"If you fight him, what will happen?" Theseus asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Dumbledore didn't speak. He simply raised his hand, fingers trembling slightly.
"You must admit, it's beautiful," he said softly. "If one tries to violate it..."
The blood pact on his wrist began to emit a crimson glow, pulsing like a living heartbeat.
With a sharp whoosh, the blood pact tore itself from his hand and flew toward the wall, drawn inexorably in Grindelwald's direction.
At the same moment, ethereal chains began spreading from Dumbledore's hand, crawling across his entire body like serpents of light.
"You see, it will know," Dumbledore said, his voice strained.
The chains tightened around his hand with crushing force, causing his wand to clatter to the floor.
"Albus!" Newt reached out desperately.
"Look, it can sense the betrayal in my heart," Dumbledore said, his expression twisted with anguish—though whether mourning Grindelwald or himself remained unclear.
"Albus!" Newt's anxiety escalated as the chains spread faster.
They had already reached Dumbledore's neck, wrapping tightly around his throat like a noose.
A hand reached out from behind him and pressed firmly against his back.
Silver threads materialised, taking control of the blood pact's chains while simultaneously suppressing the turmoil raging in Dumbledore's heart.
The blood pact flew back into Dumbledore's hand, and the chains dissipated into wisps of smoke.
"This is already the lightest consequence!" Dumbledore turned back to face Newt, his eyes haunted. "Although this is young people's magic, you've seen it—powerful magic, irrevocable."
Dumbledore walked forward slowly, staring at his sister's portrait in silent contemplation.
"You can't do anything either?" Theseus cast his gaze toward Aiden, hope flickering in his eyes.
"People from the main Prewett family have all been here. What can I, a magic novice, do?" Aiden shrugged with deliberate casualness.
"Besides, this thing isn't ordinary. You two invoked the power of the Mirror of Erised, right?" Aiden looked at Dumbledore with a knowing gaze.
"The weight of a pure-blood family's surname." The dragon clicked his tongue in wonder.
"By the time I discovered these connections, it was too late. The Dumbledore family was placed on the scales from the very beginning. It's all karma," Dumbledore said, closing his eyes against the weight of history.
"Wait, Aiden, what are you talking about? I don't understand," Newt said, nudging Aiden insistently.
"Once, during the first goblin war, the Wizards' Council organised the famous twenty-eight families of Europe at the time to jointly hold a ceremony. We placed our names into the Mirror of Erised, voluntarily becoming conduits to maintain the world's order."
With a casual wave, Aiden projected the scene of the ancient ceremony held at the Wizards' Council.
Dumbledore watched the projection thoughtfully, his expression unreadable.
"So your families have deep connections with the Mirror of Erised? Then what about prophecy?" Theseus asked.
"When prophecy activates, its power needs to transition from consciousness to reality, and we families are the transmission lines that channel this power," Aiden explained, hooking his finger.
A grey sea and planet appeared before everyone, the image magnifying to show wizards with glowing threads connecting them, passing back and forth between the sea of consciousness and reality.
"So Albus used this connection to make a contract with Grindelwald?" Newt said, understanding dawning on his face.
"No wonder you pure-bloods always have such prestigious status. The Ministry must know your situation, which is why they let you expand," Theseus said, spitting the words with disgust—though whether directed at the Ministry or the pure-blood families remained unclear.
"That's not the point. In any case, we can't forcibly break Dumbledore's blood pact. It doesn't matter if these two fools die. If anything goes wrong with the Mirror of Erised, that would be catastrophic. Then those things below would surge up, and you and I would both be sinners who destroyed civilisation," Aiden said, spreading his hands.
"But isn't what Grindelwald wants to do now precisely to let the Deep—" The straightforward Newt almost let it slip, but fortunately Aiden covered his mouth in time.
"What? Deep what?" Theseus's confused gaze darted between them.
"Anyway, don't ask too many questions. When the time is right, we'll tell you," Aiden deflected casually.
Then he ushered Newt off with Theseus.
Aiden came downstairs and saw Aberforth contacting someone through a mirror, his weathered face illuminated by its silvery glow.
"Looks like you reached him," Aiden said, raising an eyebrow. "What do you plan to do?"
"Do nothing," Aberforth said, gripping his glass tightly enough that his knuckles whitened.
"You said it; don't regret it," Aiden said, pulling open the door and Disapparating away.
Aberforth remained in the room, staring quietly at the mirror amid the raucous noise of other wizards.
United States, Fifth Avenue in New York, outside a small bakery workshop.
"I thought the reinforcements Dumbledore sent would be..." Lally Hicks paused, sizing up Aiden with obvious disappointment.
"More mature, but forget it. At least it's one more helper."
"I know you're currently scheming about Jacob, but I can't appear because he recognises my face," Aiden said, spreading his hands.
"Oh, a Legilimens too. By the way, why aren't you at Hogwarts at your age?" Lally Hicks, Hogwarts Charms professor, looked at Aiden with sharp scrutiny.
"I'm French, I attended Beauxbatons. Bonjour," Aiden said, showing a charming smile.
Then Lally grabbed his face, pinching his cheeks.
"Don't think I don't know the great name of Prewett," Lally said, her grip changing from pinching to rubbing, then releasing Aiden.
She organised her books while walking toward the street corner.
"Well, since you can't appear, then hide well," Professor Lally said, waving her hand dismissively.
"As you wish," the Observer said, cleverly hiding in the blind spots of consciousness.
"Impressive," Lally praised.
Then, with superb acting skills, she lured Jacob out of the shop and invited him to come to Germany together.
"No!" Jacob raised a frying pan and pointed it at Lally like a weapon.
"Please, at least let me finish talking," Lally said, chasing after him.
"I said I wanted out. Stop pestering me!" Jacob said, pushing open the door and locking it hard.
"My therapist also told me wizards don't exist. What a waste of—"
"Money!" Jacob shouted the last word as if startled.
"You know I'm a witch, right?" Lally said, casually grabbing a pastry from Jacob's shop.
"I'll have some too, Jacob," a dragon said, leaning casually against his side.
"Oh, help yourself... go get—Aiden?" Jacob said, startled for the second time.
Aiden didn't respond, skilfully taking several paper bags from the shop to pack the bread.
"You should know what I went through in the wizarding world, so please, leave my life," Jacob said, opening the door and pointing outside.
Meanwhile, the dragon was surprised to find he didn't have any dollars. He pulled out a few Galleons from his pocket, wiped off the magic on them, melted them into gold bars, and handed them to Jacob.
"Forget it; consider this my treat. Just go," Jacob said, wanting to return the gold bars.
"But you're not willing to give up, are you, Jacob?" Aiden said, not taking them back.
"Unwilling about what?" Jacob said, still playing dumb.
"Queenie Goldstein."
The dragon's heterochromatic eyes became even deeper, possessing a hypnotic quality that made people unable to look away.
"You still love her, and there hasn't been a day when you don't think about her."
Jacob covered his ears, but unfortunately the Dream weaver's words couldn't be blocked by covering one's ears—they echoed directly in his mind.