Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as his sharp blue eyes studied Nero. "Dreams of the future?" he mused, his voice gentle yet laced with curiosity.
Nero met his gaze steadily. "Yes. It started after the Death Eater attack… The night Grandma was killed."
Dumbledore's expression darkened slightly, but he remained silent, waiting for Nero to continue.
"At first, the dreams were vague impressions, scattered and nonsensical," Nero explained. "Fragments of things I couldn't make sense of. But over time, they became… clearer."
Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully. "Prophecies, visions, glimpses through time… such phenomena are not unheard of in our world. But true foresight is rare. And often… unreliable."
"I know," Nero acknowledged. "That's why I didn't take them seriously at first. They felt like distant echoes, as if I were remembering something I had never lived through."
He paused, his fingers tightening slightly on the armrest.
"But…they became more frequent. More vivid. And I began to see things. Events, faces, that don't belong in our present."
Dumbledore studied him intently. "And what is it that you have seen?"
Nero hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "A future shaped by choices that haven't been made yet."
He exhaled slowly. "I don't know why I see these things. Maybe it's a warning. Maybe it's something else. But I can't ignore it."
A weight settled in the air between them.
Dumbledore's fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his chair, his expression unreadable.
Dumbledore studied Nero intently. "Dreams are often fleeting things, fading with time. But if what you see is truly so vivid… then perhaps we can observe them more closely."
His gaze flickered toward the Pensieve resting nearby. "Would you be willing to share them with me?"
Nero gave a firm nod. "That's the plan."
With measured steps, he approached the ancient basin.
Placing his wand against his temple, he carefully extracted a shimmering strand of thought and let it fall into the swirling liquid.
Dumbledore stepped forward, resting a gentle hand on Nero's shoulder. "Shall we?"
Nero exhaled, steady and prepared. "Let's go, grandpa."
————————————————————
The swirling shadows reformed into a moonlit street, eerily silent.
A man with dark, wild hair stood frozen, his wand raised but shaking from sheer, unfiltered rage.
Across from him, a short, rat-faced man trembled, his beady eyes darting around like prey cornered by a predator.
"Lily and James… gone." The words came from the dark-haired man's lips, raw, broken. "Because of you!"
The rat-faced man stumbled back, shaking his head furiously. "N-no, it wasn't me! I…I would never…"
A sharp crack of laughter, bitter and edged with madness.
"You were their Secret Keeper, you spineless rat! You told him where they were!"
The tension snapped.
The rat moved first.
A blinding explosion tore through the silence, deafening and brutal.
Fire and light swallowed everything.
Buildings crumbled as the shockwave tore through the narrow street.
Windows shattered into deadly shards, walls buckled and collapsed, burying people alive under a mountain of stone and debris.
Screams echoed through the destruction, some cut short in an instant, others swallowed by the roar of falling rubble.
The air reeked of burning wood, blood.
A severed finger was on the group, among countless corpses.
And, in the distance, a rat scurried into the shadows.
The black-haired man stood in the wreckage, breathing hard.
Wands were pointed at him now.
"You killed them!"
The vision lurched violently.
———————————————————————
The world swirled and solidified into the dimly lit halls of Hogwarts.
The torches burned low, casting flickering shadows along the cold stone walls.
Deep within the castle, in a forgotten chamber, a girl with striking red hair sat on the floor, her body trembling.
Her hands clutched a tattered black journal, ink dripping from its pages like spilled blood.
Her eyes were empty, vacant, her lips parting as if to whisper, but no sound came, only a shuddering breath.
The ink seeped through her fingertips, curling up her arms like blackened veins, tightening like unseen chains.
A whisper slithered from the journal. "You don't need them, Ginny… I'm here."
From the darkness, a boy emerged.
Tall, pale, and half-formed, yet his presence was suffocating.
His dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
Tom Riddle smiled.
Ginny's trembling ceased.
She exhaled, slow, weak, defeated.
Her head tilted upward, her empty gaze meeting his.
Then, the scene shattered.
———————————————————————
A cold wind swept through the darkened graveyard, rustling the dead leaves that clung to cracked tombstones.
At the center of it all, Harry Potter stood trembling, his wand raised but unsteady, the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead stark against his pale skin, pulsing like an unspoken warning.
