The atmosphere in the Great Hall was as noisy and lively as usual, but at the Slytherin table there was a rather peculiar tension in the air.
Aurelian Gaunt was eating quietly, savoring his lunch in a state of relative and strange isolation. It had already been three long days since Professor McGonagall had imposed her fateful punishment on the twins, and the vice principal had made sure that the prefects and teachers were monitoring the situation to ensure the punishment was carried out to the letter.
However, Hestia and Flora weren't exactly at the other end of the hall. They had calculated the minimum distance required to avoid being penalized again and had seated themselves exactly two students away from him. The two poor fifth-years who had the misfortune of sitting between them were sweating bullets, eating as quickly as they could and not daring to look up.
The girls, for their part, weren't even touching their plates. Their elbows rested on the table and their faces were cradled in their hands, as they devoted themselves solely to staring intently at Aurelian. Both were making adorable pouts, their eyes shining with the misery they felt at not being able to sit next to him.
Aurelian looked up from his glass, caught their pained gazes, and gave them a crooked smile. He continued eating in silence, genuinely amused. He had to admit it: Professor McGonagall's method was brilliant. He had found the most creative, peaceful, and devastatingly effective way to punish his lovely girlfriends without having to deduct house points or impose detentions—which would be useless with these two anyway.
No sooner had lunch ended and Aurelian stepped through the door, officially leaving the Great Hall, than two figures pounced on him.
Hestia and Flora wrapped their arms around him, pressing themselves against his chest with desperate force, as if they'd been separated from him for decades instead of half an hour.
"We don't know how much longer we can take this!" Hestia whispered against his neck, her voice trembling with frustration.
"It's torture… being away from you during classes and meals is the worst punishment we've ever been given in our entire lives," Flora complained, burying her face in his tunic.
Aurelian let out a soft chuckle, wrapping his arms around them and gently stroking their dark hair to soothe their anxiety.
"Don't worry, my loves. Three days have already passed; you only have four more days of punishment left, and everything will go back to normal," he whispered, trying to give them a little strength.
Both let out a long, deep, synchronized sigh. They nodded sadly, knowing they had no other choice if they didn't want the punishment to be extended until the end of the year. They clung to him for one last, lingering hug, drawing strength to get through the rest of the day, and finally pulled away reluctantly.
"See you later in the common room, my love," Hestia said, stroking his cheek.
"Don't be too long," Flora added, before they both turned to head reluctantly to their next class.
As he watched them disappear down the hallway, Aurelian's smile slowly faded, replaced by a serious expression. The time for relaxation was over. He knew he had a long and very tense conversation ahead of him—one he'd been putting off since his return from limbo.
With quick steps, he made his way up to the upper floors.
A few minutes later, he arrived in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office. Aurelian opened his mouth, preparing to guess which candy would serve as the password this time, but before he could utter a single word, the heavy stone statue came to life. It swiveled around, revealing the spiral staircase.
"You may come up, Aurelian," Headmaster Dumbledore's magically amplified voice echoed from above.
Aurelian climbed the stone steps in silence, preparing his mind and shielding his thoughts behind his Occlumency barriers.
Upon entering the majestic office, he found the room bathed in soft afternoon light. Instead of sitting behind his desk, Albus Dumbledore was standing next to the golden perch, gently stroking Fawkes's brilliant crimson plumage.
Aurelian watched him for a moment. It still felt strange to see the Archmage in that physical form; Dumbledore had the ruddy complexion, brown hair, and vitality of a man in the prime of his youth, without a single wrinkle to betray his true age. However, in contrast to his outward appearance, the slump of his shoulders and the heaviness in his movements radiated the weariness of the century he carried.
"Please take a seat," Dumbledore said, without taking his eyes off the phoenix.
Aurelian obeyed. He walked over to the desk and sat down in one of the chairs, crossing his legs with ease.
"Good afternoon, Headmaster," Aurelian greeted him in a calm tone. "How have things been around here?"
Albus gave Fawkes one last stroke—the phoenix let out a melancholy trill—and walked slowly toward his chair. The headmaster sank into his seat, interlaced his fingers on the desk, and fixed his blue eyes on the young lord.
He let out a long, deep sigh, rubbing his forehead slightly.
"To be completely honest with you, Aurelian… I've had far better days and weeks," Dumbledore remarked, with a weary smile and a tone that revealed the weight of his decisions. "But, as always, I manage. The world keeps turning, and I can't just stand still."
The silence in the office lingered for several seconds, interrupted only by Fawkes's soft chirp. Albus Dumbledore watched his student with a mixture of intrigue, caution, and a genuine desire to understand the incomprehensible.
