Chapter 281: The Lands Between and Ariana
As the old wizard approached, the black panther cast a shocked, lingering look at Sean before retreating into the thickening fog, appearing deeply unwilling to let go.
With the panther's departure, Sean's consciousness began to blur. He caught fleeting glimpses of a cluttered street and a sign that read "Children's Home." The last thing he saw was Professor Dumbledore's lips moving, silently forming a sentence:
"It's Saturday, child—"
Perhaps only Sean understood the significance of that day. In the permission slip Dumbledore had given him to stay over the summer, the mention of Saturday carried a specific meaning:
"Furthermore, should you choose to remain at the castle, you are welcome to my office every Saturday morning for tea."
Dawn arrived, the sky a pale, hazy grey.
The distant mountains were mere blurred silhouettes, and a thin veil of mist clung to the surface of the Black Lake. For the first time in a long while, an owl appeared in the distance.
With the students away, the Owlery had mostly fallen silent, the birds enjoying a rare break from their frantic duties. This particular owl, with grey-white tail feathers, circled the high turrets and flew past Sean as he walked through the corridors, eventually vanishing into one of the rooms.
Sean's gaze followed the bird until he reached the massive stone gargoyle. This time, the gargoyle did not hop aside immediately; instead, it watched him with a silent, stony intelligence.
"Cockroach Clusters," Sean said tentatively.
It was the password Dumbledore had shared with him.
The gargoyle leaped aside instantly. Sean stepped onto the spiraling stone staircase as it rose automatically, carrying him toward the heavy oak doors.
Pushing the doors open, he found Professor Dumbledore standing by the window, his back to the room. It was only when the door creaked that the greatest wizard of the age—the man who had just chased Babajide Akingbade out of Sean's mind—turned around.
"You've arrived, Mr. Green. Come, have a seat."
"Professor Dumbledore," Sean said, following the Headmaster's gesture and taking a seat in a chintz armchair by the hearth.
Dumbledore finally withdrew his gaze from the hazy morning horizon. He sat opposite Sean and gave a small, knowing twinkle of his eyes.
"I suspect you have many questions. No matter; we have plenty of time to unravel them."
Sean did indeed have a mountain of questions. At Dumbledore's encouraging nod, he spoke quickly.
"Where exactly was I, Professor? And... is the content of Dreamland Tales actually real?"
Sean chose the most vital question: where had he gone, and what was the nature of the strange magic he had encountered?
"You always have a knack for finding the heart of the matter," Dumbledore said, his long, silver beard trembling slightly. "Compared to you, many wizards have spent long lifetimes without ever grasping that point.
"The Lands Between life and death—that is what we call it. As for the powerful forces there... I believe they are real. I must tell you, child, that it is a realm where few have walked and even fewer have understood. It is fraught with peril. For a thousand years, even the wizards of Uagadou have feared to tread too deep. Too many lessons have taught us the price of underestimating the most profound and secret branches of magic..."
Dumbledore fell silent, his eyes searching Sean's from beneath thick, silver eyebrows. The Headmaster seemed... uncharacteristically tense.
Sean remained quiet for a moment, reflecting on the incredible things he had witnessed. He had seen his own multiple Soul Revenants; he had seen kaleidoscopic scenes hidden in the mist; and he had seen Babajide Akingbade, who had tried to drag him to Uagadou—and had actually succeeded in keeping him in that realm for a short time.
"That is the beauty of magic," Sean murmured, echoing a thought.
"Professor, what were those strange mists? I saw the orphanage at the end—why? And how did Headmaster Akingbade find me? Can he always do that? If you both can speak there, why was I unable to? And... how did you get there?"
Dumbledore nodded slightly at each question. By the time Sean finished, a warm, grandfatherly smile had returned to the Headmaster's face.
"Very good. One at a time, then..." His voice was low and resonant, like an elder guiding a wayward youth. "The orphanage. How fascinating. I didn't expect that location, but for you, its significance is clearly enough to act as an anchor. Yes, that place is also a type of 'between'."
Sean's expression didn't change, but he asked curiously, "Between magic and Muggles?"
"Very perceptive, child."
Dumbledore's confirmation made Sean breathe a small sigh of relief. When the Headmaster introduced the concept of the Lands Between, Sean realized the term didn't just refer to the gap between magic and the mundane, but likely... death and rebirth.
