How was he supposed to tell Headmaster Dumbledore?
Sean walked into the Headmaster's office with a heavy heart.
The portraits of former headmasters along the walls were all asleep, their chests rising and falling gently.
Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, perched on the golden stand by the door. The bird was as large as a swan, its brilliant red-and-gold feathers glowing. It flicked its long tail feathers lazily in Sean's direction.
"Our Assistant Green, you look troubled," Dumbledore said, holding a cup of red tea. His deep blue eyes studied Sean carefully.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"Child, based on past experience, you have never disturbed me. Sometimes I actually wish you would."
Dumbledore smiled kindly.
He set down the pale green porcelain cup and watched the young wizard who clearly wanted to speak but kept hesitating. It was rare to see Sean like this.
"Tea? Or pumpkin juice?"
Dumbledore crooked a finger. A glass of pumpkin juice floated over and settled on the table in front of Sean.
Sean took a sip of the thick, fragrant liquid and sank into thought.
Ariana was still waiting for her brothers.
She was a wandering soul—the kind that refused to move on in the world after death and refused to linger in the world of the living. Their memories were all they had, and the Borderland took them as payment.
How was he supposed to say it?
Tell Dumbledore about those long, heartbreaking days in the Borderland?
Wouldn't that be too cruel?
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Sean finally spoke.
"Assistant Green." Dumbledore's expression grew serious.
"Last night… did you enter the realm of dreams?"
Sean hesitated.
He saw Dumbledore stand up. Those slightly cloudy eyes suddenly sharpened with intense light. The Headmaster stepped closer without thinking.
"The dream I saw…"
Dumbledore murmured.
Sean watched the old man's brief flash of realization give way to visible unease.
"Of course it was a dream that took place inside your own mind," Sean said quietly, his voice filling the Headmaster's office. "But why does that mean it wasn't real?"
Dumbledore sat down abruptly. He pressed his wand to his temple and drew out a thin silver thread, carefully placing it into the Pensieve.
The basin gleamed like bright silver, its surface rippling like water stirred by a breeze, swirling and drifting like clouds. The silver thread inside moved like liquid light, like solidified wind—or like a dream.
"She…"
Dumbledore's voice had gone hoarse.
The kind, wise old man had vanished. In that moment Dumbledore was simply a brother who had failed his sister.
"She didn't have an easy time," Sean said.
Dumbledore's breath caught. His face twisted with bitter pain.
"It was very bad," Sean added, searching for better words and failing.
"Green…"
Dumbledore's voice had gone completely raw.
"Headmaster Dumbledore… forgive me. Lies are comforting. But the truth… I'm sorry, sir. I can't hide it."
Sean sighed.
"The world beyond the Veil does not welcome wandering souls. When I found her she was a timid little witch with no home. No hearth, no bed, no cauldron, no… brothers.
She was alone, sleeping under the sky, going hungry. The world beyond the Veil took pieces of her memory as payment for a hundred years of wandering and pain."
As he spoke, Sean's own eyes dimmed.
Nothing in the world could survive close inspection. Every story held some hidden grievance.
Sean saw tears spill from the old man's cloudy eyes.
It was the first time he had ever seen Professor Dumbledore cry. He looked away.
"I understand…" Dumbledore whispered.
He remembered the dream from the night before—the pain of separation, the scars of guilt. Shameful, criminal memories flooded back in an instant.
He shifted restlessly, terrified he might shout.
In the end he simply closed his eyes in anguish.
Sean stayed silent for a long moment.
He looked at the Headmaster with genuine sorrow.
This was too cruel, but he couldn't hide it.
If he did, who would speak for Ariana's grievance? Who would speak for the timid witch's pain?
Rita had told him that some witches in the Borderland would pretend to "bully" Ariana because of her fearful nature.
Sean thought: Would her own god bully her too?
The Headmaster's office fell into a long silence. It was finally broken by the soft flutter of Fawkes's wings.
"Green… have I done very badly?"
Dumbledore's face was full of confusion. The setting sun outlined his sunken nose. In that moment he seemed to age another decade.
"You are the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had," Sean said quietly.
"But I have been the most unworthy brother, haven't I?"
Dumbledore smiled. It looked worse than crying.
"Talk to me, child. I know that one day all of this must be passed on to you."
Sean's eyes flickered. Before he could fully process the words, a sad sigh escaped him.
"You've made your choice?" he asked.
"What an unworthy man I am," Dumbledore said, his sorrowful eyes somehow gentle. "I did such cruel things to her, and now I try to use other people as an excuse. As if the world needs me so badly."
He looked straight at Sean.
"Can I trust you, child?"
"I don't know," Sean answered honestly.
Dumbledore was the wall standing between the wizarding world and Voldemort. He was the only person Voldemort truly feared.
If he were gone, then…
Sean's gaze slowly hardened.
The world might need Dumbledore, but Ariana needed Albus.
"You've already chosen, haven't you? You could have hidden it from me, but you wouldn't. You never lie, child."
Dumbledore smiled at the quiet young wizard with fatherly warmth.
He had always known Sean would choose this way.
Even though he knew the consequences, this kind boy always made the right and difficult decision.
"Let me tell you a story, child. I've told parts of it before, but now I'll give you the rest."
