"Sir, is this the letter?" Roger carefully took the acceptance letter from the drawer and held it out with both hands. After its long, strange journey, the envelope looked battered and tired, with wrinkled parchment, worn edges, dark fingerprints, and curled corners.
"Yes, this is indeed a Hogwarts acceptance letter," Dumbledore said, giving a gentle nod. "Have you kept it with you all this time?"
"Yes, sir," Roger said, looking a little embarrassed. He glanced down at the letter, then back at Jessica. "If it weren't for this, Mum and I might still be fighting Dementors in Azkaban."
Roger and Jessica exchanged a look, and the answer was made without hesitation. They chose Hogwarts. As for the invitations from Ilvermorny and Beauxbatons, Roger did not even open them.
A warm light flashed in Dumbledore's eyes. Roger's choice brought the whole matter to a clean and satisfying close, at least on the surface. "Reparo," he said, waving his wand.
The wrinkled letter smoothed itself as if time had been reversed. The torn edges mended, the dark marks vanished, and the parchment became crisp and clean once more. Dumbledore smiled softly as he returned it to Roger.
"Do not worry, child," Dumbledore said. "The Ministry of Magic has already made a decision. More Aurors will be stationed at Azkaban in the future, and witches and wizards who were wrongfully imprisoned or improperly tried will have their cases reviewed."
"They will learn from what happened," he continued. "The laws and procedures will be improved to protect fairness and prevent such tragedies from happening again. You and your mother have suffered injustice, and for that, I am deeply sorry. But I do believe the future can still be bright."
"Thank you, Headmaster." Roger looked up at Jessica with a small, eager smile. "Mum, do you want to hear it again?"
"Of course." Jessica pulled her son close, joy softening her pale face. She kissed his cheek hard enough to make him blink, and for one brief moment, she looked less like a woman rescued from Azkaban and more like an ordinary mother proud of her child.
Roger opened the envelope and read every word carefully, refusing to skip even the attached list. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore. Dear Mr. Williams…" He read through the books, equipment, robes, and the note reminding parents that first-year students were not allowed to bring their own broomsticks.
"Congratulations, child," Dumbledore said warmly. "Hogwarts awaits you. There, you will meet friends who share your path, and you will learn one of life's most beautiful kinds of magic: friendship, trust, and love."
"That's wonderful," Roger said, leaning into his mother. "Mum, once I learn more magic, I'll be able to help you rest properly."
As he moved, the sleeve of Jessica's hospital gown slipped slightly, revealing the faded Dark Mark on her left arm. Roger had not made the movement look deliberate, but he had known exactly what it might show.
"Jessica," Dumbledore said, his smile fading into concern. "Is it because of that?"
"It is my fault," Jessica said, quickly pulling her sleeve back down. Shame crossed her face as she lowered her head. "That mark proves the serious mistakes I made in the past."
Dumbledore stepped closer, his voice warm but steady. "Mistakes do exist, but what matters now is that you chose to turn back. That choice shows the courage and kindness still within your heart, and that is what should guide what comes next."
"Mum can't sleep well because of it," Roger said, tugging lightly at Dumbledore's wide sleeve. His eyes looked large and bright in his thin face. "Please help her."
"What a kind child," Dumbledore said softly. He turned to Jessica. "I will do my best to ease the pain this mark has caused you."
He drew his wand and approached with care. "This may be uncomfortable. Please bear with it."
Jessica nodded and slowly rolled up her sleeve. The full Dark Mark lay against her pale skin, a skull and serpent resting there like the shadow of an old nightmare. Dumbledore closed his eyes and chanted a long, complex spell under his breath.
The mark began to twist and fade. Jessica bit her lip, sweat gathering on her forehead, but she did not pull away. After several tense minutes, the Dark Mark dissolved into a thin puff of smoke and disappeared completely, leaving her arm bare for the first time in years.
"There," Dumbledore said with a smile. "It will not trouble you in the same way again."
"Thank you, Headmaster," Jessica said, her voice thick with emotion. "I am truly grateful."
