Chapter 788: One Reckless Moment

In a run-down cottage in Godric's Hollow, Bathilda Bagshot was still upstairs, searching for her manuscript.

Downstairs, Kyle and Dumbledore sat across from each other, but their demeanor suggested a role reversal.

Kyle remained calm.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked uneasy… He could hardly describe his emotions at this moment.

Nicolas Flamel had repaired the Time-Turner long ago. Though Dumbledore had long hoped for this outcome, now that the day had finally arrived, he hesitated.

Perhaps it was guilt over Ariana, or perhaps something else, but he had started deliberately avoiding the matter, burying himself in work to subconsciously ignore the existence of the Time-Turner.

Yet, when he finally mustered the resolve to visit Nicolas in Devon, he was told that the Time-Turner had already been given away—to Kyle.

Left with no choice, he had come back.

"So, Bathilda mistaking me for her nephew—was that part of your plan from the beginning?" Kyle asked.

"No, of course not," Dumbledore shook his head. "As I said earlier, I've always had good luck."

"In truth, I arrived here a while ago but couldn't think of a way to convince you to lend me the Time-Turner, so I held back. Then, by chance, I noticed Bathilda was confused again."

"I suspect it was the Transfiguration spell you cast earlier that caused her to mistake you for someone else. That gave me the idea to use her to bring up Ariana."

"Transfiguration?" Kyle thought for a moment. "You mean the one I used at the wedding?"

"Exactly." Dumbledore nodded. "Her nephew was exceptionally skilled in Transfiguration, particularly animal transformations. Given Bathilda's worsening memory, she likely saw something familiar in your spell."

Kyle pressed his lips together, feeling a bit speechless. He had cast that spell on a whim and never expected it to link him—however indirectly—to the man currently imprisoned in Nurmengard.

He was a good person, after all. He had nothing in common with Grindelwald, who was steeped in bloodshed.

Kyle tilted his head slightly. Sunlight filtered through the worn curtains, casting a warm glow on Dumbledore's face.

"You must have known for years that I needed this Time-Turner," Dumbledore said.

"Yes," Kyle nodded.

The first time he had ever seen Dumbledore so visibly shaken was in the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts, when he had held the broken Time-Turner in his hands, his entire demeanor tense and desperate.

For a long time afterward, Dumbledore had relentlessly sought out alchemists in an attempt to repair it.

"And now you know why," Dumbledore said softly. "Because of Ariana."

"That day is my greatest regret. Do you understand? All these years, I've looked at her picture, and not once have I been able to sleep in peace."

Kyle almost wanted to say—if it torments you so much, then why not just put the picture away? If you don't see it, wouldn't that solve the problem?

But he thought better of it. For one, it would be rude. And for another, he had no desire to provoke Dumbledore unnecessarily.

"I need your help," Dumbledore said.

Kyle took a deep breath and looked away, unwilling to meet Dumbledore's gaze.

"Professor, have you truly made up your mind?"

If it had been any other time—perhaps even just two months earlier—Kyle wouldn't have needed an explanation. If Dumbledore had simply asked, he wouldn't have hesitated for a second.

Back at school, he had considered bringing it up several times himself, only to forget or be interrupted by other matters.

He knew better than anyone how much effort Dumbledore had put into repairing the Time-Turner. If not for him and Nicolas, it wouldn't have been restored at all. By all logic, there was no reason to refuse.

Except now…

Time was the most unpredictable force. Nicolas had made it clear in his notes—the longer one traveled back, the greater the risk.

Going back a hundred years was nothing like going back a week. The sheer distance in time made it nearly impossible for Dumbledore to land on the precise day he intended.

The margin of error could be a week, a month, even a year.

More importantly, this wasn't like a standard Time-Turner. Dumbledore wouldn't simply vanish and then reappear moments later in the present, as a student using one might.

How long would it take before he could return—if he could return at all? No one knew. No one had ever attempted it. Even the Hogwarts Founders, who had left traces of their presence through the Chamber of Secrets, had never physically traveled to the present.

And now, they were on the brink of direct confrontation with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. The situation was growing more perilous by the day. If Dumbledore, the strongest wizard on their side, suddenly vanished at this critical moment—what then?

