"A Predictmagus… what is that supposed to mean?" Jon murmured.
To him, it was an utterly unfamiliar word.
"For wizards, a Predictmagus represents the highest form of talent," Albus Dumbledore replied calmly. "A gift any wizard would envy and admire—myself included…"
"Then… why… have I never heard of it…" Jon stammered.
"Naturally. Across the entire world, a naturally born Predictmagus appears perhaps once every century or two," Dumbledore said with a weary smile. "And only a small handful of them are willing to share this secret with others… so you will never find knowledge of it recorded in any book."
Jon wanted to ask how Dumbledore knew this, but he held back.
Instead, he asked seriously, "Professor Dumbledore, I still don't understand… what abilities does a Predictmagus actually have?"
Dumbledore's expression drifted into distant memory. His voice softened, as though it didn't quite belong to him:
"Predictmaguses appear without pattern—extremely rare, unaffected by bloodline or region. Each Predictmagus is born with an unusually developed mind. Even as infants, they possess exceptionally developed brains, and once their magic awakens, they naturally master all magic related to the mind—such as the Memory Charm, Occlumency, Legilimency, and so on."
Jon felt his breath quicken.
"Of course, the truly formidable ability of a Predictmagus is prophecy…"
"…Unlike ordinary Seers, who can only glimpse vague, illusory futures they cannot interpret clearly or prevent…"
"…A Predictmagus sees complete visions. Through these visions, they can witness countless details of what is to come, see into the hearts of people they've never met, sense looming dangers, and even observe the direction in which the world is heading…"
"…Yes, these visions are only illusions. They are real, yet also unreal; they are neither fixed nor unchangeable; they are not the true future."
Jon felt as though something heavy had struck him across the head.
So that was it… so he had been exposed before Dumbledore all along?
Even though he had prepared himself mentally, Jon was still overwhelmed.
"When did you realize it… Professor?" he asked quietly.
"Ever since that Boggart… your Boggart… When it turned into me, I understood," Dumbledore said with a bitter smile. "Who would fear Albus Dumbledore? Fear the kind, gentle, forgiving, respectable Headmaster of Hogwarts… Either a truly vile Dark wizard—or someone who truly understands me…"
"You were only eleven at the time, barely a year into learning magic. You could not have been a Dark wizard. That left only one possibility: you understood me. You knew how selfish, how cold, how cowardly I am beneath the polished exterior… You had already seen through me, through everything, in the visions in your mind…"
After saying this, Dumbledore seemed to age ten years in an instant.
...
"So… you're a Predictmagus as well, Professor Dumbledore?" Jon ventured cautiously.
He could hardly imagine how deeply Albus Dumbledore seemed to understand himself—there was only one explanation…
"Me?" Dumbledore froze. Tears suddenly welled at the corners of his eyes.
"No… I am not…" he whispered, voice trembling. "How I wish I were. How I envy and admire your kind…"
His voice warped with emotion. "If I were a Predictmagus… Ariana would never have been attacked by those three damned Muggles. My father wouldn't have died in Azkaban. My mother wouldn't have died. And Ariana… Ariana… Ariana…"
Dumbledore collapsed to his knees before the portrait, his entire body trembling uncontrollably.
"It was my fault, all my fault!" he wept. "Forgive me… I know I was wrong… Forgive me… I'll never, ever again…"
In the portrait, the girl's face was streaked with tears as she shook her head again and again, though no sound left her lips.
"It's not your fault, Professor Dumbledore…" Jon caught the Headmaster gently, speaking softly. "I know the truth. I know it wasn't your fault."
He wiped Dumbledore's tears with his sleeve and helped him stand.
Once Dumbledore had calmed down again, Jon asked seriously, his voice quiet, "Professor Dumbledore… besides me, who else?"
In truth, he had already guessed the answer.
...
"Forgive me…" Dumbledore's voice sank to barely a whisper. "I was only seventeen at the time, Jon. Seventeen… barely older than you now. I was nowhere near as mature, nowhere near as wise…"
"He knew me. He knew my talent. He knew I would become a powerful wizard. He knew I could become his greatest ally. He came to England from Austria under the pretense of visiting his aunt—but he only wanted to get close to me…"
"I was foolish then. Naive… He was like a devil. He seduced me… Those two months of madness… those nightmare months…"
"He knew everything… He knew the Muggles would create a weapon powerful enough to destroy entire cities. He knew the Muggles would become a threat to our world. He even knew two terrible wars were about to erupt among them…"
"I should have questioned him long before, but I was hopelessly entangled… in both power and emotion… until… until Ariana's death…"
Albus Dumbledore lowered his head again, though this time he held back his tears.
"Was it he who finally told you? Told you everything—his origins, his identity, even his most precious secret…" Jon asked softly, speaking the name aloud. "Gellert Grindelwald?"
Dumbledore gave a slight nod.