HP: Beyond Miracle

Sirius Black's story was deeply moving.

Anyone who heard it would think so.

He had crossed half the country to avenge the death of a brother in all but blood.

Driven by grief and rage, he hunted down the traitor.

Then, consumed by guilt, he willingly spent years in prison, punishing himself.

Without Snape present to offer a less flattering perspective, Sirius truly sounded like a flawless hero.

Even his recklessness and his tendency to shoulder every burden himself fit perfectly with Britain's traditional image of a tragic hero.

But...

Please forgive Ron.

The moment he heard the part about Scabbers...vHe completely lost the ability to think about anyone else's tragedy.

"Headmaster... are you saying... Scabbers... my rat..."

His voice trembled violently.

"He... he was You-Know-Who's follower? The Dark wizard who blew up a street and murdered over a dozen Muggles?

And... and he's actually a man in his thirties?"

The shrill, shaking voice shattered the lingering solemnity left by Sirius's tale.

Ron had gone deathly pale. He stared at Dumbledore in disbelief.

The Headmaster offered no denial.

In an instant... Years of memories flooded back.

Holding Scabbers. Kissing him. Sleeping beside him. Living with him every single day.

Ron felt his stomach lurch violently.

He doubled over.

Then vomited.

No...

No, this has to be a joke...

It can't be true...

It can't...

Tears streamed down his face as he continued retching. Whether they came from choking or sheer despair, even he couldn't tell.

Unable to accept reality, he frantically scrubbed at his mouth over and over.

His lips became raw. His cheeks turned bright red.

Still he refused to stop.

At that moment...

Ron desperately wanted to ask Dumbledore whether there was a painless spell for removing teeth.

Or better yet... Replacing his entire mouth. He never wanted to eat with it again.

Dumbledore sighed softly.

He could certainly understand Ron's reaction.

With a casual flick of his finger, a washbasin appeared beside the boy just in time to catch the next wave of vomit.

A large glass of water materialized beside it.

"S-Sorry... Headmaster... I..."

Ron barely managed a few words before another wave forced its way back up.

His breakfast splattered into the basin.

The office filled with a sour smell.

Hermione wrinkled her face.

She glanced at the red-haired boy, who looked half dead, quickly shook away several extremely inappropriate thoughts, and hurried over.

"Oh, honestly, Ron..."

"Why did the part about him being a man have to be the last thing you heard?"

She muttered under her breath.

Ignoring the mess entirely, she gently rubbed his back while casting Scourgify to clean the vomit from his robes.

"Are you all right, Ron?"

Ron weakly waved a hand. He couldn't even speak anymore.

Harry and Hermione both looked at him anxiously.

They hovered around him, trying to help, though neither knew what else they could do.

At that moment...

Sirius demonstrated exactly what being an adult meant.

He calmly handed Ron the glass of water before speaking in a comforting voice.

"Don't worry.

Peter may be a complete monster... But back at school... He did have a girl he liked.

...At least he did back then."

Ron vomited even harder.

That particular attempt at reassurance somehow made everything infinitely worse.

Eventually...

Dumbledore uncorked a potion and gently forced Ron to drink it.

Only then did the boy finally settle down enough to slump weakly into a chair.

Still...

Thanks to Ron's dramatic collapse... Harry and Sirius had naturally begun talking while helping him.

The awkwardness between them quickly faded.

Their conversation remained clumsy.

But little by little...

They became familiar with one another.

During their conversation, Sirius explained the misunderstanding surrounding the black dog.

Then, almost nervously, he presented the gift he had prepared.

It was the newest racing broom on the market.

The Rocket Crossbow.

Advertised as matching the Firebolt's speed, it was considered one of the finest Quidditch brooms available.

"Oh... wow!"

Harry exclaimed.

He hugged the broom tightly, running his hands over it again and again.

His eyes shone with excitement. He could already picture the next Quidditch match.

That reminded him of something Fred and George had mentioned.

Looking up, he asked,

"Headmaster... I heard there's going to be some event in the Great Hall in about two weeks.

They said Quidditch would be suspended for it.

Is that true?"

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment.

Then he stroked his beard and nodded. "There will indeed be an event held at the castle."

"But don't worry. It won't interfere with the Quidditch season."

Harry visibly relaxed.

Hermione, however, tilted her head curiously.

"What kind of event is it?"

Since the truth would be public in another two weeks anyway, Dumbledore saw no reason to keep it secret.

"It will be Dawn's Magic Presentation."

Dawn's Magic Presentation?

The unfamiliar title combined with a very familiar name immediately caught Hermione's attention.

Growing up in the Muggle world—and after reading this morning's newspaper—she understood exactly what it meant.

Creating new magic...

She puffed out her cheeks slightly.

She had always wanted to compete with Dawn.

