Blake picked up the pocket watch and studied it carefully.
It still looked almost new, with barely any trace of age or wear. Clearly, it had been very well cared for.
Yet, no matter how many times Blake examined it, he couldn't find anything unusual.
It seemed to be just an ordinary pocket watch.
Blake traced a finger over the glass face, noting the time: ten minutes past twelve.
Counting back, that matched perfectly with the ten minutes they'd just spent talking and reuniting.
Which meant: when Blake had first opened the Dimensional Door and appeared beside Ariana… it had been exactly twelve noon.
His lips parted as if he wanted to speak aloud, but then he fell silent. Instead, he closed the watch gently and slipped it into his pocket.
He shook his head slightly. Surely he was overthinking—this was just a pocket watch. It couldn't have caused his time travel.
More likely, his future self had travelled back, completed something important, and left the pocket watch with Ariana, instructing her to wait in hiding.
And then, precisely at noon on September 2, 1993, at the Dumbledore family cemetery, she would reunite with her brothers.
Blake silently burned the time and date into his memory.
He raised his head, watching Ariana talking with Aberforth and Dumbledore.
Then a sudden thought struck him, in his own style of thinking: what if his future self was watching them right now from somewhere nearby?
Blake felt the urge to look around using the Eyes of Truth, to see if he could spot himself.
But as soon as the thought formed, a shiver ran down his spine—a sudden, unexplainable sense of danger.
His intuition warned him sharply.
Blake took a deep breath and forced the thought away.
In time travel, even a small mistake or glance might change everything.
Better not to risk it.
He walked quietly up behind Ariana. "Aunt Ariana," he asked, "can you tell me how I'll manage to time travel in the future?"
At this, Aberforth, who had just learned the whole truth, and Dumbledore too, looked at Ariana anxiously. Clearly, they also wanted to know.
Ariana felt their worried gazes, and she smiled softly. "I can't tell you, Blake."
"If I tell you, it could change the course of your time travel," she explained gently.
"But don't worry—your future self knew you'd ask me this."
"He told me to say something to you: 'Let everything take its course.'"
"You mean… don't try to force anything? Just let things unfold naturally?" Blake asked.
Ariana nodded. "Yes. Don't go out of your way to change things."
Then she turned to her brothers. "I know you're both worried about Blake's safety. But really—he'll be fine. When I met him, he hadn't run into any real trouble."
"You two shouldn't do anything differently. Just keep living as you planned."
"Those who should go to school, go to school. Those who should be principals, be principals. And those who should run a pub… keep running it."
Dumbledore and Aberforth both let out quiet sighs of relief.
"Then that's good," Dumbledore said gratefully.
Aberforth wiped away the last of his tears. "Ariana, I'm so glad you're alive… you have no idea how many nights I've cried for you," he murmured. "Come on, come home with me."
"...Aberforth, Ariana should return to Godric's Hollow, to our ancestral home," Dumbledore interjected gently.
"Albus! Are you picking a fight with me again?!" Aberforth flared.
He still held a grudge. It had been Albus and that other fool—Grindelwald—whose fight had almost cost Ariana her life.
"I'm not trying to fight," Dumbledore said sincerely, removing his pointed hat. "I just mean… she should come home. Back to the place she knew."
"You can't really ask her to live behind the Hog's Head Pub…"
Aberforth scowled. "And what's wrong with my place…"
But he paused. Remembering the cluttered, dusty back room where he slept, his voice trailed off.
It wasn't really suitable.
"Aberforth…" Dumbledore's voice grew gentle. "Now that Ariana is safe… do you think we could finally put aside our feud?"
"Oh?" Aberforth's tone turned sharp. "Are you asking me to forgive you?"
"If you want to see it that way… yes." Dumbledore sighed. "What happened back then was my fault. I was young and reckless, and I nearly ruined everything."
"I've regretted it every day. And I've paid the price for decades… alone."
"I'm an old man now, and all I wish for is family. So… can you forgive me?"
Dumbledore spoke honestly, his eyes filled with quiet pain. The loss and sudden return of his sister had opened old wounds, and revealed how deeply he still craved family.
All those years, what he'd truly seen in the Mirror of Erised wasn't thick wool socks, as he'd once joked to Harry. First, long ago, it had shown him Grindelwald.