The vanished mark could not erase the fact that she had once followed Voldemort, but it gave her something she had not felt in a very long time: the courage to face tomorrow without that shadow burned into her skin. She touched her arm carefully, almost afraid the mark might return if she looked away.
"I believe you will begin again," Dumbledore said. "And I believe you will be both a good mother and a good witch."
He then turned his attention to the matter waiting beyond the hospital room. "If you do not mind, Professor McGonagall can accompany young Roger to Diagon Alley to purchase his school supplies. Many witches and wizards outside are curious and eager to know who our little star is."
"That would be wonderful," Jessica said at once. "Thank you, and please thank Professor McGonagall as well."
Azkaban had hurt her deeply, and her body had not yet fully recovered. Although Rita's report had not shown Roger's face or printed his name, Jessica herself had appeared in the newspaper, and many people in the wizarding world could recognize her. If she walked into Diagon Alley with her son, everyone would know at once that Roger was the child from the story.
Jessica did not want Roger to carry the weight of Azkaban everywhere he went, even if the whole world believed him innocent. She did not want him turned into a symbol, a spectacle, or a sad story people whispered about in shops. She only wanted him to grow up healthy and happy.
"Young Roger, are you ready to visit Diagon Alley?" Professor McGonagall asked.
She looked down at him, and her stern face softened in spite of herself. Roger was clearly frail after so many years in Azkaban, smaller and thinner than most children his age. His pale, almost moonlit skin showed how little sunlight he had known.
Even so, hardship had not hidden the fine structure of his features. His nose was high, his cheeks slightly hollow, and his cheekbones gave his face a delicate sharpness that made him look older than eleven. Soft black hair fell across his forehead, standing in stark contrast to his fair skin.
He wore a black robe that was slightly too large, with the cuffs and hem pinned up to keep the fabric from swallowing him whole. His clear eyes, black and white and watchful, held intelligence and resilience far beyond his age. Anyone looking closely might have felt that this fragile boy would one day become someone important in the wizarding world.
Dumbledore watched McGonagall lead Roger away, and his expression slowly grew serious. From the Dark Mark on Jessica's arm, he had once again sensed Voldemort's lingering power. That faint trace was enough to stir the unease he had carried quietly for years.
The Dark Mark still contained his magic, Dumbledore thought. That means Voldemort has not disappeared completely, no matter what everyone wishes to believe. Somewhere, in some diminished form, he is gathering strength and waiting for the chance to return.
"We must remain vigilant," Dumbledore murmured inwardly. "We must steady hearts and prepare in secret."
His brows furrowed as another thought came to him. The forces of darkness were not gone, only hidden. And that prophecy still waited in the shadows.
"Ms. Williams, tomorrow's meeting will require your attendance," Dumbledore said aloud, turning back to Jessica. "I will do everything I can to ensure that you and Roger receive the justice you are due before the Wizengamot. You have endured much misfortune, and you deserve compensation and fairness."
"Thank you," Jessica said sincerely. "I am deeply grateful."
"Then I will depart for the Ministry now," Dumbledore said. "Please rest and allow yourself some peace."
"Don't worry, Headmaster," Jessica replied. "I will take care of myself."
She watched as Dumbledore stepped into the fireplace. Green flames rose around him, and a moment later, he vanished.
Outside Purge and Dowse Ltd., Professor McGonagall led Roger into an old carriage. Their destination was the Leaky Cauldron, a shabby little pub on Charing Cross Road, tucked between a bookshop and a record shop. A Muggle-repelling charm protected it, ensuring ordinary passers-by would overlook the doorway no matter how close they came.
Professor McGonagall held Roger's hand and pushed open the worn wooden door. "This is the Leaky Cauldron," she said. "It is the hidden entrance connecting London to the wizarding world."
"Oh, welcome, Professor McGonagall," an old man with grey-blue eyes called from behind the bar. Old Tom's bald head shone in the dim pub light, as bright and polished as a lantern. "Is this one of the new students this year?"
He came over with a friendly chuckle, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Hagrid brought a new student to Diagon Alley as well. You might run into them."
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