The silence in the room stretched unbearably, thick like smoke choking the air.
Nero felt his throat tighten, his heartbeat a steady drum against his ribs.
He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe evenly, though each inhale felt like swallowing glass.
The words had barely settled in his mind, and already, a storm was brewing within him.
His mother.
Cassandra Dumbledore.
Not just any witch, but Albus Dumbledore's niece.
A woman whose name had been lost to time, now dragged back into the light, tied to a man who had become a monster.
A man she had chosen as her husband. His father.
Jonathan Ravenclaw.
And now, the question that threatened to shatter everything.
"What happened to her?"
Silence.
Then, soft, muffled sounds.
A choked breath, the quiet sniffle of a man who rarely allowed himself to grieve.
Nero turned sharply.
Aberforth Dumbledore, the gruff, unshakable old bartender, was trembling.
His large, calloused hands curled into fists, his shoulders shaking as he tried, and failed, to suppress the sorrow threatening to consume him.
Tears streamed down his lined face, carving paths through the weathered skin.
Tears for a niece lost, not to war, but to something worse.
To ideology. To madness. To betrayal.
Albus Dumbledore stood beside him, quiet as a grave.
But for once, the ever-composed Headmaster did not look wise.
He looked weary, tired, haunted.
Yet he forced himself to speak.
"After your mother graduated, I started seeing her less and less," Dumbledore began, his voice unusually quiet, as though each word carried a weight too heavy to bear.
"At the time, I was deeply consumed by my responsibilities. As professor, then headmaster, as leader of various organizations… and most importantly, as a deterrent. The world was fragile, Nero. The balance between Muggles and Wizards was shifting. Governments had finally begun to factor us into their equations. It was no longer just about nuclear weapons…"
He paused, exhaling slowly, as though steadying himself.
"It became about us. Wizards."
Nero frowned. A cold realization settled over him.
"What do you mean?"
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "For the first time in history, the most powerful Muggle governments did not measure their strength only in terms of weapons, but also in Wizards. Particularly those who had reached the rank of 'Legend.'"
Nero stiffened.
If Muggles knew the true extent of magical power… if they had started factoring Wizards into their global strategies… then war was only a hair's breadth away.
"I was at the center of that storm," Dumbledore continued. "I worked tirelessly to prevent another global war, both a Muggle and a Wizarding one. But in doing so…"
He hesitated, just for a second.
And then, finally, he said it.
"I failed Cassandra."
The words were raw. Bitter. Filled with regret.
Aberforth let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Hah. Stop talking as if the world revolves around you, Albus. You've lived a life of many failings, but this one? This was not on you."
Dumbledore glanced at his brother, an almost grateful look passing between them. "Thank you, Aberforth."
But the old bartender shook his head. "Don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying this to make you feel better. I'm just stating the truth."
The air was suffocating. The weight of unspoken words pressing against them.
Dumbledore turned back to Nero.
"Your mother grew more and more intoxicated by Jonathan's ideology," he admitted. "By the time she left Hogwarts, she had completely fallen into his way of thinking. She openly spoke of wizard superiority, believing it was our duty to rule over Muggles."
Nero clenched his jaw.
His own mother, someone from the Dumbledore family, has become a stout believer of wizard supremacy?
"At first, I thought it was a phase," Dumbledore continued, voice laced with remorse. "That she was simply young, passionate, and misguided. That, given time, she would grow out of it. But instead, every year, she only grew more radical in her beliefs."
"She followed Grindelwald's ideology." Nero murmured.
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. Even though he had already fallen, imprisoned in Nurmengard, his words still lived on. Many wizards, particularly those in hidden circles, still whispered his name."
"And my father?"
Dumbledore's expression darkened. "He was her greatest influence."
The words sent a chill through Nero's veins.
"The two of them surrounded themselves with like-minded individuals, debating ideas that would have once been unthinkable. And within those groups, a terrifying thought emerged."
He hesitated.
"There were those who believed… Grindelwald had been too soft."
The words sent chills through the room.
Lilith's hands clenched into fists. Even Ember, normally unshaken, had turned pale.
Too soft?
Grindelwald, a man who had led a war. Who had killed hundreds of thousands. Who had sought to bend the entire world beneath his rule.
And yet, to some, he had been too soft?
Dumbledore's voice grew colder. "Yes. In certain radical circles, Gellert was considered a failure, not because he sought to dominate Muggles, but because he did not wipe them out completely."
A silence so deep it felt like the world had stopped breathing.
"They believed in extermination," Dumbledore continued. "That Muggles were an infestation, an obstacle to be removed entirely. And your father… he was becoming increasingly withdrawn, keeping his thoughts to himself."
Nero's stomach twisted.
"And my mother?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Dumbledore sighed. "Cassandra… was different. She agreed that wizards were superior, but she did not share the belief that Muggles should be destroyed."
Nero's mind reeled.
"Then what did she believe?"
"She thought life was precious," Dumbledore said softly. "And that instead of erasing Muggles, we should focus on increasing the number of Wizards."
The room grew still.
"Increasing…?" Alaric muttered.
Dumbledore nodded. "Cassandra was deeply interested in understanding how magic was inherited. She believed that, if they studied it properly, they could control it, ensuring more Wizards were born and fewer Squibs or Muggles."
A dangerous idea.
Nero clenched his fists. His mother had wanted to alter life itself.
"She proposed research," Dumbledore continued. "She wanted to unravel the mysteries of magical inheritance, to find a way to influence whether a child was born a Muggle, a Squib, or a Wizard. She believed that by doing so, wizards could increase their numbers without ever needing to resort to war. She started making a name for herself in those circles. People would come to call her 'The Progenitor of Wizarding's Future'."
"But others… saw her research differently."
The implication was clear.
Cassandra Dumbledore had sought to influence life through magic.
But to the radical extremists she associated with, that research could become something far darker.
They saw a tool, or even worse, a weapon
A means to eliminate Muggles not through war, but through forced, unnatural selection.
Nero's chest felt tight.
"And my father?" he asked. "What did he think of her ideas?"
Dumbledore's lips pressed into a thin line.
"At first, he was intrigued. He encouraged her. But in the end…"
His blue eyes met Nero's.
"He killed her! It's all his fault!" Aberforth's voice was a snarl, raw and filled with years of pain.
A hollow silence.
Nero stopped breathing.
The world swayed beneath his feet.
And then, the rage came.
A storm, suffocating and unrelenting.
Jonathan Ravenclaw.
His father.
The man who had taken so many precious people from him.
Dumbledore met his eyes.
"Nero. I have spent a long time collecting memories. Memories that uncover most of the truth of what happened to Cassandra. Would you like to see them with me?"
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