Kyle rubbed his temples, inwardly cursing Nicolas for giving him such a troublesome object.

If he had never been told, it wouldn't be his problem. Dumbledore could do as he pleased, and Kyle wouldn't have to wrestle with the decision.

"Actually, my initial plan wasn't to use it right away."

Dumbledore seemed to have guessed what Kyle was thinking. He glanced down at his limp arm and continued, "But Tom helped me make that decision."

"A wizard whose wand has been taken, whose arm is still useless—what help can he possibly be anymore?"

Kyle instinctively looked at Dumbledore's arm as well. "But isn't Director Sykes at St. Mungo's brewing an antidote for you?"

"That potion is complex. Even at the fastest pace, it will take several months," Dumbledore said calmly. "And in the meantime, this particular form of dark magic will continue to erode my magic. In other words, during this time, I won't be able to do much at all."

Kyle felt his headache worsen.

He had initially assumed that Dumbledore had merely lost the use of one arm. That might have weakened an average wizard's combat ability, but for someone like Dumbledore, it shouldn't have been a major issue.

He could still cast spells with one hand—perhaps with fewer flourishes and auxiliary techniques, but nothing that couldn't be worked around.

And the problem of his wand was even simpler. Ollivander had been rescued. Dumbledore could get a replacement anytime. It might not be as comfortable as the Elder Wand, but it would still work.

Yet, now there was this.

Kyle had never heard of dark magic that could drain a wizard's magic over time.

It was just like Voldemort—his ring's curse, the potion guarding the locket, and now this—something specifically designed for Dumbledore. Each of these were spells and enchantments that had never been recorded before, each more insidious than the last.

No one could deny that Voldemort's mastery of dark magic was exceptional. The title of "Dark Lord" was well-earned.

And if things were truly as Dumbledore said, then his decision made sense.

At least until Director Sykes finished brewing the antidote, Dumbledore wasn't in any condition to face Voldemort directly.

Because if he used too much magic, the effects of the dark curse could cause a fatal mistake. And against Voldemort—a wizard of his caliber—any mistake, no matter how small, meant death.

If that happened, then Dumbledore's deepest regret would never be resolved.

After all, Voldemort wouldn't treat Dumbledore the way he treated Harry. There would be no cat-and-mouse game. The moment Voldemort saw an opening, he would go for the kill.

Kyle sighed. The choice seemed obvious now.

"I have one more question," he said. "Professor, we both know that the Time-Turner cannot change what has already happened in the past. You understand this better than anyone."

Dumbledore remained silent. He didn't argue or protest—he just sat there, lost in thought.

"I have to warn you," Kyle continued. "Even if you go back, do not try to change anything. If you do… you might end up being the one who kills Ariana."

His voice was heavy when he spoke the last sentence.

Kyle didn't know exactly what had happened that day. He only knew that during a chaotic argument, someone's spell had hit Ariana by mistake.

No one had ever determined who had cast that spell.

But what if it was Dumbledore—returning to the past in an attempt to prevent the tragedy—who inadvertently caused it?

It wasn't impossible.

Killing his own sister with his own hands… even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to bear that.

As Kyle finished speaking, Dumbledore visibly trembled.

"Wait… you weren't actually planning to stop it, were you?" Kyle couldn't help but raise his voice.

"Of course not," Dumbledore said immediately. "I know what I must do."

"In truth… I just want to see her again. Just once. Even if only for a moment."

His voice carried an unmistakable plea.

"I want to apologize. As her brother, I failed her in every way."

"I know this is selfish, but I still… I still want her forgiveness."

A single tear slipped from Dumbledore's eye, falling to the ground and disappearing into the thick layer of dust.

Kyle, already wavering, felt his resolve weaken further.

He had considered so many possibilities.

Had Dumbledore planned for Voldemort to take his wand?

Had he anticipated that his arm would be cursed?

It wouldn't have been out of character. Dumbledore always arranged everything meticulously. If necessary, he would even use his own life to forge a path forward.

But on second thought… wasn't this just another form of helplessness?

He had done everything he could—given everything he had—without hesitation, without reservation.

And the moment Kyle saw Dumbledore shed a tear, all of those complicated thoughts vanished.

He couldn't explain the feeling exactly.

But he realized… maybe letting Dumbledore be selfish for once wasn't such a big deal.

