He was polishing it with a soft cloth.
In the dark cave, occupied by only the two of them, the soft sound of oiled wood being polished could be heard.
It was, needless to say, the sound of me, wiping down the Elder Wand with a fine, oil-infused cloth.
If you're wondering where I got it, it was a scented oil I summoned with Conjuration. Such magic was normally impossible to use near Hogwarts, being restricted to the Room of Requirement, but for the Elder Wand, the word 'impossible' did not exist.
I ignored the strange look on Dumbledore's face as he watched me lovingly polish the wand. I mean, honestly, maintaining a wand is of the utmost importance.
This is why the wand likes me more!
As I buffed the wand to a brilliant shine, a single, suitcase-sized, shabby-looking bag sat beside me.
So much had been lost in the ninety-year leap through time.
My research notes, written on parchment, had been torn to shreds by the magical backlash, and the experimental equipment I used to assist my ancient magic was so grotesquely warped it was now useless.
And my wand. Not the Elder Wand, but my original one, had been caught in the spell and was now twisted into a bizarre shape.
The items that held my touch and my memories could not withstand the flow of time and had withered away.
And so, when I gathered all the belongings I could take from this cave, they fit into that one small bag.
The sight felt a little bitter, somehow resembling my own predicament of being dropped into the future.
No, it's fine. I got younger, and I even got my hands on the Elder Wand. Objectively speaking, this was a net gain.
The problem is that not everything in the world can be judged by profit and loss.
No, really, I'm fine. Sniffle.
"So, you're saying that unlike the original legend, ownership of this Elder Wand transfers simply by defeating the previous owner?"
"Yes. That is correct."
This was a question that had occurred to me the moment Albus said he would give me the wand.
I was sure that when I had researched the Deathly Hallows, specifically the Elder Wand, I'd read that it was a blood-soaked relic passed down through the death of its previous owner.
Did he mean I was supposed to kill him and take it?
But for the ownership to transfer simply through defeat, just like any other wand... It felt a little anticlimactic. No, a good thing is a good thing.
"And because you were just defeated by me, this wand became disloyal, putting a crack in that 'Dumbledore Plan' of yours."
"I never gave it such a grand title as the 'Dumbledore Plan'..."
It's customary to name these plans after their founder.
"Anyway. So, in exchange for handing over this wand, you want me to never lose to anyone until the day I die, is that it?"
Easy. Seriously. It was something I would have aimed for anyway, even without the wand.
Seeing my well-founded confidence, Albus's face took on a look of complete resignation.
"Ha, haha. Yes, this will all work out for the best. It will..."
Did he lose his mind? What's with him?
I spoke to him in a tone that was, for once, a little more serious than usual.
"Well, whatever your situation may be, I can't just accept a gift like this and offer nothing in return."
No matter what his grand plan was, the Elder Wand was a bewitching object that could mesmerize anyone on its own.
To be able to hand over such an item... that was not the resolve of an ordinary person.
It seemed Albus, who had shown promise even as a child, had indeed grown into a remarkable man.
"I don't know the ninety years of your life that I've missed, so I have no idea what plan you're currently hatching. I don't even know how the world has changed."
Voldemort, Death Eaters, a child of prophecy. The fragmented pieces I'd heard weren't nearly enough to get a sense of this world, this '20th century.'
In that case, I had no choice but to do what I do best.
I was always a man of action.
"I'm going to travel the world and see how it's changed. The Muggle world, the wizarding world, I'll go anywhere and everywhere."
Hearing my words, Dumbledore's expression twisted into a strange shape. I couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying, and the comical look on his face made me chuckle.
It was obvious. He was like that because he had no way of knowing what kind of impact my actions would have.
Normally, as his senior, I would have given him a physical talking-to for being so un-Gryffindor-like, but things were different now.
"Just once. So long as it doesn't cross a line I've set for myself, I will play the part of a pawn in your plan. Just once."
At those words, Dumbledore's eyes flew open.
"Just once... sir?"
"Yes, just once."
Dumbledore whined, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
"In return for taking the Elder Wand, you'll help me just one time?"
His complaining, coming from a man with a long, white beard, overlapped with the image of his younger self and made me laugh for some reason.
Come to think of it, I was lucky that the first person I met after being suddenly thrown into the future was Albus, someone who remembered me.
And I even received this wonderful gift.
I grinned and asked.
"Don't tell me that's not enough?"
Seeing my smile, Dumbledore let out a hollow laugh and shook his head.
"Of course not. It's more than enough."
Because you are Aisen Knightly.
With Dumbledore's final, unspoken thought hanging in the air, I walked out of the cave.
