Time seemed to freeze in that instant. Dumbledore's eyes went wide behind his half-moon spectacles, his gaze was locking onto the ghost girl standing behind Tom with an intensity that made the air feel heavy.
His lips trembled slightly, and his face went through a rapid succession of expressions as if he were witnessing an impossible miracle made manifest before his eyes.
His mind was pulled back through the decades, dragged to that terrible summer day when everything had changed forever.
That summer when Ariana died.
Because of that tragic accident, he had become one of the greatest wizards of the age, earning fame and respect that had followed him for nearly a century. But that same accident had also cost him the two people he valued most in the world—his sister and, in a different way, his brother Aberforth, who had never truly forgiven him.
In the original books, he had once told Harry Potter that what he saw in the Mirror of Erised was himself holding a pair of thick woolen socks.
But those socks had never been merely socks—they were a symbol, a transparent lie masking the truth of what he truly desired. They represented his desperate longing for the family he had lost.
He yearned to return to the past, to go back to that home where his sister, Aberforth, and his parents all still lived, where the family remained whole and undamaged. He wanted to return to a time when they were all together, when his choices hadn't yet destroyed everything he loved.
The world believed he opposed the abuse of power and Dark Magic. But was it really Dark Magic itself he opposed? Was it truly power he rejected?
No—what he fought against, what he spent his entire life trying to atone for, was the version of himself who had been seduced by Dark Magic and ambition, the young man whose arrogance and recklessness had resulted in his sister's death.
He didn't reject Dark Magic or power in themselves. He rejected the person he had been when wielding them—the boy who had let magical theory and grand dreams of wizarding dominance blind him to what truly mattered, who had indirectly caused Ariana's death through his negligence and pride.
And now? Now what was he seeing? His sister Ariana stood before him, that precious bond he had torn apart with his own hands appearing whole and intact before his very eyes as if the past seventy years of guilt and grief had been nothing but a nightmare!
"Well. Ariana. It's been a long time."
Dumbledore took a deep, shuddering breath, forcibly suppressing the tsunami of emotions trying to overwhelm him.
He struggled to maintain his composure, though his hands trembled as he gripped the edge of his desk for support.
"I must confess, I'm surprised that Aberforth agreed to let you come to Hogwarts. What urgent matter could possibly have convinced him to allow your portrait to connect to the castle?"
His mind raced, grasping for rational explanations even as his heart screamed that rationality had nothing to do with what he was witnessing.
"And Tom—where did you acquire a portrait? Did the Lovegood family arrange this for you? Is there some urgent matter that required your painted self to seek me out?" He was speaking too quickly, the words were tumbling out as he tried to impose order on the impossible.
"If it's not terribly important, might I ask you to give me a moment alone? There are some things I need to discuss with Ariana privately."
One had to admit, this was vintage Dumbledore—even confronted with the sister he most desperately wanted to see, his brilliant mind immediately constructed a 'reasonably plausible' explanation for the impossible scene before him.
Portrait magic could do remarkable things, after all.
"(´･_･`)???"
Tom slowly produced a question mark above his head in that classic cartoon fashion, his expression was showing pure confusion.
Wait, what nonsense was this old man babbling about? What portraits? They were the genuine articles here—flesh and blood! Well... flesh and blood in Tom's case, and thoroughly dead genuine article in Ariana's case. They definitely weren't paintings!
'Hmm, although Ariana's current condition does seem a bit off, Dumbledore is supposed to be one of the most powerful wizards in the world right now! Surely, he can solve whatever this "Obscurial" business is about.'
Though this was Tom's first time hearing the term "Obscurial," he was quite certain Lady Margarita hadn't been referring to him.
Since it wasn't him, and she had said one of the two visitors was an Obscurial, combined with her earlier expression when looking at Ariana and the girl's currently unusual state, the answer seemed obvious enough.
With this reasoning in mind, he prepared to leave the portrait. But before departing, he turned back to Lady Margarita and gave her a respectful nod, his whiskers were dipping forward in a gesture of gratitude.
[Thank you for guiding us, madam. We're truly grateful for your assistance.]
Then, without further ceremony, he grabbed Ariana's ghostly hand and simply leaped out of the portrait frame, pulling her with him into the physical office.
"Wait! You're not portraits?! Ariana... is it really you? You've... returned?!"
Dumbledore, who had just barely managed to convince himself of the portrait explanation, watched this impossible scene unfold before him.
He stared at the ghost girl who looked as real as any living person, and felt as though his heart had stopped beating. The careful logic he'd constructed shattered like glass, leaving him facing the raw, impossible looking truth.
"Albus, brother... it's been so long!"
The joy of reuniting with her brother temporarily overwhelmed the unease churning in Ariana's chest. She managed a warm smile despite everything, looking at the familiar yet strange figure of her eldest brother.
He had aged so much—the handsome young man she remembered had become this old wizard with a beard down to his waist.
"You've gotten old," she said softly, and there was wonder in her voice.
Dumbledore instinctively reached out to touch his sister, desperate to confirm she was real.
But his fingertips passed straight through her like mist, encountering no resistance at all. Though her face was right there before him, though the colors of her body were as vibrant and lifelike as memory, she remained untouchable like a phantom, a dream he couldn't grasp no matter how much he reached for her.
