Dumbledore poured a cup of steaming red tea for Karl as usual, his tone carrying a hint of sentiment.
"Karl is indeed one of my favored students. Like the others, this favoritism also stems from guilt."
"After all, because of me, they will shoulder greater expectations, bear heavier responsibilities, and face more sinister crises."
"Just like Newt back then—Newt Scamander—you surely still remember him."
The old Wizard slowly sat up straight, his expression somewhat wistful. "Of course, he's a lucky lad. He almost died at my hands several times; what a pity."
Karl: (#°Д°)
Merlin's black silk suspenders! It really is Gellert Grindelwald!
Quick, drink some tea to calm down! Gulp, gulp, gulp!
Isn't this old man locked up in Nurmengard in Austria? Why is he appearing here?
Could it be—
Karl originally thought that when Dumbledore said he needed more help, he meant members of the Order of the Phoenix, like Mad-Eye Alastor—
Moody, but he never expected it to be Grindelwald.
Now he knew where Fawkes went to deliver the letter last night. And seeing as Grindelwald appeared here today, he must have followed Fawkes back through spatial teleportation.
Pfft! Who would have thought that a fine Phoenix would one day have to guest star as a beast of burden!
Dumbledore was just about to refill Karl's tea when he noticed that the usually thick-skinned little guy was very proactive today. He didn't need any looking after and poured the tea himself.
Well, things were different now.
The Principal pouring tea himself—this level of treatment was quite an overstep. Usually, it was fine when there were no outsiders, but now...
With a guy like Grindelwald around, who wavered between being an insider and an outsider, it was better to be careful.
After all, it was hard to say what his position was, but he certainly wasn't an 'insider' himself.
"Karl, let me introduce you. This is Gellert Grindelwald. Perhaps you have heard his name before."
Dumbledore gave Karl a look, which roughly meant: Go! Give him two slaps! Get to know each other!
Karl: (o_O)?
Huh? Me?
Although he didn't really want to, since the Principal had given such an instruction, he wouldn't hold back.
"Of course I've heard of him! The famous Mr. Grindelwald! How could I not know?"
"He's a renowned gas stove expert, the best fireworks master in the wizarding world. He once released a highly artistic grand firework display in Paris, France. They say even the dead thought it was great; the ancestral graves practically spat fire."
Grindelwald's smile froze on his face. As expected, any student favored by Dumbledore was just as annoying.
The corners of his mouth, which had curved up because of the first sentence, flattened again because of the second. He felt like he had been slapped in the face.
"Humph! Karl Orolin? A strange and ridiculous surname. No heritage, no origin, no meaning—just like you!"
Facing Grindelwald's counterattack, Karl didn't care at all. "Not knowing just shows your lack of knowledge. Let me tell you, Orolin means 'vision' or 'dream' in Quenya."
"Quenya?"
Grindelwald frowned. Was this some rare minority language?
Karl nodded solemnly. "That's right, a type of Elvish. I only use it in Valinor on the continent of Aman."
Dumbledore understood; so the boy had made it up. He almost thought he was being ignorant.
But Grindelwald, who didn't know Karl, was completely bewildered. "Aman? Valinor? Elvish? What are you talking about?"
,
"It's okay if you don't understand. Once I've finished writing my book, I'll send you a copy. You'll understand after you've read it."
"Also, if you think Orolin is strange, you can call me by my other names."
"For example, Mithrandir in Sindarin, Tharkûn in Dwarvish, Greyhame in Rohirric—"
Karl gave the old man a crooked smile. "Of course, my favorite name is still Gandalf."
Grindelwald: (╯°□°)╯
Good! Good! Good! It's all made up, isn't it?
You brat! You dare play me?
"Oh, Adolf?"
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