I swung my greatsword at Hogwarts

Godric's Hollow.

Two figures, one old and one young, walked here.

"What should I call you, John or... Joel?"

Dumbledore is like an old friend he hasn't seen for many years, and he set foot on this painful place again.

He should have been relieved, but John made him restless.

"This is your choice," John said lightly as he walked into the cemetery where the three of them had taken risks, "Use your favorite destiny to find the title you need."

"Dumbledore, what you escaped made you feel guilty."

Blooming white flowers have covered the entire tombstone, John squatted down slowly, and pushed it away with his hands.

The wreath under the tombstone has grown a whole piece.

"How long has it been since you came back?"

Hearing this question, Dumbledore's eyes were in a trance, and he murmured, "It's been a long time."

"You should have found out, and your evasion made you lose again."

With gentle eyes, John stood up again, and he stretched out his left hand.

The enclosed soil is separated.

The coffin was supported by white flowers, and slowly rose up.

"I don't understand," Dumbledore said without moving his eyes for a moment, until the white coffin rose, "Why did you do this?"

"How did you do it again?"

Dumbledore looked complicated, but after John told him about the equivalent exchange, he knew he couldn't refuse.

He was even willing to plead, plead with the taboo-breaking boy.

Under this coffin, buried the guilt of Dumbledore's life.

Once he evaded his heart, once he evaded responsibility.

Let his beloved sleep forever.

He has no way of knowing who did the accident.

But his heart is no longer complete.

Saint Dumbledore, Dumbledore who loved the world, was never a good brother.

"How?"

Hearing this question, John shook his head and laughed.

"Dumbledore, magic, like alchemy, has a price."

He looked directly into Dumbledore's eyes, and said expressionlessly: "Are you thinking, what kind of magic did that Slytherin use to break the taboo?"

"Yes, I think so," Dumbledore sighed and said honestly, "You have never surprised me, and you have never been able to see through my thoughts."

Seeing his confession, John said in an extremely indifferent voice: "My soul, the great Dumbledore."

"soul?"

"Yes, soul." John slid his fingers across his heart and grinned, "There is a piece missing here."

"If you have read "Secrets of Advanced Dark Arts", you should understand that the formation of Horcruxes requires the sacrifice of the soul."

"Even if it's me, it's not easy to bring a dead person back to life."

"But Voldemort reminded me of a way to destroy the body and still make people alive."

In Dumbledore's vibrating pupils, John said with great ease: "So I cut open the soul and made a Horcrux for her."

"My soul is no longer whole, Dumbledore."

His voice was like thunder.

Dumbledore took two steps back and muttered to himself, "Why, why did you separate your soul, John?"

"Maybe it's that flower, maybe it's her chaotic and sincere kindness, the eyes that are willing to be made by me." John said, "Equivalent exchange, I made a deal with her."

"Now……"

The coffin slowly opened.

The young girl in the Mood for Love has become a skeleton.

However, that pure and flawless white flower still exists.

John held up the flowers and murmured: "Sarcasm, this purest flower is watered with the most evil black magic."

"No," Dumbledore said guiltily, shaking his head, "that flower is pure and innocent."

Voluntary sacrifice.

John, who is most proficient in soul magic, knows the disadvantages of soul defects best, but his approach is different from Voldemort, who also makes Horcruxes.

Voldemort took the lives of others in order to make Horcruxes.

And he chose to separate his soul and use his own soul to make a Horcrux for Ariana.

"Do you remember Tom's spell?" said John to himself, "Blood of the enemy, bone of the father, flesh of the servant."

"But Arianna, she's different."

"She didn't hold a grudge against anyone."

"At the time of death, what she did was still love you, love..."

"Killed her, brothers."

John took out a gold scale from the small bag and put it down.

"Then change to another magic."

He looked up at Dumbledore, who was already in tears, and stretched out his hand.

A tear from Dumbledore's beard flew into John's hand.

Tears fall on one end of the golden scale and make it tilt.

"Guilty."

An animated portrait that was forcibly taken from the Hog's Head Tavern.

"Pity."

John pointed to his head, and slowly pulled out a trace of silver-white memory.

"Love."

Three things were placed on the scale, and John put the white flower on the other side.

There was a magical scene in the tilted balance.

The weight of a flower started to shake with the side where the three things were placed.

John watched silently until the scales stopped swinging and balanced on both sides.

Taking out the scepter representing resurrection, John held it flat and issued ancient and obscure notes.

The golden scepter gradually melted, and the gold-like liquid flowed into the coffin.

A miraculous scene happened.

The dry bones melted quickly and merged with the scepter.

John took out a bottle, opened it, and sprinkled the soil into the coffin.

"The land of the first birthplace."

And plucked one of the white flowers that surrounded the tomb and threw it into it.

"The flower of the final residence."

A body indistinguishable from Ariana's appears in the coffin.

This was the spell and preparation used for the resurrection of the despicable Hai Erbo, but it was cheaper for John.

It also saved him from trying to figure out another way.

"And lastly," John looked at Ariana's body, picked up the white flower of the Horcrux, and blew gently, "Soul."

The white flower turned into petals and flew towards Ariana.

After a long silence.

The girl's eyelashes trembled slightly.

Under the twilight light, the girl opened her eyes as blue as the sky.

Long years passed.

Almost a century of regret.

Even the greatest wizards have difficulty containing their emotions.

Dumbledore trembled, his old eyes were covered with tears, and he couldn't see the girl's expression clearly.

But he knew that his sister was back.

The regrets and guilt of a century ago are all bursting out at this moment.

He was crying like an old rascal.

After loving the world for so long, Dumbledore finally indulged his family.

Ariana who woke up looked at the old man strangely.

Suddenly, she saw the boy.

As before, she held out her hand.

John froze for a moment, and handed over his wand for him to grab.

"Good afternoon, Arianna."

Arianna seemed to have changed, she summoned up her courage and said, "Afternoon, Joel."

The orange light at dusk hit the side of John's face.

"Need to get to know each other again," John smiled and stretched out his hand, "John Wick, hello, Arianna."

Arianna, her life ended at the age of six, and her life ended at the age of 14.

At 112 years old, she was born again.

John looked back, the purple and blue in his eyes.

As if in that safe house with nothing, the two cuddled together, relying on each other.

Nagini let go of Credence's hand and ran to John, taking him into his arms.

"What a... gentle king."

Nagini's tears fell on John's shoulders.

That distressed voice said, "Are you tired, my king?"

Flash three times, the king who counts everything.

Lean in my arms and take a light sleep for a while.

you are too tired.

"That said, it's a little bit."

John smiled.

Being reminded like this, John felt the boundless heaviness hit him.

John has no sister.

In Nagini, he felt a kind of care different from maternal love.

You can let go of anything.

Sleep peacefully.

Dumbledore?

Whatever it is, it's none of my business that old rascal just rolls around there.

His gaze fell across Nagini to Credence.

Said in a tone familiar to Credence: "Credence, I think I'm late."

"Maybe I should call you Dumbledore."

"Haha, three Dumbledores."

"Dumbledore and Dumbledore, people can't tell the difference..."

He muttered, eyes closed, leaning against Nagini's arms.

Credence knelt down on one knee slowly, and said devoutly to the raving king, "Yes, I have recovered my life experience..."

"My king, please let me follow, this time, I am strong enough."

He lowered his head, which was not lowered beside Grindelwald, at sunset.

Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Dumbledore.

A relief to make up for regrets, a piety to find a home, and a dependence after rebirth.

...