"What will you swear to me, Tom?"

I glare at him in puzzled disbelief. "Sir, as if there weren't other ways of testing –"

"Too risky," he cuts me off. "We need to be certain whether and how the basilisk venom works. We have to recreate the scenario as closely as possible. If it works, your vow can be fulfilled. But if we are wrong and cannot destroy the amulet, it would be of advantage if you swore something within the realm of possibility for you."

"What would you swear to me?" I stall.

"What could be of use to you?" He smiles oh-so-gently, taking another sip of tea. "Becoming Head Boy and an examination note that contains no mention of your occasionally problematic behavior?"

I raise my chin, it's just intuition. "You are the only one who ever noticed any problematic behavior in me," I remind him. "That's too cheap, sir. We both know that my grades will speak for themselves, and that Professor Dippet already wants me to become Head Boy."

He sighs, rather phlegmatically. "Well then – tell me what you have in mind. In return, I wish you to swear to me to never seek out immortality using the Dark Arts again."

I tilt my head, my jaw clenched. How tiring. "Why on earth," I eventually grumble, staring up at the ceiling, "would I swear that?"

"For your own good, Tom. For the benefit of our magical society."

"You really long to demonstrate your benevolent altruism at my expense? Why don't we swear something trivial?"

"That would only be half the fun," he claims, surprising mischief lacing his tone … "Come on, don't think so much."

"Fine!" I groan. "But in return, you swear to me that my origins and connection to Slytherin, as well as the Chamber of Secrets and its Queen, will remain a secret between us."

"That won't be possible."

"Sir, the stakes for you are hardly worth mentioning. Echidna obeys me. She knows I deeply care about someone whose blood she was taught to deem as unworthy – and she unlearned what her former Master indoctrinated her with."

Dumbledore is much too reluctant for my liking. "By agreeing, I am paving the way for all sorts of retaliation, Tom."

"You have nothing to fear, though," I stress again. "Hogwarts is sacred to me, too."

We keep looking at each other, more honest than ever, and he knows it's true. Eventually he nods, though with a heavy heart.

"And while we're at it, it'd be really nice," I boldly add, "if you and the rest of the staff would kindly ignore the rumors about Harper and me spending any night's rest together."

Dumbledore seems amused, still he replies, "That is completely unacceptable. I cannot approve or support your early family planning at this time –"

"Professor Dumbledore, I assure you that you have nothing of the sort to worry about, I only care about the sleep I get for the first time in my life."

"Oh, did you suffer from insomnia on your own?" he asks with utmost interest. "Be that as it may – it is impossible, I cannot accept that since Ms Sullivan's parents –"

"Sir," I sigh, "what I've said yesterday is true. We are getting married. I know the school rules by heart, but they seem ridiculously conservative in light of the fact that we're both of age by now, and more so since Harper's parents already count me as family."

"So you do have family!" he triumphantly retorts, clearly enjoying the effort I have to make not to roll my eyes in annoyance.

"Professor," I hear myself say, deliberately calm even, "if we wished to abide by the school rules, I wouldn't be able to bring along basilisk venom, would I?"

"See? That's the problem when you make questionable decisions once. It's like a maelstrom. One mistake leads to another …" He visibly struggles until he sighs deeply, shrugging his shoulders. "Alright. I sincerely hope you two are intelligent and informed enough not to do anything regrettable. But I gather I could actually be glad to have someone keep an eye on you while I myself can't."

Narrowing my eyes, I give him a cynical smile, then he puts the vial of venom aside to step into the middle of the room. "Well then – let's start," he says as he pauses, lighting up all the candle flames in his office.

"Now?" I ask, genuinely taken aback. "Here?"

"Why not? We'll never be this young again, don't you think?"

I raise my brows despite standing up. A little reluctantly I walk over to him and say, "You really aren't wasting any time …"

"If the poison doesn't work," he is quick to reply, "we'll be in dire need of each remaining day to look for an adequate solution to our problem."