But after Grindelwald was imprisoned, it had shown his family—Ariana alive, Aberforth beside them.
Now Blake's time travel had given him a second chance.
Yet Aberforth's expression was still cold, decades of resentment etched deep.
"Aberforth… please," Ariana whispered, taking his hand.
Aberforth glanced at her—and his anger melted.
She was alive, and she was asking him herself.
"I've seen how miserable you've been, Albus," Aberforth grumbled. "And yes—you deserved it!"
"But… since Ariana says so… let's forget it."
"That's wonderful!" Ariana exclaimed, smiling brightly.
"Thank you… Aberforth," Dumbledore said gratefully.
"Now that we've settled that… why not move back to Godric's Hollow?" Dumbledore suggested gently.
"Forget it!" Aberforth retorted. "It's too far from my pub!"
"I could arrange a Floo network between your pub and the house," Dumbledore offered quickly. "You could commute each day by fireplace. You know I can do it."
"You…!" Aberforth was speechless.
Dumbledore, always so proper, was now bending rules for family.
Ariana tugged Aberforth's sleeve gently. "Brother, it would feel rude to refuse now."
Blake's ears perked up. That phrase—"it would feel rude to refuse"—felt oddly familiar. Exactly something he himself would say.
He wondered if, in the future, he had spent a long time with Aunt Ariana, teaching her some of his habits.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore had wrapped Aberforth in a hug.
Aberforth, stiff at first, didn't push him away.
When Blake finally returned to Hogwarts, it was already five in the afternoon.
Before he could catch his breath, Professor McGonagall hauled him into her office.
Only then did he remember: he had left so early that morning, he hadn't picked up his class schedule.
Which meant… he'd "accidentally" skipped two Herbology classes and two Transfiguration classes.
Professor McGonagall looked ready to deduct points, give detention, or worse.
But Blake, quick-witted as ever, mentioned Dumbledore before she could scold him.
He simply said he'd been helping Dumbledore with something important.
He couldn't explain what, and if McGonagall wanted details, she'd have to ask the Headmaster herself.
Reluctantly, she let him go.
Blake then hurried to see Professor Sprout, his Head of House.
He explained there too. Sprout didn't scold him.
To her, Blake had always been a good, hard-working student.
(Snape: "Doesn't miss school? Say that to my face, I dare you!")
Sprout just asked Blake to let her know if anything like this happened again.
She even asked if she could help.
Then she told him to go have dinner.
Blake stepped out, sighing softly. At least his Head of House really cared.
Now that he thought about it, he was hungry.
It had been a busy day—opening Dimensional Doors, helping reunite a family, and even cleaning rooms for Aunt Ariana and Uncle Aberforth.
Three adults chatting happily in the living room, and he was the only one scrubbing floors!
And of course, Ariana herself had asked him—three votes against one, and he'd lost.
She'd even requested changes to her room, and Blake had to handle them with Transfiguration.
Luckily, Dobby and Baker, two house elves, had come to help.
Without them, Blake would still be cleaning.
He hadn't even eaten lunch.
And that old man Dumbledore—so happy to see his sister, he forgot Blake existed!
Muttering under his breath, Blake finally reached the Great Hall.
Students were already dining.
Blake headed straight for Hufflepuff's table, missing Hermione's confused look from Gryffindor's table.
He sat and started eating immediately, as though he could devour an entire cow.
Hermione, now sitting closer, turned to him.
"You missed all your classes today!" she whispered. "Professor McGonagall was furious! No one dares skip her class! What were you doing?"
Blake, still chewing a chicken drumstick, replied, "It's a secret, Hermione. I can't tell you."
"Hmph… fine! Don't tell me!" she snapped, a bit hurt. "Anyway, it's your house points!"
Blake swallowed. "They won't deduct points. I explained it."
Hermione tapped him lightly with her book. "Can you stop just eating?"
Blake looked at her, half-laughing. "At least let me finish… it's dinner time, after all. I haven't eaten all day."
Hermione's irritation faded. "You skipped meals too?"
Seeing Blake about to speak again, she raised a hand. "Forget it. Just eat."
She handed him a glass of pumpkin juice and turned back to her book, quietly keeping him company.
=============
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