"Professor, there's something else I need to tell you," William said hesitantly after Dumbledore had meticulously arranged plans for Tom.
"Earlier, I was with Cedric and Cho in the Forbidden Forest... taking a walk, and we encountered Ronan."
"You're sure it was just a walk?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.
"Let's call it… a digestive stroll."
"Midnight walk in the Forbidden Forest to digest food? Quite the commendable habit, I must say," Dumbledore chuckled.
"Ronan… I remember him. A centaur with a rather agreeable disposition," Dumbledore remarked.
"Ronan told me that the star Epsilon Hydrae in the Hydra constellation has been growing increasingly bright. Last night, it was even brighter than the Heart of Hydra," William explained.
"And last night, Voldemort's Horcrux was resurrected. You believe this omen corresponds to that event?" Dumbledore said evenly.
"Doesn't it?" William countered.
"I understand your point, William. You're suggesting that since the centaurs' prophecies are so accurate, we could enlist their help," Dumbledore said.
William nodded.
"William, if you know centaurs well, you'll often hear them say: 'The prophecies of the centaurs do not concern the trivial.'"
"What does that mean?"
"Centaurs, through their stargazing, can predict the fate of a species or a civilization, but they cannot foresee the actions of an individual."
"For instance, we might want to know who the next wizard to assist Voldemort will be, or what Tom plans to do in America.
"But the centaurs cannot provide such answers. They do not focus on the details; they observe the larger patterns of the future.
"Take, for example, how Firenze has repeatedly told me: 'The wizards are merely passing through a brief peace between two wars. Mars burns brightly above us, heralding an inevitable resurgence of conflict.'"
"I didn't need him to tell me that. I've seen it myself. But can they provide more specifics?
"Like, who will win? And how?"
"So, last night's event…" William pressed.
"You could think of it this way," Dumbledore sighed. "Tom's resurrection has greatly impacted the future trajectory of Britain, and perhaps even the entire magical world.
"That's why the centaurs, by chance, caught wind of it. We cannot expect them to be this fortuitous every time."
Dumbledore interlaced his fingers and added, "Even if they knew more details, they wouldn't share them with us, nor would I want to hear them."
"Why not?" William asked, puzzled.
"Do you recall your mention of numerical divination?"
William nodded.
"Professor Vector said there would be seven attacks, and ultimately, failure," Dumbledore said softly.
"The number seven was accurate. Tom did indeed use seven Basilisks. But the prophecy claimed failure… who exactly failed?
"Did Tom fail? He lost his physical form, yes, but he left room for resurrection.
"Did we fail?
"You prevented Riddle's full resurrection, reducing him to a shadow. Those who were attacked survived… but, William, do you feel victorious? Riddle has become a long-term threat for us."
"Prophecies are always ambiguous," Dumbledore continued. "Experience has taught us countless times that placing too much faith in them is foolish.
"Voldemort's current state is a direct result of his blind belief in a certain prophecy.
We can attempt to use prophecies to guide us, but we must never treat them as definitive outcomes, lest they mislead us."
William hesitated. "But there's one prophecy that's been bothering me. I've thought about it for a long time… Professor, have you read The Predictions of Tycho Dodonus?"
"I read it many years ago," Dumbledore said, raising his hand. Another book flew from the shelf into his grasp.
"A fascinating book. When I revisited it later, I found that some of its predictions had unfolded around people I knew."
"You're referring to this passage, aren't you?" Dumbledore opened the book to a certain page and recited in a low voice:
"Oh, the merciless Dark Lord!
Ah, the fractured soul!
Once self-banished,
Reborn through Death's gift."
"Who do you think it refers to?" William asked. "There are only two Dark Lords, after all..."
"To be honest," Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon glasses, his voice low, "for many years, I thought the prophecy referred to Grindelwald."
"Isn't Grindelwald imprisoned in Nurmengard?" William asked.
"Do you really believe Nurmengard could hold Grindelwald? He built it in the first place," Dumbledore said.
"Then why doesn't the first Dark Lord escape?"
"Because…" Dumbledore took a deep breath. "Gellert promised me he would never leave Nurmengard, unless I was dead."
William cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling like something about this conversation was… off.
This didn't sound like a vow between mortal enemies, it had the air of a dramatic farewell, steeped in a "never to meet again in this life" sentiment.
"If he promised not to leave, then why do you think the prophecy could be about him?" William pressed.
"William, I don't know if I can trust Gellert," Dumbledore admitted, his voice tinged with a rare note of vulnerability.
"He was always a master of manipulation, adept at deceiving both hearts and minds. To put it bluntly, he's the most accomplished liar I've ever met. I can't tell which of his words were true and which were lies."
"So you think his self-imposed exile in Nurmengard is temporary? That one day he'll break his promise and leave?"
"I don't know," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head.
"But I don't think the prophecy refers to Grindelwald," William countered. "I believe it's about Tom Riddle.
"Riddle is a fractured soul. He even described himself as being exiled by Voldemort into the diary.
"He spoke of Slytherin's records, death , and the Deathly Hallows.
"All of these signs point to him fitting the prophecy's description."
"The Hallows, the Hallows," Dumbledore murmured. "A desperate man's dream."
"But they're real," William said, thinking of his own ring and Nicolas Flamel's alchemical texts.
"So, you believe the 'death' in the prophecy refers to the Death from the story of the Three Brothers?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes. Death''s gift could refer to the Deathly Hallows," William replied.
"If Tom truly seeks 'Death' and attempts to claim all three Hallows," Dumbledore said, "I would be delighted. It would mean he's fallen for the bait of fools.
"William, humanity can never conquer death… no matter which version of the tale you believe.
"We mock the eldest brother's arrogance and the second brother's desperation while admiring the youngest brother's cunning for outsmarting Death.
"But have you noticed? In the end, even the youngest brother died. His soul was still taken by Death.
"The Deathly Hallows… are merely the Death's deception. Anyone who seeks to find the Death will inevitably meet their demise."
William nodded thoughtfully, the weight of Dumbledore's words sinking in.
"Professor, I'll take my leave now," William said.
"Rest well," Dumbledore replied. "And let Harry outside the door come in after a song's time."
William nodded and left the Headmaster's office.
…
Dumbledore sat in his chair, staring blankly ahead. A rare air of weariness and defeat cloaked him, something he never displayed in front of others.
After a moment, he rose and walked into a room.
It was a plain room. Against one wall stood a large object draped in black velvet.
Dumbledore stood before it, hesitating for a moment. Then, with a decisive motion, he pulled the velvet cloth away.
The Mirror of Erised emerged, its ornate frame catching the light.
Since the Quirrell incident, Dumbledore had not looked into this mirror for a year.
Now, summoning his courage, he gazed into it.
Within the mirror, a younger Dumbledore and a younger Grindelwald lay together on a sunlit meadow.
Dumbledore quickly averted his eyes, suppressing the urge to cover the mirror again. He steadied himself and raised his blue eyes once more.
"Albus, will you be my partner?" the younger Dumbledore asked, his voice full of courage.
"Albus, I must remind you again, I'm a man," Grindelwald replied, shielding his eyes from the dazzling sunlight.
His golden hair shimmered brilliantly under the light.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to be my partner?" Grindelwald asked seriously.
Dumbledore lowered his head, deep in thought. Then he looked up, his eyes filled with determination.
"Life is short, why not give it a try?" he said.
They leaned closer.
A deep kiss.
The scene shifted.
An older Grindelwald sat alone on a dusty chair, surrounded by solitude. He smiled faintly.
[tl/n: I was bumboozled when I first read this!]