"It's not our problem," I correct him at once, "it's my –"

"I will not leave any of it to you alone," he firmly states. "You came here tonight, trusting me for the first time in your life. I appreciate that, Tom. And I will do everything I can to ensure that your trust in me was not in vain."

It seems so heroic and noble that it's almost repulsive. Valid still.

"Yet I have a rather good feeling about this poison," he adds ever so casually, beckoning me to come closer. "Do you know what to do?"

I draw my wand, already muttering, "Secaro!" With that, I cut into my palm – without looking.

"You don't like to see blood, Tom?" Dumbledore gives me a lopsided smile. "Who knew? Given your subtle tendency towards all things morbid."

I pout as I look up at him, as so often, nothing escapes his watchful gaze …

"It's perfectly normal," he assures me as though I was looking for comfort. "We all dislike certain things."

"In your case, that would be fire," I retort, "if I remember correctly …"

Now he's the one to pout, ever so gracefully, probably because he'd hoped I wouldn't remember this detail.

"My sister died in flames. Yes, Tom – indeed, I am wary of fire."

He's fully aware that he can expect no condolences from my side, and I suspect that this information only reveals half of what's happened, but it's interesting still …

Dumbledore finally follows suit by cutting into the palm of his hand. He's then holding it out to me, deliberately examining my reaction.

"Swear it, Tom," he demands as our palms touch.

I let out a harsh breath, then I do as I'm told. "I swear not to seek immortality through the Dark Arts again."

He nods, and it's absurdly strange to watch him be so content with me for once.

"Your turn," I say under my breath.

"I swear," he begins, "to keep my knowledge of your origins and ancestors a secret, as well as the catacombs and their guardian, and also to ensure you a good night's sleep as per our discussion …"

Our hands part, freeing two magical drops of blood that are soon hovering in the air. Like in a dance, they begin to circle each other, faster and faster until they finally merge into a tiny red storm. And the red in front of us eventually solidifies into a small gleaming spark, gradually building the shape of an amulet around our encased blood in its core, neatly glowing.

"It looks quite different to the one of my first pact," Dumbledore finds as if in thought. "Round, not diamond-shaped. There are less details in the engraving."

I can't help but assume, "I might not be the type for engraved details."

Dumbledore absently smiles, still wallowing in reveries.
And there I see it, for the first time. It's beyond any doubt.
"You loved him. And he loved you."

It's not a question, it's a simple truth.

"I did," Dumbledore reverently confirms, still glancing at the amulet floating between us. "It was almost a lifetime ago, and yet …" He shrugs, grabbing our blood pact from the air to examine it even more closely. "Love has infinite creative power, Tom – but it can also be our greatest weakness. That is what makes it so dangerous."

"Can you face him?"

Massaging his temples in unusual openness, he laughs at me. "Sober as ever. A trait that will take you far, in case you keep your stoicism."

"Sir, but that doesn't answer my question. If you aren't prepared to oppose him with all your might –"

"Don't you insult me, Tom," he asks, however with a smile on his face. "You wouldn't have bet your life on it, and you wouldn't be here now if you didn't believe I could."

I hold his gaze until I finally nod at his words.

"Give me the poison," he then demands, making the newly created amulet float back between us as I hand it to him.

He opens the vial in utmost concentration, then he chuckles. "One drop on the skin and the liquid burns through flesh, muscles, tendons and bones. Isn't that fascinating?"

"Fascinatingly grotesque, but fascinating still, yes," I agree, and I can't help but notice that this moment of truth comes with a certain tension. Dumbledore removes the cork and the drop that could corrode our bodies immediately hits the magical metal forged from our blood.

But in the seconds that follow, nothing happens.

An entire life could play out in these moments, entire eras, while we both hold our breath … We're probably equally tense, knowing that we're basically at our wits' end if this attempt fails.

Dumbledore doesn't even flinch, but I soon shrug my shoulders.
We keep staring at the amulet, waiting and waiting, and I eventually begin to shake my head.

"Well, fabulous," I grumble. "So much for the fascinating poison –"

"Be patient," Dumbledore whispers, not letting himself be distracted.