After all, in his current state, he wouldn't be able to do much here anyway.

If Voldemort recovered before Director Sykes could finish brewing the antidote, and with the Elder Wand in his possession, Dumbledore would be forced to sacrifice himself just to buy everyone a little more time. And after that, things could become even worse.

But if Dumbledore left now, he would at least have the chance to return stronger.

If Voldemort didn't recover in time, his cautious nature meant he wouldn't recklessly show himself. In that case, Dumbledore remaining here wouldn't make much of a difference.

And given how long the antidote would take to prepare, there was also the possibility that Dumbledore would return before it was even finished, in which case, nothing would change—it would be just like now.

Kyle glanced at Dumbledore again.

A hundred-year-old man—the most powerful wizard in the magical world—now looked completely lost and weary.

Kyle hesitated for a moment before gritting his teeth, opening the box, and taking out the Time-Turner. He placed it on the table.

...

No one knew how much time had passed before Bathilda finally came downstairs, carrying several moldy sheets of parchment.

But by then, the room was empty. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting long shadows on the unoccupied sofa.

Bathilda stood still for a moment, then turned toward the faint sound of laughter outside.

She looked at the blank parchment in her hands, thought for a moment, then casually set them aside. Adjusting her moth-eaten headscarf, she slowly made her way out the door.

...

The wedding of Lupin and Tonks continued in Godric's Hollow.

Though some guests had to leave early due to work, it didn't dampen the mood of those who remained.

For everyone else, this wedding was a rare chance to relax—a brief respite from the constant tension hanging over them.

In the center of the dance floor, Fred and George tapped out a lively routine to the music, earning a round of applause.

Cedric, standing nearby, glanced at Kyle, who had remained silent.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you just lost a bet."

"Nothing. I just took a walk," Kyle sighed.

"A walk?" Cedric looked around. "Is there anything around here worth seeing?"

"Of course. After all, this is where Godric Gryffindor once lived. It's only natural to be curious," Kyle said lightly.

"That so? Alright, then." Cedric nodded, letting it go.

To avoid further questioning, Kyle casually excused himself and slipped away to the back of the house—one of the quietest spots.

Sirius was the only one there, staring intently at a stone in his hands. Even though he was lost in thought, his instincts remained sharp.

The moment he heard Kyle's footsteps, he quickly hid the stone behind his back.

Kyle caught a glimpse of writing on it… Good luck, Harry, wherever you are…

There was more, but Sirius had moved too fast for him to read it.

"Oh, it's you, Kyle," Sirius said, attempting to sound casual. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing, just wandering around." Kyle didn't mention the stone. Instead, he asked, "And you? Why are you back here instead of dancing with the others?"

"I already danced," Sirius said. "I figured I'd let Lupin and Tonks enjoy more of the spotlight."

"Fair enough," Kyle nodded.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Two men, both weighed down by their own thoughts, sat in companionable silence.

"So," Kyle finally asked, changing the subject, "what did you and Harry decide about this place?"

"We came to an agreement." Sirius smiled. "The house is still mine, but he'll visit occasionally. I was fine with that."

"I've always been curious—how did you even get the magical deed for this place? Shouldn't it have gone to Harry?"

"Because the deed was already in my possession," Sirius explained. "When James and Lily first decided to settle here, the Death Eaters were hunting them relentlessly. To avoid drawing attention, one of my uncles helped purchase the property in his name."

"He was a pure-blood from the Black family, so it was easy for him to avoid suspicion. Later, he passed the deed on to me."

"So, you just kept it?"

"Not exactly." Sirius shook his head. "I took it straight to James, but he insisted on paying me for it. I refused. He wouldn't take the deed without paying, and we argued about it… until—"

Sirius abruptly stopped, his expression darkening. Then, after a pause, he continued, "After I was acquitted, I found the deed in my family's vault. Since it was still in my uncle's name, I was able to reclaim ownership without any trouble.

"But by then, the house was in ruins. What you saw before? That was after I had it rebuilt. I hired people to restore it exactly as it had been—down to the last detail."

"No wonder," Kyle nodded.

The conversation drifted for a while longer before Fred and George appeared out of nowhere, grabbed Kyle by the arms, and dragged him back toward the dance floor.