Chapter 543: Legendary Talent
Ariana gazed at him with a look of pure, childlike devotion—at her "God."
The Black Cat's tail flicked rhythmically, the soft fur tickling her as he
remained wrapped around her small form. His words, "Make a wish," acted like the
first rays of spring sun, slowly coaxing her frozen spirit back to life.
Ariana had forgotten the last time she had felt warm. Her lips moved, trying to
form words, but the sounds that emerged were still little more than a rhythmic
breath.
The Cat wasn't in a hurry. He lay down, using his front paws as a cushion for
his furry head. His gaze was warm... and his tail followed suit.
With another flick of that restless tail, several black "yarn balls" rolled
across the mist-covered ground. The first ball unraveled into a campfire,
sending waves of cozy heat through the marsh. The second ball transformed into a
strange, shimmering silver basin—a Pensieve—with strands of silver light
swirling within.
"Oh..." The timid witch's eyes widened.
"Just some simple magic," the Cat rumbled, giving a slight toss of his head.
Suddenly, Ariana's expression froze. Her bright eyes dimmed as she looked at the
fire and the basin. She looked away, as if she didn't dare look at the magic or
the Cat.
"Come closer, Miss Ariana," the Cat said, his tail drawing her tighter into his
circle of warmth. "Magic is not a thing to be feared in the eyes of the Divine,
no matter who casts it."
He looked at her steadily. "Make your wish, fortunate Ariana."
"A... A... A..." Ariana's eyes darted back and forth. Her body was rigid with
effort. "Albus... brother Albus..."
The Cat froze. He felt as if something had struck him squarely in the chest. He
fell into a stunned silence.
So those weren't just meaningless sounds, he realized. Albus... Albus...
She was so terrified of forgetting him that his name had become her primary
instinct, her soul's anchor.
"Brother Albus... Brother Aberforth..."
Ariana's brilliant blue eyes shone with a fragile, starving hope. The Cat sat
quietly, listening to the secrets of a girl who had been alone for a century.
Suddenly, she seemed to remember something. She reached into her pocket with
trembling fingers and pulled out a withered, dried rose.
"Master of Dreams and Mists... Bridge between Life and Death... Eternal Symbol
of Luck... I offer you this flower. With the flower comes the luck..."
Ariana recited the prayer with total sincerity. "I want to see... Albus and
Aberforth..."
She looked down at the pathetic, shriveled flower in her hand, her pale face
flushing with a suppressed panic. Would a God find her offering insulting?
The Black Cat sat up. He allowed her to extend the rose toward him. As she did,
the flower began to float. Before Ariana's stunned eyes, the rose drifted toward
the campfire. The wine-red petals detached one by one, swirling in the air to
form a perfect, glowing ring of light.
"I have heard your prayer, Ariana. I have accepted your sacrifice," the Cat
said, the stars of the Lands Between sparkling above his head. "Your wish is
granted."
Several orbs of mist drifted toward them. Sean recognized them instantly—these
were the "dream-seeds" of Albus Dumbledore. As for the seeds belonging to
Aberforth? He had the Hufflepuff Master, Newt Scamander, to thank for those.
Since the publication of Dreams and Deities, Sean had been receiving "yarn
balls" from wizards all over the world.
Entering another's dream was always a surreal experience. As Ariana watched the
flickering images of her brothers within the silver basin, the Black Cat began
to sort through his collection of threads.
He noticed that Ariana's thread had suddenly exploded in size. It was now one of
the thickest cords in his possession.
In his time exploring this realm, Sean had categorized the threads of connection
into four tiers:
1. Weak Threads: Add roughly ten seconds to his stay.
2. Normal Threads: Add about one minute.
3. Sturdy Threads: Add three minutes.
4. Heavy Threads: Add ten minutes.
Sean possessed several Heavy Threads: Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape,
Grandpa Marcus, Justin, Harry, and Madam Rolanda. He had dozens of Sturdy ones,
and the Normal and Weak threads now numbered in the hundreds. Many of them he
couldn't even identify—they were likely the result of readers across Britain
connecting with the "Good Luck Cat" through the book.
