“I don’t have any money!” Because Dumbledore sounded entirely too much like a pay-to-win scammer, Isaac subconsciously slapped a hand over his pocket, eyeing the old man before him with intense vigilance.
“You don’t need to spend any money.” Dumbledore stared at Isaac for a long, quiet moment; he simply couldn’t fathom why the child’s train of thought worked this way.
Dumbledore had mapped out a dozen different predictions regarding Isaac’s response.
He had guessed that the child might react like Grindelwald, or perhaps like himself.
He had even considered the possibility of him exhibiting traits like Tom’s…
but he had never expected that Isaac’s very first instinct would be a deep, consuming fear of being swindled out of his pockets.
You see, this is the tragic limitation of the times, isn’t it?
Having never downloaded a modern anti-fraud application, Dumbledore could never truly comprehend just how ruthlessly vigilant the younger generation of the future would be toward unsolicited pitches that sounded too good to be true.
Noticing the faint twitch at the corner of Dumbledore’s mouth, Isaac realized his reaction had been a bit too defensive.
It couldn’t be helped; this was a level of caution carved into his very bones, especially since Isaac was currently trapped in the body of a child, possessing fewer avenues to generate income.
However, Dumbledore was the greatest wizard in contemporary Great Britain.
Even if he were to orchestrate a financial scam, he would target the vast fortunes of the ancient pure-blood houses.
Isaac was a genuine pauper; how much could he possibly have on him anyway?
Realizing this, Isaac blinked, and his hand naturally dropped away from his pocket.
He cleared his throat, looking back up at Dumbledore.
“Ahem…
well, I still trust you implicitly, Professor.
So, what exactly do I need to do to become stronger?”
“I won’t bore you by reiterating the conventional methods,” Dumbledore replied softly.
“This time, I intend to tell you something completely different.”
Isaac nodded silently to indicate he was paying attention.
The so-called conventional methods were nothing more than academic diligence—improving oneself through literature or by securing mentorship under legendary scholars.
By analyzing the published works of ancient masters and studying cutting-edge papers in the field of magic, a wizard could build immense power through the systematic accumulation of knowledge.
In the wizarding world, knowledge was literal power.
The four Heads of Houses at Hogwarts effectively represented the four foundational pillars of magical study: Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, and Herbology.
As long as a wizard achieved total mastery over any single discipline, their personal combat capabilities would be formidable.
The conventional method Dumbledore spoke of was standard, rigorous study.
In terms of pure academic learning, Isaac’s prophetic gift already gave him an absolute monopoly on advantages.
He could listen to master-level lectures that were entirely unreachable for ordinary citizens whenever he pleased, and he could even selectively engineer answers based on the specific obstacles he encountered during his studies.
But what Dumbledore wanted to discuss right now was clearly distinct from traditional academic tracking.
“Isaac, since you are a Seer, do you happen to know what the common denominator is between myself…
Gellert, and Tom?”
The common denominator between Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald, and Lord Voldemort?
Were they all Dark Lords?
What was wrong with that assessment?
Was the White Lord not essentially a Dark Lord of a different color?
Those specific words danced on the tip of Isaac’s tongue repeatedly, but in the end, he wisely swallowed them back down.
He was fully aware that Dumbledore had never been some soft-hearted, easily bullied, honest old academic.
He was the White Lord who had chosen a life of self-exile at Hogwarts; when Dumbledore was actively playing the role of a kindly grandfather, one shouldn’t push their luck.
If Dumbledore were ever truly forced to unleash his full capabilities, how many individuals in the entire wizarding world could confidently beat their chests and claim they could withstand a single high-power spell from his wand?
Even the current, fractured version of Lord Voldemort didn’t dare to provoke Dumbledore, choosing instead to skulk in the shadows.
Isaac would have to be completely insane to expose Dumbledore’s iron fist for no reason.
But aside from their terrifying political and magical weight, what other commonalities did these three share?
