Hogwarts Raven

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He paused briefly before continuing, "Not even a parent has that right. I know what you're thinking, and I strongly advise you to abandon such notions."

Dumbledore's steady gaze met Snape's stormy one.

Snape remained silent.

After a moment, Dumbledore spoke softly, "He will hate you." 

Snape let out a mirthless laugh. "Do you think I care?" 

"Severus," Dumbledore said, his voice laden with the weight of wisdom, "if the long years have taught me anything, it's that we should never presume absolute correctness. Trying to impose one's will on another's life is an act of profound folly." 

"No magic, no matter how powerful, can undo the harm such actions will inevitably sow." The glow of the desk lamp reflected in Dumbledore's silver glasses, along with Snape's tense figure. 

"We are all failures in one way or another. What gives us the right to decide what constitutes a proper life?" Dumbledore's words landed heavily, causing Snape's expression to shift like the rapid changes of a Sichuan opera mask. 

"Don't call yourself a failure. You are the greatest wizard in this world, the headmaster of Hogwarts. Even now, many in the wizarding world fear your power," Snape shot back, his tone sharp. "Albus, excessive humility only makes you seem insincere." 

Dumbledore shook his head faintly, his demeanor unperturbed. 

"In truth, Severus, I told you about him not so you could change his life, but because I wanted to see how he might change yours." 

"Severus, you need him. He does not need you." 

Dumbledore's words clearly struck a nerve, leaving Snape visibly irate. 

"You're talking nonsense!" Snape's voice rose several octaves, his frustration boiling over. 

Dumbledore responded with nothing more than a serene smile. 

"And I don't need you dictating my life, either!" Snape snapped, glaring at Dumbledore with a fire that could scorch the room.

"Whatever schemes you're cooking up, you need to swear to me— make an Unbreakable Vow— that he isn't just another pawn in your plans," Snape demanded, his distrust of Dumbledore evident. 

"First, you, like many others, overestimate my cunning. Second, if it will ease your mind... of course," Dumbledore replied with a resigned shrug. He pulled out his wand, which had been resting nearby. 

In the magical world, the ''Unbreakable Vow'' was a binding magical contract. It required two people to point their wands at one another in the presence of a witness and speak their vows aloud. 

Once the vow was made and accepted, it formed an unbreakable bond between the participants. Any attempt to violate the vow would come at a steep and often fatal cost. 

"Are you satisfied now?" Dumbledore asked as he put his wand away, showing no trace of irritation. 

"I still don't understand why you'd let 'that man' into the school," Snape said, his voice sharp and filled with disapproval. "But regardless of your reasons, I expect you to fulfill your duty as the headmaster of Hogwarts." 

"I will protect every student." 

With the Unbreakable Vow in place, Snape's expression softened slightly, though his dissatisfaction and skepticism regarding Dumbledore's decisions remained apparent. 

"That is my responsibility," Dumbledore replied, his voice steady and authoritative, carrying an undeniable air of reliability. 

"When that man enters the school, I will keep a close watch on him," Snape declared, sweeping his robes dramatically as he turned and strode out of the office. His retreating figure quickly disappeared, leaving the room silent once more. 

Dumbledore turned his attention back to the replica of the ''Book of Admittance'' on his desk. 

"Dumbledore! That Snape has changed!" 

"He has become spineless! He's a disgrace to Slytherin! Honestly, I think he should've been in Hufflepuff from the start!" 

"I, for one, am curious about this child. Severus's Occlumency is formidable, yet a natural Legilimens has managed to unsettle even him. Intriguing!" 

"Talented or not, no one surpasses my brilliance! Hogwarts has never lacked gifted students!" 

The lively chatter erupted from the portraits of Hogwarts' previous headmasters hanging on the walls. Their animated discussion filled the room but did little to distract Dumbledore from his thoughts. 

Raising his hand gently, he flipped open the ''Book of Admittance'' once more. 

The name appeared again. 

And Dumbledore fell into the same deep contemplation. 

''Aurora Grindelwald.'' 

The first time Dumbledore saw this name in the Book of Admittance, he visited an old friend at Nurmengard. The surname unmistakably belonged to the first Dark Lord: ''Gellert Grindelwald.'' 

While the individual in the book was not a direct descendant of Gellert Grindelwald, they were a blood relative who had somehow inherited his rare and extraordinary talents. 

In truth, the very philosophy Dumbledore had lectured Snape about earlier had been influenced by his visit to Grindelwald. That conversation had subtly but profoundly reshaped his outlook. 

"Albus," Grindelwald had said during their meeting, "Our failures stem from trying to change too much— too many people, too many destinies— without realizing that we are merely wizards, albeit powerful ones." 

"Wizards can nudge fate, but they should never try to dictate it. Now, all I wish is for this child to walk her own path as a wizard, guided by the lessons I've learned in reflection." 

These were Gellert Grindelwald's exact words to Dumbledore. 

There was even a hint of pleading in his tone, making it truly difficult for Dumbledore to refuse him. 

And yet. 

The reason for Dumbledore's lingering hesitation and doubt was simple: he could not be sure whether Grindelwald's words carried a hidden agenda. 

Granted, Grindelwald might not lie outright, but he was certainly capable of misleading Dumbledore. No one in the world understood the art of language better than Gellert Grindelwald. 

Earlier, when Dumbledore claimed he was not as clever as others believed, it wasn't false modesty or a façade of humility. He had, throughout his life, left a trail of regrets due to his overconfidence in his own intelligence. 

For this reason, Dumbledore resonated deeply with Grindelwald's words. 

But it was also for this reason that Dumbledore worried Grindelwald might be plotting something again. 

It wasn't paranoia— it was caution born from experience. 

After all, Grindelwald had changed significantly during his years in Nurmengard, more so than Dumbledore had ever imagined. The most notable change occurred in a particular year that Dumbledore could never forget. 

"1979..." 

It was during that year, on a certain day, that the once-downtrodden Grindelwald seemed to regain his old vitality and ambition. That was the first time in years that Dumbledore, stunned by the transformation, had rushed to Nurmengard to see his old friend. 

"Dumbledore, I hope you will bear witness to the changes in this world alongside me, rather than trying to stop them." 

"You can stop me, stop many things, and even stop that clown named Tom. But, Albus, neither you nor I can prevent the rise of legends." 

That was the year Grindelwald, seemingly reinvigorated, rearranged his living quarters, dined on steak, and spoke with the confidence of a man who had shed twenty or thirty years from his soul. 

And this year. 

This was the year the children born in 1979 would begin their journey at Hogwarts. 

"The legend you spoke of... is it your descendant?" Dumbledore murmured softly, his hand gently tracing the name in the ''Book of Admittance''. His words were barely audible, meant only for himself. 

(End of Chapter)