"Let's go to Aberforth!" Dumbledore said, his voice brimming with sudden excitement.
He remembered that Aberforth had an oil painting of Ariana. And if Ariana was truly alive, surely she'd also want to see Aberforth.
"Okay… I'll let him know first," Blake nodded.
He drew his wand, and with practiced ease, cast a Patronus Charm.
A pure white phoenix leapt from his wand and soared gracefully out the window.
Fox, perched nearby, tilted his head, startled to see that Blake's Patronus was also a phoenix.
Dumbledore, too, paused in mild surprise. "Your patronus…"
"Well, as you can see, it's also a phoenix," Blake admitted, scratching his head a little shyly.
A genuine smile crossed Dumbledore's face. "Alright," he said warmly.
It pleased him to see Blake's Patronus take the form of a phoenix. If this boy had instead followed Grindelwald… well, Grindelwald couldn't even conjure a Patronus.
While Dumbledore reflected on this, another Patronus appeared: a pure white goat, which jumped neatly onto Dumbledore's desk. In Aberforth's familiar voice, it spoke:
"Qi San San, come here!"
Then the goat dissipated into silver mist.
Blake gave Dumbledore a small nod, then opened a Dimensional Door, drawing a glowing circle in the air. Beyond it lay Aberforth's private room behind the Hog's Head Inn.
Blake had been there before, so he could open the door directly.
Dumbledore and Blake stepped through together.
Aberforth was already waiting by the sofa, arms crossed.
"Why are you two in such a hurry to see me?" Aberforth asked, frowning. Their solemn faces made it obvious something serious had happened.
Blake had only said through his Patronus that it was important, not what it was.
"We need to go somewhere," Blake said, "and I hope you'll come too, Uncle Aberforth."
Aberforth glanced out toward the tavern. "What's going on?"
"No time to explain fully," Dumbledore urged. "We can talk on the way."
"Alright…" Aberforth grumbled. He stepped out, spoke quickly to a regular to keep an eye on the bar, then returned.
While Aberforth handled things, Blake turned to study Ariana's oil painting hanging on the wall.
Ariana, painted as a young woman, smiled shyly at Dumbledore. Then, noticing Blake's intense gaze, she turned her head, her expression softening.
Blake smiled faintly. He memorized every detail of Ariana's face.
"Alright… where are we going?" Aberforth asked, arms akimbo. "But let's be quick. I've got goats to feed later."
Dumbledore turned to Blake, trusting him entirely. All hope now rested on Blake's magic.
Blake closed his eyes, wand in hand, and traced slow, deliberate circles in the air.
This was the first time since learning the Supreme Magic that he'd opened the Dimensional Door so seriously.
"Stab it!" came the sound of sparks flying.
That familiar noise had echoed in their ears many times before, but today, it felt electric with hope.
The door was opening. Which meant—they'd found someone!
Dumbledore's heart thudded in his chest, caught between hope and fear: what if Blake had found the wrong person?
But the gate fully formed at last.
Blake stepped forward first, with Dumbledore close behind. Aberforth, though still bewildered, followed.
"What is this place…" Aberforth murmured, looking around.
Then recognition dawned. "This… this is our family's cemetery," Aberforth said, his voice low.
"Blake, why did you bring us here?" he demanded.
Dumbledore whispered, "Of course… we came to see Ariana…"
Then his words died in his throat.
His eyes widened, his breath caught, and raw, indescribable joy flooded his face.
Aberforth let out a skeptical snort. "So now you finally come to see Ariana!" he muttered.
"Since she died, you've hardly—ah…"
Aberforth's complaint cut off suddenly.
He stopped, frozen, staring ahead, eyes wide like a man who'd seen a ghost.
There, sitting before a weathered tombstone with her back to them, was a woman.
She wore a long black cloak, the hood drawn low. In her slender hand, she held a pocket watch, glancing at it calmly.
"It's time," the woman murmured to herself.
She lowered the watch, slowly turned, and pulled back her hood.
Long, pale golden hair spilled over her shoulders.
"You're right on time…" she said softly.
"Ariana…" Aberforth gasped, his voice shaking.
He stumbled forward, as though afraid that moving too quickly would shatter the moment like glass.
"You're supposed to be dead… I buried you myself… Am I… am I dreaming?"
"You're not dreaming," Ariana assured him gently, tears shining in her blue eyes.
Compared to Aberforth and Dumbledore, both now aged and silver-haired, Ariana looked like she had just left Hogwarts.
"But how…" Aberforth whispered hoarsely. "Even if you survived, why are you still so young? Are you… a ghost?"
Ariana stepped closer, her eyes tender.
She took Aberforth's hand in hers, then reached for Dumbledore's too.
"Feel this?" she asked softly. "My warmth."
Aberforth's breath caught.
"Yes! You're alive! You're truly alive!" he shouted, tears streaming down his weathered face. He laughed and cried all at once, jumping in place like an overgrown child.
Dumbledore, who still held Ariana's other hand, was speechless.
This warmth was real. This was no illusion.
His voice cracked. "Ariana… thank Merlin… you really didn't die…"
His calm mask shattered completely.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… that day, I never meant… if I could go back…"
"You don't know… I've regretted it every day…"
He spoke without stopping, his usually composed demeanor replaced by raw emotion.
Blake stood silently nearby, watching the three siblings, their faces wet with tears and smiles.
His gaze shifted to Ariana's hand.
There—on her finger—gleamed a ring.
A sudden surge ran through Blake's own hidden ring, the Supreme Lord of the Rings.
That ring on Ariana's hand—it was also a Ring of Power.
Yet Blake had no memory of making it.
Which could only mean… it came from his future self.
"So it really was me," Blake murmured to himself.
"This is exactly what I would've done…"
A sigh escaped him.
"But how many times in the future will I travel through time? It feels like I'm everywhere…"
A pang of unease twisted in his chest.
"If I never manage to return… I'd never see Cassandra or the others again…"
The unknown—that was what truly frightened him.
Blake frowned, thoughts turning dark.
"Blake," a gentle voice called.
He looked up, startled.
Ariana now stood before him, smiling softly.
"Nice to see you again," she said—and hugged him.
"Um… Ariana… Auntie," Blake said, awkwardly returning the embrace.
Ariana stepped back, laughing quietly.
"You look less fierce now than you did then."
"Eh? I was fierce back then?" Blake scratched his head, embarrassed.
"I hope… in the future, I won't do anything too extreme," he muttered.
"You were only trying to save me," Ariana said gently. "I could never blame you."
She pressed something into Blake's hand.
He looked down.
It was the pocket watch she'd held moments ago.
"It's time to return this," she whispered. "As you once said: 'this is reincarnation.'"
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