And so he stayed silent, expression unreadable, but every sense alert, listening for anything that might explain what was happening.
"A fair trade," said the real Dumbledore with a faint nod. "You answer one of my questions, and I'll answer one of yours."
The vortex behind the other Dumbledore shimmered softly as the two identical men regarded one another. A quiet authority settled in the air around them. The Dumbledore from the door didn't object. He understood perfectly well that power dictated the terms, and the victor of their last encounter had earned the right to ask first.
"Is it a reset or a cycle?" The real Dumbledore asked slowly. "A resurrection… or a copy?"
He didn't explain the question further. He knew the other would understand exactly what he meant.
"It's convergence," Said the darker Dumbledore after a pause. His fingers tapped his temple lightly. "A gathering."
In his eyes, a strange light flickered, something too vast and too calm to be called madness, yet too alien to be human.
The real Dumbledore studied him in silence, then gave a small nod.
He understood. And whatever answer he had just grasped… it was enough.
"Ah?"
Hermione blinked, completely lost.
Snape, too, frowned deeply, his mind tangled in confusion. Compared to the vast, impossible knowledge that passed between the two Dumbledores, his own understanding felt painfully small.
It wasn't his fault.
Every craft has its limits, and even wizards cannot grasp everything. Snape was still young by the standards of magic, and the strange power bound to that bronze gate was far beyond his reach. The intricate alchemy woven into it was something even he couldn't begin to decipher.
And beneath his frustration lurked a far more dangerous thought…
Was the Dumbledore standing beside him truly the real one?
Or had he also come from that gate?
That doubt gnawed at him, sharp and cold.
Before Snape could find words for it, the Dumbledore from the gate spoke again.
"Tell me," He said quietly, his tone curious but edged with something harder. "How did you do it? In this age?"
His piercing blue eyes fixed on the real Dumbledore, unblinking.
"Do what?"
The real Dumbledore's reply was calm, almost absentminded. His fingers brushed the carved knot on the Elder Wand as he studied the twin wand in his other self's hand.
The sensation was… unsettling. He could feel the connection, an invisible thread that pulsed between both wands as if they were one and the same.
Because in truth, they were.
The Elder Wand, one of the Deathly Hallows, had only ever existed as a single wand. And yet, impossibly, both of them held it.
That realization gave even Albus Dumbledore pause.
"You know exactly what I'm asking… the Legend."
The Dumbledore from the gate sighed softly, his patience thinning. The word hung between them like a challenge. He clearly didn't believe that the other didn't understand. Pretending ignorance was only a way to stall, to think.
"Obviously," The real Dumbledore replied, his tone smooth but deliberate, "you and I… have walked very different paths. There are always people, always moments, that twist fate into something unexpected, wouldn't you agree?"
It was a half-answer, deliberately vague, too vague for Snape or Hermione to follow.
But the Dumbledore from the gate froze, then exhaled a quiet sigh.
"Then you're quite fortunate," He murmured, and this time there was no anger in his voice, only a weary kind of envy.
He turned toward Hermione and Snape.
Hermione felt her vision blur. A strange dizziness pressed behind her eyes, and for a second, she couldn't think at all.
"I see," Whispered Dumbledore from the gate.
Snape's reaction was immediate.
"Get out of my head!" He shouted.
His face had gone ashen. One hand gripped his wand; the other pressed hard against his temple. His black eyes flared with fury.
He knew exactly what had happened.
The Dumbledore from the gate had tried, and failed, to pierce the mind of the real Dumbledore. So instead, he had turned to the next available targets: Snape and Hermione.
For a brief moment, Snape hadn't understood the intrusion. But as soon as he did, his horror hardened into certainty. The Dumbledore before them was not the man he knew.
Because the real Albus Dumbledore… no matter how manipulative or secretive… would never violate another's mind so openly.
The Dumbledore from the gate raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised by Snape's resistance.
But before he could speak again, the real Dumbledore lifted his wand.
"That," he said quietly, his voice cold and absolute, "was a step too far."
The words hung in the air like a spell themselves, soft, but carrying all the weight of judgment.
The intruder stopped at once.
"My apologies," Said the Dumbledore from the bronze door, his voice carrying a faint trace of regret. "It was simply the quickest way to understand."
But Snape wasn't deceived for a moment. He could see through that false remorse, see the cold calculation behind those familiar blue eyes.
"This is violation!" he spat, his lips trembling with fury. His wand shook in his grip as he pointed it toward the other Dumbledore, though he knew the threat was hollow.
"What… what happened?" Hermione stammered, her face pale. "Did he just… get inside our heads? Was he searching through our memories?"
"I was," said the Dumbledore from the gate evenly. "I wanted to know what made you legends."
There was no apology now. Only that calm, measured voice, wrapped in serenity that felt all the more sinister for its composure.
He smiled then, the same kind, knowing smile that Hogwarts students had seen a hundred times before. But this one… this one felt wrong.
Hermione's skin prickled. The warmth was gone, replaced by something hollow and cold, a mockery of the headmaster she trusted.
"You failed for a reason," said the real Dumbledore quietly. His tone was neither mocking nor cruel, just a statement, heavy with understanding.
The other Dumbledore's lips curved.
"Heh."
"Be careful, Albus," he said softly, his eyes glittering with something dark and knowing. "You're not above being discarded yourself. When the time comes… you'll be nothing more than another piece of us."
He turned then, without hesitation, and walked straight toward the bronze gate.
The swirling vortex came alive again, roaring like a storm. Its mist reached out, pulling him in.
In seconds, the figure of the dark Dumbledore was gone, swallowed whole by the twisting chaos.
A deep rumble followed, echoing through the Forbidden Forest… and then silence.
It was as if he had never existed at all.
No new Dumbledore stepped out.
No other figure appeared.
The vortex still turned, but slower now, its motion steady, almost peaceful, like a great beast finally sated.
Still, none of them dared to breathe too deeply. No one knew if it was truly over.
Hermione clutched her wand, eyes fixed on the now-quiet gate. Snape's shoulders remained rigid, the tension in him still coiled tight as a spring.
And beside them, the real Dumbledore simply stood, gazing into the faintly glowing mist.
"Thank you," he murmured.
His voice was soft, almost wistful.
He knew exactly what his counterpart had done, what that ruthless, determined version of himself had offered in the end.
(End of Chapter)
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