Thirteen, the overseer of the thirteenth Multiverse, patiently sat behind the desk in his office, if it could even be called that. With short brown hair and dull brown eyes, one could simply lose in him a crowd of people if they didn't pay attention. Thirteen liked it that way. Having a simple appearance helped him out when he had to communicate with mortal beings. Just as he was about to do now.
A pale-skinned young man with hair as white as snow and eyes blue like a clear sky appeared in front of Thirteen. He had a handsome face, which would've looked delicate if it weren't for the scars on it, one going down his right eye, a second on his forehead, and the third covering his left check. The young man looked around, taking in the in the appearance of the office floating in space. Not looking too impressed, he turned to Thirteen.
"Well, you're not the pompous bastard." Commented Michael, Thirteen already knew his name due to the recommendation from a fellow overseer. "Anyway, you got me out of that hellhole, so I guess I should be thankful." Continued Michael.
"Yes… Four isn't the most pleasant of us all." That was mildly put. Four was considered the laziest of them all. Anytime there was some kind of issue in his Multiverse, he would simply summon a random soul, tell them they are some prophesied hero and give them the standard hero package before throwing them at the problem.
Surprisingly, that worked wonders. Time and time again, the people Four summoned proved themselves and overcame the obstacles in their way. This however, led to the overseer's new favorite hobby, summoning souls even if there were no issues in his Multiverse and putting them in a disadvantageous position, just to see how far he could push them before they broke. Many failed, most of them did, but from time to time, some succeeded even when the odds were stacked against them from the very beginning. The person in front of him was the last of Four's experiments, and what Four considered the most successful one at that.
Michael was a mixed breed, hated by both of his races. Hunted down by both enemies and what should've been allies, he fought tooth and nail alone against everyone. Without any help from either side, he struggled fiercely, barely surviving each encounter. Despite that, he kept going until he finally slew the so called Demon Lord. Severely weakened after the last battle, the 'good' side used that chance to imprison him and left him there to starve to death.
"So what do YOU want?" Asked Michael with obvious animosity.
"I will be upfront with you…" Started Thirteen.
"I heard that before." Interrupted Michael.
Thirteen continued with a wince. "I need your help. My Multiverse isn't doing so good at the moment due to an… issue caused by the fourteenth one. Mine is already known as the unlucky one where events tend to… be unlucky, but things spiraled out of hand recently."
"And how is that MY problem?" Asked Michael. He really didn't feel like dealing with this bullshit again. He got fucked up once and already learned his lesson.
"It is not." Admitted Thirteen. "However, I would like to request your help."
"Which I don't have a reason to accept, do I?" Questioned Michael.
"You don't. And I have no way to force you, which is why I would simply request your help. Four didn't provide you with any assistance, but I will do my upmost to aid you." Said Thirteen.
"And why should I trust you?" Asked Michael.
"Because unlike Four, I need your help. There are a lot of dimensions in my Multiverse that will suffer. Too many will die, too many souls will be corrupted. As overseers, we have very little wiggle room to interfere, but you can do it in my stead." Explained Thirteen.
"Why can't you give that job to someone else? Just pick a random unlucky soul from your Multiverse." Said Michael.
"I can't. Due to some complications, I can't guarantee that they won't end up being corrupted." Thirteen shook his head. "You have proven yourself capable and I trust you. Even against all odds, you succeeded. I need someone like you to handle the issue I'm currently dealing with."
"Hmm." Michael thought for a few seconds. "I have two questions. What will happen to me If I refuse? And what do I get in return?"
"If you refuse." Thirteen frowned. He would rather Michael accept his request, as finding someone as capable won't be easy. Still, Thirteen answered truthfully since he knew Michael valued that. "I will have to either return you back to your… prison. Or I can send you back to your original world where you will enter the cycle of reincarnation."
Michael frowned. Returning to his prison was something he would prefer to avoid. Returning to his original and entering the cycle of reincarnation sounded much better, but… he wasn't satisfied with that.
