Crossroads

April 13, 1993, 3:30 PM, Nine Sherringford Square, London

Albus Dumbledore

Albus sat at Newt’s kitchen table, his usually bright eyes dulled by deep tiredness. A cup of tea steamed invitingly before him, its aromatic tendrils rising lazily in the late afternoon light.

Though he knew the restorative properties of a good cup of tea would do him well, Albus couldn’t bring himself to reach for it. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to alleviate the tension that had built up over the past few days.

The quiet of the moment was broken by approaching footsteps. Newt entered the kitchen, looking considerably more composed than he had mere hours ago. Fawkes, perched regally on Newt’s shoulder, immediately took wing at the sight of Albus, gliding gracefully to settle on the back of the adjacent chair. Despite his weariness, Albus felt his lips curve into a gentle smile at his loyal friend.

“Tina’s stable now.” Newt announced, his voice carrying both relief and gratitude. “I can’t thank you enough for lending us Fawkes. His tears were… well, invaluable doesn’t quite cover it.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend.” Albus replied softly, his blue eyes twinkling momentarily despite his fatigue. He paused, considering his next words carefully. “What of her companion? Lewis Caboldie, wasn’t it? I trust he’s receiving treatment as well?”

Newt nodded, absently running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Yes, yes. The team you brought with you— excellent Healers, by the way— they’ve given him a thorough examination. They’ve cleared him for the most part.”

A small, tired smile crossed his face. “Just prescribed some bed rest. He’s quite healthy, all things considered.”

Albus leaned forward slightly, his long fingers interlacing on the table. “I wonder… might he be up for answering a few questions? There are matters we must discuss.”

“Ah.” Newt shifted somewhat uncomfortably. “He’s rather… well, he won’t leave Tina’s side. Hasn’t done since they arrived. Won’t even come down for meals— Bunty’s been taking them up to him.”

A warm smile spread across Dumbledore’s weathered features, genuine appreciation glinting in his eyes.

“Such loyalty is to be commended.” He said, rising from his chair with a grace that belied his apparent exhaustion. “Then perhaps it’s time I went to him instead. I’ve waited for answers long enough, and I sense time is not a luxury we can afford at present.”

As he stood, he finally reached for the tea, taking a single, fortifying sip. “Would you mind accompanying me, Newt?”

“Of course.” Newt replied, gesturing toward the door. “Though I should warn you, he’s been through quite an ordeal. He might not be as… forthcoming as you’d hope.”

They moved toward the staircase, Fawkes gliding ahead of them. “In times like these, even the smallest piece of information can help us.”

As Dumbledore entered the magically enlarged bedroom, the air seemed thick with healing enchantments and the sharp, clean scent of medicinal salves and potions. His eyes immediately found Porpentina, lying still but markedly improved on the bed.

Her skin, which had been alarmingly pale when he’d first had a look at her, now held a hint of healthy color. The labored breathing that had concerned them all had eased into a steady, peaceful rhythm.

Caboldie sat beside her, a figure of unwavering vigilance despite his own obvious distress. The man was a portrait of exhaustion— dark circles shadowed his eyes, his clothes were rumpled, and he seemed to be staying upright through sheer force of will alone.

A half-eaten meal sat forgotten on a small table nearby.

One of the Healers, a witch with steel-gray hair pulled into a tight bun, approached Dumbledore with a concerned frown.

“Headmaster.” She said in a low, professional tone, though her disapproval was evident. “Mr. Caboldie really ought to be resting. While his injuries weren’t as severe as Mrs. Scamander’s, they were far from trivial. He needs proper bed rest to fully recover.”

From his chair, Lewis’s voice came rough with fatigue but firm with conviction. “I’ve told you already— I’m not leaving until I know she’s alright.”

He turned slightly, meeting Dumbledore’s gaze with unexpected intensity. “She’s not just my superior officer, she’s my friend. And friends don’t abandon each other.”

Dumbledore regarded the scene thoughtfully, his blue eyes taking in every detail— the worry lines etched deeply in Lewis’s face, the protective set of his shoulders, the way his hand rested near, but not touching, Tina’s arm.

The Headmaster recognized the look of someone haunted not just by what had happened, but by what he might have done to stop the situation from escalating before it was too late.

Dumbledore took a few measured steps closer to Lewis’s chair, his expression gentle but grave.

