I'm in a crossover anime world, and I've been transported to Hogwarts twice.

Her gaze passed over Genichi Hanyu, as if piercing through the walls of the Room of Requirement, and landed on a distant, unreachable destination known only to her.

That solitary courage made her appear both fragile and incredibly strong at that moment.

Seeing Hermione's unyielding attitude and her willingness to shoulder everything alone, Genichi Hanyu's suppressed frustration reignited like dry grass being ignited.

His brows furrowed again, his jaw tightened, and a suppressed groan escaped his throat.

He hated the feeling of being kept in the dark and forced to watch her walk into an unknown abyss!

Especially when he clearly felt the heaviness and despair she was conveying.

Seemingly sensing the unease and worry etched on his brow, Hermione tightened her grip slightly on the back of his hand.

Then she raised her other hand, which had been resting on his chest, with a gentle, almost careful movement, her fingertips slightly cool, and gently, little by little, smoothed out his furrowed brow.

Her fingertips traced the contours of his brow bone, carrying an indescribable tenderness and comfort.

"Do not worry."

She watched as his furrowed brows gradually relaxed under her touch, his voice softening as if he were coaxing a restless child, yet carrying an undeniable confidence.

"I can handle it."

She paused, a glint of cunning in her eyes, or perhaps a sincere gesture of concession: "If it really comes to that, and things get out of my control, I will come to you for help."

This was a promise, a small concession she was willing to make, just to soothe his current unease.

Although Genichi Hanyu knew that, given her personality, achieving the goal of being beyond his control would be harder than climbing to heaven.

Genichi Hanyu looked at her intently, at the unwavering determination in her eyes, at the forced ease she put on, and at the immense exhaustion buried beneath.

He knew that look all too well; it was the look that said, "Once it's made up, not even nine oxen could pull it back."

A deep sense of powerlessness overwhelmed him once again, eventually turning into a long, heavy sigh that escaped from the depths of his chest.

"Ugh."

He gave up.

Knowing that pressing her further would be pointless and would only increase her stress, I realized that asking any further questions would be futile and would only add to her stress.

He could only choose to believe her promise at this moment, and believe that if she really reached a desperate situation, she would think of him.

"Ok."

He nodded, his gesture tinged with helplessness, yet also with a sense of final understanding and compromise.

He turned his hand over and gently grasped her hand that was resting on his brow, enveloping her slightly cool little hand in his warm palm.

He gazed at her, his eyes deep, filled with a hint of confusion and inquiry: "Although I'm still unsure what kind of relationship we'll have in the future."

His voice was deep and sincere, with a tenderness he himself was unaware of: "But Hermione Granger, I still hope that whatever you do, you will end up safe and sound."

This statement has nothing to do with secrets, or even with that vague future.

It was simply a most basic wish, from the bottom of his heart, concerning only the girl in front of him at this moment.

Hermione's breathing seemed to stop at that moment.

She looked at him, and a surge of intense emotions welled up in her bright brown eyes, like a deep pool tossed with a stone—shock, indescribable emotion, and a vulnerability that was deeply touched.

She seemed to want to say something, her lips trembling slightly, but in the end, all her words melted into her actions.

She leaned down once more, her soft lips carrying a tenderness that was almost devout, completely different from the previous two times, and gently covered Yuzuru's lips.

The kiss was light and brief, like a snowflake landing on the lips, carrying a sense of comfort and promise.

When her lips parted, they left a slightly cool sensation.

Her forehead touched his, their noses almost touching. At such close range, she tried to put on a forced, relaxed smile, attempting to dispel the heavy atmosphere in the air.

"Do not worry."

Her voice trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly, yet she feigned complete certainty.

"They are all minor issues."

She repeated the sentence, as if trying to persuade him, but more like trying to persuade herself.

However, Genichi Hanyu clearly saw a fleeting, undisguised, abyss-like worry deep in the depths of her eyes—a look that was definitely not for a minor issue.

This understated lie appears so pale and heartbreaking in the face of the unspoken secret between the two and the heavy reality.

She was still carrying that unseen mountain alone, but for now, she allowed herself a brief respite beside him.

180 does not need to be given, only temporarily borrowed.

Genichi Hanyu's voice, like a devil's whisper, echoed clearly in the principal's office, where only Aberforth's heavy breathing and Fawkes's uneasy groans could be heard: "Professor, if you exchange the Elder Wand or the Invisibility Cloak, your sister Ariana can return to you now."

