Chapter 542: The Timid Witch
The Lands Between. The Eve of Dawn.
A witch with long, flowing hair moved through the undergrowth, her eyes darting
nervously from shadow to shadow. She was barefoot, her toes pressing into the
soft, cool earth. Whenever she caught the silhouette of a passing wizard, she
scrambled to hide herself behind the thickest briars.
"Ariana."
A clear, melodic voice rang out. A strikingly beautiful witch stood in the
doorway of a seaside cottage. Leta Lestrange watched the timid girl, a soft
smile on her face as she gestured for her to come inside.
This was the fifth time Leta had encountered Ariana. Seeing the girl's pupils
flicker with a momentary sense of safety before the familiar wall of suspicion
returned, Leta bit her lip.
"Stay for a while? I've made some honeyed quinces and a proper Devonshire
pudding," Leta coaxed gently.
"No..."
Ariana's refusal was soft, but the hollow depth of her eyes held a stubborn,
desperate resolve.
"You've been searching for so long, child. You must allow yourself to rest,"
Leta said, her own head drooping with sorrow.
Wandering souls, Leta thought. Searching is their only purpose.
In the Lands Between, spirits like Ariana had no home. There was a saying in
this realm: "Where the heart finds peace, a cottage will sprout." But for a soul
lost in a whirlwind of trauma and confusion, where could a home possibly take
root?
And so, they were condemned to wander, searching until the day their emotions
and wisdom finally flickered out—unless, by some miracle, fate delivered a
stroke of luck to their doorstep.
Ariana turned away, moving like a startled animal toward the heart of the misty
woods. Leta's expression tightened with urgency.
"Ariana!" she called out. "You're looking for the Messenger of Luck, aren't
you?"
The timid witch froze. She cast a quick, furtive glance toward the doorframe of
the cottage. There, Leta had sketched a simple drawing of a black cat, and
beside the step sat a small, mysterious stone carving of the same creature.
Ariana quickly hid her hand behind her back, trying to conceal the small,
crumpled scrap of parchment where she had drawn her own version of the lucky
cat.
Seeing Ariana hesitate, Leta let out a silent sigh of relief. Stumbling upon a
wandering soul was no easy feat. In nearly seventy years, she had only met
Ariana five times. Even in a place where time was a blurry suggestion, it had
been over a decade since their last meeting.
If she let her go now, who knew when the next chance would come?
"At least have some Windsor soup, please?" Leta invited, her voice as soft as a
queen offering a gift. "I have seen the Messenger. Would you like to hear its
story? The story of how it bridges the gap between life and death, bringing
eternal luck to those who cross its path? Won't you stay and listen?"
Ariana remained outside, but she didn't run. She stared at Leta with eyes that
seemed to hold a spark of dying embers.
Leta knew this was the best she could do. Looking at the girl, she felt the
strange paradox of the realm. Ariana was close enough to see the individual
strands of her hair, yet she felt miles away, her form turning hazy at the
edges.
In the Lands Between, distance was measured by the space between hearts. Ariana
was distant from everyone—except for the people she was waiting for.
Two very inadequate men, Leta thought bitterly. Forgive me for saying so, Albus,
Aberforth... but you truly were inadequate.
Leta's gaze lost focus. How could they let a girl who was terrified of the world
wait alone for a century? Even now, she believed they were coming for her. And
if they didn't come, she was determined to gather her courage and find them
herself.
"Don't go yet. I have so many stories to tell." Leta brought out two small
benches and a steaming bowl of white soup.
This was her version of Brown Windsor Soup. Traditionally, it was a dismal,
muddy dish that looked more like polished floorboards than food. But Leta had
refined the recipe, producing a creamy, fragrant broth that made even Ariana's
long-empty stomach give a ghostly twinge of hunger.
"Beyond the stories of the Messenger, I know others. Have you heard of Newt? He
was Professor Dumbledore's favorite student... I happen to know he was still
wetting his bed at six years old..."
Leta laughed warmly. Only when she glanced at the black cat statue did her
expression turn solemn.
Hurry, Mr. Cat, she prayed silently. Please, hurry.
Walking through the blinding white expanse, the Black Cat's whiskers twitched.
He looked at a thread of mist that had suddenly thickened into a sturdy cord.
Leta was thinking of him.
This happened often; the threads of connection would wax and wane depending on a
wizard's emotional state. Sean continued his journey, following the trail of
Leta's "yarn ball," his mind fixed on the timid witch she had described.
He had been in the realm for a long time now. By his calculations, he was able
to find almost anyone, provided he had a clear enough impression of them. The
Lands Between would obey his will and guide him.
But "direction" didn't account for "distance." If a soul was drifting too far in
the vastness of the fog, he might run out of time before he reached them. Ariana
was one such soul. He had always felt she was drifting at the very edge of his
reach, which was why he had enlisted Leta's help.
By the time he reached the seaside cottage, the white void was beginning to dim.
A twilight hue, like a veil of violet silk, was descending upon the realm.
"Six and a half hours..."
Sean noted the time as he stepped into the light of the cottage's window. Leta
was standing at the gate, staring out at the horizon with a look of profound
loss.
"Miss Lestrange," Sean called out.
"You're late, divine sir," Leta said, her voice heavy. "I couldn't keep her
here."
Her brow furrowed with self-reproach. "She has been searching for so long...
alone, with nowhere to belong." Leta looked at the Cat. "Luck doesn't favor the
broken children, does it?"
Sean froze. He felt the weight of her words. "You..."
