Harry Potter: The Legend of Nero Ravenclaw

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as his sharp blue eyes studied Nero. "Reincarnation?" he mused, his voice gentle yet laced with curiosity.

"Yes, reincarnation," Nero confirmed, his gaze unwavering.

"I assume you're familiar with the tale of The Tale of the Three Brothers from The Tales of Beedle the Bard," Dumbledore began, his tone contemplative.

"If we accept that the Deathly Hallows are real, as some have long speculated, then the resurrection stone demonstrates that the veil between life and death may be thinner than we imagine. If resurrection exists, why not reincarnation? Still," he added with a faint smile, "this is not the sort of magic a first-year should dabble in."

Dumbledore's smile faded slightly, and his tone grew more serious. "Now, Nero, could you explain why this question matters to you, and why you felt it necessary for us to speak in private?"

Nero took a moment to steady himself. "Yes, Grandpa," he said, his voice unusually solemn. "What I'm about to tell you isn't easy, and it might sound absurd. But I need you to listen. I'm… a reincarnator."

Dumbledore's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he remained silent, inviting Nero to continue.

"In my previous life, I lived in what you'd call a different world. There, the population was close to eight billion people, and magic didn't exist, not in the way it does here. Instead," Nero paused, his lips curling into a faint, ironic smile, "this world, your universe, was known to us as a series of books. It was called Harry Potter."

Dumbledore's expression remained calm and thoughtful.

"I was reborn here for reasons I still don't understand. My memories of my past life were sealed, until recently. The day I was hit by a Crucio, they were unlocked, flooding back all at once." Nero looked Dumbledore directly in the eye. "I know this is a lot to take in. But that's the premise of my story."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but firm. "A fascinating premise, Nero. But such a revelation carries significant implications. Do you have a way to show me?"

Nero nodded eagerly. "Yes. Do you mind if we use your Pensieve? I can show you everything."

Dumbledore's gaze flicked toward the Pensieve sitting on a nearby cabinet. After a moment's thought, he nodded. "Very well. The Pensieve is at your disposal."

With care, Nero approached the ancient basin, removing a silvery strand of memory from his temple and depositing it into the swirling liquid surface. Dumbledore stood beside him, his hand lightly resting on Nero's shoulder.

"Shall we?" Nero asked.

"Lead the way," Dumbledore said, his voice steady.

Inside the Pensieve, Nero's memories unfolded with vivid clarity.

Dumbledore found himself in a bustling, unfamiliar world teeming with lights, skyscrapers, and machines. He observed scenes of Nero's life on Earth: classrooms filled with computers, streets alive with vehicles, and the hum of technological marvels beyond anything the wizarding world had ever achieved.

They moved through Nero's childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, glimpsing a world that relied on logic, innovation, and human ingenuity instead of magic. Dumbledore marveled at the sophistication of muggle technologies: satellites orbiting the planet, vast digital networks, and surgical procedures performed with machine precision.

The scene shifted. Nero showed Dumbledore how the Harry Potter books had shaped his previous world. Dumbledore watched himself come to life in ink and imagination, a figure beloved and revered by millions. He saw the stories that shaped Nero's understanding of this world, its heroes, its conflicts, its dark secrets.

Then, the memory shifted again, growing somber. Nero relived the day his grandmother died, the grief, the pain, and the shock of his memories unlocking. The flood of his past life washed over him, transforming his understanding of the world he now inhabited.

The two emerged from the Pensieve, standing once again in Dumbledore's office. The air between them seemed to hum with the weight of what they had just witnessed.

Dumbledore removed his glasses and polished them thoughtfully. "Fascinating," he said, his voice low. "A world without magic yet brimming with wonders. And the idea that we exist there as fiction…"

He shook his head, his eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and admiration.

"Thank you, Nero. The trust you've placed in me by sharing this is not something I take lightly."

Nero looked relieved, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I thought it would be better to show you than to try to explain everything."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "However, before we proceed, there is one last matter to address. A final step to ensure the truth of what you've shown me."

Nero tilted his head, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Dumbledore's expression turned enigmatic. "You've given me much to ponder, Nero, but memories can be delicate things. There are magics, dark and subtle, that can alter, overwrite, or even implant false recollections. It is prudent to ensure the integrity of what you've shown me.."

Realization dawned on Nero. "You're suggesting we visit an old family heirloom, aren't you?"

Dumbledore's smile returned, faint but knowing. "Very perceptive Nero. Now, if you would be so kind as to take my arm"

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