Now, he had a new Sturdy Thread, and it belonged to the girl beside him.
He watched her. She was smiling, looking as though she were finally having a
sweet, peaceful dream. The mists were already beginning to surge, signaling that
his time was up, but the power of Ariana's connection gave him a few more
precious minutes.
He took the Pensieve-ball and infused it with his clearest memories of
Headmaster Dumbledore, along with the few impressions he had of Aberforth. Only
when the task was finished did he lie back on the ground.
Suddenly, the earth vibrated.
A small wooden cottage began to sprout from the marshland. It was only partially
formed—four wooden walls with nothing inside—but it was a start. A heart that
had wandered for a century finally had a roof to shield it from the wind.
The Cat allowed himself a small smile. He looked up at the deep night sky, his
form beginning to blur.
"Ariana... they are searching for you," he whispered. "If the night should serve
as a prologue, and the mist should blur the boundaries... at the coming of dawn,
the bridge will open for you."
The witch blinked, looking lost as she emerged from her dream-trance. She looked
at her "God," the prophecy ringing in her ears.
"You will meet again. Truly. And not just in a dream."
The Cat leaned forward, his fur brushing her cheek for a brief second before he
vanished into the swampy gloom.
Ariana scrambled to her feet, searching the mist. She saw the tiny cottage. She
saw the silver basin. Her cheek still felt the warmth of his touch. For the
first time, she felt she had found her sanctuary.
She recognized the basin—a Pensieve. It was filled with memories.
Some say that if anything could move faster than light, man could travel back in
time. But human thought is faster than light. Every time a person falls into a
memory, they have already traveled to the past. Every time someone thinks of
another, they have met once more.
By that logic, they had already reunited a thousand times.
Hogwarts.
Hogsmeade weekend was drawing closer. The excitement among the students was
palpable. The Great Hall was a cacophony of chatter every day, but in a quiet
corner, Sean Green was busy tallying his rewards.
His haul from the Lands Between had been massive.
First was his new ability: The Partially Opened Inner Eye. In the Lands Between,
he could now actively trigger precognitive visions. He was, for all intents and
purposes, a Seer. He found himself itching to test it—perhaps to find
Voldemort's current hiding spot.
Second, his maximum stay in the realm had extended to eight hours and twenty
minutes. By the time he reached the "Eve of Dawn," he believed he would finally
be able to lead a wandering soul back to the living world. Dumbledore was
waiting for that day with bated breath.
Third was his talent rating.
He realized he hadn't checked it since the upgrade. His breath hitched as he
opened the interface.
[Wizard Sean Green: Divination Talent - Red (LEGENDARY) (No modifiers required).
Note: Average wizard is Green.] [Evaluation: You are the sole certainty born of
infinite unknowns. Past and future hold no secrets from you. Your gaze is
naturally fixed upon the tapestry of an entire era.]
Legendary talent? Sean's heart skipped a beat.
He was confused. His progress in Divination had been stalled for months. It
didn't feel legendary. But then he remembered the night sky of the Lands
Between. He had looked at the stars, and the veil of fate had simply... parted.
Perhaps I really am a prodigy, he mused. But what kind of power did a Legendary
Talent actually grant?
"Your Inner Eye... it has opened!"
The doors to the Great Hall burst open. Professor Trelawney came gliding toward
them, moving as if she were on wheels. She was wearing a green dress covered in
shimmering metallic sequins, making her look like a giant, glittering dragonfly.
She rushed toward Sean, muttering under her breath. "I have found you... May
I... may I study under you? May I learn the true mantic arts from your side?"
Trelawney's eyes, magnified to massive proportions by her glasses, seemed to
glisten with tears. Sean stared at her, completely bewildered.