"Tell me, Aurelian," Albus began, his voice dropping until it was almost a whisper. "What exactly did you experience? What happened when you disappeared from that crater in the stadium after obtaining the wand?"
Aurelian leaned back comfortably in his chair, showing not the slightest sign of nervousness.
"I met Death," he replied matter-of-factly, "and we talked for a while."
Albus shrugged slightly, assessing the boy's composure.
"And that was it? You just… talked?"
Aurelian nodded slowly.
"Yes, that was all, Headmaster. There was no secret pact, nor anything strange that you're surely imagining right now. We just chatted for a while in the void."
Dumbledore narrowed his blue eyes, searching for a crack in the young man's armor.
"So… did you become the Master of Death?"
Aurelian shook his head and let out a small laugh at the Headmaster's question.
"No one—absolutely no one in the entire universe—can tell Lady Death what to do. That 'Master' business is just a legend, an absurd myth invented by people to make the story more appealing."
Albus froze for a moment, processing the exact words the boy had just used. He blinked, visibly confused by the strange information.
"'Lady' Death? Is Death… a woman?"
Aurelian noticed the genuine bewilderment on the Archmage's face and couldn't help but smile wryly.
"It's quite confusing to explain, but yes, we could say that Death is a girl."
Dumbledore slowly shook his head, deciding it was best not to try to understand the mysteries of an entity as complex as Death, lest he give himself a headache. He dismissed the topic and moved on to the next critical point in the conversation.
"Let's suppose I accept all of this as the truth of what happened," said Albus, interlacing his fingers again. "What I still don't understand is how you obtained the other two relics."
"I obtained the Resurrection Stone a long, long time ago," Aurelian replied calmly. "And, frankly, it's best if I don't explain the details of that acquisition to you, for the sake of peace between us. As for the Invisibility Cloak… well, obviously, I took it from Harry."
Albus let out a sigh so heavy it seemed to bear the entire weight of the wizarding world.
Hearing this, Aurelian burst out laughing, shaking his head.
"With all due respect, Headmaster, Potter is very, very careless. I assure you that boy would lose his own head if it weren't attached to his neck. Stealing the cloak from him was like taking candy from a baby."
"That no longer matters, Aurelian," Albus interrupted firmly, his tone turning authoritative. "You must return the cloak to Harry immediately. It was a direct heirloom from his family."
Aurelian stopped laughing. His purple eyes glinted with a cold, calculating light.
"Even if I wanted to, Headmaster… and clearly I don't," he said with a sharp smile, "I simply can't. All three objects are now solely and exclusively mine."
To prove his point, Aurelian reached into the pocket of his robe. Seconds later, he pulled out the Resurrection Stone and gently placed it on the surface of the headmaster's desk.
"Look at it with confidence, Professor; take it if you wish," Aurelian offered, holding out a hand toward the stone.
Albus looked at the relic warily. Driven by curiosity and the need to verify the truth of the boy's words, he slowly reached out his hand.
The moment his fingertips touched the stone's cold surface, Albus stifled a cry. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his palm as if a thousand needles had pierced his skin. A grave, unnatural chill made the hairs on his arms stand on end, sucking the warmth from his body in a matter of seconds.
Out of pure self-preservation, Albus abruptly let go of the stone and pulled his hand back to his chest, breathing heavily.
Aurelian, without losing his smile, reached out, picked up the stone without suffering the slightest adverse effect, and calmly put it back in his pocket.
"That—exactly that—will happen to anyone other than me who tries to touch or take any of the three relics from now on," Aurelian explained, settling back in his chair. "They are no longer objects that can be stolen, passed on, claimed, or inherited. Death gave them to me, and they are bound to my magic and soul."
Dumbledore looked down at his right hand, which was still tingling with the phantom pain he could still feel. He sighed deeply. He knew he had lost that battle; there was absolutely nothing he could do about it now. Death, for some reason beyond all his knowledge and wisdom, had chosen Aurelian Gaunt.
Feeling suddenly exhausted, Albus closed his eyes for a second.
"You may go now, Aurelian," the headmaster murmured in a weak voice.
Aurelian nodded and rose from his chair with his characteristic grace. He smoothed out his robes, but just before turning to walk toward the door, he paused. All trace of mockery and cynicism vanished from his face, replaced by a look of utter seriousness.
"You can rest easy, Headmaster," Aurelian said, his voice resonating with sincerity. "No matter what has happened, I am not your enemy."
Without waiting for a reply, Aurelian turned on his heel and descended the spiral staircase, leaving Albus Dumbledore completely alone in the vast office, immersed in an ocean of doubts, fears, and complex thoughts about the fate of the world.
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