"Have some soup, Messenger," Leta said, turning back toward the house and wiping
a stray tear from her cheek. "Let me tell you the story of a girl the world
forgot."
Inside the cottage, the fire roared in the hearth. The firelight outlined the
Cat's small, furry form. Through Leta's fragmented tale, Sean learned of the
life Ariana Dumbledore led in the mist.
A witch who had fallen behind the Veil, a soul with no sanctuary, drifting
through a sea of fog fueled by a terror of the world she had left behind.
Loneliness and cowardice were her constant companions, but her obsession with
her brothers burned as bright as the stars.
"She whispers their names constantly. But where are they? These 'great men' who
let her suffer in life... do they intend to let her wander in death as well?"
Leta's lip curled.
The Cat remained silent. He looked out at the falling dawn and the melancholy
twilight, feeling the weight of the realm's cruel laws for the first time.
"The night has come..."
The Cat gazed at the encroaching darkness and offered a silent farewell to Leta.
"Master of Dreams and Mists... Bridge between Life and Death..." Leta watched
his silhouette vanish into the night, her voice a whisper of prayer. "May you
hear the rain of the mortal world, and may you dry the tears of those who have
left it behind."
Sean didn't know what his presence meant to the souls of this realm, but Leta's
words haunted him. He could picture a girl like Ariana—timid, fragile—stumbling
through this alien waste.
He began to run.
The sky above was a masterpiece of starlight. The distant constellations acted
as a map, guiding his paws. He moved like the wind, startling the thin, silvery
trees as he passed.
But she was still too far.
Suddenly, a notification flared in his mind, stopping him in his tracks.
[You have observed the night sky of the Lands Between. Divination Proficiency
+100] [Junior Divination Magic Unlocked.] [Junior Divination: Novice (99/300)]
[New Title Unlocked: The Untaught Seer] [New Talent Unlocked: Opening the Inner
Eye]
The legends in Dream Stories were true. The Lands Between possessed the clearest
sky in existence; here, Astronomy was more than just charting stars—it was the
key to revelation.
Sean paused. He was still too far from Ariana. Unless he could pinpoint her
exact location and turn his vague direction into a fixed point, he would never
find her before his time in the realm expired.
He felt a sudden intuition. The Inner Eye... it reveals what is hidden.
[Title: The Untaught Seer] [Ability: The Inner Eye (Partially Opened)] In
specific realms, the Inner Eye allows the wizard to receive the revelation they
seek.
Specific realms... Sean thought. The Lands Between.
But how did he use it?
Before he could process the thought, his vision went dark. He slumped onto the
forest floor, his whiskers trembling. He felt as though he were falling through
a kaleidoscope of images—blurry, high-speed flashes of what felt like the
future.
He was like a drowning child reaching for a lifeline. He strained his eyes,
desperate to catch even a single shred of clarity.
Finally, he saw it.
He saw a girl with long, tangled hair walking barefoot through a muddy marsh.
The moonlight stretched her shadow across the reeds. Her face was a mask of
terror, yet she walked with a stubborn, frantic pace.
Every few steps, she would look at a small, crumpled drawing of a black cat she
held in her hand.
"Master of Dreams and Mists... Bridge between Life and Death... Eternal Symbol
of Luck..."
She was whispering the prayer she had overheard in the mist.
When the Black Cat began to run again, the night was at its deepest. He ignored
the strange rustling of the woods. He leaped over hills, sprinted through
valleys, and splashed across crystalline streams.
Finally, in the heart of a mud-slicked swamp, he saw her.
She was curled in a ball amidst a patch of tall grass, using the long, emerald
blades as a makeshift blanket. As the cold wind bit at her, she shivered
violently.
"She has no home, sir," Leta's voice echoed in his mind. "She will only enter a
house when the people she seeks are waiting inside. It isn't cruelty; it is the
only way her obsession survives. Pain is the only thing that keeps the fog of
forgetting at bay."
Sean approached her slowly. With every step, his form grew. By the time he
reached her side, he was no longer a small house cat; he was a magnificent,
divine beast.
He draped his massive, plumy tail over Ariana, shielding her from the wind and
radiating a magical warmth.
The girl let out a soft moan. After a few seconds, she slowly, fearfully opened
her eyes. The giant beast was gone, replaced by the small black cat of her
drawings. But his tail was still wrapped around her, cocooning her in warmth.
"Good evening, Miss Ariana," the Cat said softly.
"Oh..."
Ariana's breath hitched. Her small nose twitched as she stared at him in
disbelief. A sound emerged from her throat—halfway between a sob and a whimper,
so weak it was barely audible.
But Sean understood. In her heart, the wounds of parting and disappointment had
grown so old they had lost their voice.
"You are the first wizard I have met tonight," the Cat whispered, his voice like
an ancient, soothing lullaby. "Make a wish, Miss Ariana, and I shall help it
come true."
He knew she had died at fourteen. He spoke to her not as a deity, but as a
friend offering a warm story.
The Lands Between had never felt so bright. Ariana felt like the luckiest witch
in the world. The stars above seemed to sparkle in celebration of her
hundred-year journey finally coming to a rest.
But as the joy took hold, the tears finally came. They soaked into the Cat's
dark fur. She tried to pull away, embarrassed, but the Cat simply reached out a
soft paw and gently brushed the moisture from her cheeks.
She tried to speak, but the sounds were incoherent. The Cat didn't mind. The
world was a place where millions lived in silence; talking to a cat was the most
natural thing in the world.
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