Chapter 282: The Little Match Girl
A clear cry echoed, and flames surged, transforming into a scorching blaze that rushed forward, finally landing on Dumbledore's shoulder. The phoenix, Fawkes, affectionately rubbed Dumbledore's cheek and proceeded to preen its feathers.
Just then, another surge of phoenix fire erupted. A figure, utilizing the phoenix's powerful spatial travel abilities, penetrated the Hogwarts defenses and appeared directly in this corner of the Forbidden Forest.
"Where is she?" Aberforth, Dumbledore's brother, looked around anxiously but only saw the empty Forbidden Forest.
Dumbledore looked up at Lockhart, who was staring into space in the corner. "Gilderoy, would you mind bringing my brother over for a moment?"
Lockhart looked up blankly, emerging from his deep thoughts. He glanced around, realizing the situation, and quickly waved his wand, pulling Aberforth into this mirror world.
"Ariana!" Aberforth mumbled, and suddenly the scene before him shifted. He was immediately confronted with Voldemort kneeling on the ground, calling for his mother.
What is going on? Is Tom Ariana's son?
Aberforth suddenly recalled the incident where Ariana was tormented by Muggle boys and felt a sense of the absurd. Could Albus have secretly kept such a thing from him? He wasn't one for conspiracy theories, but he had done similar things himself; his brother Albus only found out his biological brother had a son after meeting the adult Credence.
Fortunately, this was only a momentary illusion and misjudgment. He turned his head and finally saw the sister he missed day and night, and Gellert chatting happily with her. Immediately, his face fell again. He strode forward, shoved Grindelwald aside, and when he looked at Ariana again, tears welled up in his eyes.
"It's all big brother's fault, big brother couldn't protect you." Aberforth was filled with self-reproach.
After a life of almost a hundred years, he was white-haired and heavily bearded, yet Ariana before him seemed to be frozen at the moment of her death, still a young girl. Death—the complete cessation of life force, the total arrest of all worldly rhythm and life's breath—no longer brought any change. His sister was still his sister, but his brother was no longer the same brother.
Aberforth wept bitterly, his tears flowing as profusely as they had all those years ago, unchanged.
"Look at you, at your age, and still crying," Ariana comforted him, her hands radiating a unique silver light as she helped Aberforth up.
"Ariana..." Aberforth let her wipe his tears, staring blankly at his sister, mumbling, "How can I bring you back to life...?"
Ariana gently shook her head. "I'm living with Mum and Dad."
Aberforth was stunned and grabbed Ariana's shoulders excitedly. "Mum and Dad?"
Ariana looked up at her brother, then at Albus and Gellert beside them. "I caused Mum's death back then, and Dad's death..."
"It's not your fault!" Aberforth shouted. "It's only the fault of this cursed fate!"
Yes, fate. Ariana was abused by some Muggle boys; their father was sent to Azkaban for punishing those boys and eventually died there; their mother struggled to raise them but was killed in one of Ariana's Obscurus outbursts.
"They've all forgiven me, because there is love between us," Ariana raised her hand and stroked Aberforth's head, soothing his emotions. "I know Albus loves you, and you care about Albus. Mum, Dad, and I all want you to be well."
Her face was full of the joyous smile of reunion, her eyes crescent-moon shaped with happiness. "I also looked after Credence for a long time. He was very confused when he first died."
Aberforth fell silent. It seemed... reviving his sister had become a false premise. Which world was better for his sister: the world of the living before her death, or the world of the dead? There, she had her father, her mother, her nephew, and so many family members.
"Life is a great journey, brother," Ariana was no longer the little girl in her brother's eyes. Though she still looked like the girl who died, she possessed the same wisdom in her eyes as her brother Albus. In fact, if she hadn't died, she would be an old woman over a hundred now.
She looked at Aberforth so earnestly. "Brother, your life has been stagnant for too long. You can't keep living in the past."
Compared to the two Dumbledore brothers, Gellert was the most composed. This wasn't because he wasn't family. In fact, during that wonderful time in Godric's Hollow, Gellert was more like an elder brother than Albus. He knew better how to be a brother—caring and considerate—and he understood better how to empathize with her suffering, guiding her to break out of her self-imposed limits. Albus and Aberforth couldn't do this, because they were self-limited themselves.
