.
"Not the only one who can become invisible, are you?"
A kindly smile hung on Dumbledore's face, which somehow made Kyle feel a tiny pang of sourness in his heart.
Except for the brief period right after he first brought Kyle to Hogwarts, when had his old man ever looked at him with such gentle warmth? Every other time, it was either an exhausted facepalm or a weary shake of the head.
Kyle genuinely wanted to grab Harry by the neck and demand: What exactly did you do to make Dumbledore like you this much?
Seeing the smile on Dumbledore's face, Harry quietly let out a breath of relief.
"It seems you, like many before you, have already discovered the pleasures of the Mirror of Erised."
While his father was gently guiding Harry through a psychological lesson, Kyle stepped in front of the very Mirror of Erised that had drawn Harry here in the dead of night.
The mirror was extremely imposing. It reached all the way to the ceiling, supported at the bottom by two large claw-shaped brackets.
Most importantly, across the top of the mirror's frame was a long inscription in Latin.
If you read the letters backward, it formed a sentence.
"I show not your face but your heart's desire," Kyle murmured softly.
As spiraling ripples spread across the surface, the reflection of Kyle standing before it began to gradually change.
Several red clouds quietly appeared on the wizard robes he was wearing. The corner of Kyle's mouth immediately twitched.
Behind him stood seven figures, all clad in the same red-cloud robes.
Six of them possessed a pair of eyes Kyle was all too familiar with — the purple concentric-ringed Rinnegan.
If he wasn't mistaken, those should be the Six Paths of Pain that he himself had created.
In that case, his own identity in the reflection was obviously Nagato.
And the seventh figure standing behind Kyle was also someone he recognized — Catherine August… or rather, Konan.
In the image, Konan had, at some point, dyed her jet-black hair a pale bluish-purple. Her long hair was now tied up into a small bun, with a light blue paper flower tucked into the right side.
The corner of Kyle's mouth twitched even harder. This… this is the deepest desire of my heart?
To become a rice-carrier?
Still… to be honest, his Konan looked even more beautiful with that bluish-purple hair.
If he could marry her and bring her home as his wife, that honestly wouldn't be bad at all. A six-year age gap really wasn't an issue…
Of course, that kind of thing was still far too early for the current Kyle. Little Kyle hadn't even fully grown up yet.
The rice-carrier… no, the Kyle in the mirror began to float upward, rising into the sky.
In midair, the rice-carrier silently opened his mouth. Even without looking at his lip movements, Kyle knew exactly what he was saying.
Kyle's lips moved faintly:
"How many floors must one carry a bag of rice? One bag of rice, carry it to the second floor."
"What?" Dumbledore turned his gaze toward Kyle standing in front of the mirror. Why did the boy suddenly start muttering to himself?
"It's nothing, nothing. Please continue." Kyle awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. He had accidentally recited the entire thing on autopilot.
Dumbledore turned back and resumed his gentle guidance of the Boy-Who-Lived:
"This mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad…"
At this moment, the rice-carrier Kyle in the mirror had finished his technique-casting chant.
The chuunibyou soul of the real Kyle standing before the mirror had already blazed to an uncontrollable degree.
He suddenly flung both arms wide and shouted the final line at the top of his lungs:
"Shinra Tensei!"
Once again interrupted, Dumbledore helplessly paused. Suddenly, he was quite curious about what exactly Kyle was seeing in the mirror.
"Kyle, what did you see?"
After a quick glance at the scene inside the mirror — corpses strewn everywhere, broken walls and ruins — Kyle guiltily avoided Dumbledore's eyes.
From some of the debris in that wreckage, Kyle could easily tell that what had been obliterated by his super-scale Shinra Tensei… was the very Hogwarts Castle they were standing in right now.
Could he possibly tell Dumbledore something like that?
He'd get a full serving of fatherly love and discipline in about three seconds flat.
He didn't have a signal axe, nor was he capable of gifting Dumbledore a measly little moon.
Perhaps after he mastered Chibaku Tensei or Tengai Shinsei in the future he could, but right now… clearly impossible.
So Kyle could only casually make up something else to fool his dear old dad.
"I saw an iron lump covered in spikes, sharp angles, and twisted metal. The back of the chair was also full of spikes — an iron throne that looked like it was forged from thousands of sharp swords."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but did not question the truthfulness of Kyle's words.
"I held a wand in one hand and a sword in the other, wearing a magnificent crown upon my head and imperial robes upon my body, and I ascended the iron throne."
Dumbledore said nothing about the vision Kyle described. Only the faint furrow between his brows revealed a trace of melancholy.
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