Momonga's chamber was adorned with opulent furnishings, while the floor was laid with a vibrant red carpet. This expansive room was typically shrouded in a delicate veil of silence, and today it was even more hushed than usual. The maid who usually attended to him was conspicuously absent. The only occupants were Momonga and the small infant cradled in his arms.
Momonga spoke in a weary voice, "So, how do I deal with this child?"
There were numerous issues he needed to address immediately, but tending to the child took precedence. On a whim, he had rescued the infant and brought him to Nazarick. In the past, when this was merely a game, the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick had seldom hosted anyone beyond the guild members. The guild never forbade inviting others; it was simply that no one had considered it. At most, they had occasionally invited the little sister of the guild member Yamaiko — whose Player name was Akemi-chan.
'Which is why my friends ought to have no issue with me bringing this child. Invaders are different from guests.'
Momonga then turned his head to the boy , who stared back at him with emerald green eyes. 'Now that's been settled, how long should I keep this child in Nazarick? Even though his parents are dead, he must have other relatives — an aunt or uncle perhaps...'
After pondering for a moment, the Overlord used [Message] to contact the Commander of NPC defenses.
"[Demiurge..]"
"[Momonga-sama. It is a great honour to receive your message. How may I be of service to you?]"
Momonga, still not accustomed to such polite and deferential greetings, found himself momentarily spacing out.
"[Is something wrong, Supreme One?]" When no response came from his master, Demiurge inquired with concern.
"Umu... I believe Albedo has already informed you of my current actions. I want you to look into the child's background and, while you're at it, learn all you can about this world. Every piece of knowledge could be crucial. Use the stealth units already present in the village. If they are insufficient, contact me. However, secrecy is of utmost importance."
"[Understood, Momonga-sama. Your will is our command.]"
As Momonga terminated the [ Message ] spell, the little boy, after getting bored with no one to interact with, started crying.
"Uuh-Uuh–UWAAHHH!!"
'Oh..Ahh.. W-What do I do!?' Seeing the little infant bawling his eyes out, Momonga couldn't think of anything.'What would Yamaiko-san do!?
Yamaiko, one of the three female guild members of Ainz Ooal Gown, often expressed her fondness for children, considering them treasures to be educated, protected, and cared for.
'—Ahh! I am getting distracted again. Why is this child crying? Is it hungry? What do children even eat? I don't have any nutritional fluids. Wait, don't babies need something called baby formula? I recall Yamaiko-san mentioning that mothers who couldn't lactate due to health issues or other reasons fed their babies Baby Formula…'
"Hmm—, Milk!!"
At Momonga's abrupt exclamation, the baby's cries grew even louder.
"Yeah–Yeah. I got it. Be quiet."
Momonga chided the kid before retrieving Auðumbla's Milk, of which he had an unreasonable amount for reasons even he couldn't recall. As the little one drank the milk, it began to calm down.
'Now then, I have many other duties to attend to. Who should I entrust this child to? Hmm... I remember Tabula-san created one of Albedo's sisters to be very caring towards infants.' Momonga, recalling the grotesque appearance of a woman with no facial skin and giant scissors in hand, quickly rejected the idea.
'Wouldn't she frighten the child into seeking his parents beyond? What about Albedo?' The thought of an enraged woman wielding a Bardiache made him quickly reject her.
'Shalltear? With those kinks and fetishes— No Way!' Recollecting the questionable content from Peroronchino's character design for Shalltear, Momonga swiftly ruled her out.
'Demiurge, with his demonic nature, is also a No-Go. Cocytus? But children are prone to catching colds easily. Aura and Mare are too young. Sebas and Pestoniya have numerous responsibilities as well. For now…'
X
Albus Dumbledore appeared at the corner of number four, Privet Drive, as if he had emerged from the earth itself, his arrival sudden and silent. The great wizard didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.
He was engrossed in rummaging through his cloak, searching for something. Despite his preoccupation, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched and looked up sharply, his gaze meeting that of the cat lingering at the other end of the street. There was a hint of amusement in his expression as he chuckled softly and muttered, "I should have known."
After extinguishing all the street lamps with his Put-Outer, he slipped the device back into his cloak and proceeded down the street towards number four. There, he settled onto the wall beside the cat. Though he didn't look at it, after a moment, he spoke.
"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."
He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had vanished. Instead, he found himself smiling at a rather stern-looking woman wearing square glasses that perfectly matched the markings around the cat's eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun, and she appeared distinctly ruffled.
"Professor Dumbledore... Is it true? The rumours everyone is speaking of? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?" she asked anxiously, worry etched across her face. It was clear that whatever "everyone" was saying, she wouldn't believe it until Dumbledore confirmed.
Dumbledore, however, was staring into the distance and did not answer.
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."
Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.
"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."
Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' son, Harry. But — he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."
Dumbledore nodded glumly.
"It's — it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all things to stop him... but where on earth did Harry vanish?"
"We are doing our best," said Dumbledore. "But so far, our efforts have yielded no results."
Dumbledore took out a golden watch from his pocket and examined it.
"Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"
"Yes," replied Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"
"I've come to deliver the news of the Potters to their (still) living family."
"A letter?" Professor McGonagall echoed faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. They will never understand the Potters' sacrifice!"
"It is still their right to know," Dumbledore said firmly.
Just then, a low rumbling sound shattered the silence enveloping them. It intensified steadily as they scanned the street for any indication of headlights; it crescendoed into a roar as their gazes shifted upwards at the sky — and a massive motorcycle descended from the air, landing on the road before them.
"Hagrid," Dumbledore exclaimed, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"
"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," the giant replied, cautiously dismounting from the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me."
"Did you uncover any clues?" Dumbledore inquired.
"No, sir — the house was almost destroyed, I couldn't find any clues until the end, and then the Muggles started swarmin' around…"
"Understandable. You did your best," Dumbledore replied with a reassuring nod.
"H-However, sir — while I was there, I felt like I — I saw some strange shadows moving about," Hagrid continued, his gaze darting around as if searching for something. "A-And it feels like someone's constantly watchin' me since I left that place."
At those words, Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with intensity.
"Are you sure it wasn't just one of your pets?" Professor McGonagall inquired.
"I am sure — Most probably?"
"Very well," Dumbledore said at last. "There's nothing more for us here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."
"Yeah," said Hagrid in a muffled voice, "I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."
Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar, it rose into the air and disappeared into the night.
"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. After relighting the street lamps with his Put-Outer, he turned on his heel and, with a swish of his cloak, vanished.
At that very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were raising their glasses and saying in hushed voices, "To Harry Potter — the boy who vanished!"