So, in the subsequent casual conversation, the two helpless brothers looked more like bewildered fools, while Grindelwald and Ariana chatted happily.
"What is the world after death like?" Grindelwald was extremely curious.
Ariana tilted her head and thought for a moment, then replied, "Without a body, only the exchange of spirit and spirit remains. It's very unique; I can't explain it clearly."
She smiled at the three brothers. "But all of us are watching you. As long as you miss us in your hearts, as long as there is still love in your hearts, you can see us."
This wasn't a visual sensation of humans watching animals in a zoo cage; there was no spying or higher-dimensional condescension. It was an inspiration between heart and heart. She found it hard to explain the feeling, though she tried.
Dumbledore suddenly realized, "That mirror at Hogwarts, the Mirror of Erised, it can do this, but it lacks true spiritual inspiration and can only see the surface."
So... the Ariana he saw in the mirror all those years was truly Ariana? Just thinking of this, he suddenly felt his life was no longer lonely.
"I'm going to find you, I'm going to find all of you!" Aberforth seemed single-minded, mumbling.
Grindelwald rolled his eyes, but Dumbledore grew anxious. "Are you crazy? Thinking of dying?"
"Am I afraid?" Aberforth sneered. "This world is too boring and terrible. I've lived long enough. I'm going to find my sister, my Mum and Dad, and my son!"
Grindelwald also sneered. "Excellent. That way, you can make Ariana feel guilty, forever guilty, because her appearance killed her brother!"
Aberforth's face froze. He looked at Ariana in a panic, saying anxiously, "I didn't mean that, I..."
Ariana gently shook her head. "If you can't live well, you won't find peace after death, Aberforth. You must truly live your own wonderful life so you won't have regrets and pain when you die."
She sighed. "The spirit world has too many people in pain. The sins they committed in life constantly torment them after death. Not everything is beautiful."
"Without the life force of the body, without vitality, nothing can be undone. Everything is fixed there, forever, completely becoming an eternal regret and pain of the soul."
While alive, there is hope to change everything. After death, it is a unique state of enjoying all the wonderful gifts created while living and enduring the torment of all the sins committed while alive. The spirit world is uniquely like this. It has beauty, and it has horror. And all of it can be changed, all of it can be chosen, as long as one lives well while alive.
Ariana tried her best to counsel her three brothers. Yes, that included Albus and Gellert; these two also had stagnant lives. Especially Albus, whose soul was so gloomy it seemed like a spirit already.
However, there were some changes. Ariana gratefully looked at Gilderoy Lockhart in the distance, who was bored and squatting on the ground, drawing circles. This young man had released Gellert, saved Albus from his self-imposed limits, and allowed everything to start moving again.
The topic shifted to Gilderoy, and the others looked toward the young man.
Just then, Voldemort rushed towards Gilderoy like a madman.
"Gilderoy! Gilderoy!" Voldemort's expression was incredibly complex. He glared at the figure. "I can ignore how that damned friendship suddenly appeared in my heart, but I assume this must have some effect on you, right?"
Lockhart looked up at the Dark Lord and spread his hands. A tiny bit, but not much. But saying that would hurt feelings too much; he genuinely felt bad about it.
"Resurrect my mother, and I will repay you!" Voldemort promised.
Lockhart looked up at the Dark Lord's anxious appearance, then at the witch pulling on his sleeve behind him, and sighed. He clapped his hands and stood up.
"Tom, have you considered whether your mother is willing to be resurrected?"
Voldemort was stunned. "Who wouldn't want to live?" In the eyes of a man who frantically sought immortality, death was absolutely the worst option. Why die when you can live?
"That's true, but she's been in the spirit world for decades, hasn't she?" Lockhart said. "Do you remember when you gave me that magical notebook, The Unextinguished Flame of Life, and said it had a major side effect? I don't know what your answer is, but I want to say..."
