The morning sun cast golden hues across the valley as Dumbledore stood in his office, gazing out the tall arched window. The Black Lake shimmered silently, undisturbed, while the Forbidden Forest stood still in its ancient slumber. Majestic mountains framed the distant horizon, encasing the castle in a cocoon of serenity. A sense of peace momentarily settled over him—rare, fleeting, but welcome.
His life had never known peace in its truest form. The ghosts of his past walked beside him always: the untimely deaths of his parents, the haunting loss of his sister Ariana, the painful estrangement from Aberforth, and the battle—both literal and emotional—against the man he once loved. Tragedy was etched into every corner of his heart.
And yet, within these ancient castle walls, laughter rang like music. The students, with their mischief, wonder, and innocence, had a way of mending the old wounds time had failed to heal. Their joy filled the emptiness he thought would never fade.
Suddenly, a soft shimmer lit the air before him. A translucent screen emerged, floating midair. Dumbledore stiffened. His eyes widened, just for a moment, then narrowed with familiarity. It was the same ethereal screen from two days ago—the one that had shown him a vision of the future.
The screen flickered to life.
A dense forest appeared on the screen. Rain poured down in heavy sheets, thudding against leaves and earth. The sound of hooves pounded the forest floor. Moments later, a small group of unicorns galloped into view, rain cascading off their silvery coats like mist. At the front rode a child, perched fearlessly atop one of the unicorns.
"I told you it would rain," the boy grumbled to the unicorn beneath him. "But you still insisted on taking me to her. Honestly, I could've just asked Neva to bring me straight there."
The image zoomed in, and the boy's face became clear.
Dumbledore inhaled sharply. Hearth Granger.
That alone was remarkable—but more shocking was the sight of a boy, a human male, riding a unicorn. It was nearly unheard of. Unicorns, especially the mares, rarely allowed themselves to be touched by males, let alone ridden. But Hearth? He rode as though he belonged.
The rain continued to fall as they emerged from the forest into an open grassland, framed by streams of crystal-clear water on either side. Hearth slid down from the unicorn and called out, "Ariana! Are you there?"
Only the sound of falling rain responded at first.
Then a voice—soft, young, and unmistakably female—answered, "I thought you'd have classes right now. Hearth, are you skipping?"
Startled, Hearth turned toward the voice. "No! Absolutely not! It's raining, remember? Quidditch class got rescheduled. So, I came to visit you. But Ariana... are you sure your brothers' names are Albus and Aberforth? I mean, I haven't met any students by those names."
The camera shifted to reveal a girl's figure—translucent, ethereal, and floating just above the ground. Rain passed through her like smoke. Her eyes were gentle, but something old lingered in them.
"My brothers are Albus and Aberforth," she said softly. "They studied at Hogwarts. Before I died, they always told me stories about this place… stories about magic, about home."
Hearth remained silent for a moment, then turned behind him. "Nagini, do you remember anyone with those names?"
A large python slithered down from the unicorn and shifted fluidly into the form of a young woman—graceful, poised, and strikingly beautiful, with delicate Asian features.
"I know one Albus," she said calmly. "But he's not a student. He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts."
The girl's spirit wavered faintly in the rain as she shook her head. "No... My brother Albus is in his fifth year. Aberforth is in second. I was supposed to join Hogwarts next year... but I died."
The screen flickered—and vanished.
Dumbledore stood frozen, his breath shallow. His hands trembled. Tears welled in his eyes and slipped down his cheeks, unnoticed. The tranquil peace he'd felt moments ago shattered under the weight of memory and heartbreak.
"Ariana..." he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.
The door burst open.
"Albus!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, alarmed. She rushed to his side, Snape close behind. Her eyes fell on Dumbledore's trembling form, and her expression shifted to concern. "What happened?"
Apparently both were able to see the same video so they quickly rushed in. After all having been colleagues, both Snape and Mcgonall knew the importance of Ariana in Dumbledore's life.
Before Dumbledore could answer Mcgonall, a goat-shaped Patronus burst through the window and hovered midair. Aberforth's voice echoed through the room, laced with disbelief and raw emotion.
"Was that real? Albus... tell me that wasn't just one of your tricks. Was that video—was it true?"
Dumbledore turned, steadying his breath, though his voice remained heavy.
"No, Aberforth. It wasn't a prank. That screen… it shows glimpses of the future. And everything we saw was real."
A moment's silence followed.
Then the Patronus spoke again. "I'm coming."
And with that, it vanished into the cold morning light.
.....
The Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts was unusually crowded that evening. Soft firelight flickered from the brass lamps on the walls, casting long shadows across the enchanted shelves and whispering portraits. Albus Dumbledore stood near his desk, his expression thoughtful yet calm. Surrounding him were the four Heads of House—Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Pomona Sprout, and Filius Flitwick. Among them stood one unfamiliar figure, at least to the office—Aberforth Dumbledore, his presence a rare but not unwelcome one.