"As for your reward… that would depend on what you desire." Thirteen continued.
"Revenge." Michael was quick to answer.
"Against whom?" Asked Thirteen.
Michael didn't need to think about it. The people of Liorderat, the world Four had sent him to, had wronged him. But in the end, he had been set up by the overseer. If it hadn't been for Four, Michael wouldn't have been forced, or more like tricked, into that situation. As much as he hated the people of Liorderat, he loathed the one that placed him there much more. "Four." He answered simply.
"That's…" Thirteen paused. "I…" He paused again.
"So, you can't give me what I want." Stated Michael, seeing his hesitation.
"As overseers, we can't directly work against one another." Answered Thirteen.
"Just like how you can't directly influence your Multiverses." Replied Michael. Both knew what the other meant.
Thirteen thought it over. He couldn't make someone as powerful as an overseer. If he could, he would just pick any random soul and assign this job to them. The death of an overseer will also cause a lot of waves. 'However… hmm that could work, I suppose. If not, then maybe it won't be too bad.' Thirteen looked at Michael, who was staring at him without blinking. The man in front of him had nothing left to lose. Hatred had been the only thing to keep him going in his prison and what kept his mind intact.
"I can't promise you revenge." Replied Thirteen truthfully. "However, I can give you the opportunity. I can bless you with a power that will let you grow stronger quickly and almost limitlessly."
"Would that be enough?" Asked Michael quickly. He wasn't sure if almost limitlessly would be good enough.
"It will only depend on you." That wasn't what Michael wished to hear. He wanted a reassuring 'Yes,' but maybe he was asking for too much. Though it at least gave him some hope.
"I will agree…"
"Great!" Thirteen exclaimed, interrupting him.
"But if I deem your blessing… not what you promised, you can forget about my help." Continued Michael.
"That's… understandable." Replied Thirteen. "If there is nothing else you wish to add; we can get started." There was urgency in his voice, as he said that.
"Not for now." Replied Michael.
"Great." Said Thirteen and pointed at him.
Michael felt a wave of overwhelming energy swirl around him, seeping into him, and changing his very being. It made him understand how insignificant he was compared to the overseer, but the moment the energy passed away, Michael quickly frowned. Not only did he feel weaker than before, but looking down at his hands, he had also become younger.
'Tricked again.' Anger burned inside Michael. He should've known, but he had the faintest of hope that this might be different. At least this time, he could just refuse to help, to spite the one that deceived him.
"I know what you are thinking." Said Thirteen quickly. "I can feel your emotions. You anger and bloodlust is radiating from you. I promise I haven't deceived you."
Michael didn't respond. He just stared at Thirteen with his ice cold eyes. 'Empty words.'
"I had to adjust your body to function better in my Multiverse since the one you came from had different laws. I also had to do that to grant you your blessing. You might be weaker right now, but you will quickly grow back in strength with your new power. Simply think of 'Status' in your mind to get a better understanding of it." Continued Thirteen.
Doing as told, Michael thought in his mind. 'Status'
[Michael Wynneiros
Body: 1
Mind: 3
Soul: 5]
[Skills:
Aura Manipulation(Apprentice)]
[Perks:
Magically Gifted]
'Weak.' Was the only thing that came to his mind seeing his Status. The ability Michael prided himself in, Aura Manipulation,had carried over, but it was only at the Apprentice level? He might've learned on his own, but he was the strongest warrior in Liorderat.
"As you can see, your stats are currently low, but they can be raised quickly like I said earlier. Your Aura Manipulation has carried over as well, but since Aura works differently in my Multiverse, it's at a lower level." Explained Thirteen.
"So what is this, some kind of video game power?" Asked Michael. "I only need to kill stuff to get stronger?"
