Ron's latest stunt had cost Gryffindor fifty points. Yet, as usual, he couldn't have cared less. In his mind, he was a hero, and only Hermione's relentless scolding could prick at his pride. But even Hermione's nagging began to lose its bite because something happened that he had never dared to imagine.
"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, tossing The Daily Prophet aside, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Harry glanced at him. "What is it?"
"The Chudley Cannons won the championship!" Ron almost shouted.
Harry looked down at the paper, but the headline dominating the front page caught his attention: Merlin City Cannons Win Championship! The photo showed Dana catching the Golden Snitch in midair.
"Wow," Harry murmured. "Dana is incredible."
"Yeah, yeah!" Ron's previous grudge against Dana vanished in an instant. For the past two years, he had mocked Dana endlessly, but now he looked at him with pure admiration.
"I heard he's already on the England Quidditch national team and gearing up for this year's World Cup qualifiers!"
Harry nodded proudly. Dana's rise in Quidditch was impressive, but Harry's mind couldn't fully settle on that. He had sent two letters, and only one reply had reached the Hog's Head Inn. Gai Avery had yet to respond.
A twinge of worry crept in. He was only fourteen, yet the weight of the Wizarding World rested heavily on his young shoulders. After hearing Dumbledore's prophecy, he felt that if it weren't for him, the world could collapse at any moment.
"Harry, look!" Ron interrupted his thoughts, pointing toward the entrance. Dana Emrys strode into the Great Hall.
The last time Dana had summoned his mother's soul here, it had shocked every young wizard for an entire year. Now, having led a formidable team to the British Quidditch League championship, Dana's reputation had only grown.
A crowd surged forward, eager for autographs, but Dana remained untouchable, as if an invisible barrier kept everyone at bay.
"Sorry, everyone. I have other things to attend to. I'll sign next time," he said calmly.
The young wizards stepped back, disappointed but respectful.
From above, Anna's ghost floated down beside him, pouting. "Dana! Where have you been all these years? Not a single witch has signed up to be your girlfriend!"
Dana froze, smiling awkwardly.
"Also, can't you visit me when you're not playing Quidditch, you rascal?"
With a soul link, he whispered back to his mother, "Mom! I'm the Minister of Magic now, and my reforms are at a critical stage. There can't be mistakes!"
Anna's ghost tilted her head. "I forgot. But don't neglect finding a girlfriend. At your age—19—you should at least try!"
Dana chuckled softly. "I have the eternal heart inherited from my ancestor. There's no rush for that."
Anna smiled indulgently. "Fine, I'll let it slide. But when I find someone for you, you'd better take the time to get to know them."
"I understand," Dana replied.
"And why are you here today? I thought you were busy."
"Professor McGonagall scheduled a meeting a week ago. She was kind to me back then; it's time I repay that kindness."
Anna paused briefly. "Are you bringing back her deceased family members?"
Dana grinned. "As expected of my clever mother."
Their conversation concluded, and Dana approached the faculty table. Professor McGonagall stood to greet him, visibly moved.
"Dana!" she said.
"Professor, shall I begin?"
"Are you sure?" McGonagall asked, slightly flustered.
"Yes. You've already shown me Mr. Elcott's photo. I won't make any mistakes."
"Good. Very good."
Dana rose into the air, echoing his previous performance. This time, he summoned several souls: two females and one male. Among them was a red-haired, green-eyed young woman. Snape jumped up, knocking over his table.
"Mom!" Dana exclaimed.
Harry, having seen his mother in the Mirror of Erised, immediately recognized her among the three. Dana's bond with Harry's family deepened; his loyalty and skill were unquestionable.
Snape rushed forward, but Lily's gaze locked onto Harry immediately.
"Harry! Are you my Harry?"
It was a touching reunion, and even the sternest wizards were silent. Snape, filled with decades of regret and longing, suddenly found himself speechless in front of Lily.
"Severus, you're a professor now!" Lily said gently.
"Yes… yes, it's good," he murmured, unsure where to place his hands.
Harry stared, amazed. The once venomous, gloomy Snape now appeared shy, almost like a quail, in front of his mother.
Suddenly, the Great Hall doors burst open. Dumbledore hurried in, eyes wide at the newly summoned ghosts. His attention was fixed on one ghost in particular.
"Ariana!" he called.
Dana stepped forward, Ariana Dumbledore's ghost appearing beside him. Dumbledore rushed closer, desperation in his voice.
"Ariana!"
She glanced at him, fear in her eyes, hiding behind Dana.
"This is my punishment for you tipping off Gai Avery," Dana whispered to Dumbledore, calm yet firm.
Dumbledore's composed expression wavered, his hands trembling. Gai's silence confirmed what he feared.
Dana moved silently between wizards and ghosts, orchestrating encounters with precision. Each summoning carried weight, a mixture of justice and reward.
To McGonagall, Dana's actions restored warmth where there had only been cold voids. She embraced Elphinstone Urquart, her husband, even though only his soul lingered.
"You've returned," she whispered, tears falling freely.
Dana waved her thanks away. "Professor, you helped me when I first left Azkaban. This is my repayment."
The young wizards, professors, and ghosts alike watched in stunned silence. Dana Emrys seemed more than a wizard—was he the God of Death? The world of the departed seemed to bend to his will.
As Snape approached Lily, Harry's thoughts raced. Could this be real? Could one person truly command life and death so effortlessly?
Dana continued guiding the reunions, whispering to Dumbledore and Snape with precise authority:
"This is your reward. Maintain it, or I won't hesitate to summon James Potter as well."
The Hall was silent again, the weight of Dana's power tangible. Harry stood frozen, realizing that Dana's abilities surpassed every expectation.
It was not only the Quidditch victories or political reforms that made Dana extraordinary—it was his command over souls, his mastery of the boundaries between life and death, and his unyielding sense of justice.
Every person in that hall, wizard and ghost alike, felt it. Dana Emrys was no ordinary wizard. Perhaps, some whispered silently, he truly was the God of Death.
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