I, the Dark Lord, will definitely be a good principal!

Malfoy Estate has long since returned to its original purpose.

Since the war ended and the Order of the Phoenix disbanded, the people who used to live here have gradually left.

Now, only Narcissa, Draco, Angel, and Billy remain living here.

Then there are the two house-elves, Pupu and Bailey.

Angell entered the manor, which remained unchanged. White peacocks strolled leisurely in the garden, seemingly unaffected by the events that had just occurred.

Draco received a Quidditch ticket a few days after attending Cho and Cedric's wedding and went abroad to watch the game. Narcissa and Billy, who knew the truth, didn't bother Angor unless they had something to do.

Angell entered his room, which was exactly the same as before, except that everything had been cleaned spotlessly by the house-elves.

Angell came to a portrait. His room was not big, so the portrait was hung directly opposite the bed. Angell sat down on the bed and quietly watched the old man in the portrait sitting at the table writing something.

Time passed quietly, and the person in the portrait finally put down the brush.

He looked up and gazed at Ingres outside the picture frame.

“Angol, it’s been a long time. It’s been almost two months since I last saw you.”

"Yes, two months, teacher."

"So much time has passed, almost two years since the war ended. My dear teacher, have you thought things through?"

Dumbledore looked calmly at Angor and began to tidy up the things on his desk. Only after he had tidied up all the messy items did he raise his head again.

"About a week after the war ended, you hung me in your room."

“That day you sat here just like you are now, looking at me without saying a word. You sat there for a long time, almost all night, until the sun rose before you left.”

Dumbledore narrated calmly.

"About two weeks later, you came here again, and that time you told me that the war was over, and that you, Harry and I killed Voldemort together."

"Harry and I are both dead, only you survived."

“From that moment on, I’ve been thinking about this question. Harry is just a seventh-year student, and you are just a sixteen-year-old. Why did I go to Voldemort with the idea of ​​dying together with him, but bring you along?”

"I quickly figured out why I brought Harry along... He doesn't have Slytherin blood, but he has the power of the Papa Rex, and he can see Voldemort's experiences from his perspective in his dreams."

"Seventeen years ago, when Voldemort used the Killing Curse on Harry but was backfired on by his own spell, his soul split again, and he unintentionally turned Harry into his Horcrux."

"So to kill Voldemort, you have to kill Harry first, which is why Harry died on the battlefield."

“But Angell, I think… the truth you’re asking me to guess is far more complicated than this, or rather, it has nothing to do with this matter at all, right?”

“It’s obvious,” Angell said.

He stood up, walked to the portrait, looked at the person in the portrait, and his eyes showed a rare genuine emotion.

"Teacher, please continue. I really want to hear how much you've thought of now."

"This portrait was left before the founding of the Wizarding Union. I am merely an image that retains the true memories of Dumbledore." The person in the portrait gave a bitter smile.

"I know nothing about what happened afterward, and I don't think I would let you become a principal at this age..."

"I can't imagine what kind of circumstances would lead me to make such a decision."

"Over the course of nearly a year, I made countless ideas, but in the end, I came to only one answer."

"Continue?" Angell looked at the person in the portrait with anticipation.

He was eager to see how much Dumbledore could guess, without knowing anything about what would happen later.

“Angol, there are some things I feel are no longer worth pursuing. Voldemort is dead, and the wizarding world is doing really well now. You have Bailey come here every day to read the newspapers to me, and as the newspapers say, you're doing a great job, aren't you?”

Angell sat down again, looked at the tired expression on the face of the person in the portrait, and smiled with pleasure.

"No, this is absolutely necessary, teacher..."

"My true story is far more fascinating than what the wizarding world knows now, and very few people know my true story."

"It's like an actor putting on a great performance on stage, but the audience sitting in the audience can only see the brilliance of the scene and know nothing about the various techniques and ingenuity involved."

"They are all so ignorant, and I am so bored."

“But you are different, teacher. You are a smart person, and I think you know how to appreciate my art… Please continue. I want to hear how much of the brilliance of my story you can guess with so little information.”

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses, looked intently at Angle, and after a long while, suddenly chuckled.

“You’re right. Anyway, I’m just a portrait, and I’m trapped inside this painting and can’t leave. No one else can enter my frame either. Whatever I guess, it won’t have any effect on you or the current situation in the wizarding world.”

"The only possibility is that you controlled my mind."

"Yes, I would only make the decision to make a child the principal if it were possible under such circumstances."

"The fact that I'm trapped in this picture frame perfectly illustrates this point: you don't want me to communicate with other people because you're afraid they'll find out the truth."

"Am I right, Angell?"

"Yes, that's absolutely right..."

Dumbledore nodded: "Very well, then... let's continue!"

“I don’t know how you controlled my mind, but when I came to this conclusion, I was certain of one thing—you are not as simple as you seem.”

"To be able to control a person's mind silently, it must be a very powerful dark magic, and I happen to know that such magic exists."

"It's a shadow curse that requires blood relatives to use, right?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore nodded again: "Now that I have your definite answer, I can continue my reasoning."

“Aberforth would never cooperate with you to use this curse, so the only person left who could cooperate with you is Ariana. The fact that she is still alive is suspicious. Is this a trap you set for me?”

"Yes." Angel hadn't felt this exhilarated in a long time, as if his hidden Easter egg had been discovered, and finally someone could appreciate his brilliant performance.

"So that confirms it, they started setting a trap for me a long time ago, so we can continue reasoning forward."

"There are many things I'm not actually sure about, but... perhaps you stole the Philosopher's Stone?"

Angor finally couldn't contain himself and burst into laughter. He clapped his hands: "Teacher, I have to admire your ability to deduce things from so long ago, but you really were right. I did steal the Philosopher's Stone, and I killed Lucius. Alright, you can continue—"