As those fanatical words were spoken, the scene shifted to a specific moment in time. That day seemed to shift backward once more.
Under an ink-black night sky heavy with oppressive clouds, the air was thick with dampness and the stench of death. Inside the Dumbledore Family cottage, candlelight flickered, and Ariana's screams tore through the night's silence.
"Is it happening again?!" Albus Dumbledore thought as he rushed into his younger sister's room.
"I should have agreed to that deal. We have no other choice, Ariana. Don't be stubborn. Everything is for you and for our family."
The young Dumbledore saw his sister's body levitating in the air, surrounded by violent currents of chaotic magic. Furniture shattered under an invisible force, and cracks spread across the walls.
"She can't hold on. We've tried everything. The magic inside her is too unstable, like a storm tearing apart her soul."
Aberforth was thrown to the floor, blood streaming down his forehead.
"I won't accept this! I won't watch her die!" The young Dumbledore refused to accept this ending.
Just then, a shadow slowly emerged from the corner as if stepping out of the void itself. It had no face, only two bottomless eye sockets. Its voice was low and icy.
"She won't survive the night."
The hoarse voice sent chills down Albus's spine.
Albus spun around, his wand raised toward the figure, a tall, thin silhouette draped in a tattered black robe. Beneath the hood, there was no face, only swirling darkness like the abyss itself.
"Death God…"
Albus's voice tightened with fear.
"Yes, you may call me Death God." The shadow let out a low chuckle, a sound like the wailing of countless lost souls. "You already know the solution. You know I can save her."
"Only... at a very high cost."
The Death God manifested by the illusion spoke softly.
Dumbledore's expression twisted with conflict.
"A million souls... I know. I've already found the method. But Ariana...'
From the conversation, one thing was clear.
Ariana rejected Dumbledore's proposed trade. She didn't want to trade one million souls for her life.
Watching this scene in a daze, the elderly Dumbledore felt tears slide down his withered face.
In his heart, he knew that this truly was the choice Ariana would have made.
"Don't concern yourself with what she thinks. What she wants has nothing to do with what you choose. If she dies, her opinion becomes meaningless. I am already here. I can take her life at any moment." The Death God spoke calmly.
The young Dumbledore fell into despair.
"Don't make me watch anymore. Please, don't make me keep watching this." The elderly Dumbledore knelt amid the scene displayed by the bronze door, his heart shaken by these visions again and again.
He watched his younger self and the moment of sacrifice. Silence swallowed everything. No one was there to comfort him, just as in the original timeline when he was forced to drink the potion with no Harry Potter beside him to offer an antidote.
And now he understood. If he had faced such a moment back then, how the scales would have tipped.
Sure enough—
"One million souls...?" The young Dumbledore gritted his teeth and something flickered in his eyes.
"Yes," The Death God replied. "You may acquire them by any means... war, plague, magic. As long as you fulfill the contract, she will continue to live."
The room fell into a deathlike silence.
Aberforth looked at his brother in terror as he spoke. "Albus, are you listening and even considering this? He said one million souls! Do you know how many families that would destroy?!"
Clearly, Aberforth was still sane.
However the young Albus Dumbledore's expression had already changed, shifting from grief to resolve and finally to coldness.
Albus's pupils contracted sharply.
"Deal." He spoke without hesitation.
In that instant, the Death God extended a hand and touched Ariana's forehead with a fingertip. Her body jerked violently, then suddenly calmed. Her breathing steadied, and a long-lost flush of life returned to her cheeks.
"She will live," The Death God murmured. "But your soul is no longer your own."
The shadow of the Death God vanished after saying that and only the empty, hollow gaze of young Albus was left behind.
"This was absolutely not a wise choice," The elderly Dumbledore muttered as he watched the scene... illusory yet painfully real. But he knew that his younger self might have chosen the same.
After all, this was a price far more precious to him than a million souls.
Illusions are not frightening.
What is frightening is the truth they reveal.
…
The scene shifted again.
Ten years passed.
Dumbledore witnessed Ariana's life after she regained her health.