Everyone gathered in the room was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Veterans of war, fighters against Voldemort. They had trusted each other with their lives. Yet tonight, it wasn't the Dark Lord they feared. It was something stranger—something they couldn't yet explain.
"You mean to say this time, all of you saw the new vision?" Professor Flitwick asked, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of wonder and suspicion. The Ravenclaw Head was perched atop his usual pile of spellbooks, legs swinging just above the floor.
Severus gave a curt nod, his black robes sweeping behind him. "Yes. The viewers are not consistent, it seems. But one thing is certain—there's a deep connection between the vision shown and those who witness it."
Aberforth leaned against a tall cabinet filled with curious silver instruments and squinted at his brother. "But what makes you so certain these visions are true? What exactly did the first one show that gave you such confidence?"
Dumbledore met his brother's eyes, then slowly spoke—calmly, clearly, and without embellishment.
"The mirror shown in the dungeon was the Mirror of Erised."
There was a slight shift in the room. Every witch and wizard there understood the implications.
Dumbledore continued, "Earlier this year, there were magical disturbances reported in the Albanian Forest—disturbances disturbingly similar to those traced to Voldemort during his rise. And though he is believed to be dead, the skull-mark curse on his Death Eaters never fully faded. It weakened, yes—but it did not vanish. That alone told me Voldemort's presence, or at least his essence, remained in this world."
He paced slowly behind his desk. "That is why I requested the Philosopher's Stone from Nicolas Flamel this year. It was part of a plan to lure him out. The Mirror of Erised was key to that strategy."
"And when the mirror appeared in the vision," he finished, voice firm, "I knew—what we are seeing are not just illusions. They are glimpses of the future."
A weight settled over the room. Silence stretched out. Even those who had stood firm against Voldemort in his darkest days couldn't help but feel a brief pang of sympathy. Even now, it seemed, Dumbledore's mind continued to weave plans around the former Dark Lord.
Aberforth snorted. "As expected from the great white wizard. Sometimes I wonder what Ariana would think if she saw this... scheming side of yours. Might just ruin her saintly image of 'dear Albus.'"
There was a hint of sarcasm, yes—but no real venom. A thread of something warmer had begun to tug between the brothers, invisible to the others in the room.
"And who is this chubby, cute..... well, let's be honest...naughty child?" Aberforth asked, beginning to pace with restless energy. "I rather want to drag him into the Forbidden Forest myself. If he can find Ariana's soul, I'd rather not wait around."
Dumbledore chuckled under his breath. "In the vision, the boy had already formed a bond with the unicorn and knew where to find Ariana. That means it must have happened before the Quidditch class. First-year Quidditch practices typically begin in the second month of term. Which means Hearth had already discovered both the unicorn and Ariana's presence within his first few weeks at Hogwarts."
Minerva sighed, crossing her arms. "He's dangerously curious. I Barely met him twice and he was already pestering me with questions about unicorns. And not subtle ones, mind you—he actually asked how many gates Hogwarts has that face the Forbidden Forest. What am I supposed to say to that?"
A chuckle rippled through the room.
"I found him the other day asking all questions regarding magical creatures and Hogwarts secret places while his elder sister is a more studious child, Hearth is a more playful one the other day he was interested in a 'magic sniffing charm.' I didn't even know what that meant," she added with a helpless shake of her head. "Honestly, I fear he'll be worse than the Weasley twins put together. "
"That may not be entirely bad," said Flitwick thoughtfully. "Innovation often starts with mischief."
"But what is this strange magic that shows us the future?" Professor Sprout asked, frowning. "Visions, shifting viewers, prophetic mirrors—none of this fits standard divination or magical memory enchantments."
That, indeed, was the question weighing on all their minds.
"No one knows yet," admitted Dumbledore. "But we will find out."
"And the viewers," Flitwick added, "are changing. Pomona and I weren't included this time."
"There's more," Dumbledore said, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. "Nagini—she's alive. I feared the Maledictus curse had permanently transformed her, but she seems well. And more surprisingly, she has a strong bond with Hearth."
There was a ripple of shock.
"I failed her once," Dumbledore added softly, "but perhaps this boy will not."
"Well," said McGonagall, adjusting her spectacles, "yesterday he summoned three mythical Patronuses in Diagon Alley. Three. At once. That, along with a team of Kneazles, Bowtruckles, a snake, an owl—and let's not forget the Ice Phoenix—he's beginning to look like a miniature Newt Scamander with a flair for the dramatic."
Astonishment swept across the faces in the room.
"To think," she added with a sigh, "he's only nine."
And in that room filled with accomplished witches and wizards, not one doubted that the boy named Hearth was anything less than extraordinary. Mischievous, nosy, and maddeningly curious—yes. But extraordinary, all the same. On top of that the mysterious video screen that appears all of a sudden.
The mysteries still remain unsolved.