“I understand your dedication, Mr. Caboldie, truly I do. But you must rest to recover your strength.” He paused, weighing his next words carefully.

“More pressingly, we find ourselves in desperate need of information. News from the United States has been… inconsistent at best. We’ve heard troubling reports—” His voice lowered, heavy with concern. “— suggesting that it has fallen. Can you tell us if there’s any truth to these claims?”

The change that came over Lewis was profound and immediate. His already weary face seemed to age years in mere seconds, growing tight with grief. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came forth. The silence in the room grew thick and oppressive, broken only by the soft bubbling of a healing potion on a nearby table.

“It’s true.”

The words, barely above a whisper but clear as crystal, came not from Lewis but from the bed. Tina Scamander’s eyes fluttered open, dark and filled with an unspeakable sadness.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Newt practically flew to his wife’s bedside, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands, usually so steady when handling his creatures, trembled slightly as they enveloped hers.

“Tina.” He breathed, his voice catching. “I thought… I feared I’d never— “

He couldn’t finish the sentence, emotion overwhelming him.

Tina’s fingers weakly squeezed his, a ghost of her usual strength. “It’ll take more than that to keep me from coming home to you.” She managed, attempting a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Newt leaned closer, his own eyes glistening. “Jacob and Queenie? Have you any word?”

The question seemed to pain her physically. Tina’s gaze darted away, fixing on some point in the middle distance.

“I don’t— I couldn’t— ” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know, Newt. Everything happened so fast, and then…”

Her voice trailed off as her eyes found Dumbledore, standing quietly at the foot of her bed. Something passed between them, an unspoken understanding of the gravity of what was to come. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger, though edged with a weariness that seemed to go beyond physical exhaustion.

“Professor Dumbledore… what I have to tell you… you need to sit down for this. You all do.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as Tina recounted her tale, her voice growing stronger even as the weight of her words seemed to press down on all present. Dumbledore had conjured a comfortable armchair and sat, listening intently, his steepled fingers pressed against his lips.

“We’d heard whispers for months.” Tina began, her free hand clenching in the bedsheet. “The Wizards native to the Americas, usually in disparate tribes with little to no communication due to infighting. They came together in unprecedented numbers, taking up the old banner of the Outsiders. A unified front, hell-bent on taking back their lands from who they deem to be the usurpers.”

“The MACUSA.”

“Yes.” She paused, drawing a steadying breath. “At first, we thought it was just another separatist movement, though one that was more serious than the others. We’ve dealt with those before, of course. But this… this was different. Someone was playing their strings from behind the scenes, an Order we know nothing about. All we managed to find out was that there was a powerful Witch in control— and even that information caused the one giving it to die horribly.”

Newt’s grip on her hand tightened as she continued.

“People started disappearing. Not just Wizards— No-majes, too. There was no rhyme or reason to it; ordinary people, it seemed. There was no pattern that we could see— at least, not at first.” Her eyes grew distant, reliving the memory. “By the time we realized they were being used in power-gathering rituals, it was too late.”

“The final ritual.” Lewis interjected, his voice hollow. “None of us could have predicted the scale of it.”

Tina nodded grimly. “We were in the field when it happened. Saw the power— this massive wave of energy— converging into the earth before being shot out into the sky. A pillar of pure destruction, flying east from the mountains. I’ve never felt anything like it. Raw, primal magic, twisted into something…” She shuddered. “Something wrong. Something horrible.”

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his blue eyes intense. “And the MACUSA?”

Tina’s voice cracked as she replied. “Gone. Headquarters were completely leveled. When I got to New York, there was nothing left but rubble and…” She swallowed hard. “And enemies. They were everywhere, like they’d been waiting for this moment. The Outsiders, Dark Wizards who’d been in hiding, and even Goblins— all working together.”

“And the Witch? What of her?” Dumbledore prompted gently, though there was a new tension in his posture.

“We saw her at the final ritual.” Tina admitted with a shudder. “She was behind it all. Organizing the Outsiders, directing the rituals, channeling that final, terrible spell.”

She met Dumbledore’s gaze directly. “She was untouchable— we stood no chance; her magic held us all down and we were helpless against it like First Years.”

Dumbledore fell silent, his expression growing more troubled with each passing moment. The twinkle that usually lived in his eyes had been replaced by something darker, more concerned. He rose slowly from his chair, moving to the window where he stood, framed by the fading daylight.

