Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the green flames of the Floo Network, brushing soot from his robes as he looked around the interior of Malfoy Manor. Standing before him were Lucius Malfoy and his son Dante. Lucius wore a smile that didn't reach his eyes, while Dante stood silently, his expression blank and unreadable. Dumbledore suppressed a sigh. He had never liked the Malfoys. Lucius was sly, opportunistic, and, to put it simply, evil. Dante, on the other hand, was dangerous—a potential future dark lord. And Draco? Well, he was just a bully shaped by his family.
Despite his misgivings, Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Thank you for receiving me on such short notice."
Lucius's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "The honor is mine, Headmaster Dumbledore. I can't measure the owe I feel for the pleasure of your frequent visits"
Dumbledore's smile didn't waver. "I'm here to speak with Dante. I'd like to converse with him alone, if you don't mind."
Lucius frowned, clearly displeased, but he didn't argue. Instead, he glanced at Dante, who gave a slight nod. Without another word, Lucius left the room. Dumbledore noted the interaction carefully. It seemed that, in this family, it was Dante who held the authority—not Lucius, or at least Lucius took Dante's opinion seriously. He filed the observation away for later, deciding to focus on the matter at hand.
Once alone, Dumbledore cast a spell to prevent eavesdropping and turned to Dante, who was still staring blankly at him. "After you disappeared a year ago," Dumbledore began, "we discovered the Heir of Slytherin. It was Ginny Weasley—or, to be more accurate, Ginny was being controlled by an evil dark artifact."
Dante listened silently, his expression unchanging.
Dumbledore continued, "The artifact was a diary belonging to a student from fifty years ago. He stored his memories in it, intending to unleash the Chamber of Secrets' monster again in the future. The diary absorbed Ginny's life force throughout the school year. I destroyed it, but the damage was done. The poor girl has been in a coma at St. Mungo's ever since, and we believe she won't live much longer."
Dante tilted his head slightly. "And you want me to check on her?"
Dumbledore nodded. "We don't have any other options at this point. We hope you can figure something out to help her, as you did with Ms. Granger."
Dante frowned. "I'm no miracle worker. What magic was put on the diary to leave her in such a state?"
Dumbledore's gaze deepened. "A Horcrux."
Dante's frown deepened. "Let me guess—the student's name was Tom Marvolo Riddle, or Voldemort, as you call him now. Right?"
Dumbledore was taken aback. "How did you know about Tom?"
Dante's voice was calm. "The diadem was stolen by Tom. When I found it, it had been turned into a Horcrux. I destroyed the soul fragment inside it before returning it to Ravenclaw Tower."
He paused, then added, "Creating a living Horcrux makes no sense and is downright stupid. Any wizard capable of such magic would realize why it's a bad idea. That means the fool didn't do it intentionally. What are the chances of two students fifty years ago creating Horcruxes? I figured it might be the same one. The fool is running around creating multiple Horcruxes, and since Voldemort unintentionally made Potter into one, it means his soul is unstable—likely because he created more than just two. Hence my guess" Dante shook his head. "Voldemort is more foolish than I initially thought."
Dumbledore wasn't surprised by the idea of Tom having multiple Horcruxes—he had suspected as much himself. What shocked him was that Dante knew about them and had already destroyed one. "So there were three Horcruxes in Hogwarts that year, including Harry," Dumbledore said.
Dante smiled mockingly. "No, there were more than three."
Dumbledore's face darkened. "Are you serious?"
Dante shrugged. "I destroyed two of them."
Dumbledore's mind raced. There were more Horcruxes hidden in the school, and he hadn't known about them. The fact that Dante was actively destroying them was a relief, but it also raised questions about Tom's obsession. How many Horcruxes had he created? Not once did Dumbledore consider that the Horcruxes might not all belong to Tom—or that there were even more hidden in the school.
Ultimately, Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Dante, I must ask you not to let more people know about the Horcruxes. It's an evil magic and should disappear from the world."
Dante didn't respond. As the creator of the so-called 'evil magic' he knew it wasn't inherently evil—it was simply misused by a fool.
Dumbledore then asked, "Would you be willing to take a look at Ginny? Her parents are being tormented by her condition."
Dante thought for a moment. He didn't particularly care about Ginny's state, but he recalled Frigg's words: 'Odin, you are the worst thing this world has ever seen'. With a sigh, he said, "Let's go check on her."
Dumbledore smiled faintly. To him, this was a positive sign for the future.
