He turned as he heard the doors shatter; the force required staggering—especially considering the wards on the hospital wing were designed to repel a siege. The Elder Wand was already in his hand, his magic rising to combat the threat. He feared the worst. Hogwarts hadn't alerted him. That meant only one thing: someone powerful enough to bypass the castle's defences.

  Tom?

  Before him stood a behemoth of scales—a basilisk? It was certainly rge enough to have come from the Chamber. The warnings earlier in the year were not forgotten. He transfigured the debris into golems to restrain the snake, but as they approached, his arm was wrenched back by the student behind him.

  "Shashilishl Asha!"

  The snake stilled. Its yellow eyes turned to Hermione. It was difficult to tell what emotions rippled through the creature, but its body nguage softened in response to her hissing.

  Not Tom's, then.

  He watched, still poised, as the behemoth shrank. He could not recall a single magical beast capable of such a feat—certainly not a serpent. Yet the power he'd felt radiating from it, wild and chaotic, did not feel natural.

  It didn’t take long to work out what was before him. As it returned to its original size, he recognised the serpent—Angitia, Hermione’s familiar.

  Well. At least the girl was well-protected.

  He observed the pair. The bond between them was strong—was it because they could communicate, unlike most familiar pairings? The familiar was fiercely loyal based on its actions. He suspected it had done something reckless to protect its master, given the chaotic magic still emanating from it.

  He could use that to gain the girl's trust. She clearly didn't trust him—not that he bmed her. The fact she was reted to Tom was a double-edged sword. The loyalists would treat her like royalty, but if they learned how she truly felt about him, they would mark her—and those she loved—as enemies. How could anyone be expected to trust others when their greatest secret might alienate them entirely and paint a target on their back?

  No, he would not fail again; he was too old to carry more regrets.

  "Miss Granger, are you aware of how unwell she is?" he asked in a gentle tone.

  Hermione didn't answer immediately. Her hand remained on Angitia's head, stroking the serpent's scales with slow, steady movements. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but firm.

  "No, I have suspicions, however it is rather difficult to find any books in the library regarding the topic, so I surmised I need to observe more before coming a conclusion on what action to take."

  Dumbledore studied her a moment longer, noting the faint edge of fatigue in her voice.

  "A logical approach, considering you would need to expin the how of it."

  He paused, eyes flicking once more to Angitia. Her breathing was shallow, and the ambient magic around her still pulsed in uneven waves.

  "But observation alone won't stabilise her. You're already losing time."

  Hermione's expression didn't change, but her hand momentarily stilled on Angitia's scales.

  "I know."

  Dumbledore inclined his head, not in rebuke but in acknowledgement.

  "Then I assume you've begun formuting a solution?"

  The girl before him seemed to wilt at the questions. So, she had come to the same conclusion he had.

  "No, all things come to an end. Seeking a solution when there is not one without putting the rest of my family in danger. I could continue to seek a cure to help her, it would consume me and my time, which could be better spent learning to protect what I still can and spend time with her in her final moments."

  This was what his staff were referring to about her maturity; for a child of thirteen to have that wisdom spoke of great hardships in her past because wisdom was oft the result of painful lessons. Was it better to leave her with the time she had to spend with her friend, or should he give her hope, however fleeting? A Master wasn't meant to dictate their apprentice's actions, simply to provide them with the tools to make their own decision.

  "Perhaps, the time we have with our loved ones is always fleeting, and never enough. However, whilst the Hogwarts Library does not hold the knowledge you need, and I imagine most of the magical world, that does not mean I do not."

  He could feel the whipsh as her head whipped towards him, eyes wide and tears forming. Mature she may be, but she was still a hurting child, and he had just given her hope. Was this not more cruel? "Nitwit," he called.

  His house-elf appeared. "Would you retrieve from my personal study the journal of Sazar Slytherin, please."