"Time will backfire. There are far too many cases in magical history of things backfiring due to time, Tom. I imagine you have more information about this than I do."
Voldemort fell silent, looking back at his mother with some sadness. His mother, Merope Gaunt, seemed timid facing a son like Voldemort. She cautiously, yet inevitably, spoke. "I met Tom, your father." (Old Tom Riddle, father and son having the same name)
Voldemort became triumphant. "Yes, I killed him and sent him to you to atone."
Merope Gaunt lowered her head and remained silent for a long time, clenching the hem of her clothes. She mumbled, "I am the one who should atone. I deceived him; he was innocent. I wish I had the courage to face all of this..."
She looked up at Voldemort. "I also wish I had the courage to survive back then, to raise you and let you feel love. Perhaps then I wouldn't have harmed him again."
Voldemort was furious. "He deserved to die!"
Merope Gaunt was filled with sorrow. She finally raised her hand and gently caressed her child's cheek. "I can feel it. He loved you. He only hated me."
"Ha, loved me?" Voldemort felt his life was a joke.
His emotions rapidly surged, like a boiler about to explode. Just then, perhaps Dumbledore intervened, or perhaps the mechanism of the magic confining him detected that the intensity of his inner turmoil had exceeded a certain threshold. Chains emerged.
The chains pierced through the silver mist, their ends tightly bound to him. The more he struggled, the more they pulled him back.
Finally, Voldemort roared in fury as he was dragged out of the mirror world and back into the stone hut.
"No, no, no!!!" he screamed, completely swallowed by the mist.
Merope Gaunt chased after her child, stumbling and falling to the ground. She looked up at Dumbledore and the others, who were looking at her with pursed lips, and pleaded, "Please, just give him another chance!"
Unfortunately, Dumbledore was so resolute. He shook his head, a look of apology on his face. "I'm sorry. If I give him a chance, who gives the world a chance? He has already caused too much irreparable harm."
"It's all my fault, all my fault..." Merope Gaunt wept, her figure gradually fading until she completely vanished from the mirror world.
Only the others were left looking at each other.
Ariana was also full of emotion about the scene. "There are too many people like that in the spirit world, left only with endless suffering."
The appearance of the dead helps the living better understand how to live well. Perhaps this was the greatest significance of this reunion.
Lockhart observed from the side, vaguely sensing the subtle changes in Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Aberforth.
It seemed... everything was about to be a little different.
He thought for a moment, drew his wand, and tapped the Deluminator in his hand. Red threads surged, quickly outlining and floating across it, finally disappearing after a flash of light.
Then, he handed the Deluminator to Dumbledore. "Perhaps you'll need this more."
Dumbledore seemed to understand. "You made a change to it? Is it...?"
"To communicate with the deeply missed dead. Of course, it's limited to the scope of what Bloodline Magic can affect, but it should be sufficient for you."
In his previous life, Lockhart had read the fairy tale of The Little Match Girl. The poor girl lights her matches on a cold winter night and seems to see her grandmother in the flame. Similar abilities were encountered before. The Soul Bonfire spell, though Lockhart could not reach that level, his apprentice Vincent Crabbe could. He said he could see his parents in the flame.
Of course, this lighter is more direct; it can truly achieve the most direct verbal communication.
Dumbledore was very tempted. Although he had the conceptual idea for the 'King's Cross Platform' spell, he hadn't truly tried to implement it yet.
Then, a hand suddenly reached out and snatched the Deluminator.
It was Aberforth.
He tightly embraced the Deluminator, glaring vigilantly at Albus and Grindelwald, and finally looked at Lockhart. "Gilderoy, I owe you a huge favor. I will find a way to repay you."
Then, he looked down at the Deluminator again, confirming it was still in his hand, as delighted as a child. "That's great, that's great, Gilderoy, thank you so much."
A flash of fire surged. The phoenix, Fawkes, released its flames, carrying him through this mirror space and the Hogwarts defenses, and he bolted.
Only Lockhart was left looking at Dumbledore and Gellert with a slightly innocent expression.
Grindelwald sighed. "Let's hope that after he chats more with his sister, he won't resent Albus so much anymore."