Until we hear a quiet splutter, barely audible at first. Dumbledore's eyes widen in awe, so I also inch closer to the amulet.

The silver's soon oxidizing, very slowly at first, then faster and faster, until there's no shiny spot left. We hear glass breaking like a bursting lightbulb. The shell that enclosed our blood for a brief moment in our universe simply breaks.

At that exact moment I feel my palm throb. A look at Dumbledore confirms that he can feel it, too.

With every tiny shard of glass we feel it, piece by piece, and yet nothing ever lands on the ground because the glass turns to ash immediately, the amulet crumbles into its components – and the wound in our hand is literally glowing red.

Until there's nothing left of our pact, and the flesh grows back together as though nothing ever happened.

"Also fascinating," Dumbledore says under his breath, I also can't quite grasp it yet. "So that is it … The venom of a basilisk can destroy a blood pact. The prophecy begins and ends in you." He lets that sink in, then he asks, "Are you relieved, Tom?" At my obvious confusion, he lowers his gaze, winking even. "Of course you are."

"I'd hoped it might work," I admit, "but I didn't think it would."

"Doubts don't matter in the aftermath," he finds, both pleased and thoughtful. "We no longer owe each other what we've sworn. Nevertheless, I feel obliged to keep my word even without the amulet. What about you?"

"I feel … similar …" In view of his stern gaze, I sigh, "Alright, it's fine, I don't plan on risking my life with occultism in order to become immortal again …"

"You will anyway soon regret your first attempt, I'm very sure of that."

"What do you mean by that?" I'm quick to ask, but he just shakes his head. "Professor, why hint at something that you won't explain?"

"You will find out soon enough when the time comes," he claims, clearly enjoying being in the know while I'm not.

I frown. I'm certainly not begging him to share his theories with me, I'd rather bite my tongue off.

"Although I still think that immortality wouldn't do much harm," I think out loud to tease him at least. "Not even to you, when you face him –"

"Trust in your abilities as I trust in mine," he says. "Immortality is not worth the price, we have already discussed that. Much more important now is this: As soon as the other blood pact is broken, time's running. He, like us, will sense what is going on and will immediately demand a duel."

"He will, yes."

"So," Dumbledore continues, "we now have the advantage of shaping the timing to our liking. You vowed to make it happen within a year, didn't you? Around Easter."

"Yes, sir."

"What a pity," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "You obviously didn't think about your graduation. A little more time and you could have taken your exams in peace."

"Oh, silly me," I grumble, "how could I forget to think about school when I was trying to avert the almost certain death of a load of people and myself …"

He even grins. "But you only risked it because of your absurd curiosity in black magic." Dumbledore holds up the remaining basilisk venom to the light of the yellow lampshades again, nodding contentedly. "We could do it right away, but it would be a shame to lose the peace and quiet in the meantime. Don't you think?"

"You fight that duel – entirely up to you."

"In calm there is strength," he then says. "I've always paid invoices on the last day possible, and it's worked out well for me so far. I suggest we destroy the pact before the Easter holidays next year. That way we'll have plenty of time to prepare and most of the students will be far, far away."

"So you think he's coming to Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore seems lost in thought at once. "I can't rule it out. So it would be an advantage if there were as few students here as possible. That will be your responsibility as Head Boy, Tom."

I wearily shake my head. "I'm not yet in the position."

"You said yourself that Headmaster Dippet wants you in it," he retorts. "You will be Head Boy. And as such, next year you will have to encourage your fellow students to go home and celebrate Easter with their families. Just like you did this year before you decided to –"

"It's fine, no need to elaborate …"

"If everything goes according to plan, you'll even be able to concentrate on your graduation for almost four weeks without any worries," he says. "Although I'm pretty sure that you would pass it well, even if you were worried."

"Thank you for your trust –"

"No," he interrupts me, looking straight into my eyes. "Thank you for your trust. I've been waiting to move on for many years, and as much as I was surprised that it was you of all people who made it happen – it's fate. By this time next year, the Greater Good will fall or be established, once and for all."