She had learned simple charms, and her face was constantly lit with happiness. But Dumbledore knew that behind that smile was a pain that could never be spoken.
"Brother, I'm so happy. Thank you for saving me." In the dreamscape, Ariana dove into his arms while speaking to him in a bright and clear voice.
"Ariana...as long as you're healthy and happy." Young Dumbledore gently stroked her hair, but his eyes were filled with guilt.
By now, Albus Dumbledore had become the youngest professor of Charms at Hogwarts. He was talented, elegant, and adored by his students. Yet inside, there was no longer light, only a path leading straight into the abyss.
At night, he worked alone in his office, studying ancient, forbidden magic and searching for more efficient ways to harvest souls.
"You know the time has come." The voice of the Death God whispered in his ear.
"I know," Albus replied coldly. "But I still need more time."
"You've delayed long enough." The Death God warned. Its form existed in a space only Dumbledore could perceive. "You still owe me nine hundred ninety-nine thousand souls."
"I will finish it." Dumbledore lifted his head, his gaze icy, utterly different from the wizard the real world believed him to be. "I promise you."
The Death God faded away in satisfaction, with a indifference glint reflected in his pupils.
Meanwhile, his friend Gellert Grindelwald was inciting a revolution across Europe. He advocated for a world ruled by wizards, where magic would reign supreme. At first, Albus supported Grindelwald, even offering him theoretical guidance.
However, during a late-night conversation, Grindelwald noticed a change in Albus.
"You've changed," Grindelwald said with a frown. "You used to speak of love, freedom, and peace. Now, the way you talk... you sound like a judge passing sentence."
Albus fell silent, then chuckled softly before speaking. "Perhaps I really have changed."
"What exactly have you done?" Grindelwald pressed.
"Nothing," Albus said as he rose and walked toward the window. "Just... some necessary things."
Grindelwald stared at him for a long time before finally shaking his head with a sigh. "I once believed that we would change the world together. But now, I'm beginning to doubt whether you are worthy of that ideal anymore."
In that moment, their friendship shattered completely.
…
Time continued to pass.
The thirty-three-year-old Dumbledore stood at the edge of a trench, gazing at the smoke-filled battlefield in the distance. His black robes snapped in the wind, and the highest honor of the International Confederation of Wizards gleamed on his chest.
"How many are needed today?" Dumbledore asked softly.
He no longer bothered to ask how many more souls he still owed.
It was as if he had grown accustomed to such a life.
"Five thousand," The Death God whispered in his ear. "A Muggle war is the best harvest."
Albus raised his old wand and chanted a spell never recorded in any book of magic.
"Soul Abyss Conveyance."
It was one of the powers granted to him by the Death God.
Yes, it was a power granted to him for his years of service.
At least, he believed they were gifts.
As the magic activated, every dying soldier on the battlefield froze in place in an instant.
Their souls were pulled from their bodies by invisible chains, turning into ghostly blue motes that gathered into a roaring river of souls.
The torrent surged into the silver coin in Albus's hand.
"Brother?"
A clear voice sounded behind him. Albus quickly concealed the coin, turned around, and smiled gently.
Ariana stood behind him. At seventeen years old, she was graceful and radiant, her golden hair fluttering in the wind. Her magic had long stabilized, and she had become the youngest healer at the Ministry of Magic.
"It's time to go home," Albus said softly as he took her hand.
Ariana nodded and smiled brightly, unaware of the five thousand soldiers who had just died on the distant battlefield. Clearly, the Ariana healed by the Death God had also been deeply influenced.
Only, the young Dumbledore within this vision didn't notice it.
Or rather... He didn't want to notice it?
"Enough! Stop this at once!" The elderly Dumbledore had finally seen something he could not bear. But his shout could not affect the bronze door's workings.
The door seemed intent on tearing his heart apart, piece by piece.
…
Another shift.
Grindelwald stood atop a tall tower. His flowing hair whipped wildly in the storm winds, and his eyes burned with fury. He stared at his old friend, his voice filled with thunderous rage.