“This is far graver news than I had feared.” He finally said, his voice quiet but carrying easily in the hushed room. “The timing of this attack, coinciding with Grindelwald’s movements here… it cannot be coincidence.”

He turned back to face them, his face set with determination. “Miss Porpentina, I know you need rest, but I must ask— was there anything else? Any detail, no matter how small, about this Witch or her plans?”

“No, that’s all I know.”

“Very well.” Dumbledore said, getting up and tapping the chair with his wand, Vanishing it out of existence. “Thank you for the information. I shall go and relay it to the President—”

“The President’s here?” Tina said, her eyes wide as she absorbed the information. “Of course; yes. The Tournament. And Ilvermorny?”

“All here as well, Tina.”

“Thank the heavens. At least the children are—”

The thunderous knocking cut through the atmosphere like a crack of lightning, causing everyone in the room to start. Wands appeared in hands almost instinctively— even Tina, weak as she was, reached for hers before Newt gently stayed her hand.

Dumbledore rose smoothly, his own wand already drawn with deceptive casualness.

“Please, remain here.” He said, his calm voice belying the alertness in his stance. “I shall attend to our… visitor.”

As he descended the stairs, his mind raced through possibilities, each more concerning than the last. The wards around Newt’s home were robust— few knew its location, and fewer still would arrive unannounced in such times. The hammering came again, somehow more urgent than before.

Dumbledore reached the front door, positioning himself slightly to the side before calling out. “Who seeks entry?”

“It’s Moody.” Came the gruff response. “Alastor Moody, who once transfigured your favorite woolen socks into Christmas pudding during the Yule feast of 1975.”

Despite the gravity of the moment, Dumbledore’s lips twitched slightly at the memory as he opened the door. There stood Alastor Moody, his magical eye spinning wildly, his weather-beaten face even more lined than usual with concern. The retired Auror didn’t wait for a greeting.

“Albus.” Moody growled, his normal eye fixed intently on Dumbledore while his magical one continued its restless surveillance. “It’s Azkaban.”

Two simple words, but they caused Dumbledore’s heart to sink.

This is exactly what he didn’t want to hear.

oooo

April 13, 1993, 5:30 PM, Hogwarts Grounds 

Adam Clarke

I sat on the rocky ledge overlooking the Black Lake, letting my legs dangle over the edge. The mid-April Scottish air was mild, with just enough of a lingering chill to remind you that winter hadn’t long passed.

My school cloak lay folded beside me— I’d only need it once the sun started to set.

Won’t be long, now.

Lush grass carpeted the rolling hills, dotted with cheerful clusters of daisies and buttercups. The breeze carried a symphony of scents— fresh grass, blooming flowers, and the earthy richness of the lake itself.

Ripples danced across the lake’s surface where the wind touched it, sending sparkles of sunlight in every direction. A pair of swans glided regally past my perch, while nearer to the shore, a group of students had removed their shoes and socks to dip their feet in the still-cool water. Further out, I caught glimpses of larger movements— probably the Giant Squid enjoying the pleasant day, or perhaps some of the merpeople venturing closer to the surface.

The Forbidden Forest was a vibrant wall of green. New leaves rustled in the breeze, and even from here, I could see occasional flashes of color where magical plants were blooming. Closer to where I was sitting, a family of fire crabs had claimed a sunny spot, their wet shells sending tiny rainbows dancing across the rocks.

For once, I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular.

Not about the tournament, or Grindelwald, or any of the countless other worries that usually occupied my mind.

I was simply… being, existing in this moment, letting the peaceful atmosphere of the grounds wash over me. The events of the past few months felt distant here, as if they had happened to someone else entirely.

For now, at least, I was content to forget about everything else. I was just a regular student, sitting by the lake and enjoying a perfect spring day.

It was not to last.

Inevitably, my mind finally turned to what I’d been avoiding thinking about.

The attack on Hogwarts replayed in my mind; the chaos, the fear, the adrenaline. I could still hear the explosions, see the flashes of spell-fire illuminating the ancient stones of the castle.

Then there was my own role in it all. I almost smiled, thinking about how utterly foolish— and yet successful— my idea to join the defense of Hogsmeade had been. A mere twelve year old by the reckoning of all around me, and there I was, fighting alongside adults in a battle that would be written about in history books.

If they survive to write them, that is.