"Not exactly. It will help you raise your 'Stats' and 'Skills' quickly, but killing others won't make much of a difference." Informed Thirteen. He could've potentially made his powers like that, but it would've ruined the reincarnation cycle in his Multiverse. To grow stronger by killing others, would mean that Michael would be absorbing the souls of those he slew. His Multiverse would simply be unable to produce new souls quickly enough to compensate for the lost ones.
"You can also focus on your 'Skills' and 'Perks' to get a better understanding of them." Continued Thirteen.
[Aura Manipulation(Apprentice): The ability to manipulate Aura, the manifestation of your soul. Aura skills take 1.5x Aura to use at current level.
Special Ability: Locked until Aura Manipulation reaches Expert level.]
This was much different than what Michael was used to. In Liorderat, Aura was the manifestation of one's physical prowess. It was developed through constant training and by undergoing many life and death battles. Here however, Aura was the manifestation of his soul and he wasn't sure how he felt about that yet. Michael turned his attention over to his perk.
[Magically Gifted: Due to your heritage, you have an easier time learning magical skills and your magical reserves are twice as large.]
Michael scoffed at that. He may have had the talent for magic due to one part of his heritage, but there had been no one to teach him. No one had taught him how to use Aura as well, but that was easier to learn, unlike magic, which one could blow himself up if he didn't know what he was doing. Maybe he could make use of this perk in the future.
"Now what?" Michael asked after inspecting his status. "I can't help but notice that I'm weaker and younger. I don't know how I can help you with your issues in this state."
"I have isolated the dimensions that have already been corrupted, but that won't last for long. You will have 7 years to prepare and grow stronger in your first dimension. I will speed up the time there to make sure of that." Informed Thirteen.
"Fine." Replied Michael.
"Now." Thirteen clapped his hands. "The first place you will visit is Planet Earth. It's mostly populate by mundane humans, but there is a secret society of wizards and witches. The magicals tend to keep to themselves as they see normal humans as lesser than them. The wizards and witches sent their kids to study at schools hidden by their magic…"
"This sounds like Harry Potter to me." Michael mused, remembering a story from his first life.
Thirteen paused, his eyes widening in surprise. "You're from the first Universe." He stated in shock. That wasn't something he had expected. That place was so small, it wasn't even considered a Multiverse, but it was the first to be created. The people there didn't have any special powers, except for very few of them. They could get glimpses of other Dimensions in their dreams, which inspired them to create stories, which were nothing but fiction in their eyes. That however was far from the truth.
"Does it matter?" Asked Michael with a raised eyebrow.
"Not really. Well, it actually makes things easier. I won't have to explain as much." Replied Thirteen. "How much do you remember?"
"Not that much. Just the basic plot, I guess." Answered Michael.
"I see. Well, in this Dimension, the same events happened. Except Tom Riddle Jr. the one known as Voldemort delved into magic far beyond him. He made a pact with demons, which made him far stronger than what he should be." Informed Thirteen.
"So, I gotta kill him?" Asked Michael. That was something he knew how to do. Very well at that.
"Not necessary. That will be your secondary objective. Whether he lives or dies, doesn't make much of a difference. He won't be able to do much on his own." Said Thirteen. Even if Voldemort took over the entire planet, it won't be a real issue since he won't be able to leave the Dimension on his own no matter what.
"Your first and only important objective is to stop the demon forces. They will invade the Dimension in 7 years, no matter what you do. You have to prepare for them and stop their forces no matter what." Explained Thirteen.
"I can do that." Michael had fought against demons day and night for over 20 years. One could say he was experienced in dealing with them.
"You can see your objectives on your status. There are three of them for this Dimensions, but like I said, only the first one is something that you have to complete. The other two are optionional, but you will be rewarded for them if you decided to complete them." Explained Thirteen.
"And the rewards?" Michael asked.
"Both will change the fate of the people there, causing an influx of energy, which I will direct towards you. Your new… constitution will absorb it and use the energy to strengthen yourself." Answered Thirteen.
"That's acceptable." Nodded Michael. "I presume I will be awarded for completing the first one in the same way then?"