If it were just Dumbledore and Grindelwald, Isaac could confidently state that the two shared the same romantic orientation and preferred the company of men.
But adding Tom Riddle into the equation threw a wrench into things.
Tom might lack a nose, but his fundamental biology shouldn’t have changed that drastically during his school years, right?
After racking his brain, Isaac actually managed to isolate a legitimate commonality among the trio.
“Professor…
you and those two…
did all of you belong to the rare class of wizards who achieved absolute renown at a remarkably young age?”
Yes, all three were undisputed, generational prodigies during their youth.
Dumbledore had been hailed as the most outstanding student in the entire history of Hogwarts during his academic career.
He had swept every available honor the institution had to offer, serving as both a prefect and Head Boy.
In his youth, he was already actively corresponding with the master alchemist Nicolas Flamel and the legendary historian Bathilda Bagshot.
Translated into Muggle terms, that was the equivalent of a high school student frequently engaging in peer-reviewed academic exchanges with multiple Nobel laureates while still studying for finals.
Grindelwald’s early achievements mirrored Dumbledore’s.
Born into an influential European wizarding family, he had displayed such shocking magical aptitude in his childhood that he was labeled a once-in-a-century prodigy.
At sixteen, Grindelwald was expelled from the Durmstrang Institute.
It is worth noting that Durmstrang actively encouraged the study of the Dark Arts; the fact that Grindelwald was expelled anyway meant his private experiments were so profoundly dangerous that they caused severe, unacceptable harm to his classmates.
This highlighted exactly how terrifying Grindelwald’s innate talent and early mastery over the Dark Arts truly were.
The third was Tom Riddle, later known to the world as Lord Voldemort.
Had it not been for Dumbledore’s overwhelming presence constantly overshadowing him from the staff table, Tom would have claimed the title of the most brilliant student in Hogwarts history.
Unfortunately for him, he ran parallel to Dumbledore, meaning that ultimate title remained forever out of his reach.
Even so, Tom’s performance during his school years was nothing short of stunning.
He completely spellbound the faculty and thoroughly dominated his peers, particularly the aristocratic heirs of the Slytherin bloodlines.
It was also worth mentioning that during his youth, Tom was a genuinely handsome, magnetic young man.
He possessed top-tier magical aptitude, flawless combat instincts, the direct bloodline of Salazar Slytherin, and the rare gift of Parseltongue.
Simultaneously, he had aligned himself firmly with the interests of the conservative pure-blood families, naturally transforming into the perfect ideological figurehead for the aristocratic class.
The heirs of those wealthy families naturally rallied tightly around him—who could have foreseen that this brilliant youth would eventually overindulge in the Dark Arts and completely fracture his own mind?
Setting aside the later stage where Lord Voldemort’s sanity completely shattered, he was exactly like Dumbledore and Grindelwald: a young wizard who had established an absolute, unchallenged dominance early in life.
“Yes, Isaac.
Your assessment is entirely correct,” Dumbledore confirmed, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.
“In our youth, we all displayed a level of excellence that completely segregated us from other young wizards.
It was an absolute mastery that far exceeded what should have been possible for our age group.
This initial gap allowed us to far outpace our peers the moment we stepped into the deeper mysteries of magic.
Likewise, it served as the absolute cornerstone of our current power.”
Isaac pondered Dumbledore’s words with intense focus.
Had he been an ordinary eleven-year-old wizard, he would have been completely baffled by the old man’s abstract phrasing.
This was the legendary riddle-master of Hogwarts, an individual who simply refused to speak in plain terms.
Revealing three parts while burying seven had long since become Dumbledore’s default conversational setting.
However, Isaac was a transmigrator armed with a vast repository of meta-knowledge.
As he slowly digested Dumbledore’s explanation, a powerful sense of familiarity washed over him.
Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald, Lord Voldemort…
Why did the trajectory of these three achieving complete, uncontested dominance in their youth sound so perfectly identical to the concept of the “Invincible Path” found in classical cultivation and fantasy epics?