Phineas Nigellus Black——
As the most unpopular headmaster in Hogwarts history, this man achieved a great feat that no other headmaster ever managed: uniting all little wizards against him, even the "archenemies" Gryffindor and Slytherin were no exception.
"So, it’s really you..."
William frowned as thoughts flashed through his mind—no wonder Dumbledore had no doubts about his ability to overpower Snape that night, and even strongly supported William’s chicken-raising plan in the castle. It turned out...that old guy hanging on the wall spilled the beans to him.
"How about it, little brat, surprised?"
Phineas Black’s portrait stroked his beard smugly.
"You old codger, you’ve been dead for half a century and you still have so much to say? Is it because your rectum and tonsils are connected?"
William retorted without a moment’s hesitation.
"Hey, you little punk, how dare you talk like that? You stood me up back in the day, making me ride a broom for three days to find Hekate who had already gone vacationing in Romania, otherwise there wouldn’t have been a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that term." Phineas was so infuriated he almost jumped out of the painting, "And you know how much trouble you caused me over those three years?"
"Wow, you poor thing, rode for three days... How didn’t you just fall and die?" William read aloud with no emotion.
"Ahem, how about both of you stop arguing—" Dumbledore quickly interrupted the two who were beginning to exchange personal greetings. He raised his hand and Phineas’s portrait fell silent—it was, after all, the headmaster’s office, his territory.
"...Actually you got it wrong," after a moment of eye contact with Dumbledore, William sat upright, "Strictly speaking, the year you enrolled I had already graduated, and would even have become your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, so—you should address me as Professor, or Mister."
"..."
You might want to just stop now.
Dumbledore gave an awkward yet courteous smile, disregarding William’s request as he stood up from behind the desk. "So, senior, how much do you know about Voldemort?"
"Just a village-level terrorist, feels less threatening than Lanlock."
William shook his head, since the other party had chosen to reveal his identity directly, he had no need to hide either.
Lanlock was a goblin who once instigated the second goblin rebellion, digging with his followers all the way to the underground of Hogwarts, targeting the secret vault sealed by the guardians. If he were to gain that power, perhaps from then on the British magic realm would bear the goblin’s surname.
But naturally, William couldn’t let him succeed. After a fierce battle, he successfully thwarted that bastard’s scheme over a year’s time, preserving peace in the world, and successfully passed his O.W.L. exams.
And in William’s view, Voldemort’s crowning achievement was solely the terrorist attacks that ended with the death of a dozen people...
Not even as many as he killed in a day in the Forbidden Forest.
"The rebelling goblin..."
Dumbledore’s eyes betrayed a touch of reminiscence. Having entered school the same year William graduated, he grew up listening to the stories of this legendary senior.
The goblin rebellion had ended just two years prior, and while the magic world was revitalizing, the under-renovation Hogwarts Castle was still undergoing some repairs and resets.
Dumbledore, filled with expectations for the magic world, entered school under these circumstances, and the no-show at the opening feast by the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, known as the goblin rebellion terminator, naturally became the topic of conversation at mealtimes.
"...William is a god."
Sitting at the Gryffindor long table, young Dumbledore heard a Gryffindor fifth-year student say passionately, "He defeated all the members of our Duel Club within three days, all of them! And he had only been at school for a week then—"
Those words had a significant impact on young Dum, setting the stage for his later rise to go through the entire Duel Club top to bottom.
"So, you still haven’t spoken of the prophecy."
Looking at Dumbledore, who stood in the center of the room and had fallen silent, William frowned, trying to pull the topic back on track.
"...During Voldemort’s heyday, someone made a prophecy about him."
Dumbledore came back to his senses and walked slowly to the other side of the room, pulling the mechanism on the bookshelf. In the next moment, with a "rumble," a grey stone basin emerged from the bookshelf, filled with a silvery substance, a material much like a cloud, appearing both liquid and gaseous.
"Pensieve."
Seeing the Rune Language etched around the basin’s rim, William immediately recognized the item. A wizard could extract their memory from their mind and place it in the basin, which could then be rewatched—
"Care to take a look together?"
Dumbledore stood by the basin, pressing his wand to his temple, and soon, a shimmering silver thread, brighter than his beard, was drawn from it.
"...It seems you trust me a lot?"
"I just know you won’t be a bad person, senior." Dumbledore nodded, then shook his head.
Upon hearing this, William instinctively turned to glance at a portrait on the left side of the headmaster’s desk. The woman in the painting shrugged helplessly at him.
"Professor Jerard indeed told me a lot, giving me a deeper understanding of you—" Dumbledore noticed William’s gaze, explaining aloud.
"When did she betray me?" William interrupted the elder’s explanation.
"Last week, William. I wanted to contact you, but you never went to the Map Chamber." This time it was Fitzgerald’s portrait speaking.
"...Maybe I should move your portraits back to my dormitory?" William’s tightly furrowed brow finally relaxed a bit.
"Just move mine and Percival’s, Rookwood has been staying home with his great-great-grandson, and Bakar is recently in the United States."
William replied no more. He pressed his hand on the Pensieve, feeling his consciousness gradually descend, and so he closed his eyes. When he reopened them, the scenery before him had changed dramatically.
"This is...Hogsmeade?"
Looking at the somewhat familiar tavern before him, albeit cleaner than he remembered, William glanced around.
"Yes."
Following the direction of the voice, William saw two Dumbledores identical to each other appearing at the end of the road.