"Yes." Confirmed Thirteen.
"Anything else I should be aware off?" Asked Michael.
"Shortly after you arrive, someone will come to you. You can trust the man as he will help you prepare." Replied Thirteen.
"Fine. Sent me off then." Said Michael.
Thirteen nodded in response, and he felt a kind of energy wrap around him. Moments later, Michael found himself in a village made out of bricked and wooden housings. Knowing that someone will be coming to pick him up, he stayed in place while casually looking around. A few people were walking around, all of them dressed in robes and with pointy hats on their heads. They looked… different compared to the mages and wizards he was used to seeing, but he reminded himself that he was in a different world once again.
Deciding he'd seen enough, Michael mentally opened his Status to see his objectives.
[Primary Objective: Stop the Burning Legion from invading and taking over the world. Eliminate all demons and destroy all portals on Earth.]
[Optional Objective: Ensure the death of Tom Riddle Jr.]
[Optional Objective: Collect the Deathly Hallows.]
Michael wrinkled his nose. He could see how Tom's death could change the fate of some, but he wasn't sure how collecting the Deathly Hallows would do so as well. He wasn't even sure exactly what they were, as he didn't remember that much about the story. It's been a long time since he had watched the movies after all.
The first objective, especially the 'Burning Legion,' reminded him of his first life. Though for the life of him, he couldn't remember where he knew the name from. Michael's memory wasn't that good, but maybe there was something he could do about it with magic. His musings were interrupted by a presence he felt appear out of nowhere next to him. He might be weaker, but his senses were still sharp.
Turning around, Michael saw a tall and thin old man with a crooked nose. He had long silver hair and even longer beard that reached down to his waist. Bright purple robes with stars on them covered his body with a similar pointy hat on his head. Blue eyes stared back at Michael, trying to figure him out.
"Dumbledore, I assume?" Asked Michael. He wasn't sure if this was him or not.
"You would be correct, young man. Unfortunately, I don't happen to know your name. Forgive me for that." Replied Dumbledore, gazing Michael up and down, trying to figure him out.
"Not surprised." Said Michael, ignoring Dumbledore's unasked question about his name. "How did you know to come here?"
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. Just a bit earlier, he received a vision of kid with white hair in Hogsmeade. Something urged Dumbledore to meet with him, telling the old man the kid was important for the future of the world. That had been more than surprising for Dumbledore, considering he wasn't a Seer. The old man knew a few Seers, but he was certain he wasn't one. Not once in his hundred years had he ever had a vision before. The fact that the kid even knew Dumbledore came with the purpose of meeting him, put the old man on edge.
"How are you aware of that?" Asked Dumbledore. His wand, the one he took from Grindelwald, snapped in his hand with his long fingers tightly grasping it. Dumbledore's magic pulsed out, searching for any hostiles nearby, but his eyes never left Michael.
"I was told someone I could trust will come meet me." Said Michael calmly. "We have much to discuss old man." He continued.
"About what, if I may ask?" Questioned Dumbledore, still keeping his guard up.
"The future." Answered Michael. "Tom Riddle's return. What he had caused delving into magic he shouldn't have. And some other things, like the Deathly Hallows." He finished. Voldemort had made a pact with a demon, and the Burning Crusade was going to invade the world in seven years. Michael made the connection quickly and didn't need Thirteen to explain to him further.
Dumbledore just stared at Michael with his eyes opened wide. This was not what he expected to hear. "It seems that we really do."
As neither Dumbledore nor Michael wished to discuss those topics out in the open, the old man brought him over to Hogwarts. Their walk to the school was spent in silence. Dumbledore was working his mind, trying to figure out who this kid, who knew too much, was and what was his game.
Michael, meanwhile, observed the surroundings and studied them carefully. The large body of water they passed gave him a peaceful sense. Though Michael did spot a dark shadow underneath. The forest next to it, on the other hand, gave him a much more dangerous feeling. Mostly since Michael's body was currently that of a kid and quite weak. The place however, would be a suitable spot to sharpen on his skills. The years of solitude and imprisonment hadn't been kind to him in that regard.
