Night fell over Hogwarts.
After evening classes concluded, Linus walked alone down the silent corridor.
Oil lamps flickered, casting long shadows against the stone walls.
He moved at an unhurried pace, as if every step were measured to the rhythm of time itself.
Tonight was meant for reflection.
He headed toward the Restricted Section of the library.
The heavy iron door swung open silently at the touch of his magical mark.
Dust and age hung thick in the air, the scent of stacked ancient parchment so palpable one could almost hear the whispers of history.
This was no ordinary visit to read.
One of the real reasons he had returned to Hogwarts was right here: the boundless reservoir of forbidden, sealed knowledge.
Walking among the towering bookshelves, Linus let his thoughts drift far beyond the present.
He was laying the groundwork for the future.
Having been reborn into this world, he possessed advantages he had never held in his past life—memories, knowledge, and foresight into the timeline.
Properly wielded, these assets were more than enough to rewrite the world.
But he understood all too well that the greater the power, the less casually it could be deployed.
The chain of fate was exceedingly fragile.
Rash intervention could trigger a cascade of unintended consequences, or even cause events destined to happen to completely collapse.
And so, he had set rules for himself: Intervene, but never alter the main axis.
Correct, but never subvert.
He would walk through the crevices of time, surgically excising the diseased growths that threatened the future while preserving the bloodline of the story.
At that thought, his eyes settled on a heavy tome.
Silver runes were engraved across its cover: *Nicolas Flamel and Notes on Alchemy*.
He reached out and gently stroked the cover, a rare glint of respect passing through his eyes.
Back then, the research notes shared by Albus Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel had been one of the keys to his breakthrough in alchemy.
At the time, Dumbledore had already sensed his interest in the Dark Arts and soul magic.
Knowing that dissuasion was futile, the Headmaster had chosen guidance instead—quietly passing him these precious alchemical texts.
Linus had always remained grateful for that trust.
Without those materials, he could never have reached the standing of an Alchemical Master in just a few short years.
Opening the notebook, his eyes fell upon the familiar handwriting.
An image of Dumbledore rose in his mind—those eyes, both compassionate and sharp.
“A pity,” Linus murmured softly.
He let out a low sigh.
“I respect you, yet I cannot save you.” He had once considered altering Dumbledore’s fate.
But he had quickly abandoned the idea.
That death was a fulcrum of the timeline.
If he forcibly changed it, everything would spiral out of control.
In his eyes, Dumbledore had to die.
It was not out of hatred, but out of necessity.
If a great man lived forever, the world could never move forward.
And he—Linus—would ultimately be the one to helm the future.
He closed the tome, his expression turning cold and composed.
“Forgive me, Headmaster.
You shouldn’t have to go on bearing this decaying order.” He stepped deeper into the Restricted Section, his footsteps soft, as if even the stone floor below were listening.
Another matter crossed his mind.
Severus Snape and the Resurrection Stone.
He had already instructed Snape never to touch that stone, nor to reveal its existence.
That stone was destined to fall into Harry’s hands in the future, serving as a critical node in the entire timeline.
If Snape wavered due to personal sentiment and retrieved it early, everything would shatter.
He knew the risks, yet he had chosen to trust him nonetheless.
“Snape has his own principles,” he murmured.
“He will understand what that stone means.” After a moment of silence, the corner of his mouth curved up into a faint smile.
There was a stark rationality and coldness behind that smile.
Linus was not Dumbledore.
He would not tolerate anyone who attempted to shake the order he sought to establish.
In his past life, he had endured far too much—shoved toward the abyss by countless hands amidst power, prestige, and lies.
Now, he was no longer a mere mortal who could only gaze up at the wizarding world in awe.
He was a creator, an observer, and the master of the future.
At this, a single phrase surfaced in his mind—the Gate of Worlds.
It was his ultimate objective: to cross dimensions.
He planned to combine magic and technology to open a gateway leading to other realms— A true Gate of All Realms.
But to achieve it, he still needed more.
More resources, more magical samples, and more “events.” Every major event occurring during the seven years at Hogwarts was an opportunity.
The Philosopher’s Stone, the Basilisk, the Goblet of Fire, Horcruxes…
These were not merely fulcrums of the story, but raw material for his experiments.
Especially the fifth year—that would be the core phase of his plan.
He had a hunch that year would decide the success or failure of the Gate of Worlds.
He had to ensure everything progressed according to the timeline.
Even if it meant maintaining it with lies and death, he would spare no cost.
Candlelight flickered between the tall shelves, illuminating his sharp, profound features.
Linus closed the last book, his gaze reaching far into the distance.
“The chessboard of fate is set.” “And I need only make my move at the right moment.” He rose slowly and walked out of the Restricted Section along the row of shelves.
Moonlight streamed through the high windows, casting a long shadow across the floor, Like a straight, cold line piercing into the future.
Linus stepped into the depths of the darkness, a slight smile playing on his lips.
“The story of Hogwarts has only just begun.”