The fanatical voice fell silent.
The scene seemed to twist toward a particular moment. That day appeared to have moved forward some time. Beneath the night sky, black as ink, dark clouds pressed low, and the air was thick with dampness and death. Inside the Dumbledore family cottage, candlelight flickered as Ariana's scream tore through the silent night.
"Has something gone wrong again?!"
Albus Dumbledore rushed into his sister's room.
"I should have agreed to that deal. We really have no other way left, Ariana. Stop being stubborn. This is for you—for our family."
The young Dumbledore saw his sister's body floating in midair, violent currents of magic swirling around her. Furniture shattered beneath an invisible force, and cracks spread across the walls.
"She's not going to make it... We've tried everything... The magic inside her is too unstable. It's tearing her soul apart like a storm."
Aberforth had been thrown to the ground, blood streaming from his forehead.
"I won't accept this ending! I won't watch her die!" The young Dumbledore refused to accept such a thing. Just then, a black shadow slowly emerged from the corner, as though it had stepped out of the void. It had no face, only two bottomless eye sockets. Its voice was low and cold.
"She won't last the night."
The hoarse voice carried a bone-deep chill.
Albus whirled around, his wand aimed directly at the figure—it was a tall, thin silhouette cloaked in tattered black robes. Beneath its hood was no face, only a swirl of darkness, like the abyss itself.
"Death..."
Albus's voice tightened with fear.
"Yes, you may call me Death." The shadow chuckled softly, its voice like the wails of countless dead souls. "You know the way. You know I can save her."
"It is simply a very great