"Mate?"
Ron watched his brothers disappear down the corridor, laughing, before turning to Harry. The smile faded when he saw the troubled look on his friend's face.
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing." Harry shook his head and handed him the letter. "Just… thinking."
Ron skimmed it and gave it back.
"To be honest, you're getting too involved in this. That's the story of a Harry Potter and a Malfoy from a hundred years ago. What does that have to do with you?"
Harry didn't answer.
"But if I were you," Ron continued, "I'd be more worried about something else than some Malfoy researching time magic for that Potter."
"Like what?"
"Miss Grindelwald." Ron gestured vaguely. "What if her brother is the same Grindelwald Professor Dumbledore defeated?"
Harry frowned.
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Everything! Dark wizards aren't exactly reasonable. Imagine when he finds out his sister left the family for someone named Harry Potter… and you're also Harry Potter."
"So?"
"For Merlin's beard!" Ron groaned. "Can't you picture it? 'Mr. Potter… do you think my sister would miss you?' And then he throws an Unforgivable Curse! Dark wizards won't stop to check which Harry you are. The name is enough."
Harry shuddered.
Ron was speculating… but Harry had truly been to Nurmengard — the fortress prison built by Gellert Grindelwald in Austria — and had met him as a child.
Even then, before mastering magic, there had been something unsettling in Gellert's gaze. Fierce ambition. Pride far beyond his years.
And unmistakable hostility.
If he had been like that at three, what kind of wizard would he become after a century?
Given his sister's magical talent, mediocrity seemed unlikely.
A hundred years change many things. But ambition and resentment rarely fade.
"You make a good point," Harry muttered, pocketing the letter. "I should investigate further."
He decided to search the Room of Requirement again. If that Harry from the past had left records, they might not appear in the form he expected.
After a long but fruitless search, they left. It was late.
Cassandra.
Harry sighed. Rationally, he knew he should move on. Emotionally, the absence still stung.
Lost in thought, he bumped into Ron.
"What is it?"
"Look."
In an abandoned classroom stood a tall, ornate mirror.
Harry's heart skipped.
The Mirror of Erised.
It hadn't been there before.
"Want to look?" Ron whispered.
"No. Let's go."
Instinct.
Something was wrong.
They were under a Disillusionment Charm, not the Invisibility Cloak.
Hidden in the shadows, Dumbledore watched from behind his half-moon spectacles.
When the boys ignored the mirror, he sighed softly.
With a subtle flick of his wand, a nearby statue transformed into the unmistakable figure of Severus Snape.
Snape rarely patrolled at that hour — which made the sight suspicious.
"Harry, it's Snape!" Ron whispered urgently.
Harry narrowed his eyes.
Snape wouldn't be there. Night patrol was Filch's duty.
Too convenient.
"Stay still," Harry whispered. "He can't see us."
They pressed against the wall, unmoving.
Dumbledore watched with mixed emotions — pride in their caution… and mild embarrassment at his failed plan.
Still, he guided the figure closer.
Silently, Harry drew his wand and aimed it at the approaching silhouette.
Dumbledore blinked.
"Hmm?"
/------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------/
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