Ever since arriving at Hogwarts, she'd worked tirelessly, consistently ranking first in her year.

Yet every time she compared herself to Dawn... She suffered a crushing defeat.

"Dawn Richter?"

"Oh, I know about him."

Sirius joined the conversation.

"His name's been all over the Daily Prophet I've picked up lately. Creating original spells at that age... That's incredible."

His expression filled with admiration.

Then he suddenly remembered another student who had invented spells while still attending Hogwarts.

Snape.

Curious, he asked, "What House is he in?"

"Ravenclaw."

Harry answered instinctively.

Seeing the obvious relief on Sirius's face, Harry's own expression became rather awkward.

"Although..."

He wanted to explain.

He truly did.

But he couldn't decide where to begin. The words simply wouldn't come.

"All right, everyone."

Dumbledore suddenly clapped his hands together.

"I'm terribly sorry... But I still have several matters that require my attention."

"So... Would you mind leaving the office to me?"

No one objected.

Harry still had countless questions for Sirius. It felt awkward discussing them with Dumbledore present.

After saying goodbye, the two left together.

Hermione supported the still-weak Ron as they followed behind.

Soon...

Only Dumbledore remained.

He cleaned the floor before returning to his chair.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he quietly began thinking about the upcoming presentation.

There was no question about it.

He had a headache.

He didn't want Hogwarts becoming too closely associated with Dawn.

Unfortunately...

The Ministry had officially requisitioned the Great Hall. There was little he could do short of throwing every visitor out himself.

And...

That wasn't even what worried him most.

Since the start of this school year...

Dawn had gradually begun treating Hogwarts—and Dumbledore himself—as though neither offered any obstacle whatsoever.

Dumbledore didn't mind being underestimated.

But the complete lack of restraint reflected by Dawn's actions deeply troubled him.

Every sign suggested that the boy was steadily moving toward becoming someone utterly beyond anyone's control.

Someone who would simply do whatever he pleased.

Because of that...

Even an event that appeared entirely beneficial, like this Magic Presentation, had to be examined from every possible angle.

Dumbledore lifted his teacup thoughtfully.

First...

He was certain Dawn intended to show off.

That much was obvious. But that couldn't possibly be the entire reason.

He knew Dawn well.

The boy certainly enjoyed showing off.

However...

His pride meant he only cared about impressing people he actually respected.

For example...

His former Headmaster.

That was precisely why Dawn had chosen Hogwarts' Great Hall as the venue.

He wanted an emotional reaction from Dumbledore himself.

Truthfully...

There weren't many witches or wizards in British history whom Dawn considered worthy of showing off before.

Which meant...

The fact that he'd invited so many distinguished guests could only imply one thing.

He had another objective.

"Could it be because of the Castle Consciousness?"

Dumbledore murmured.

His thoughts drifted back to the strange rumor that had spread throughout Hogwarts during the previous school year.

If Dawn had already tasted the benefits granted by the Castle Consciousness...

Then perhaps he truly intended to unify the beliefs of every witch and wizard in Britain.

"...So... Should I do everything possible to prevent him from gaining prestige?"

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead.

He honestly wasn't sure what the correct course of action would be.

After thinking for quite some time without reaching any conclusions, he let out another sigh and temporarily set the matter aside.

Opening a drawer, he carefully removed an exquisitely crafted locket.

It was beautiful.

Entirely silver in color.

Set with brilliant emeralds around its edges.

Under the light, a faint serpent design shimmered across its surface.

Slytherin's Locket.

After clearing Sirius's name, Dumbledore had retrieved it from the Black family home.

While there, he had also followed Kreacher to the seaside cave where Voldemort had originally hidden the Horcrux.

There...

He recovered the remains of Sirius's younger brother.

Regulus Black.

A courageous young man who had sacrificed his own life to steal Voldemort's Horcrux from the cave.

"The fifth one."

Dumbledore murmured as he resisted the soul-corrupting influence radiating from the Horcrux.

Dawn had once told him there were seven Horcruxes in total.

The diary.

The Gaunt ring.

Both were already in Dumbledore's possession.

Which meant... Aside from Nagini, who had not yet been turned into a Horcrux...

Only one remained.

The fragment of Voldemort's soul inside Harry.

Unfortunately...

That was also the most difficult one to solve.

Dumbledore rose from his chair.

He retrieved several books on soul magic from a nearby cabinet and spread them across his desk.

Then...

As though suddenly remembering something, he softly spoke the incantation printed in the newspaper.

"Lower Age."

In an instant...

His long white beard vanished.

The frail old wizard transformed into a young man with bright red hair.

Feeling the lightness returning to his body... His thoughts becoming clearer... Even Dumbledore couldn't help smiling.

"What an extraordinary spell."

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