Dante informed Lucius that he would be accompanying Dumbledore to St. Mungo's to check on Ginny Weasley's condition. Then he left with the headmaster. The two arrived at the hospital, and Dumbledore led Dante to Ginny's room.
When they entered, they were met by Arthur and Molly Weasley, who sat beside their daughter's bed. Arthur looked up, his eyes flickering with hope as they landed on Dante. "Headmaster," he greeted, then turned to Dante. "Ginny has nothing to do with our families' feud. Please, try your best to help her."
Molly, her face pale and drawn, joined her husband in pleading. "Please, save our daughter."
Dante shrugged, his expression indifferent. "I don't care about this silly feud as long as you keep it civil. And I don't speak for my father." The Weasleys nodded, feeling a flicker of relief. Dumbledore, however, watched Dante with a thoughtful expression.
Dante walked over to Ginny's bed and raised his wand. A soft light engulfed her body as he cast a diagnostic spell. After a few seconds, he frowned slightly and lowered his wand, dispelling the magic. He turned to the group. "She can live, but her potential as a witch will be severely reduced. And it will come at a cost."
Molly's eyes widened. "As long as she lives, everything will be okay. We'll do our best to get the money you need."
Dante paused, then looked at her with a deadpan expression. "I wasn't talking about money. The cost is life for life. That diary took her life force, and we need to replace it with an equivalent."
The room fell silent. Molly and Arthur paled, while Dumbledore's frown deepened. This was not a solution he could accept.
Molly took a deep breath, her voice trembling. "I'll give my life."
Dante shook his head with an annoyed look. "That's the problem with mothers—they don't think. In Azkaban, we have dozens of people with no future or purpose. We can make use of one of them."
The Weasleys were horrified by the implication. Dumbledore sighed, recognizing the same cold, heartless mentality that had cursed Hermione's parents to sleep.
The thought of sacrificing someone selfishly didn't sit well with the Weasleys, but letting their daughter die was not an option either. Dante could feel the conflict inside them, so he pressed further. "Any name you suggest?"
The room was silent for a long moment. Finally, Arthur sighed heavily. "Sirius Black. He's the worst in Azkaban right now."
Molly closed her eyes, unable to bear the weight of the decision. Dumbledore stepped forward. "Is there no other way?"
Dante nodded. "There is, but the girl will lose more out of it."
"What's the alternative?" Dumbledore asked.
"We can use house-elves instead of a human. They should suffice, but she might lose her ability to control magic entirely. She'll become a danger to those around her."
Dumbledore sighed. Even the alternative involved killing another being—and with worse results.
When no one spoke, Dante said, "Since there's no objection, we'll proceed with Sirius Black." Without waiting for a response, he apparated away.
Dante appeared near Azkaban and entered the prison. The dementors, sensing his presence, floated toward him. Dante spoke in their guttural, otherworldly language, instructing them to bring him the soul of Sirius Black. The dementors obeyed without hesitation, and within minutes, one of them returned, bowing before Dante.
Dante grasped the dementor's cloak and apparated back to the hospital room. The entire trip took less than ten minutes. When he reappeared, Molly and Arthur stepped back in horror at the sight of the dementor. Dumbledore frowned deeply but said nothing.
"Step back," Dante instructed. "Let me finish my work."
The group watched in silence as the dementor moved to the other side of the bed. Dante cast a spell on Ginny, and a translucent, flickering light emerged from her body, floating above her. A similar, much stronger light emanated from beneath the dementor's hood. Dante waved his wand, and a blue light crushed the dementor's silver light, slowly pushing it into Ginny's. The group watched as Ginny's light grew stronger, and when the process was complete, Dante returned the light to her body.
He dismissed the dementor with a wave of his hand. To everyone's surprise, the dementor lowered its head and floated through the wall, disappearing.
Dante turned to the group. "The girl is okay. She should wake up any moment now." He paused, then added, "Her soul was severely damaged. Even after recovery, her control over magic will be lacking compared to before. She can overcome it with time, but her potential is reduced. She'll need more effort and time to learn the same things as before."
As if on cue, Ginny stirred and opened her eyes. Molly and Arthur rushed to her side, their relief palpable. Dante glanced at them for a moment, then left the room silently.
Dumbledore followed him into the hallway. "How did you control the dementors?"
Dante replied calmly, "I didn't control them. I simply asked for their help. If you take the time to learn their language and talk with them, you'll find they're quite civil and easy to handle, more than most of the other races."
With that, Dante apparated away, leaving Dumbledore standing in the hallway, wondering how anyone could learn the language of such dreadful creatures.