February, Hogwarts.
The winter cold was gradually breaking apart beneath the sunlight, but the chill brought by melting snow still clung to every inch of the grounds.
Just like the sorrow people kept hidden in their hearts.
The Headmaster's office.
Three grown men stood around Dumbledore's desk. Two pairs of eyes were fixed on the black stone lying on the desktop, while the youngest of the three watched them with great interest.
"So, who's going first?"
Tver looked exactly like someone settling in to enjoy the drama, and his tone was full of mischief.
Dumbledore and Snape looked at each other.
Originally, they had received Tver's message and planned to keep a close eye on Karkaroff.
And they had done exactly that.
But before they could notice anything unusual, Tver had suddenly rushed back in high spirits.
That would have been fine. Neither of them could control what he did anyway.
The problem was that he had brought over a stone and told them it was the legendary Resurrection Stone.
He even intended to "lend" it to them for a while. His only requirement was that they write him a summary of how it felt to use…
"I can't help feeling that you're treating us as test subjects."
Dumbledore took a deep breath and pulled himself free from the temptation of the Resurrection Stone.
"What are you talking about?"
Tver was displeased. He was very obviously treating them as test subjects!
"It took me ages to discover that the gem on the Gaunt family's ancestral ring, one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, was the Resurrection Stone."
"And the moment I learned that, the first people I thought of were you two!"
"Don't tell me…"
Tver picked up the stone from the desk and waved it in front of them.
"You don't want to have a little chat with departed friends or family? I'm offering the service free of charge."
"As far as I know, the Resurrection Stone cannot truly summon back the souls of the dead," Snape said coldly, though the slight trembling of his hand beneath his robes revealed that his heart was far from calm.
In fact, compared with Dumbledore, he was even more afraid of meeting that person.
"That's right," Tver admitted generously. "But the imprints the dead leave behind in this world can still represent the regrets they were unable to speak aloud before they departed."
"All you want is an answer, isn't it?"
Tver faced the two of them alone, meeting their eyes with a deep, clear gaze that seemed to pierce straight through their exquisite Occlumency and glimpse the secrets buried in the depths of their hearts.
Snape and Dumbledore both looked back at the stone on the desk. Beneath the sunlight streaming through the window, the black stone seemed to reflect both the longing and the fear hidden inside them.
And the symbol of the Deathly Hallows upon it seemed to tempt them still.
They did want an answer.
But they were also afraid of that answer.
Dumbledore hesitated. His withered right hand rose slightly, then fell back down with determination, repeating the motion again and again. Even Fawkes could sense the torment in his heart.
Yet under his astonished gaze, Snape was the first to pick up the Resurrection Stone, and then…
He placed it in front of Dumbledore.
"Dumbledore is the elder. He should go first," Snape said solemnly.
"…You are not usually so respectful of your elders, Severus," Dumbledore said with distaste, though his eyes still would not leave the unremarkable stone.
Believing that he had already untangled the knot in his heart, he pondered for a while before finally, hesitantly, picking up the Resurrection Stone.
"Since you put it that way, refusing any further would be rather dull."
"Ding ding. Tver-brand Resurrection Stone user instructions. Turn the stone three times in your hand, and you will see the regret you once longed to make amends for." Tver deliberately made his voice and words sound cheerful, at least to keep the atmosphere from becoming too sorrowful.
"But you must remember this."
He looked at Dumbledore with absolute seriousness.
Although he very much wanted to see the effect of someone else using the Resurrection Stone, so that he could better grasp this power that touched upon control over death, it would not be worth it if Dumbledore and Snape collapsed because of it.
"What you summon is absolutely not a real soul. What you want is not to see her come back to life, but to hear from her own mouth the answer to the regret you have longed to make up for, day and night, ever since she passed."
"Enough, enough," Dumbledore said, waving his hand in irritation. "You're being long-winded. Out with you."
"Tsk. Turning your back on people so quickly. No wonder the professor always says you're heartless."
Tver clicked his tongue in disdain, then quietly placed a box of tissues on the desk before dragging Snape, who seemed to be thinking about something, out of the Headmaster's office.
Only Dumbledore remained, his back to the sunlight, his face buried in shadow, as though he wanted to use the darkness to avoid the tangled thoughts filling his mind.
"Albus, are you truly going to do this?" Armando Dippet, who had watched everything from his portrait on the wall, asked worriedly.
Of course he knew how deeply Dumbledore longed for the Deathly Hallows. Long ago, Dumbledore had even studied the Cloak of Invisibility and the Elder Wand.
But in the legends, those who used the Resurrection Stone did not meet good ends…
"This is Albus's own matter. In the end, it must be resolved." Phineas Black shook his head. This time, however, his words were far more reliable than his movements. "Settling his regrets this way, whether the result is good or bad, is still much better than waiting until after death to meet again."
"Of course, whether one can meet anyone after death is another question. So perhaps this really is the only solution."
Dumbledore did not answer. He only lowered his head and looked at the stone whose every detail he had already committed to memory.
Just as Phineas had said, this might well be the only way for him to see Ariana again.
After a long while, a sigh sounded in the Headmaster's office.
Then Dumbledore waved his hand, cutting off the searching gazes of the portraits on the wall, as well as Fawkes and the Sorting Hat.
Only after doing all this did he raise the stone trembling in his right palm.
Once…
The painful memories buried deep in his heart were stirred up. His expression turned bitter, and even his eyes reddened.
A second time…
Tver was right. I am a coward. I dared not face the past, and I dared not look directly at the future.
Now the last time…
But what should I do? Beg for her forgiveness?
What right do I have to be forgiven by her?
I was not a proper older brother. Not a proper eldest son. Not a proper heir to the family.
Dumbledore stood helplessly in the darkness. The movement of his left hand grew more and more hesitant, as though the Resurrection Stone had become unbearably heavy, too heavy to lift, too heavy to turn.
He did not know how long had passed before a gentle voice sounded beside his ear.
"Are you very sad, Brother?"