Chapter 109
Professor McGonagall stared at Trelawney in disbelief, her sharp features marked by shock. What she had just heard chilled her to the core.
Dumbledore turned toward the Divination professor, his voice calm yet grave.
"Sybil… are you certain of what you say?"
Trelawney lowered her head, her words faltering.
"Yes… but… I haven't even told you all of what I saw today…"
McGonagall sat down tensely in the chair opposite her, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"If what you're about to say is worse," she muttered, "perhaps it's better left unsaid."
But Dumbledore raised a hand, silencing her gently. His piercing gaze fixed on Trelawney.
"Please, Professor Trelawney. Tell us everything you have seen."
Trelawney shuddered.
"Very well… as you ask."
She wrung her hands, her eyes wide with fear.
"It concerns… a student of mine. His name is… Albert. Albert Black."
At once, Dumbledore's expression shifted, the twinkle in his eyes replaced by grim severity. McGonagall, meanwhile, looked stricken, already shaken by Trelawney's earlier words about Dumbledore's fate.
The Headmaster lowered his head into his hands, a gesture of both thought and burden, while Trelawney continued, her voice trembling.
"When I held the cup… I saw death within it."
McGonagall's head snapped toward her.
"What? Death? Are you saying Albert is destined to die?"
Trelawney gave no verbal reply. She only bowed her head, silently confirming it.
McGonagall gasped, clutching her temples in shock.
Trelawney pressed on, her voice quivering.
"I saw that he will escape death once before… but in the end, he will have no choice. He will intervene to save what he loves most… and in doing so, he will die."
Her eyes glazed with dread as she described the vision further.
"And death… death took the form of a cruel-hearted woman, wielding the unforgivable curse, Avada Kedavra."
Her legs trembled beneath her as she finished, fear flooding every line of her face.
The room fell into a suffocating silence.
At last, Dumbledore stood, his hands clasped behind his back as he paced slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady yet weighted with memory.
"Sybil… do you recall the prophecy you made to me twelve years ago?"
Recognition dawned on her instantly, her face paling even further.
"Yes… Headmaster… I remember."
Dumbledore's tone hardened.
"You foretold that three boys, all born at the end of July 1980, might be the one to vanquish He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And indeed, your words came true. But you also spoke of Albert… you said he would one day be struck down by Avada Kedavra. That can only mean Voldemort will rise again, and Albert will fall at his hand. Am I wrong?"
Trelawney and McGonagall exchanged troubled glances, the weight of his conclusion sinking in.
"But… what is Albert's connection to You-Know-Who?" Trelawney whispered, bewildered.
McGonagall spoke before Dumbledore could answer, her voice steady despite her unease.
"Your prophecy said one of the three would defeat him. And it happened. But if Albus is correct, then the Dark Lord will return, and Albert will be among his targets, along with the others. Which means, Sybil, Albert was one of the children you spoke of all those years ago."
At last, comprehension struck Trelawney. The full meaning of her prophecy unfolded before her eyes. Tears welled, spilling down her cheeks as she cried out:
"No… no, it cannot be! He's just a child! He has done nothing to deserve this. Why must he die?"
McGonagall rose and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore sank back into his chair, lost in thought. He knew, with painful certainty, that Voldemort's return would seal Albert's fate.
But then, after long silence, an idea struck him. His eyes sharpened. He turned toward McGonagall.
"Minerva. I believe we must grant Albert permanent access to that place."
McGonagall's composure shattered. She strode forward, anger flashing in her eyes.
"Absolutely not! We quarreled about this only days ago, and you agreed to limit him to three months! Have you forgotten what lies in the Restricted Section? Books filled with the darkest of magics! He's not even fourteen, one misstep, one cursed tome, and it could destroy him!"
Dumbledore replied firmly.
"There are guards stationed outside. If anything dangerous occurs, they will intervene at once. And you know as well as I do, I am here, always. Should disaster strike, I will be at his side in an instant. More importantly, Albert is no ordinary boy. He is gifted beyond measure. At his age, could you cast a Patronus? Or a Transfiguration charm at his level?"
McGonagall's protest faltered. She could not deny his words.
Indeed, whenever she taught Albert's class, she was astounded by his extraordinary talent, talent that rivaled, perhaps even surpassed, the brilliance she once saw in Tom Riddle.
And as only she and Dumbledore knew, Tom Riddle's genius had been terrifying, unmatched by any student of Hogwarts, save, perhaps, Albert Black.
If McGonagall were to discover that Albert could already perform wandless, wordless spells, she might very well faint on the spot.
For all her youth, McGonagall remembered her own student days, when she had once competed with Tom Riddle, the boy who would become Lord Voldemort, for the title of Hogwarts' brightest prodigy. Time and time again, Riddle had bested her.
And now, with Albert… history might be repeating itself.
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To be continued …