Interlude the Fifth
𝒟𝓊𝓂𝒷𝓁𝑒𝒹𝑜𝓇𝑒'𝓈 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈
The soft glow of candlelight flickered in the Headmaster's office, casting long shadows against the walls adorned with portraits of former Hogwarts Headmasters. Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his hands folded thoughtfully as he gazed at the fire in the hearth. Across from him, Minerva McGonagall stood, her sharp eyes reflecting the same concern that was evident in the way her brows furrowed.
"Albus," she began, her voice low, yet carrying a weight of unspoken worry. "You've been keeping a close eye on them, haven't you? Harry, Cassandra... they both seem so young, and yet, there's something about them, something beyond their years."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, though his expression was one of quiet contemplation. He leaned forward, the lines on his face deepening as he spoke.
"Indeed, Minerva. There is much about them that we do not fully understand yet. But I have no doubt that they are linked in ways we have yet to fathom." His voice softened, as if he were speaking more to himself than to her. "Harry, with his remarkable heart and his connection to those who came before him, and Cassandra—well, she has a... particular legacy, doesn't she? One that is entwined with the past in ways most are unaware of."
McGonagall's gaze narrowed, but she said nothing. She was keenly aware of the weight of words when it came to Dumbledore, and there was something in his tone now that hinted at much more than he was letting on.
"Do you think they are ready?" McGonagall asked carefully. "The challenges they'll face... It's difficult to imagine either of them being prepared, no matter how gifted they are."
"None of us are ever truly prepared," Dumbledore mused, his voice steady. "But there are those, like Harry and Cassandra, who carry more than their own burden. They are... connected to the greater tides of destiny. The choices they make will shape more than their own fates, Minerva. And that, in itself, is a responsibility that neither of them fully realizes yet."
A silence settled between them, the only sound the crackling of the fire. McGonagall looked at Dumbledore, her sharp mind racing with thoughts she couldn't yet put together.
"Do you think they will understand?" she asked softly. "Understand the weight of what they're a part of?"
Dumbledore smiled gently, though it was a smile tinged with something deeper. "In time, Minerva. In time, they will. But for now, we must give them the space to grow—on their own terms. The pieces are slowly coming together, though the full picture is still hidden from view."
He leaned back, his eyes momentarily distant as if seeing something far beyond the confines of the office. "I have faith in them. Both of them. Cassandra will play a role that neither of us can yet predict, but she is not to be underestimated. And Harry... well, his path was always bound to be difficult. But together, perhaps... together, they can carry the weight that is yet to come."
McGonagall didn't respond immediately. She was used to Dumbledore's cryptic ways, but it didn't make them any easier to decipher. She had always trusted his judgment, but the uncertainty of the coming years weighed heavily on her.
As the fire crackled and the shadows deepened, McGonagall finally nodded, her resolve firming. "I trust you, Albus. But I worry."
"Quite right," Dumbledore said with a wink, as though sensing her unspoken fears. "But remember, Minerva, sometimes even the darkest of times can give way to light, and it's often the most unexpected of sources that help guide the way."