Dumbledore's eyes grew distant with memory.
"About her death—my sister. It was entirely my fault. When I finish, you should despise me."
"I won't despise you," Sean said.
"You should."
Dumbledore gave a pale smile.
"You probably already know the secret of my sister's illness, what those Muggles did to her, and what she became.
You know my poor father tried to avenge her and paid for it with his life in Azkaban. You know my mother gave up her own life to care for Ariana.
I resented all of it, child."
Dumbledore's voice was frank and cold.
His gaze drifted past Sean's head, staring into the distance.
"I was too selfish. Of course I loved them, but in the end I ran away… because he came…"
Dumbledore looked Sean in the eye again, then lowered his gaze.
"You know him—Grindelwald.
But you cannot imagine how his ideas captivated me, inspired me.
Muggles forced into submission. Wizards rising in glory. Grindelwald and I were to be the glorious young leaders of that revolution."
A feverish light flashed in Dumbledore's eyes.
"Oh, I had a few doubts, but I soothed my conscience with empty words.
It was all for the greater good. Any harm caused would be repaid a hundred times over to the wizarding world.
Did I know deep down what kind of man Gellert Grindelwald truly was?
I think I did. But I closed my eyes to it. As long as our plan succeeded, all my dreams would come true.
And at the heart of that plan were the Deathly Hallows. How they obsessed him—how they obsessed both of us! The unbeatable wand, the weapon that would give us power.
The Resurrection Stone—to him it meant an army of Inferi, but I pretended I didn't know!
To me, I admit, it meant the return of my parents and relief from every responsibility I carried.
And the Invisibility Cloak… somehow we never spoke much about it. We could hide well enough without it.
Of course the true power of the Cloak is that it can protect and conceal not only its owner but others as well.
At the time I thought that if we found it we could use it to hide Ariana, but our interest in the Cloak was only because it was one of the three. Legend said that the person who united all three would become the true conqueror of Death. We understood that to mean 'invincible.'
The unbeatable conqueror of Death—Grindelwald and Dumbledore!
For two months we were drunk on cruel dreams, ignoring the two people left at home who needed me."
The fever left Dumbledore's face. He looked old again.
"Then… reality arrived in the form of my brother—brash, uneducated, and far better than I was.
I refused to listen to the hard truths he shouted at me. I didn't want to hear that I was being held back by a frail, unstable sister and couldn't go hunting for the Hallows.
The argument became a duel. Grindelwald lost control.
The part of his nature I had always sensed but pretended not to see suddenly exploded. Ariana… after my mother had cared for her so carefully… lay dead on the floor."
Dumbledore drew a shaky breath and began to cry openly.
Fawkes flew over and rested against his shoulder.
Sean gripped the old man's arm tightly. Slowly, Dumbledore regained control.
"Afterward, Grindelwald fled—just as anyone but me could have predicted.
He disappeared with his plans for power, his schemes to subjugate Muggles, and his dream of the Deathly Hallows—the same dream I had encouraged and helped him pursue.
He ran. I stayed behind to bury my sister and learn to live with guilt and crushing grief. That was the price of my shame.
Years passed. I heard rumors about him. They said he had acquired a wand of tremendous power.
By then the position of Minister of Magic had been offered to me more than once. I refused every time. I already knew I could not be trusted with power.
While I busied myself training young witches and wizards, Grindelwald gathered an army. People said he feared me. Perhaps he did. But I think I feared him more.
Oh, not death," Dumbledore said, meeting Sean's quiet, pained gaze.
"Not fear of what magic he might do to me. I knew we were evenly matched—perhaps I was slightly stronger.
I feared the truth. You see, I never knew who cast the curse that killed my sister in that terrible three-way duel.
You would probably call me a coward, and you would be right. Child, what I feared most in my heart was learning that I had caused her death—not only through my arrogance and stupidity, but because the fatal curse had come from my own wand."
Dumbledore's story ended.
He stood and studied Sean carefully.
This fourteen-year-old boy—would he truly place all this weight on such young shoulders?
Dumbledore knew the answer. Sean would carry it. He would do his very best.
There was no doubt.
"Go see him, child. Tell him I sent you. There are few wizards left in this castle who can teach you this part of magic."
Dumbledore spoke gently.
"What do you mean?" Sean was momentarily stunned.
"Oh, child. Has Severus taught you so much that you've already forgotten? Or have you advanced so far beyond him that you no longer care?"
Dumbledore seemed pleased by the reaction.
"But you…"
Sean was completely confused.
Wasn't Headmaster Dumbledore supposed to be…
And Grindelwald—Dumbledore was sending him to learn Dark Magic from Grindelwald?
The world had turned upside down.
"Creating an entirely new branch of magic is not a simple thing… As for me, child.
I no longer have the face to meet her. You told me not to run, but I don't believe the time is now."
Dumbledore gazed at the sunset on the horizon.
"If I went to that place and met you again soon after, I think no one would be without sorrow."
Sean had underestimated Dumbledore's resolve. After so much suffering, the man had become a wizard of mercy, openness, and unbreakable strength.
"Oh, and you can bring her back, can't you?"
Just before the tea went completely cold, Dumbledore asked suddenly.
"Not yet. But it won't be long."
Sean answered.