The betrayal of Longling Academy and Castelobruxo still felt offsetting. It wasn’t just the act itself, but what it represented: the shattering of the unified front the Wizarding World had tried to present against Grindelwald. The world had changed in those moments, shifted on its axis in ways we were still trying to understand.

As I sat there, a memory surfaced unbidden from my previous life. It was so strange to think about now, sitting here as a wizard by a magical lake.

An old friend’s voice, excited and passionate over voice chat, talking about Star Wars and the concept of shatterpoints— and making fun of me for not knowing or misunderstanding the concepts behind it.

I smiled. I’d never been particularly invested in that franchise, but that particular idea had stuck with me. Moments in time where you can force the future to crystallize into a new path.

That had been one of those situations.

The attack, the betrayals, the chaos that followed— they’d changed everything irrevocably. The Wizarding World I’d known when I first arrived at Hogwarts no longer existed.

A cool breeze off the lake ruffled my hair, bringing me back to the present moment. The peaceful spring day seemed almost obscene in its normalcy, a stark contrast to the weight of my thoughts.

Somewhere out there, Grindelwald was moving pieces on a board I could barely comprehend, and here I was, caught up in the middle of it all.

I picked up a small stone and tossed it into the lake, watching the ripples spread outward. Like those ripples, the effects of recent events were still spreading, reaching further than anyone could predict. And like my small stone disturbing the peaceful surface of the lake, even small actions could have far-reaching consequences.

“Wotcher, Adam!”

I turned at the cheerful voice to see Tonks picking her way carefully along the rocky shoreline toward me. Today her hair was a spring-appropriate pale green, though it briefly flickered to orange as she stumbled slightly on the uneven ground.

“Missed you at the Hospital Wing earlier.” She said as she settled down beside me, her legs swinging casually over the edge. “Went to see Harry. Thought you might’ve been there too.”

I shrugged, picking up another small stone to toss into the lake. “Already saw him. Just wanted some time to think, you know?”

Tonks nodded, her hair swaying in the wind as she stared ahead.

“Mad though, isn’t it? His recovery?” She leaned back on her hands, face turned toward the warmth of the sun. “Pomfrey says she’s never seen anything like it. Magical exhaustion like that usually takes at least a week to bounce back from, but Harry’s up and about like nothing happened.”

“Mmm.” I hummed in agreement, trying to keep my face neutral. The truth of Harry’s recovery flashed through my mind— the vision from the day before, the surge of energy that had coursed through him, jumpstarting his magic like a battery being recharged.

It was insane, completely unprecedented, and absolutely not something I was going to share, even with Tonks. Harry wouldn’t want me to, for one thing, and for another… well, some things were better kept quiet.

Tonks bumped her shoulder against mine. “You’re being awfully quiet. Everything alright?”

I managed a small smile. “Yeah, just… processing, I suppose. It’s been a lot, hasn’t it?”

She snorted.

“That’s putting it mildly.” She was quiet for a moment, then added more softly. “You know, it’s okay to not be okay with everything that’s happened. You’re twelve, Adam. No one expects you to handle all this like it’s normal.”

I almost laughed at that. Normal had stopped being an option the moment I’d woken up in this world with memories of another life. But Tonks didn’t know that, couldn’t know that. So instead, I just nodded and said. “Thanks, Tonks.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the Giant Squid lazily wave a tentacle at some passing birds. I was grateful for her presence, even as my mind churned with secrets I couldn’t share— about Harry’s recovery, about my own situation, about the growing feeling that we were all pieces in a game much bigger than we realized.

I looked at Tonks, my mind racing back to Harry’s vision— a perfect mirror of my own from a month earlier. The artifacts we’d seen, arranged in that mysterious cave, and among them, unmistakable even to those who’d never seen it in person: the Veil of Death.

Ron’s words about the Ministry attack echoed in my thoughts, and suddenly the pieces began clicking together with a sort of terrible clarity.

“So.” I started, trying to sound casual. “Has the Ministry finished assessing the damage from the attack?”

Tonks’s hair shifted slightly, a tell I’d learned to recognize when she was on guard— though it wasn’t as obvious as the soul thread above her swirling in agitation. “Still ongoing, really. Lot of departments hit, lot of things to sort through. Moody’s had to stop my training, on account of everything going on.”

“I’ll say.” I nodded, feigning only mild interest. “Must be hard to even know what’s missing, with all the chaos. Especially in the more… sensitive departments.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Adam…”

I pressed on, my voice carefully neutral. “I imagine the Department of Mysteries would be particularly difficult to inventory.”