Further down the path, they passed through slopping lawns and flowerbeds. The place was full of greenery, making him think. 'The demons would love to seep the life of this place. While the Wood Elves, the racists cunts, would thrive here.'
Finally, they arrived in front of the magnificent castle. Honestly, Hogwarts looked much more beautiful than he imagined it. Then again, Michael didn't spend that much time thinking about it. He still hadn't processed the fact that he was in a fictional world, more specifically one that he knew. After being thrown in a fictional world once before, the feeling wasn't as novel.
Stepping inside the hall, Michael couldn't stop himself from staring at the ceiling. It almost felt like he was looking at the sky, but he was sure that was not the case. The magic users he knew would never bother creating something that looked so beautiful. They preferred functionality over looks.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Asked Dumbledore. "I've seen this piece of magic thousands of times, but I still keep admiring it every time my eyes gaze at it."
"It's… not bad." Admitted Michael before shaking his head and following after the old man. He was also someone that preferred functionality over looks, but the ceiling truly was beautiful. Dumbledore hummed in response, but said nothing else.
Their walk through the castle hallways continued until they reached a stone gargoyle. It moved to the side the moment Dumbledore stepped in front of it, revealing the spiraling stairs behind it. Climbing up the stairs, they entered a large circular room and Michael looked around, almost in wonder.
Many small magical artifacts were placed on a number of shelves, all of them were making weird noises and some were emitting puffs of smoke. This was something Michael had expected. He had seen similar rooms in wizards or mages' towers. Though the magical artifacts there had been much more… extraordinary looking. The ones in Dumbledore's office looked practically harmless. Not that he was going to test out his theory by touching them or something.
However, what really caught Michael's attention were the amount of books there. Rolls and rolls of bookshelves all filled to them brim with knowledge. Now that was a new sight to him. The magical users he knew off might place their artifacts on display, but they would never ever do the same with their books. Knowledge was power to a wizard or a mage. Their books and scrolls were always stashed and protected in secure places where only they knew off. They would be absolutely abhorred by the scene in Dumbledore's office with all of them put on display like that.
The portraits on the walls also caught Michael's attention. He'd noticed it during their walk, but people in the paintings kept silently staring at him, their eyes following him the entire time. An interesting observation system, but it would be a true work of art if those portraits carried the memories of the actual people. Even in death, they would be able to pass down their legacy to the new generation. The magicals of Liorderat probably had the means to create something similar, but they would never even consider it. They hoarded knowledge and preferred to keep it to themselves.
Dumbledore walked towards the desk in the middle of the room. By just pointing his wand, he conjured a comfy-looking chair in front of it as he passed it. Dumbledore sat behind the desk and looked at Michael with a raised eyebrow. He was simply standing next to the conjured chair without even considering sitting on it. Both stayed quiet for a moment, simply observing the other.
"The silent treatment." Chuckled Michael. "Interesting interrogation technique. Though it loses its novelty after the first time."
"You've been interrogated before." Stated Dumbledore. Michael just stared at him, refusing to confirm or deny. Not that it wasn't obvious.
Letting out a sigh, Dumbledore leaned back. A piece of candy from a bowl on the desk flew up and jumped in his mouth. A small smile formed on the old man's face, clearly enjoying the sugary sweet.
"Lemon drops?" Questioned Dumbledore, and the bowl of candy floated in the air, moving close enough to Michael for him to take one out.
"I'll pass." Replied Michael. He didn't trust Dumbledore enough to sit in his conjured chair, so taking one of his candies was out of the question. Frankly, Michael just didn't trust anyone. Even the overseer, especially him, but Thirteen seemed desperate. Or at least he looked like it. They were in a mutually beneficial relationship. Thirteen needed his help, and Michael needed the overseer to grow stronger. If that hadn't been the case, he wouldn't have accepted the offer. Though Michael couldn't help but feel the overseer was cooking up something. He wasn't sure what it was yet, however.
