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Her gaze, however, seemed to pierce deeper— as though she were seeing something far beyond the surface.
"Ian, Pandero said you needed me?"
The girl drifted forward, looking weightless.
And so—
Before the breathless eyes of Albus Dumbledore— his expression unreadable but flooded with emotion— she reached into the Sorting Hat and drew forth a long, gleaming sword. As it emerged, golden patterns spiraled along its blade, ancient and elegant.
It was the same spectral sword that hung at Ariana's side, now made solid in her grasp.
"That sword..."
Grindelwald stared at the runes igniting along the blade, his expression tightening as though some long-forgotten memory had returned. His pupils contracted sharply.
"It's a gift from Pandero," Ariana said softly, casting a glance at Grindelwald, who still wore the guise of another man. But in her eyes, his true form stood clear as day.
There was a quiet conflict in her expression, the faintest flicker of grief, perhaps, for the man who had once torn her family apart. Yet she turned swiftly away, facing the writhing distortion around them.
"He said it was forged as the bane of magic itself."
Her voice trembled slightly— an honest hint of fear. But after a brief moment's hesitation, she raised the sword and slashed into the chaos.
Not with brute strength—
—but with startling speed.
The blade moved like a bolt of silver lightning, cutting not through matter but through the very tapestry of the place. The air shrieked and tore as a rift opened wide, splitting the contracting madness like a great canyon in the sky.
And through that rift—
Dawn's light poured in.
Not sunlight—
—but the moon's gentle glow.
The twisted, knotted visions that had ensnared the three began to unravel, dissolving like ice dropped into boiling water, breaking down into flickers of soft starlight.
And when it was all gone—
The sky returned.
Moonlight spilled across the earth once more, stars blazing in their rightful places. The violent waves of magic that had raged moments ago faded into calm.
"Did I… just save your life, Ian?" Ariana's spirit hovered in the quiet, her tone dazed— as though she couldn't quite believe it herself.
"You did! You absolutely did, Ariana!" Ian exhaled a long breath, raising both hands to give an enthusiastic thumbs-up to his ghostly friend.
"Then… is that worth ten boxes of Chocolate Frogs?" She asked, a little bashful now, the way some people grow shy even in triumph.
"Oi! You're saying my life's only worth a single Galleon to you?" Ian shot back in mock outrage, his voice rising dramatically.
"Ten boxes! Every day! And don't let anyone else see them, either! I've got a reputation to maintain— don't make people think my life's only worth a handful of sweets!"
Such a bold declaration left the girl visibly stunned.
"!!!!"
Her mouth formed a perfect 'O' of surprise.
And truth be told—
She may have had the most normal reaction at that moment.
Because if one looked beside Ian, the expressions on the two elder wizards told a deeper story.
Grindelwald was staring fixedly at the sword in Ariana's hands, his eyes bulging ever so slightly as though witnessing something he had long deemed impossible.
And Albus Dumbledore—
The old man had fallen to his knees.
Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, his face contorted not only by sorrow but by a grief so old and so deep that it seemed to stretch through lifetimes.
"It had to be this way… I knew it… I always knew it..."
At the foot of the tower—
Albus Dumbledore wept.
Not the careful, composed weeping of a master wizard but the raw, unguarded sobs of a brother who had just glimpsed a miracle.
His gaze never left the sword glowing in Ariana's hands, though his vision blurred with tears. His shoulders shook with every breath, and the silence around them felt impossibly sacred.
It was in that moment—
Ian, for the first time, felt an overwhelming clarity in sensing the old headmaster's emotions.
That fragile sort of grief, one that only settles into the bones of the very old.
"Why are you crying, Albus…? We're all safe now, aren't we?" Ariana hovered gently in front of Albus Dumbledore, lifting one translucent hand to wipe away the tears streaming down his cheeks.
That soft, shimmering touch felt as if it reached into the very core of Albus Dumbledore, binding together the frayed edges of his soul and sorrow.
"If that day had never come… if I had only understood you sooner, Ariana..." Dumbledore murmured, head bowed low, voice thick with remorse. "Your life should have shone brighter than all of ours."
Perhaps in this moment, the venerable Headmaster of Hogwarts— unraveled and unguarded was truly grieving not only what had been, but what could have been. He had seen that alternate path with his own eyes.
"But I am shining, Albus. Don't you see?" The girl replied with a smile, spinning slowly in mid-air like moonlight on still water. One had to admit, for a spirit echoing like a Patronus, Ariana had a brilliance that even Winky might describe as dazzling.
Dumbledore said nothing. He kept his eyes lowered.
Then, at last—
"Ian," He rasped, "Let her return. There are things we must speak of." His voice was hoarse, and the weight of his gaze made Ian's chest feel tight.
"Alright," Ian replied quietly.
He gave a small wave to Ariana, who pouted in protest but obeyed. With a soft sigh, Ian released the charm binding her presence. Instantly, her form shimmered and dissolved into stardust, scattering gently across the wind.
The world seemed dimmer without her. The Sword and the Sorting Hat, lying forgotten on the ground, flickered faintly before vanishing, perhaps cloaked by a subtle Disillusionment Charm or simply whisked away by Hogwarts itself.
"So... what is it we need to talk about?"
Though Ian asked, he already suspected the answer.
"It's time to say goodbye. You've realised that by now, haven't you?" Dumbledore said, still gazing out over the moonlit grounds of Hogwarts.
"The ripples left behind must be stilled. And we, Ian, we are the ripples." He had timed his words perfectly. As the last syllables fell, both he and Grindelwald began to fade slowly.
At the same moment, Grindelwald's outline blurred and flickered.
"Dust to dust, earth to earth… just as I told you once before." Grindelwald's voice was quiet but steady. The ancient robes of both wizards stirred faintly in the night air, their forms becoming ever more translucent as if preparing to vanish with the breeze.
Ian felt his heart twist.
For these two men, meant to be long buried in the folds of history— yet who had lingered through a cycle of magic and memory to help him fulfil a greater purpose— there were no words that felt sufficient.
He wanted to speak.
But his voice caught.
"Do you remember what I always told you?" Grindelwald asked lightly. Though fading like smoke beside Albus Dumbledore, he kept smiling, determined to have the last word.
"Of course I do. Your favourite phrase," Ian said with a glimmer of tears, managing a smile. "For the greater good."
As Dumbledore's body shimmered into final transparency, he lifted his eyes to Ian.
"Precisely. Never forget it. We're showing you what it truly means." Grindelwald chuckled softly, the sound echoing faintly as his figure vanished entirely.
And then—
He gave Ian a final wink.
(To Be Continued…)