Ariana gazed at him with pure reverence—her god.
His tail twitched restlessly, tickling the girl wrapped gently inside it.
The words make a wish felt like the first warm light of spring, slowly waking everything back to life.
Ariana had forgotten the last time anyone made her feel warm.
Her lips moved, but the sounds that came out were still too soft to understand.
The black cat wasn't in any hurry. It lay down, resting its fluffy head on its front paws like a cushion.
Its eyes were warm… and so was its tail.
That restless tail flicked again. Several black bundles rolled out.
The first bundle became a crackling campfire, flames dancing with cozy heat.
The second turned into a strange silver basin, silver threads drifting inside it.
"Ah…" The timid witch's eyes widened.
"Just a little simple magic," the black cat said, giving its head a small shake.
"Ah…" Ariana's expression froze. The bright shine in her eyes dimmed. She couldn't look at the fire. She couldn't look at the black cat.
"Come closer, Miss Ariana. Magic isn't scary in a god's eyes—no matter who casts it."
The black cat's tail drew the startled girl a little tighter.
"Make a wish, lucky Miss Ariana."
Its voice carried real warmth.
"Ah… ah… ah…"
Ariana's eyes darted away. Her whole body tensed.
"Albus… brother…"
The black cat froze. Something struck hard inside its chest.
For a moment it stayed silent.
So those weren't meaningless sounds after all?
Albus… Albus… How terrified she must have been of forgetting him that his name had become instinct.
"Albus brother… Aberforth brother…"
The timid witch's blue eyes sparkled with fragile hope.
The black cat listened quietly to the girl's deepest wish.
Suddenly she seemed to remember something. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a wilted rose.
"Ruler of dreams and mist, bridge between life and death, symbol of eternal good fortune… I offer you this flower… whoever holds a flower holds good luck…"
Ariana recited the words with solemn care.
"I want to see Albus brother and Aberforth brother…"
She glanced nervously at the drooping flower in her hand, eyes flickering, pale cheeks tight with suppressed panic.
Would the god reject her flower?
The black cat sat up and let the timid witch hold it out.
The rose floated upward. In Ariana's wide, anxious eyes the petals drifted beside the campfire, wine-red blossoms separating one by one until they formed a strange glowing circle.
"I heard your prayer. I received your offering, Ariana…"
The black cat spoke while stars glittered above its head.
"I will grant your wish."
Wisps of mist drifted over naturally. The black cat knew exactly what they were—Dumbledore's dreams. The thin threads for Aberforth had come courtesy of an old Hufflepuff alumnus.
Ever since God and Dream had been published, Sean had collected countless unknown threads from nowhere.
Slipping into someone else's dream was a strange thing. While Ariana watched the wizards inside the mist, the black cat played with its own threads.
It saw Ariana's thread suddenly swell, becoming one of the thickest.
These mist threads were the key to how long the black cat could stay in the Borderland.
After long observation it had sorted them into four types:
- Weak threads: about ten extra seconds.
- Normal threads: about one extra minute.
- Slightly thick threads: about three extra minutes.
- Thick threads: about ten extra minutes.
The black cat owned several thick threads—Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Grandpa Marcus, Justin, Harry, Madam Rolanda, and others. It had more than a dozen slightly thick ones, and hundreds of normal and weak ones combined.
Some threads it couldn't even trace back to their owners; they had probably come from God and Dream and the good-luck stories.
Now it had gained another slightly thick thread—from the timid witch in front of it.
It looked at the girl, who was smiling softly, lost in a sweet dream.
The mist had already begun to churn. The black cat's time was almost up, but Ariana's new thread let it linger a little longer.
It picked up the silver basin made from its tail bundles, added a few of Headmaster Dumbledore's memories, and gently pulled out the few faint impressions it had of Aberforth.
Only then did it lie down comfortably.
Suddenly the ground trembled.
A small wooden cottage rose from the earth.
But something was odd—the cottage was only half-finished. Beyond the four wooden walls it was completely empty inside.
Still, a heart finally had a place that could keep out the wind and rain.
The corner of the black cat's mouth lifted.
It gazed at the deep night sky, its own form beginning to fade.
"Ariana… they are looking for you…"
It said softly.
"If one night the darkness becomes the overture, if the mist blurs the boundary, then at the moment dawn arrives the bridge will open for you."
The witch who had risen from her dream looked lost.
She stared at her god, the prophecy still ringing in her ears.
"You will truly meet them—not in a dream."
The black cat brushed its cheek against hers and vanished from the marsh.
Ariana searched frantically. Finally she saw the little wooden cottage and the small silver basin.
Her cheek still carried a trace of warmth.
Her eyes had found their anchor.
She recognized the object: a Pensieve.
It held memories.
Some said that if anything traveled faster than light, a person could move through space and return to the past.
Human thought was faster than light. Every time someone fell into memory, they had already crossed time and returned to the past.
In other words, every time one person remembered another, they met again.
Under that idea, perhaps they had already reunited many times.
…
Hogsmeade weekend drew closer.
The castle buzzed with excitement.
The Great Hall stayed noisy all day, but in one quiet corner a black-haired young wizard quietly reviewed his gains.
Since returning from the Borderland he had collected quite a few.
First was [The Inner Eye, Slightly Open]. In the Borderland he could glimpse pieces of the future—and it felt like he could control when it happened…
So was he a Seer now?
He was itching to test it.
Maybe… Voldemort's location, for starters.