"I'll cut to the chase." Started Michael. He had no desire to trade words with Dumbledore for too long since there was much he needed to find about his new power and self.
"We both know that Tom hadn't died and is still alive…" Michael suddenly paused before asking. "Wait, what year are we?"
"Actually never mind, don't answer that." Michael quickly shook his head before Dumbledore could even open his mouth to reply. Knowing the year was of no help to him. "Tell me how old is Harry Potter. That's much more useful to me."
Dumbledore stared at him for a brief moment. Michael's words revealed more than what he wished to. Dumbledore quickly took note of the information and processed it just as fast.
"Harry just turned 8. The date is the 1st of August, 1988." Replied Dumbledore, staring intently at him.
'So I'm like what 2? 3? Maybe 4 years early? That's not bad I suppose.' Thought Michael.
"Good. Anyway, back to the topic. Tom is still alive and we both know that." Said Michael.
"I suspected as much… but I wasn't entirely sure if that was the case." Admitted Dumbledore. He didn't bother denying it since he wanted to learn what Michael knew. The boy obviously had… surprising information about that topic. Just knowing Voldemort's real name was astounding since no more than a handful people knew it, and even that might be an overstatement.
"I'm still unsure how he accomplished that, however." Continued Dumbledore.
"You're unsure?" Michael raised his eyebrow at him. That was interesting to know. "Well, he's a… lich?" He continued, a bit unsure on that front.
"A lich?" Asked Dumbledore, not familiar with that term.
"In essence, a lich is a powerful magical being, who had stored his soul in a phylactery, making him immortal in a way. No matter how many times you destroy his body, he will regenerate it and return back to life until you destroy the object where his soul is." Answered Michael, causing Dumbledore's eyes to widen.
'How low have you fallen?' Thought Dumbledore, but Michael wasn't done surprising him yet.
"But Tom went above and beyond. I have no idea how he actually managed it, but he had somehow stored his soul in multiple phylacteries. Honestly, that makes almost no sense from what I know, but…" Michael paused there. The words 'there are different laws governing this world, I guess,' never left his mouth.
Dumbledore paled. 'No wonder. No wonder.' Repeated the old man in his mind. After Tom graduated Hogwarts, Dumbledore had met him very few times, but with each meeting, Tom looked… less human. If he had been splitting his soul and storing it in various objects than that explained why.
"Do you know how many?" Asked Dumbledore, trying to keep his voice from quivering.
"Uh, 6? Or maybe 7? I'm not sure. But he was definitely aiming for 7." Answered Michael. His knowledge on the Harry Potter series was rusty to say the least.
Few things could terrify the old man, but that did it. Dumbledore was then reminded of what was found the day Tom was 'killed' 7 years ago. He quickly stood up and walked to the shelf behind him, staring at an old and patched-up hat. "Hat, give me the sword." Commanded Dumbledore, with urgency in his voice.
A long, double-edge sword with a large ruby at the bottom of its hilt magically appeared in the hat. Waving his wand at a fast pace, Dumbledore cast a few spells on it as he stared intently at the blade. A moment later, the old man let out a sigh of relief before he returned the sword back inside the hat, which grumbled something at him.
"I think I can guess what a few of his… phylacteries did you call them?" Asked Dumbledore, receiving a nod from Michael. "I think I can guess a few of them." Knowing Tom, he would go for something grandiose. The artifacts of the four founders were probably the objects he used. At least a few of them. The sword had been found with him the day he died, but it didn't seem like he was successful in turning it into a phylactery.
"I can probably tell you all of them and their locations as well." Dumbledore perked up at that. The hardest part of dealing with Tom would be finding out what objects he used and where they were. This would certainly make it easy if the boy already knew.
"Probably?" Asked Dumbledore.
