The pensieve swirled violently as Dumbledore and Nero stepped out of its depths, the memories of Cassandra's descent still clinging to them like ghosts.
The air in the dimly lit office was thick with unspoken grief, a silence only broken by the crackling of the fireplace.
Dumbledore stood still for a moment, his face a carefully measured mask of sorrow and contemplation. His blue eyes, weary, carried the weight of countless regrets.
"I do not know what happened to her after that," he finally said, his voice quiet but firm.
"Jonathan vanished into the shadows, taking Cassandra with him. I searched, but there was no trace. It was as if she had been erased from existence itself."
Nero said nothing, his mind reeling from everything he had witnessed.
The screams. The rituals.
He had watched Cassandra descend into madness, had felt her anguish, had witnessed her desperation.
The slow decay of a woman who had once dreamed of reshaping the world.
He felt as if a heavy chain had been wrapped around his chest, tightening with every breath.
Dumbledore let out a weary sigh.
"The first time we heard about Cassandra after that was two years later."
A new memory unfurled.
The Ravenclaw Manor, shrouded in the cold breath of winter.
Snowflakes clung to the tall, ancient windows, muting the light inside.
The grand hall was dim, lit only by flickering candlelight.
A woman sat stiffly in an armchair, staring into the fire, her shoulders tense, Melina Ravenclaw, Nero's grandmother.
Then came a knock.
Slow. Deliberate.
A house-elf, that Nero recognized as Witty shuffled to answer it.
Jonathan stood in the doorway, cloaked in black. His face was gaunt, his eyes hollowed by shadows. He carried something in his arms, wrapped in dark blue fabric.
A baby.
Nero.
Melina rose to her feet, her breath catching in her throat as Jonathan stepped inside, cradling the child as if carrying the weight of the world.
"What have you done?" she whispered, her voice sharp with restrained fury.
Jonathan did not answer at first.
He simply walked forward, his steps measured, unhurried.
Then, in a voice devoid of emotion, he said:
"This is Nero. Cassandra and my son."
The silence in the room became suffocating.
Melina's fingers clenched into fists.
Her throat tightened. "Where is she?"
Jonathan's lips curled slightly. It was not a smirk, nor a frown, just a hollow, empty expression.
"Dead."
Melina flinched. Her knuckles turned white.
Jonathan stepped closer, tilting his head ever so slightly, his voice still eerily calm.
"I killed her."
The words hung in the air like a curse.
The fire in the hearth crackled violently, throwing jagged shadows across the walls.
"You… what?" Melina whispered, disbelief bleeding into her voice.
"She was beyond saving," Jonathan murmured. "Too far gone. There was no choice. She would have destroyed everything, herself, the child, the world."
His fingers brushed against the baby's blanket as if remembering something distant, something already fading.
"And now?" Melina hissed, her anger no longer restrained. "You come here, expecting what? Forgiveness? Pity?"
Jonathan shook his head.
"I expect nothing." He looked down at the baby, his expression unreadable.
"I cannot raise him. But you can."
Melina's nails dug into her palms.
"You think I will raise your child? After everything you've done?"
Jonathan met her gaze.
"No. But you will raise Cassandra's child."
Silence.
For a moment, Melina wavered.
She turned her eyes to the child, her expression unreadable.
A soft whimper escaped Nero's tiny lips, and something within her hardened.
Jonathan turned towards the door.
"I will come in due time," he said, his voice distant, "to see him."
Melina inhaled sharply, then whispered:
"You will not."
Jonathan halted.
"I will not allow it," she continued, her voice now resolute. "You will never set foot in this house again."
Something flickered in Jonathan's eyes. An amusement? Disbelief?
He remained still for a long moment before letting out a quiet chuckle.
"Do you think you can stop me, Melina?"
Her eyes burned with a fire that rivaled the hearth.
"Yes."
Jonathan's expression darkened.
He turned his gaze back to Nero, who blinked up at him, unknowing, innocent.
"You do not understand," he murmured. "The blood of both of us runs through him. No matter how much you try, Melina, you cannot stop me."
Melina did not answer.
Jonathan took one last look at the child before stepping toward the door.
"You are wrong," Melina said at last, her voice like steel.
Jonathan paused.
"You will not exist in his life. You will not exist in this family. You have been unfit to carry the name Ravenclaw for too long."
She raised her wand, and with a single whispered spell, the walls of the manor trembled as the Ravenclaw family tree reshaped itself.
Jonathan's name vanished.
His existence was erased from their lineage, wiped from history as though he had never been.
A hush fell over the room.
For the first time, Jonathan's composure cracked.
His fingers twitched, his lips parted as if to speak, but he said nothing.
Then, without another word, he turned and left.
Melina watched him disappear into the night.
She stood there for a long time, her hands trembling, her face unreadable.
Then she turned back to the baby in her arms.
For the first time since the confrontation began, her expression softened.
She whispered something, so quietly that even the magic of the Pensieve could barely capture it.
"You will not be like them."
The memory began to dissolve.
Back in the present, Nero's hands clenched at his sides as he stepped away from the swirling silver mist. His breath was unsteady.
Dumbledore watched him carefully.
"That," the old wizard said softly, "is the full story that I know, Nero."
Nero closed his eyes, his mind still swimming with everything he had seen.
Cassandra. Jonathan. His grandmother. The weight of it all pressed against his chest like an iron shackle.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"She erased him from the family tree."
Dumbledore nodded.
"She never forgave herself for what happened to Cassandra," he admitted. "She believed, above all else, that it was Jonathan's fault. That he had led her down that dark path and then discarded her when she was no longer useful. And so, she acted, to limit his influence, to keep him from getting close to you again."
Nero remained silent.
Dumbledore sighed. "That is the past, Nero. But you… you are the present and the future. Whatever you choose to do with this knowledge, it is yours now."
The flames in the office flickered softly.
Nero slowly exhaled.
"Thank you Grandpa… For trusting me with those memories."
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