"How's the effect?"
A gentle voice rang out not far away.
At some unknown time, Dumbledore's figure appeared at the end of the corridor, his blue eyes behind the half-moon glasses gazing at William. With his purple wizard's pointed hat and cloak, and the white beard draped outside, Old Bee looked like an eggplant coated in garlic.
William, who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, opened them and smirked, "The effect is exceptional; I reckon if we continue for another two or three days, dear 'Divine Envoy' sir might tell us tales from Mount Olympus as a bedtime story instead—though that's Odin's series of myths, got mixed up—sorry, perhaps tales of Mount Olympus' romantic escapades."
With that, William got up and walked upstairs alongside Dumbledore, "However, the faster he pleads, the more cautious we should be. After all, he's a seasoned old trickster, with even one lie among nine truths being deadly."
"Indeed."
For some reason, Dumbledore nodded in agreement, "A soul that's lived for a millennium on earth might be far more cunning than we imagine—so, has he revealed any valuable clues? Even fragments would suffice."
"I haven't asked at all, as he probably thinks I'm simply trying to torment him..."
"...So, is that your intention?"
"...Ahem, you said it yourself, these ancient beings are smart, or they'd have died in some forgotten corner long ago."
Exposed by the truth, William coughed twice and quickly shifted the topic, "Even though he hasn't said anything, I've deduced a few things—the role of Voldemort's Soul Artifact in those gods' 'plan' is probably just as a 'tool', since he has no bargaining power—about Tom's uniqueness, I actually have a few guesses..."
"What are they?"
"...No, I'm not quite sure yet; some things need verification."
"...Are you simply wanting to be a Riddler?"
"I remember my Occlumency is well-practiced?"
"..."
Dumbledore chuckled, acknowledging William's retaliatory behavior—yes, the old man knew that essentially, this guy was simply recalling the early days of their acquaintance, when hedging on his status as headmaster, he'd often ambiguously play the Riddler in front of William—though two and a half years have passed, still, it's never too late for revenge.
"By the way, there's actually something interesting—the gods truly have 'lived' from mythical times to now."
William wiggled his finger, pulling the reminiscing Dumbledore back into their conversation, "However, their method of immortality isn't through Soul Artifacts but transforming themselves into statues, thus escaping the erosion of time—their lives remain fundamentally finite, yet can somewhat become infinite."
"Statues?"
Dumbledore asked with curiosity.
"Yes, it's like hiding in a shell, blocking all external perception to extend life—"
William nodded, elaborating on the gods' method.
"Why would they do this? Such immortality seems utterly meaningless..."
Dumbledore appeared more puzzled, evidently, to the hundred-year-old man, William's description of 'immortality' seemed utterly meaningless.
"According to Helbo, they're weary of that era filled with beasts and raw living, not to mention some old fellows didn't want to die, wanting to see the future world; thus, they turned themselves into time capsules, waiting for future people to uncover them—of course, one might ask, what if no one ever releases them?"
Seeing Dumbledore nod, William smiled as both were now descending the automatic staircase within the Headmaster's Office, seated in high-backed chairs across from the headmaster's desk, William sipping red tea sent from Hogwarts Kitchen, continuing, "Divine Envoy—that's its purpose."
"I see—waiting for a suitable era, then let Helbo awaken them from the time capsule—"
"No, no no no, you've misunderstood the temporal order, Helbo himself wasn't an immortal then, merely ostracized by others, not included in their slumber. Their original plan was to have Hermes impart the awakening method to his future descendants."
"And then..."
"Yes, and then, they clearly underestimated Helbo's capability; the crafty one didn't adhere to rules, appearing docile and obedient, but behind the scenes, he single-handedly researched Soul Artifacts, turning himself into the bearer of a ghastly kind of magic, prolonging his life forcibly, and betrayed those who had ostracized him.
"In fact, if these wizards wanted a comfortable life after awakening, the Middle Ages would certainly be an ideal choice."
"People were ignorant, generally superstitious, yet social productivity had started improving, wizards hadn't yet grouped together for warmth, and the Wizarding Secrecy Law hadn't even budded."
"If they woke up then, for those used to pretending to be divine mystics, founding a nation, revealing themselves, would be effortlessly easy—but just like that, historical course change often hinges on someone's whim."
"Terrifying, isn't it?"
Dumbledore drank some hot cocoa with a double dose of sugar, calmed down, evidently visualizing the scene William described, a country or world ruled by ancient wizards... those antiques waking from societies of slavery or even earlier times...
It's hard to fathom what world they'd create, but it certainly wouldn't be as good as now.
"But, according to you, should we actually be thanking Mr. Helbo?"
"Haha, do you think an ancient creature who lived from before the Common Era can harbour any noble intent? His goal was also to unite the world, yet humanity's progression outpaced his grasp before he could fully develop and exert himself—"
"First with the establishment of the Wizarding Secrecy Law, he couldn't expose himself without opposing the International Wizarding World..."
"And then, with Muggle development speed, the advent of airplanes, cannons... wait, is your night chat exclusive?
Grindelwald sat down next to Dumbledore, the old man reached over for his mug, sampling it only to grimace from the excessively sugary cocoa, "Wait, Albus, how much... cough cough, sugar did you put in?"
"Just a bit."
Dumbledore smiled gently, gesturing with a hand motion that could provoke Koreans.