"Hey!" Hermione snapped, standing up to block Trelawney's path. "Sean said
Divination is imprecise! He isn't going to—wait, what did you just say?"
Trelawney finally looked at Hermione, her tearful gaze seemingly asking, 'Who
are you?'
"I'm Hermione! Hermione Granger!" Hermione bristled like a cat whose tail had
been stepped on.
Trelawney gave her a cursory glance before turning her total focus back to Sean.
"Professor... I'm afraid I cannot teach you anything," Sean said carefully.
He didn't feel "awakened." He could only use his sight in the Lands Between, and
he wasn't even sure if those visions applied to the physical world yet. What
could he possibly teach her?
"Oh... oh... not yet fully awakened... but when the stars come out, you will
understand, Child of the Constellations..."
Trelawney drifted away, whispering to herself.
"I can't believe it," Hermione fumed. "A Professor... asking you to teach
her..." She turned a suspicious eye on Sean. "Sean, do you actually know
Divination?"
Sean thought for a moment. He nodded slowly, then shook his head.
"Aha! I knew it!" Hermione gasped at the nod. Then she frowned at the shake.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Divination is an imprecise art," Sean repeated.
"Oh... right," Hermione said dryly. She glanced over at the Ravenclaw table,
where a girl had her head buried in her arms, her shoulders shaking. "Do you
know what happened to Lavender?"
Sean followed her gaze. "Her rabbit died."
"You actually know?!" Hermione gasped. She hurried over to the Gryffindor table
where Lavender was sitting. Harry and Ron joined them a second later.
"What is it, Lavender?" Hermione asked urgently.
"She got a letter from home this morning," Parvati whispered. "Her rabbit,
Binky, was killed by a fox."
"I'm so sorry, Lavender," Hermione said softly.
"I should have known!" Lavender wailed. "Do you know what day it is?"
"Er—"
"October sixteenth! 'The thing you dread will happen on the sixteenth of
October!' Remember? She was right! Trelawney was right!"
The surrounding students huddled closer. Seamus shook his head solemnly.
Hermione hesitated, then asked, "Lavender... were you actually 'dreading' Binky
being killed by a fox?"
"Well, not a fox specifically," Lavender sobbed, looking up with watery eyes.
"But I was obviously afraid he would die eventually!"
"Oh," Hermione said. She paused. "Was Binky... old?"
"NO!" Lavender wailed. "He was a baby!"
Parvati pulled Lavender closer. "Then why were you afraid he'd die?" Hermione
asked. Parvati glared at her.
"Let's look at this logically," Hermione addressed the group. "Binky didn't die
today, did he? Lavender only heard about it today."
Lavender let out a fresh howl of grief.
"And she couldn't have been 'dreading' it, because the news clearly came as a
shock to her—"
"Leave her alone, Hermione," Ron snapped. "You don't care about anyone's pets
but your own."
"I'm just saying! It's a psychological trick! Once something happens, you twist
the prediction to fit the event! That way, she's never wrong!" Hermione glared
at Ron. "If you want to see a real Seer..."
Hermione stopped herself. She didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she marched
back toward Sean.
Sean was the one who was right, she thought. Trelawney's prediction had been a
muddle, but Sean had known about the rabbit the second he looked at her.
Dozens of past mysteries suddenly made sense to her. No wonder Sean always knew
when danger was coming. But wait—didn't he just say Divination was "imprecise"?
Before she could reach him, Sean had vanished from the table.
The Corridors.
The portraits whispered and pointed as Sean passed. He utilized two secret
passages hidden behind sliding panels and velvet drapes to reach the stone
gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office.
"Password?"
"Er... Lemon Drop."
The gargoyle hopped aside, and Sean entered the office. He stood in the center
of the room, weighing his words. How was he supposed to tell Albus Dumbledore
about Ariana?
He remembered Leta's bitter words: "She whispers their names constantly... these
'great men' who let her suffer in life... do they intend to let her wander in
death as well?"
Sean's brow furrowed. He had a lot to explain.
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