How magnificent…
That was the only description Avada could muster after witnessing that incomparable river.
It was the clockwork of the entire universe—the convergence of all possibilities, the eternal force that drove all motion. All of history, the present, and the future were immersed within it, yet were as insignificant as grains of sand. It advanced mercilessly in a single "direction," meticulous and unerring, while at the same time gently radiating countless possibilities. It carried magic, carried matter, carried the very meaning of existence itself.
And now, Avada was witnessing such greatness with his own eyes.
Indescribable emotions instantly overwhelmed his mind. Fear, reverence, and fanaticism swept away all memory and reason. Before such a vast river of time, everything in reality—the "material world" Professor Trelawney had spoken of—seemed to lose all meaning. He wanted only to merge with this great existence, to gaze upon it, to feel it, forever…
"No—no—what am I thinking?"
After staring blankly at the river for who knew how long, he slowly regained his sanity. "If I keep going like this, how is it any different from being dead… It's life that gives meaning to everything. No matter how great time is, it's only the foundation that bears it all…"
"I can't lose myself in this. I came to find the truth behind the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk—to protect the students. I still have things I need to do…"
Only then did he fully tear himself free from that fanatic trance and begin searching within time for what he sought. But very quickly, he discovered a new problem—
The "time" he was seeing was not a single, simple timeline, but a vast river encompassing all possibilities. And each fragment of reality within it was smaller than a grain of sand. In the span of a single glance, he had already seen no fewer than a hundred different scenes involving the basilisk.
In some, the basilisk slithered through the pipes, attacking students one by one with its deadly gaze. In others, the basilisk had long since died, leaving only a skeleton lying silently in the Chamber. There were even futures where the Chamber itself had collapsed, ceasing to exist altogether—and that massive cauldron boiling some unknown chunk of meat perhaps symbolized some equally absurd future…
"So this divination is completely pointless?! This is just brute-force enumeration?!"
"How do real Seers pinpoint the future so precisely? There must be principles I still don't understand…"
Frowning, Avada "turned back" and began browsing through history instead, hoping to trace his own destiny and uncover clues about the Chamber…
Still countless possibilities.
It was entirely possible that he might die in the Divination classroom the very next second—let alone determine the basilisk's current state or the Chamber's existence.
"Then… what if I follow the original storyline?"
Avada's "gaze" drifted through the river of time until it swiftly found the moment he was looking for—one late night eleven years ago, when Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Hagrid placed Harry Potter on the Dursleys' doorstep.
Then he watched Harry release a boa constrictor, receive his owl letter, meet Hagrid, buy his supplies in Diagon Alley, and meet Hermione and Ron on the train—
There was no Avada Kendavia.
Strictly following the original perspective, Avada watched as Harry and the others protected the Philosopher's Stone, killed the basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor, traveled through time to save Sirius, witnessed Voldemort's return, the deaths of Sirius and Dumbledore, and finally defeated Voldemort once and for all…
"No clues. Nothing at all…"
After essentially rereading the entire Harry Potter saga within the timeline, Avada marveled at the wonders of time and fate—while also bitterly regretting that this journey had yielded nothing. And just as he tried to turn back to find a way out—
The possibilities vanished.
At some unknown moment, the once-vast river of time had been compressed into an impossibly narrow line—the original timeline. That line did not end with Voldemort's defeat, but continued stretching onward toward some unknown destination.
"What's going on?!"
Panic seized him as he searched frantically, yet only that thin timeline occupied his vision. Though he could no longer sense his own form, he still felt as though breathing had become difficult, his mind steeped in an inexplicable terror—like someone climbing stairs who suddenly found themselves trapped in a powerless elevator.
With everything else gone, he had no choice but to follow that lonely line forward, hoping its end might offer another exit. His perception advanced along it, onward, onward…
…
Suddenly, the eternal silence and loneliness were torn apart—
A colossal, awe-inspiring "sphere," like a star itself, filled the far end of his vision. Its surface glowed with a pale blue light, crystalline and radiant like a jewel. Halo-like flares erupted from its surface from time to time, scattering into countless pale blue motes that vanished into nothingness—while at every moment, identical motes emerged from the void, drifting back and merging with it…
"What is th—"
In the final instant before Avada's consciousness dissolved, all that remained in his mind was that fleeting vision—and an unfinished thought.
…
"…Ken?"
"Ken? Ken?"
A long-lost sense of physicality gradually returned to his awareness. He tried moving his fingers, and when the familiar sensation of fabric reached his mind, he finally opened his eyes completely.
"Ugh!"
A burst of blinding light stabbed into his eyes, forcing him to shut them again in panic—and in that brief instant, he thought he'd seen a familiar face.
"Professor Dumbledore?"
He asked tentatively, eyes still closed, his voice hoarse.
"It's me, Ken."
The aged voice replied, carrying unmistakable relief. "Merlin above, you're finally awake. I specifically instructed Madam Pomfrey to notify me the moment you showed any signs of regaining consciousness…"
"How long was I unconscious?"
"A full week."
Dumbledore's tone turned grave. "After you collapsed, Professor Trelawney cried out that you were attempting to offend time itself—peering into knowledge that does not belong to the living. What exactly happened? Did you see anything?"
"I… I'm not sure, Professor. I—"
He suddenly froze.
Because within his magical perception, Dumbledore's spiritual core was no longer a hollow void of magic. Instead, it was filled with a pale blue, crystalline substance, radiant like crystal, its depths threaded with intricate patterns—just like a natural crystal formation.
Soul origin?!
Avada felt his heart tremble. I can see the soul origin now?!
He shifted his perception toward himself—and sure enough, the hollow at the center of his own magic had been filled with that same substance.
Surrounding his soul, his once-golden spiritual power was now shattered and fragmented, as if it had been repeatedly ravaged. Even Voldemort's spirit—utterly corroded by dark magic—likely couldn't compare to the extent of Avada's current damage. Fortunately, while his thoughts felt sluggish and his spellcasting power had been greatly reduced, his memory and reasoning remained intact…
Is this damage from seeing that massive sphere?
No… wait.
Why does the texture of the soul origin feel exactly the same as that enormous sphere?!
(End of Chapter)