"My memories about them are… a mess." Admitted Michael. Dumbledore kept his face neutral, but he already knew of that. The old man had tried using Legilimency on Michael, but had little success with the mind art. Dumbledore was adept at it, being able to cast it without needing to use his wand or speak the incantation, but Michael's mind wasn't easy to navigate. He could catch glimpses of Michael's surface thoughts from time to time, but he kept hitting a patch of darkness. Dumbledore wasn't sure if someone had messed up the boy's mind or if those were actual memories.
"If you know some kind of magic that could help me… freshen up my memories, then I would be able to inform you of all of the phylacteries." Continued Michael. "In the meantime, I can inform of you of one, which you can check by yourself."
Dumbledore listened carefully, but the words that left Michael's mouth froze his entire being. "Harry Potter."
"No." Uttered Dumbledore as his body shook. He had been focused on the word 'objects' and hadn't even considered that as an option. There was still a chance that Michael's words weren't the truth, but with how confident he spoke them…
"It is what it is, old man." Michael shrugged his shoulders. "No point in crying over spilled milk. Might as well try and find a way to solve it. Maybe there's some magic that could pull the soul out of his body. Otherwise, killing him is the only other option."
Dumbledore's eye steeled at that statement. His magic pulsed out, showing that he wasn't just an old man, but a very powerful wizard. Michael took it all with just a raise of his eyebrow. Magically speaking, Dumbledore was probably very skilled, but he was by far the most powerful magic user he had seen.
In Liorderat, Michael had witnessed wizards raining down fireballs that looked like meteors from the sky and decimating armies. Sorcerers controlling the sea and submerging entire cities with tsunamis. Liches raising armies of undead to fight their enemies. What Dumbledore displayed, paled in consideration to those magical users.
Ignoring Dumbledore's flex, Michael continued. "Back to the topic. If you know of any magic that could freshen my memories, I can tell you about all the phylacteries. Plus, maybe a way of dealing with the soul in Harry. Don't really remember how he is supposed to deal with it."
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, but his magic stopped pulsing. Again, Michael revealed a lot of information with his words. 'He knows there was a way, but he wasn't sure of it? That's… good.'
"There is a magic called Occlumency. It is the magical art of clearing one's mind and guarding one's thoughts and memories from others. Occlumency can help you organize your memories." Informed Dumbledore.
"I will provide you with a book on it." Continued Dumbledore. "And I must thank you for the information you provided me…" He paused, realizing something. "Forgive me, but I still don't know your name."
"Michael." He answered simply.
"Just that?" Asked Dumbledore as he stood up, walking over to one the bookshelves in the office. He picked one of the books and turned back to Michael.
"Wynneiros. Michael Wynneiros." He answered keeping his face neutral.
"Wynneiros…" Repeated Dumbledore with one hand grooming his long beard. "I don't believe I'm familiar with such a surname." He knew multiple different languages – that was a requirement to become as accomplished as Dumbledore in magic – but he had no idea about the origin of the surname, which was baffling to him.
"I'm not surprised." Replied Michael, thinking to himself. 'It's elvish after all. Racists cunts.' He cursed them in his mind, despite his own prejudice against them. Michael's however, was aimed at all races. He hated them all equally.
After handing Michael the book on Occlumency, Dumbledore was ready to start calling his trusted allies. He needed to inform them of the situation, so they could all start preparing for the future. However, Michael didn't seem to be done yet.
"Now that we talked about that. Let's move on to the main topic."
Dumbledore's eyes snapped towards Michael's ice blue ones. They just discussed something of paramount importance, but he didn't even consider it as the main topic?
"Truthfully speaking, dealing with Tom is a secondary objective for me, an optional one even." Dumbledore was starting to get a very bad feeling hearing that. "I would still try to deal with him and kill him quickly since there are benefits to it. Even if there is some stupid prophecy about him and Harry."