"As for the strange sights you saw... allow me to explain. To the ancient Scandinavians, the soul did not follow the principle of singularity. To gaze directly at the soul is to risk being lured in the wrong direction; those sights are the most dangerous of temptations. Those who cannot keep their souls pure and their minds clear will eventually be entangled by trouble. They may never return—a fate truly worse than death.
"As for Babajide Akingbade, he was merely an accident. Uagadou wizards have mastered many spells we do not know, but it is clear he cannot succeed every time. When your will is sufficiently firm, he cannot enter your Dream."
"My... Dream?" Sean was confused. "Was it not the Lands Between?"
"Oh, child. Are you getting muddled? How rare..." Dumbledore teased, his expression shifting from somber to playful.
Sean thought for a moment. "Dreams allow spirits, ghosts, and Revenants to move freely; distance is no obstacle. 'Moving freely' refers to the Lands Between, so it was my dream that connected to that realm. As for you... I suspect I was the one who called you. The Void Rune—the Soul Hallow—serves as the medium. It is a powerful alchemical artifact designed for exactly that purpose."
Dumbledore's gentle mockery had spurred Sean's mind into high gear, and he quickly pieced the logic together.
"Oh, dear. Does Professor Terra often deal with these headaches?" Dumbledore muttered with a faint, amused sigh.
Sean didn't catch the comment; he was too busy processing his realizations. Why did Dumbledore appear? The Soul Hallows weren't the Resurrection Stone, but if they could transport Sean, why couldn't they bring Dumbledore?
When Akingbade arrived, Sean—unwilling to go to Uagadou—had instinctively reached out for Dumbledore. That sudden mew from the black Kneazle had been a call for help.
"If you believe it was solely the Soul Hallow's doing, you are being far too humble," Dumbledore said suddenly. "In truth... I once studied the Soul Hallows of Uagadou with great fervor. Its power is incredibly profound. Among all those who have researched it, I was merely the most unremarkable, the most featureless student.
"To bring another wizard into one's own 'Dream'... no one has ever achieved that before. The wizards of Uagadou can transform with ease and make true prophecies based on the stars, much like the centaurs you've met. But they have always maintained that only a wizard who can bring souls in or out is the true master of the Hallows—the eldest son of the Supreme God, Katonda."
This took Sean by surprise. He had assumed he'd simply called for his Headmaster. He preferred to believe Dumbledore was simply "reachable," rather than that he possessed the power to summon any wizard at will.
"Why me?" Sean asked, bewildered.
"Child, that is the crux of it. Perhaps the person most suited to master such power is the one who never sought it in the first place. Much like yourself."
Dumbledore looked down at Sean, his eyes solemn.
Outside, the thin morning mist had dissipated. The Black Lake sparkled under the gentle morning sun. An owl brushed past the window of the Headmaster's office, hooting softly, its talons clutching a letter heavy with sentiment.
"Child, may I ask a favor of you?" Dumbledore asked after a long silence. His beard was visibly trembling.
"Please, go on," Sean said, sensing what was coming.
"Exploring the Lands Between is an immensely dangerous task. Even the wizards of Uagadou do not stay there for long. If you think me selfish for asking this of you, I would find no fault in that judgment."
A shadow of darkness passed over Dumbledore's normally bright eyes.
"I wish for you to explore as much as possible. And when you are certain of your strength, I have one more dangerous task for you..."
"Is it... to pull out a soul?"
Sean knew exactly who Dumbledore was thinking of, but he phrased it as if he had only just deduced it through difficult thought.
"Men like me are often too busy damaging our own souls—burdening them with greed, desire, and violence. We never have the time to understand the unparalleled power of a pure, whole soul... and now that you possess this power, I can only find myself speaking these greedy words. Perhaps that is why I was never 'recognized'... it is disappointing that I once did such terrible things..."
Sean had never seen Professor Dumbledore in such a state—conflicted, vulnerable, and low. He was usually a figure of unshakable poise and kindness, but now he looked like a man who had utterly lost his way.
"I will try," Sean said. He felt an unbidden wave of melancholy.
What kind of man was Albus Dumbledore? If judged solely by his actions, the world would find a mixture of good and bad. But standing before him now, Sean saw an old man who, even in the winter of his life, remained haunted and unloved.
He was tired. He made mistakes. He felt regret. He preached that love was the greatest magic of all, yet how much of it had he actually felt for himself?
"The past... is a thing that no longer carries weight. Please, stop judging your past self so harshly, Professor. It isn't fair. After all," Sean said gently, "that boy standing in the mist back then was lost, too."
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