"Albus! Are you insane?!" He roared. "You're slaughtering innocent people! Not just Muggles... wizards, too! What in Merlin's name are you trying to accomplish?"
In this scene, it almost looked as though Grindelwald had become the righteous one. When the good fall completely into darkness, the former villain may very well become the one who will save everyone.
One had to admit that this was a deeply ironic twist.
The current scene made it appear as though Grindelwald was on the side of justice, while Dumbledore stood expressionless, the tip of his old wand glowing with ominous black light.
He had become the Dark Lord.
And he was a far more terrifying and dreadful Dark Lord than any before him.
"I have no choice, Gellert." Dumbledore's voice carried no emotion as he spoke, it was as if he were merely stating a formality. At this point, his heart was colder than Tom Riddle's ever was.
Tom simply did not understand love.
But Dumbledore had already lost almost all emotion.
"You do have a choice!" Grindelwald's voice was almost pleading. "We can fight it together! I know it all began because of the deal you shouldn't have made when you were young!"
At that moment, Grindelwald was willing to challenge the Death God for Dumbledore's sake. A flicker of hesitation flashed in Albus's eyes.
A second later, however, the Death God's voice exploded in his mind: "You know the price of breaking the contract."
The threat pierced straight into his soul. Dumbledore knew exactly what that price was: 'His younger sister's life.'
Ariana's smiling face surfaced before his eyes.
At that thought, Dumbledore raised his wand once more.
"Avada Kedavra!"
In that instant, a burst of green light pierced Grindelwald's chest.
The man who, in the original timeline, should have become the Dark Lord but, in this twisted timeline, had become the hope of wizards, fell with no hatred in his eyes, only profound sorrow.
"Did you really think you saved her?" His soul was swallowed by the silver coin in young Dumbledore's hand, becoming the millionth soul Albus had harvested.
However...
Was the contract truly over?
Dumbledore stood atop the tower, gazing out toward the distant Forbidden Forest. His right hand was completely blackened as if consumed by some creeping darkness.
Naturally... it came from the coin that had carried all those souls.
"Yes, the contract is complete," Whispered the Death God beside him, his voice brimming with satisfaction. "One million souls. Not one missing."
Dumbledore said nothing, only lowering his gaze to the silver coin, which was now shrouded in swirling black mist. It was terrifying beyond measure and contained countless struggling souls trapped within.
"Now, Ariana belongs to you forever." The Death God chuckled softly as he accepted the coin. Yet the darkness that had corroded Dumbledore's arm did not fade; it lingered upon him.
"And you belong to me forever."
The Death God's voice was merciless.
Dumbledore slowly closed his eyes.
The vision shifted again and again.
Dumbledore's entire life flashed before him like a lantern slide. He saw his future achievements as Headmaster of Hogwarts, the brilliant students he taught, and the immense contributions he made to the wizarding world. But behind all that glory... was the deepening chain linking him to the Death God, and the soul that was slowly being devoured.
This timeline's Dumbledore aged.
For years, he struggled to break free of the Death God's control.
Yet... He could never escape the shadow-like shackles.
The old man clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms, and blood dripped onto the floor.
"I would pay any price if only I could change all of this..." Dumbledore whispered desperately. At that moment, he felt like a bird trapped in a cage, no matter how much he struggled, he could never break through the invisible bars.
The Death God's voice echoed again: "Her life was mine to restore. As long as she lives, your soul will forever belong to me."
Along with these words, Ariana appeared... old, frail, and hollow-eyed, looking little more than a walking corpse.
And being very old.
Yet she was still barely alive.
The Death God would not allow her to die.
"No!"
This was not the Dumbledore inside the vision. It was the elder Dumbledore himself.
He raised his old wand, intending to shatter everything around him. Little did he know that this very action dragged him deeper into the abyss.
It was a trap... one link pulling into the next.
…
While Dumbledore struggled against the Bronze Gate…
At the same time… in that half-real timeline…
Ian had already found the group he was searching for.
(End of Chapter)
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