It was late at night.
Bloody Baron had already figured out why Derrick Bode was attacked. There was no real need to keep guarding Slytherin, but since he hadn't told Dumbledore about it, he stayed put in the common room to avoid raising any suspicions.
So, when Alice let her soul wander, she had to rely on her invisibility to slip past Bloody Baron, who was keeping a sharp eye on the Slytherin dorms.
Back in Hogsmeade, Alice felt a strange sense of things being different, like the world had shifted since her last visit. A few months ago, she'd been a clueless first-year, totally lost in the wizarding world and feeling out of place. Now, even though she was still a first-year, she'd started to find her footing at Hogwarts. She'd made a few friends, and when it came to her abilities, she was leaps and bounds ahead of where she'd been.
Alice made her way to the Hog's Head Inn like she'd done it a hundred times. But as she floated inside, she frowned. This place was usually packed at this hour—where was everybody?
Just as she was puzzling over the empty bar, she felt a ripple in the air. Instinctively, Alice zipped away from where she'd been hovering and tucked herself into a corner to watch.
Out of nowhere, Dumbledore appeared.
Well, more like Hogwarts Headmaster Dumbledore appeared. Alice remembered the Hog's Head bartender looking a lot like Dumbledore. She figured the bartender was probably another Dumbledore—maybe a relative or something.
As Albus Dumbledore materialized, the bartender stood up from behind the counter. His face was blank as he stared at Dumbledore and said, "What are you doing here?"
Dumbledore didn't seem fazed by the guy's tone. "Aberforth, are you sure that man is really dead? And why'd you wait until now to tell me when you say he died months ago?"
So, the bartender's name was Aberforth. Given her earlier guess, Alice figured he had to be someone close to Dumbledore—probably family. Why else would their names be so similar?
But if they were family, why did they seem to get along so poorly?
Aberforth's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh, what's that? You cooking up another grand plan in that head of yours? Whose life are you betting on this time?"
A flicker of pain crossed Dumbledore's eyes. He closed them for a moment, then said quietly, "Aberforth, you know how dangerous that man was. If he ever sided with Voldemort, it could've spelled disaster for us."
Aberforth just stared at him, his face unreadable, but inside, he was fuming. Always the same old story—big talk about justice, love, and the greater good. Like waving that flag gave Dumbledore the right to ask anything of him. Did Dumbledore even get it? Aberforth didn't care about some lofty cause or love. He cared about family.
But… family. The only family he had left was the man standing in front of him, the so-called "greatest wizard of the century."
Fine. Whatever.
Aberforth finally nodded. "Yeah, he's dead. I saw two wizards dragging his body off, probably after his inheritance. Haven't seen any of those three in the bar since."
Alice's expression shifted. The way Aberforth described it sounded way too much like the first spirit trapped in her Soul Banner.
Dumbledore leaned forward, urgency in his voice. "How can you be so sure he's dead?"
Aberforth pointed outside. "Go out that door, head south about 500 meters. You'll find a grave with all three of their bones. So, my oh-so-noble brother, do you believe me now?"
"You buried him with the people who went after his inheritance?" Dumbledore asked, his tone odd.
Aberforth waved it off like it was no big deal. "They're all dead. Who cares about the details?"
"I bet he would've cared. You better hope he's really gone, or he might come knocking at night," Dumbledore said, heading for the door. "I need to see it for myself."
It wasn't that he didn't trust Aberforth. That man was just too important to take chances.
Alice silently followed Dumbledore, her curiosity burning. She had to know if the person they were talking about was the spirit in her Soul Banner.
As they got closer to the spot Aberforth mentioned, Alice became certain. The dead man they were discussing was the first soul she'd absorbed.
That realization sent a weird chill through her. Thinking back to her first encounter with that old man, it felt… off. She'd been so naive back then, barely understanding anything about the wizarding world. She'd let her soul wander and stumbled right into that dying old man. And somehow, without much effort, she'd absorbed his soul.
If that old man was important enough to catch Dumbledore's attention, he must've been powerful. So why had it been so easy for her to take his soul? That didn't add up.
Dumbledore waved his hands, and the ground rumbled. The dirt on the grave Aberforth had "carefully" prepared split apart, revealing three rickety coffins. They looked cheap, which tracked with what Alice knew about Aberforth.
Alice's eyes widened as she watched the terrain shift with Dumbledore's gestures. How the heck was he doing that?
The three coffins rose from the pit, their lids flying off to reveal the bones inside. Two of the skeletons were so decayed they were barely recognizable. Dumbledore studied them for a moment before saying with a hint of regret, "Here's hoping you'll have better judgment in your next life—learn who you can mess with and who you can't."
Then his gaze shifted to the middle coffin and its occupant.
Incredibly, the body inside still looked like the old man from when he was alive. No rot, no decay, even after months. That was definitely not normal, but Dumbledore acted like it was no surprise.
"Sometimes I think fate's cruel to the gifted," he murmured. "Other times, I'm almost relieved you're gone."
"You're finally dead, huh? But why'd it take you so long?"
Alice tilted her head, confused. Did Dumbledore want this guy dead or not? What was their deal?
Dumbledore kept talking. "Why couldn't I have met you when you were eleven, instead of in your twenties? If I'd brought you to Hogwarts back then, maybe you wouldn't have ended up like this."
"Kid, fate always leaves me with regrets."
He fell silent for a long time before continuing. "Your book… I put it in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts over twenty years ago. You told me back then you were going to die, so why'd you hold on until now?"
"I won't let the young witches and wizards study it. But if someone's meant to carry on your work, I won't stand in their way. You've already done all the evil you're gonna do."
"That's it, then. Here's hoping your next life treats you better."
With a wave of his hand, everything snapped back to how it was when he arrived. Then, just like that, Dumbledore vanished.
Alice stared at the grave, which looked untouched, like nothing had happened. But it wasn't her imagination—it had all been real.
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