"..."
Klein hesitated for a few seconds — with no idea at all what this "fellow countryman" actually was, or what was really going on — but decided to just go with instinct, manifesting a fountain pen and signing his own name on the notebook, honestly.
"Aw, come on, 'Klein Moretti'? I want your real name. The Chinese one."
"!!!"
Klein's heart lurched — this shook him even more than being seen through as the "fake Fool" by Amon just moments ago had. He gripped the pen and signed three Chinese characters: "Zhou Mingrui."
"Excellent!"
Vincent tapped the notebook with a finger. "Now that's finally complete."
"Not gonna lie, man — I know you gave it your all in the final battle, but that fight was genuinely rough."
"???"
Klein blinked, completely lost on what he meant.
"Ah, plans never keep up with how things actually go, huh. I left an avatar of myself behind here, meaning to help you out during your final showdown with Amon over the Source Fortress — turns out you needed it now instead. Guess the future's on you now."
Klein: "What future? What showdown over the Source Fortress? Could you be a little clearer?"
"I'd love to, but look — my body's already gone practically transparent, about to vanish. No time."
Only then did Klein notice that this "Vincent," this fellow countryman, had already turned half-transparent.
"Well. See you again, if fate allows it. I'll head out first."
Vincent waved a hand. "Oh, right — don't worry, I'm just a fake, conjured from a time-worm — like a pre-set piece of computer code, programmed to disappear automatically once my job's done."
"So this 'Source Fortress' — or, in your terms, 'Beyond the Grey Fog' — it's still yours. No one's coming to take it from you."
"Well then — goodbye."
"...Hope we get the chance to meet again."
The words had barely left his mouth before his figure faded rapidly, dissolving into nothing, leaving behind, at the spot where he'd vanished, only a translucent worm marked with twelve rings and starlit speckles.
With that, Beyond the Grey Fog settled back into stillness.
Klein was left staring blankly at the boundless gray fog before him, his mind a churning mess that refused to settle for a long, long while.
"Vincent..."
I hate people who talk in riddles!
A long time later, Klein raised a hand, found the deep-red star representing "Lovers" within the depths of the fog, and passed along Little Sun's message. After a moment's thought, he sent over the images of his own encounter with Amon as well, letting Vincent draw his own conclusions.
Only then did he sink back, exhausted, a weary sigh echoing through the vast, empty hall:
"This is really more than I can handle."
...
Emerald City, in that room.
Bernadette accepted the silver cross bracelet and the book granted through the illusory door by "Mr. Fool," offering a polite word of thanks: "My gratitude, Mr. Fool."
Once the boundless gray-white fog had dissipated, she put the bracelet back on and opened the book Little Sun had sent along.
The opening pages left her genuinely stunned — the point in the past Vincent had traveled back to was far earlier than she'd expected!
Had he even been the one to wake the Ancient Sun God itself?!
Could it be that Vincent's own time travel into the past had been nothing more than an uncontrolled accident? Otherwise, she couldn't begin to imagine why he'd end up going that far back, spending such an unimaginably long stretch of time there.
She suddenly recalled something Professor Bathsheda Babbling had once told her "other self," while researching time magic: "Time magic is a curse. Never let yourself grow curious about it."
...
The Harry Potter world.
By the time Vincent made it back to Hogwarts, it was already afternoon.
After a lengthy, in-depth discussion with Fudge, reaching a number of mutual understandings, Vincent finally took his leave and made his way to the headmaster's office at Hogwarts.
Compared to the relaxed Dumbledore he'd seen on previous visits, today's Dumbledore looked noticeably graver. At the sight of Vincent walking in, he offered a faint smile. "Everything settled?"
"Yeah."
Vincent sat down on the sofa across from him. "Worked things out with Fudge. In two days, he'll hold a press conference to make the whole thing public."