Figures cloaked in black encircled him, their faces hidden beneath masks, their whispers dripping with anticipation.
And at the center of it all, a tall, serpentine figure, pale as bone.
His crimson eyes burned with unholy delight.
"Kill the spare."
The words rang through the night.
A flash of green light.
The spell struck the young Hufflepuff's chest, his body jerking violently from the impact.
For a fleeting moment, his amber eyes widened in shock, his mouth parting as if to speak, yet no words came.
Then, gravity took him.
His knees buckled. His body slumped backward, robes billowing for an instant before settling lifelessly against the damp earth.
A beat of silence.
"Cedric!"
The scene fractured.
———————————————————————
Wind howled across the barren hillside, cold and unforgiving.
Two figures stood facing each other.
Severus Snape's expression was twisted with fury, with disbelief.
His fists clenched, his eyes dark and burning.
"Don't ask this of me."
Dumbledore stood still, his cloak billowing in the wind.
His gaze, calm yet heavy, never left Snape's face.
"You must be the one to do it, Severus."
Snape's breath came fast, ragged with fury. "He is a boy, a coward. And you expect me to…"
"Draco is not a killer."
"And you think I am?"
A pause.
Dumbledore's piercing gaze did not waver.
"I think you must be."
Snape took a half-step back, his jaw clenched, his entire body rigid.
"You disgust me," he spat. "You would have me stain my soul forever just to protect your precious plan?"
For the first time, something flickered in Dumbledore's face. A shadow of regret.
But still, he did not yield.
"You have long since chosen your path, Severus."
The words struck like a curse.
Snape's fists clenched tighter.
"Swear it."
The wind howled.
Snape did not move for a long time.
Then, slowly, he lifted his wand and pressed it to his heart.
"I swear it."
A silver mist curled from the wand's tip, binding him to his unbreakable vow.
Dumbledore closed his eyes.
The vision fractured.
———————————————————————
A firelit office.
Dumbledore sat behind his grand wooden desk, his hands steepled beneath his chin.
Across from him, Harry Potter sat tense, confused. Angry.
"Professor, what aren't you telling me?"
Dumbledore hesitated.
His hands trembled slightly as he folded them in his lap.
"I have made many mistakes, Harry," he said softly.
"And I fear that in my efforts to protect you, I have only left you unprepared."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "For what?"
A long pause.
Dumbledore looked into the flames flickering in the hearth, his expression uncharacteristically weary.
"For what must come next."
The fire crackled.
The vision shifted.
———————————————————————
Darkness.
The air grew thick, heavy.
A locket, nestled in the depths of a cursed cave.
A ring, pulsing with an ancient, malevolent force.
A goblet, resting in the darkness, forgotten yet filled with power.
A diary, its ink-stained pages bleeding corruption.
A serpent, coiled in the shadows, eyes gleaming with intelligence beyond its kind.
A crown, lost to time, yet humming with ancient arrogance.
A scar. A child's forehead, marred by lightning.
"His soul is broken… splintered beyond repair."
The images overlapped, merging into a terrifying revelation.
Seven pieces.
Seven echoes of a single existence.
Seven Horcruxes.
Then, a sudden scream.
A woman's scream.
A flash of green light.
A child's cry.
The vision shattered like glass.
———————————————————————
Back in Reality. The office felt too quiet, too still.
Dumbledore staggered backward, gripping the edge of his desk, his usual composure momentarily shaken.
He exhaled, slow and measured, but his eyes were not twinkling.
He had seen it. He had seen to which future his mistakes could lead.
He had seen the cost of his inaction.
Finally, he spoke, his voice lower, heavier than before.
"A troubling series of visions, indeed."
Nero exhaled. "I don't know why I see them, but if there's even a chance that they mean something… I can't ignore them."
Dumbledore was silent for a long moment before he finally met Nero's gaze.
This time, his response carried more weight.
"…Neither can I."
"However," Dumbledore continued, his gaze sharp once more, "it would be unwise to rely on these visions alone. There are forces in the world— magical or not—that can influence, distort, and even fabricate such glimpses. There is something we could confirm."
Realization dawned on Nero.
"You're suggesting we visit an old family heirloom, aren't you?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Very perceptive, Nero. Now, if you would be so kind as to take my arm."