He drew in a ragged breath, and when he spoke, his voice carried a tremor he couldn't quite suppress. "Ariana... my sister. You remain in this world? But how is this possible!"
She had died decades ago. She had been killed by a curse from one of three people during that terrible three-way duel in Godric's Hollow. Her soul should have moved on to whatever lay beyond death's veil. Yet here she stood before him, so impossibly real that it felt as though she had never died at all!
"Tom brought me here!"
In Dumbledore's presence, the dark shadows haunting Ariana's mind were successfully pushed back. She beamed with excitement as she grasped the large blue cat beside her, her hand was somehow able to maintain contact with his physical form.
"He's the one who brought me out of that empty place!" Her voice carried the enthusiasm of someone sharing wonderful news, completely unaware of how her brother's expression was changing.
"!"
In that instant, Dumbledore's keen gaze turned piercing and sharp behind his half-moon spectacles, focusing on Tom with an intensity that could have frozen fire.
Especially seeing how Ariana could touch the cat—how a ghost and a living creature could interact as though both existed in the same plane of reality, his eyes grew even more severe.
'(°□°) Oh no, old Dumbles has that look in his eye! He doesn't think I used some kind of Dark Magic to summon his sister's soul, does he?!'
Though Tom wasn't afraid of Dumbledore in any conventional sense as cartoon physics made him remarkably difficult to permanently harm, that didn't mean he wanted to be blamed for something he didn't do!
As 'mankind's best friend' and a generally upstanding cartoon cat, he absolutely refused to be misunderstood this way!
With this thought spurring him to action, he hurriedly raised his paws, and his whiteboard appeared instantly in his grasp.
[Headmaster, calm down! Please don't misunderstand—I really didn't do anything bad!]
"That's right, brother! If it weren't for Tom, I might have had to wait decades more in that empty place before seeing you again!"
Ariana quickly floated in front of Tom, placing herself between the cat and Dumbledore's scrutinizing gaze like a protective shield. Her translucent form glowed with earnest conviction.
"He's a good cat! Just when he was about to leave that place, he specifically asked if I had any message for you! And he said that if he ever had the chance, he would come back to visit me!" Her voice rang with absolute certainty, defending her cat friend.
"Wait... you say you were in an empty place waiting for us? You didn't pass on to the afterlife?"
Blocked by his sister's protective stance, Dumbledore's expression softened considerably—Ariana had always had that effect on him, even in death. But hearing her words, his face took on a more serious expression.
"Can you tell me what this place looked like?" His voice was gentle but intent, his mind was already racing through possibilities.
[A pure white space. Nothing was there except a small cottage where Ariana lived.]
To prevent any further misunderstanding, Tom didn't just write his explanation this time—he actually drew a rough sketch of the cottage on his whiteboard, his paws were moving with surprising artistic skill as he outlined the structure in quick strokes.
Looking at the familiar building rendered in simple lines, Dumbledore's breath caught. His mind flooded with memories of childhood, of simpler times before everything had gone so terribly wrong.
"This is..."
"It's our home in Godric's Hollow!"
Ariana looked at the crude sketch on the whiteboard and turned to Tom with surprised delight, her eyes were wide with amazement.
"I didn't know you could draw! It looks exactly like our house!" Her praise was genuine and warm.
"Meow~"
Tom smugly waved his paw in a dismissive gesture, adopting an expression that clearly said 'piece of cake.'
From his proud demeanor, it wasn't hard to see that Ariana's compliment had pleased him immensely. His tail stood straight up, the tip was curling with satisfaction.
"Limbo, then... Tom, thank you. Truly." Dumbledore's voice had gone soft. "If you weren't still waiting for your Sorting, I would award your House enough points to win the Cup single-handedly."
His eyes had grown gentle with understanding and gratitude.
He knew his own heart well enough to recognize a dark truth: though he desperately longed for family, if he hadn't known Ariana was in Limbo waiting for them, there was a very real possibility he would have chosen to wait there for Grindelwald instead, to meet his old friend and leave the living world together when the time came.
'Does that born-evil Dark Lord plan to interfere with my family reunion even in death?'
(Grindelwald, somewhere in his cell in Nurmengard: ???)
"Oh! Brother, there's something I need to tell you!"
Suddenly, as though a thought had just struck her, Ariana darted forward to hover directly in front of Dumbledore's face. Her expression was earnest, almost anxious, as if she'd been carrying this weight for far too long.
"The thing is... I don't blame you..."
Those words struck like the most powerful curse ever cast, instantly shattering the psychological defenses Dumbledore had spent seventy years constructing.
He staggered back two steps, only managing to stay upright by gripping the edge of his desk with white-knuckled hands. His eyes immediately grew wet, tears were trying to spill over the rims of his spectacles.
He closed his eyes, taking several moments to compose himself before opening them again to look at his sister and the patient cat waiting beside her.
When his eyes opened once more, they carried a sense of release and redemption, of a burden finally being lifted after decades of crushing weight.
He opened his mouth to respond—
"I don't blame Grindelwald either," Ariana continued brightly, her voice was carrying the innocent cheerfulness of someone who thought they were being helpful. "So... when are you two getting married?"
Dumbledore: ?????????
Tom: (°□°;) This is going to get me killed!
Professor McGonagall, who had somehow entered the headmaster's office at the worst possible moment:? I think I've just heard some incredible... news!