It really dawned on Dumbledore how much Michael knew at that moment. There should've been no more than three people that knew that a prophecy even existed. Unless Tom had revealed it others, but Dumbledore didn't believe so.
"My main objective is dealing with what will happen in the future due to Tom's foolish actions." Continued Michael. "He had made a deal, a pact with a demon, or demons would be more accurate, a whole legion of them."
Dumbledore was starting to understand. His old age should've made him more knowledgeable and magically skilled than Tom, but after the younger man returned back from his disappearance, he was somehow able to match him spell for spell. That had made little sense to Dumbledore, especially when he was wielding the strongest wand in their duels. For all intents and purposes, he should've won them all.
"Said legion will be coming to this world in about 7 years and they won't be arriving with peaceful intentions. From my experience, demons seek only to destroy." Michael paused, letting his words sink in.
"I would like…" Michael took a deep breath. "Your assistance. Your help to prepare to face them." He hated asking for help. Mostly because he was used to being refused every time he did. Michael was used to handling everything on his own, but he needed help. 7 years was a lot of time to prepare, but he had too many things to work on.
Michael had to figure out how his new power, given to him by Thirteen worked. How his Aura functioned now that it was different. Learning how to use magic could also be useful. He had to work on his body again and increase his strength. He had too much on his plate, and 7 years didn't look that long with that in mind. Thirteen did also say that Dumbledore will help him prepare, so he hoped for the best.
The old man just watched him for a moment, studying him carefully and processing everything he heard from Michael. The way he asked for help was so strained, like he wished to avoid it if possible, yet it was desperate at the same time. Dumbledore learned a lot about him during their conversation and shortly made up his mind. "How old are you?" He asked.
"I don't know. Don't you have some kind of magic to check that?" Asked Michael. He really wasn't sure on his age.
"I can." Confirmed Dumbledore and took out his wand. "It's a simple spell, nothing harmful, I promise." He said and waited for Michael to nod in confirmation. With a simple point, a bright yellow light flew out of his wand and hit the boy. Michael didn't feel anything happen to him, but Dumbledore nodded to himself.
"11. According to my spell, you are exactly 11 years old." The way Michael wrinkled his nose, told Dumbledore he wasn't satisfied with that for some reason.
"That is a good thing." Continued Dumbledore. "Hogwarts starts in one month, and you can start your magic education."
"There is more than magic that I need to work on." Said Michael, but he didn't refuse his offer.
"Be that as it may, magic is a powerful tool that needs a lot of time for one to learn how to wield. And you will have free time to work on whatever else you wish to." Said Dumbledore gently, getting into his teaching state.
"In the meantime, I would plea you to start reading the book on Occlumency. The faster you can... sort out your memories, the quicker we can deal with Tom and then start preparing for this… demon invasion." As unbelievable as it sounded, Dumbledore trusted his words. The vision he had about Michael and how confidently he stated it, made Dumbledore believe him.
"I will be contacting all my trusted allies, so we can start preparing, and I will also visit young Harry Potter to confirm your words. If he truly houses a part of Tom's soul inside him, we need to remove it as quickly as possible before it influences his mind. Or worse, takes over him completely." Said Dumbledore.
"Blimpy!" Called out Dumbledore. A moment later, a small creature popped in existence in the office. It was small about two to three feet tall, with spindly arms and legs, pointed, bat-like ears, and oversized head and eyes.
"Yes, Master Headmasters Sirs, you calleds Blimpy?" Asked the creature in an enthusiastic voice that was high and squeaky.
"Would you please show Michael to one of the rooms in Hogwarts? Not the dorm ones." Asked Dumbledore, receiving enthusiastic nods from Blimpy. "Yes! Blimpy's happy to show Master Mikael to a room."
"If you need anything, Michael, just call Blimpy, and he will help you with whatever he could. Right Blimpy?" Said Dumbledore.
"Yes! Yes! Blimpy's help!" Confirmed Blimpy.
Letting out a sigh, Michael said. "Lead the way Blimpy."