Dexter Ahn

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- Comes home
- Chat with teacher
- Dream
- Walk + Phone call
- Train back east

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The lobby dissolved, as the scene reformed from one overcast night to a snowy night: everything changed from colour to texture in the settings until he found himself back on ground and standing in a small room, the old oak smell of the furnitures notwithstanding. He saw himself on a particular likeness, as the memorified Dexter was panting, his palms all sweaty and weakened, as he seemed to have engaged himself on a mild conversation. Dexter immediately remembered what his memory was directed into, and he looked over from above, only to find a man in his 20s facing him on opposing end of the table.

"Well, what is the matter you're concerned of, so late in this night?" The opposing man asked, as he looked into the older man. It was Hebert Jansen, His Majesty Hall's rector. A mild-dressed, tea-drinking Schottian in his late 20s, he's been working as a studio art instructor the past 5 years when he grabbed the first job opportunity possible upon his graduation. While he originally planned to return to Schottia after his 3-year contract, the birth of his daughter shortly after have caused him and his wife to settle in South Bend.

"Will - will you forgive if I may speak of possible sins?"

Dexter stood before his older self with particular reflection on his fears, and his face was stuck somewhere between fear and anxiety.

"If you have committed sins, now is not the time to punish one as accordingly." said Jansen.

"

[hr][/hr]


“Don’t kill me!”

“That was not my intention.”

Any sound of Dumbledore Apparating had been drowned by the sound of the wind in the branches. He stood before Snape with his robes whipping around him, and his face was illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand.

“Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?”

“No – no message – I’m here on my own account!”

Snape was wringing his hands. He looked a little mad, with his straggling black hair flying around him.

“I – I come with a warning – no, a request – please – ”

Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Snape faced each other.

“What request could a Death Eater make of me?”

“The – the prophecy…the prediction…Trelawney…”

“Ah, yes,” said Dumbledore. “How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?”

“Everything – everything I heard!” said Snape. “That is why – it is for that reason – he thinks it means Lily Evans!”

“The prophecy did not refer to a woman,” said Dumbledore. “It spoke of a boy born at the end of July – ”