"The story goes: as the brilliant Minister that he is, he sharply sensed something off about the old case, and dispatched me, his most trusted subordinate, to Azkaban to investigate — and under his guidance, successfully uncovered the truth, exposing that despicable, hateful Death Eater, Peter Pettigrew."
"As for Sirius Black, wrongfully imprisoned all these years — he'll be released as well, and the Ministry will issue him a formal apology, along with appropriate compensation."
"And, of course, thanks to my own outstanding performance, I'll be recalled from Azkaban back to the Ministry, taking up a position within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Dumbledore listened, then said, "Very neat. The glory goes to Fudge, the benefits go to you."
Vincent added, "Sirius gets his freedom back. Pettigrew gets the punishment he deserves. I think everyone comes out satisfied."
The old man was quiet for a moment, then asked, "I have to wonder, Charles — why the sudden interest in a Ministry position? I trust my own judgment of you, and you've never struck me as someone drawn to power."
"Taking a Ministry position is just a means to an end. There are some things I may need an official title to actually accomplish."
"Oh?"
"Tell you what, Professor — let's take a trip to the Forbidden Forest. I'll show you exactly how I dealt with Voldemort-controlled Quirrell, back then."
A faint glint crossed Dumbledore's eyes. "I've been curious about that for quite some time."
This time, he didn't have Fawkes fly them straight to the Forbidden Forest, choosing to walk there together instead — not because he wasn't eager, but because he wanted the chance to keep talking with Vincent along the way.
But they'd barely rounded the first corner when they ran into Harry, who seemed to have been waiting there for some time, leaning against the wall, brow furrowed, lost in thought.
At the sound of footsteps, he snapped his head up and hurried over. "Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Charles — good evening."
"Good evening, Harry."
Dumbledore said, gentle. "Looking for me about something?"
"I..."
Harry glanced at Vincent, hesitating a moment. "This afternoon, Professor Snape told me everything about my parents. So... my godfather isn't actually Professor Snape — it's Sirius Black, the one framed because of Pettigrew, isn't it?"
Vincent said, "That's right."
"Then why did you tell me before that Professor Snape was my godfather? He and my mother used to be... but he clearly grew to despise my father, and hates me too. How could he possibly be my godfather?"
Dumbledore said, "Harry, Severus did have conflicts with your father back then, but I don't think 'hatred' is quite the right word."
Vincent glanced at him, on the verge of saying something, then thought better of it: Old Dumbledore, you really do think a bit too highly of Snape's inner life. It wasn't just dislike — it was pure, seething loathing.
Throughout the Harry Potter books, Snape had spent his whole life tormented with regret over his own "tip-off," which had inadvertently led to Lily's death, spending the rest of his life trying to atone for it — but he'd never once shown a shred of remorse over James Potter's death. If anything, he probably just regretted James hadn't died sooner.
Vincent swallowed all of that, turning to Harry instead. "Because Snape owes you."
"???"
Harry blinked.
"Hmm, sure, 'letting a thief adopt you as a son' is..." catching Dumbledore's look, Vincent cleared his throat, "not entirely fair to say. But looking at the results, hasn't Snape's attitude toward you shifted a lot?"
"Sure, he's still sharp-tongued and harsh with you, but I've heard he's been giving you extra help behind the scenes, genuinely coaching you on your studies. He really is trying, in his own way, to be a good godfather."
"I think, in the end, this turns out well for both of you."
Harry thought back over his recent time with Snape, comparing it to how things had been at the start of the term, and realized it really did match what Mr. Charles had said. Still, he had one lingering question: "Why do you say Professor Snape owes me, though?"
Vincent patted his head. "That's something Snape needs to tell you himself. Just remember this — what Snape owes you, even his whole life wouldn't be enough to repay."
I gave him a shot at being your godfather — sure, partly just to needle him a little, but deep down, he's probably secretly thrilled about it too.
Becoming godfather to the son of the woman he loved most, while shaping the son of the man he hated most into exactly the kind of person he wanted — double win, really. Isn't that basically its own kind of NTR?
To be continued…
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