Tonks sat up straighter, her casual demeanor falling away. “That’s not really something we should be discussing.”

I was tired of the dance. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face her fully. “Was the Veil of Death taken?”

The effect was immediate. Tonks’s hair lost all color, turning a stark white as her eyes widened in shock. Then, just as quickly, her entire demeanor changed. Gone was my friendly, somewhat clumsy mentor, replaced by the sharp-eyed Auror I knew she would become.

“Adam.” She said, her voice low and intense. “What exactly do you know about this?”

I couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at my lips, though there was no humor in it. “So the Veil has indeed been taken.”

Tonks swore under her breath, running a hand through her now-gray hair. “This isn’t a game, Adam. This is serious Ministry business. If you know something—”

“I know it’s not a game.” I cut her off, my voice sharper than I’d intended. “I know exactly how serious this is. What I don’t know is why it was taken… Unless.”

She studied me for a long moment, conflict clear on her face. Finally, she cast a quick Charm I recognized as anti-eavesdropping before turning back to me. “Alright, out with it. What is it that you think you know?”

I took a deep breath, weighing my next words carefully. I couldn’t tell her everything, but maybe I could give her enough to help me figure these things out.

“Grindelwald’s planning something. Something big. And whatever it is, he needs powerful magical artifacts to do it. The Veil and who knows what else… they’re all part of something bigger.”

Tonks was silent for a long moment as she processed this. “How do you know all this? And don’t tell me it’s just a guess, because we both know better.”

I looked out over the lake, buying myself a moment to think. “I have had… visions.”

When I looked back at Tonks, her expression was a complex mix of concern and curiosity. She was pointedly staring at my white eye, like it could see into the nature of the universe itself.

“You know.” She said finally. “Sometimes I forget you’re only twelve. And then other times, like now, I wonder if you ever really were.”

If you only knew how right you are.

Tonks studied me for a long moment, her hair settling into a determined dark blue. “Adam, you need to speak with Dumbledore about this.”

My eyes went wide with surprise at the suggestion.

“No, I—I can’t. Tonks, definitely not.” The thought of drawing that kind of attention, of having those piercing blue eyes examining every word I said, every secret I kept… it wasn’t something I wanted. “No.”

“Hey, hey.” Tonks said quickly, noticing my panic. She placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I won’t tell anyone what you’ve told me, alright? That’s not my secret to share.”

Her expression softened, but remained serious. “But Adam, you really need to talk to him. Whatever’s going on with you, whatever you know— Dumbledore needs to hear it directly from you. You’re changing, and I don’t know how to help. Only he can.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I stared out at the lake. The Giant Squid had submerged again, leaving the surface peaceful and undisturbed. Unlike my thoughts, which were churning like a storm.

“You don’t understand.” I said quietly. “Once I start talking… There are things I can’t explain. Things I’ve seen which I… I can’t.”

Tonks shifted beside me, her voice gentle but firm. “Maybe that’s exactly why you need to talk to him. If anyone can make sense of the impossible, it’s Dumbledore.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of every secret I’d been carrying. Maybe… maybe it was time to stop running from it all. I did feel better when I revealed it to Dumbledore.

“You really think I should?” I asked, hating how vulnerable I sounded in that moment.

Tonks nodded. “Yeah, I do. Look, I know it’s scary. But sometimes the brave thing and the right thing are the same.”

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Now you sound like him.”

She grinned, her hair lightening to its usual vibrant pink. “Well, I did attend Hogwarts for seven years. Some of his wisdom was bound to rub off eventually.”

I took a deep breath, feeling something settle in my chest. A decision, maybe. Or just acceptance.

“Alright.” I said finally. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I managed a small smile. “Maybe it’s time I stopped hiding from my problems and faced them head on.”

Tonks beamed at me, ruffling my hair affectionately.

“There’s the Adam I know.” She stood up, brushing off her robes. “Want me to go with you? I could—”

“No.” I cut her off, but gently. “No, this is something I need to do on my own.”

She nodded, understanding. “Fair enough. Just… promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t wait. Whatever’s happening, whatever Grindelwald’s planning… time might not be on our side.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words. “I promise.”

As Tonks walked away, leaving me alone again by the lake, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just set something in motion that couldn’t be undone. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, you can only hide from destiny for so long.