Second, he had stayed in the Borderland for eight hours and twenty minutes. By the time dawn arrived he might even be able to bring a wandering soul back with him.
Headmaster Dumbledore had been waiting for that day.
Third was his new Divination talent.
He had almost forgotten to check it.
He rarely felt this nervous anymore. His breath caught as he stared at the panel:
[Wizard Sean, Divination Magic Talent: Red (Legendary Talent) (no external boost required). Note: Average wizard is Green.]
[Evaluation: You are the only certainty born from countless unknown magics. Past and future hold no secrets from you. Your gaze is naturally suspended above an entire era.]
A Legendary talent?
Sean's breath stopped.
At the same time he felt confused.
His Divination Magic had been completely stuck for months after it first appeared.
It didn't feel Legendary at all…
Or maybe…
His mind drifted back to the Borderland night sky. The stars followed their ancient paths, and with a single glance the hazy veil of fate had lifted.
"Maybe… I really do have the talent?"
And what kind of power did a Legendary talent bring?
"Your Inner Eye—it has opened—"
The Great Hall doors burst open. Professor Trelawney came gliding toward them as if on wheels.
She wore a glittering green robe covered in metallic sequins, making her look like an oversized sparkling dragonfly.
She floated straight at Sean, murmuring excitedly.
"I have waited for you… May I learn Divination Magic from you?"
Tears shimmered in Professor Trelawney's enormous eyes.
Sean didn't understand.
"Hey!" Hermione immediately objected, staring hard at the professor. "Sean said Divination Magic is imprecise. He's not going to study with you—wait, what did you say?"
Trelawney finally noticed Hermione. Her teary eyes seemed to ask, Who are you?
"I'm Hermione—Hermione Granger—"
Hermione sounded like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
Trelawney gave her one glance, then turned back to Sean.
"Professor, I'm afraid I can't teach…"
Sean chose his words carefully.
He really hadn't felt his Divination Magic at all.
In theory it was now his strongest talent, yet he could only use it in the Borderland—and he wasn't even sure he could see anything outside it.
What could he possibly teach Professor Trelawney?
"Oh, oh, it hasn't fully awakened yet… But tonight you will understand, child watched by the stars…"
Trelawney drifted away, still muttering mysteriously.
"I can't believe—she's a professor—and she wants to learn from you—"
Hermione kept muttering. Then she turned and stared at Sean, suspicious.
"Sean… do you actually have Divination Magic?"
Sean thought for a second, then nodded—then shook his head.
"Oh my gosh!" Hermione gasped at the nod.
When he shook his head she looked even more confused.
"What does that mean?"
Hermione puffed out her cheeks.
"Divination Magic is imprecise magic," Sean said.
"Oh—" Hermione replied flatly. Then she glanced at a witch at the Gryffindor table whose shoulders were shaking.
"So… do you know what's wrong with Lavender?"
Sean looked over at the Ravenclaw table—no, the Gryffindor table.
"Her rabbit died."
"You knew?!" Hermione's eyes widened. She hurried to the Gryffindor table. Harry and Ron followed.
"What happened, Lavender?" Hermione asked, worried.
"She got a letter from home this morning," Parvati said quietly beside her.
"Her rabbit Binky was killed by a fox."
"I'm so sorry, Lavender," Hermione said, covering her mouth.
"I should have known!" Lavender wailed.
"You know what day it is, right?"
"Uh—"
"October sixteenth! 'The thing you are most afraid of will happen on the sixteenth of October!' Remember? She was right! She was right!"
Students crowded around Lavender now.
Seamus shook his head solemnly.
Hermione hesitated, then asked, "Were you… always afraid Binky would be killed by a fox?"
"Not necessarily a fox," Lavender said through tears, looking up at her. "But I was obviously afraid my rabbit would die, wasn't I?"
"Oh." Hermione paused. "Was Binky an old rabbit?"
"No—no!" Lavender sobbed. "She was a baby!"
Parvati hugged her tighter.
"Then why were you so afraid she would die?" Hermione asked.
Parvati shot her an annoyed glare.
"Let's think about this logically," Hermione told the group. "Binky didn't actually die today, right? Lavender only got the news today—"
Lavender let out another loud sob.
"And she couldn't have been worrying about it constantly, because she was shocked when she heard—"
"Ignore Hermione, Lavender," Ron said loudly. "She doesn't care about anyone's pets."
"I'm telling you, it's just suggestion! Whatever happens to you today gets blown way out of proportion. That way everything she says sounds right!" Hermione stared at Ron.
"If you want a real Seer…"
She stopped, said nothing more, and marched straight back toward Sean.
Sean was the real one…
Hermione thought.
Trelawney's predictions were always vague, but Sean hit the mark every time.
The more she thought about it, the more past mysteries suddenly made sense.
No wonder Sean always knew about danger ahead of time…
But hadn't he said Divination Magic was imprecise?
Before Hermione could reach the Ravenclaw table, Sean had already disappeared.
In the corridor the portraits whispered and pointed as he passed, the same as always.
Sean slipped through two hidden doors behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries.
In no time he stood in front of the Headmaster's office.
The stone gargoyle blocked the entrance as usual.
"Password?"
"Um… lemon…"
The gargoyle leaped aside. Sean stepped inside, unfazed.
He thought carefully about how to tell Headmaster Dumbledore.
Rita's words kept echoing in his mind:
"Her lips are always murmuring about her brothers… but where are they, sir? Unworthy people—did they treat her so cruelly in life and then leave her restless even in death?"
Sean frowned.