The bright moon shone through the darkness, illuminating the cave entrance. The moon of ninety years in the future was still just as bright.
Inside the cave Aisen had just left.
Dumbledore smiled to himself as he began to think of all the myriad ways he could use his one-time 'Aisen Pass.'
First, I'll return to the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts and...
Hm?
The moment he tried to Apparate, he felt a sense of wrongness, and his face hardened.
"Ah, dear."
Come to think of it, his ability to Apparate freely within Hogwarts was largely thanks to the power of the Elder Wand. But now that the wand was gone...
Dumbledore felt a sense of emptiness as he began the long walk back to Hogwarts on foot.
"When I get back, I suppose I'll need to have a new wand made first..."
The moon was exceptionally bright that night.
Problem. You wake up and suddenly find yourself ninety years in the future.
Choose the first thing you should do.
The correct answer is to check on your financial situation. What happened to my assets?
As a wizard at the peak of his power, I prided myself on having enough money to live a rather affluent life.
I owned a building in Hogsmeade, and there was the inheritance left to me by a few people who had been fond of me.
Besides that, I had various sources of income, such as royalties from my published papers and lump sums earned while incidentally dispensing justice.
For the record, my main sources of 'justice' income were bandits, poachers, Dark Wizards, and criminal organizations.
I never had much interest in luxury, so most of my earnings went toward my ancient magic research, but in any case, I never once had to worry about money.
So, ninety years later, how much would I have?
My past self, who had been too lazy to manage it and set up all my income to be deposited directly into my personal vault at Gringotts—well done, me.
And so, I was now on my way to Gringotts.
Gringotts may have its faults, but their vault management is second to none. Most importantly, their biggest advantage is that they remain consistent, regardless of the changes in wizarding society.
They care so little about wizarding society that you can still access the vault of a Keeper who died centuries ago with just a key, no personal identification needed.
In other words, the money in my Gringotts vault, regardless of my ninety-year disappearance...
And regardless of my de-aged appearance, could be accessed with nothing more than my vault key.
I Apparated to Diagon Alley as usual and then walked toward Gringotts.
Perhaps because of my seven-year-old appearance and my dragging cloak, I could feel people glancing at me.
Come to think of it, there was no reason to walk around like this; I hadn't been paying enough attention to how I looked. With a simple, non-verbal spell, I altered my cloak to fit my height.
"Look, over there!"
A few passersby were surprised to see a seven-year-old like me use a relatively advanced spell to alter my cloak's appearance, but it was just a minor incident.
At last, I arrived at Gringotts. Passing through the ever-opulent main doors, I entered the lobby, which was now guarded by wizards.
Hm? Wizard guards? I was sure Gringotts didn't have any human guards. It seems the relationship between the two races has improved somewhat over the last ninety years.
I smiled faintly, remembering a certain goblin who had been kind to me.
"Here you are."
After a moment of surprise at the sight of human wizards stationed as guards inside Gringotts, I approached a goblin at the counter and, from my worn bag, took out my gold-ornamented vault key.
The goblins at the entrance seemed to eye my appearance with some suspicion, but they soon led me to my vault.
Clank! Clatter! Screech!
On the roller-coaster-like mine cart, of course.
Somehow, even after ninety years, this cart-based entry system hadn't changed at all. Stagnation is regression. What will they do if they get robbed?
And the moment the vault door opened and I saw what was inside, I couldn't completely swallow my gasp of awe.
"Wow."
There were literal mountains of gold. How in the world did I end up with so much money?
With that question in mind, I requested the transaction records for the last ninety years from the goblin who had guided me.
"Ahem, excuse me, guide. What is your name?"
"Griphook, sir."
"Right, Griphook. Could I see the transaction history for this vault?"
"If you can specify the period, certainly."
"Ah, in that case."
Bring me all the records for the last ninety years.
It must have been a rather troublesome request, as the goblin named Griphook's face scrunched up, but what could I do? That's the purpose of a bank.
While Griphook went to fetch the transaction records, I buried myself in a mountain of gold coins and played for a while.
Burying myself in gold might seem a bit childish now, but so what?
I look like a seven-year-old boy! This is well within the acceptable range of behavior!
After waiting for some time, Griphook returned with a long, vertical scroll of parchment.
"Here are the transaction records you requested."
Let's see. What in the world did I do to make so much money... Ah.
In the beginning, the sources of income were varied, but toward the end, the deposits converged into a single entry.
Payment for sale of phoenix feathers. Sender: Deek.
Seeing that name, a realization struck me like a bolt of lightning.
Ah, Deek, that little guy! He was still taking care of things all this time!
I felt tears welling up in my eyes.