His gaze, like a cold probe, pierced into the depths of Dumbledore's violently fluctuating soul, while the pale blue phantom of the soul in his palm flickered slightly, as if calling out silently.

“Ariana”.

Dumbledore murmured almost silently, his gaze fixed on the pale blue light. It was a pain he could never let go of throughout his life, the source of his deepest regrets in the dead of night.

A tremendous, almost tearing force surged violently within his chest.

Ariana, his beloved sister, whose soul withered because of his youthful arrogance and negligence!

At this moment, that soul is within reach, almost within arm's reach!

The temptation to resurrect her and atone for his immense sins was like a whisper from the abyss, deadly sweet, almost devouring the reason and principles he had upheld throughout his life.

Like a dying beast trapped in a cage, Aberforth struggled and roared, each word carrying a bloody accusation: "What are you still hesitating for, Albus Dumbledore!"

"You damned hypocrite, hope is in your hands! It's in that damned stick you're holding!"

"Why won't you? Why do you always have to sacrifice others, sacrifice your family, to achieve your bullshit 'greater interests'?"

He pointed at the Elder Wand that Dumbledore was gripping tightly, his eyes burning with a hatred that could incinerate everything.

"Why, why wasn't it you who died back then? Why was it Ariana? Why?"

"Why wasn't it you who died! 24"

This blood-soaked roar was like a dagger dipped in deadly poison, repeatedly and viciously stabbing into Dumbledore's already wounded heart!

His tall frame swayed violently, as if struck by an invisible hammer. His face turned ashen, and his hand gripping the Elder Wand trembled even more violently, his knuckles cracking from the excessive force.

He opened his mouth, but his throat felt like it was blocked by a hot iron, dry and tight. All his attempts to explain, to comfort, and to explain his responsibility seemed so pale and powerless in the face of his brother's deep-seated hatred and despair, and finally turned into a heavy, almost suffocating gasp.

He looked at Aberforth, whose wise blue eyes now held only boundless pain, deep guilt, and a vulnerability that had been utterly shattered.

His eyes conveyed his inner turmoil more clearly than any words—yes, he had asked himself the same question countless times: Why wasn't it me who died?

Genichi Hanyu coldly observed this human tragedy he had orchestrated, as if admiring a masterpiece woven from pain, regret, and despair.

A cruelly satisfied smile curved his lips as he slowly, with an air of effortless control over his destiny, closed his hands.

The ethereal blue phantom of Ariana's soul vanished from his palm like a extinguished candle, leaving only a faint, chilling aftertaste in the air.

"professor."

Genichi Hanyu's voice rang out again, breaking the suffocating silence, cold and devoid of any emotion.

"Whether or not Ariana's soul is returned to the world is entirely up to you."

He opened his empty palms, as if the breathtaking display of his soul had never happened.

He took a step forward, his gaze sharp as a knife, piercing the softest and heaviest part of Dumbledore's soul: "He is still clutching the two Deathly Hallows, symbols of power and curse."

Genichi Hanyu's voice was like ice rubbing together, each word striking Dumbledore's nerves.

"Is it more important to bring your sister, this dearest relative who died because of you and whose soul has wandered for decades, back to the world of the living?"

He deliberately emphasized the words "died because of you," as if rubbing salt into Dumbledore's wound.

"The choice is yours."

Genichi Hanyu's voice carried an almost divine, cold, and seductive quality, pushing Dumbledore to a precipice of choice even more cruel than facing Voldemort directly.

The principal's office fell into a deathly silence.

The heavy pressure, like a solid lead weight, pressed down on everyone's heart.

Fox let out a long, mournful cry, and a single, crystal-clear phoenix tear slid down, making a barely audible dripping sound in the silence.

Genichi Hanyu's gaze swept over Dumbledore's unusually aged face, which was etched with immense pain, and over Aberforth's face, which was twisted with despair and hatred. Yet, his heart was filled with a cold calculation.

He understood the essence of this world—fate—better than anyone else.

The Harry Potter world is a world entangled in invisible threads and driven by grand prophecies.

Whether it's the irreconcilable fateful entanglement between Harry, the "boy who survived," and Voldemort, or Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald, former best friends who ultimately became bitter enemies, their trajectories seem to have been written in advance by the pen of fate.

A prophecy about a boy born at the end of July firmly linked Voldemort and Harry.

The parable about the "greater good" and the divergence in the path to power ultimately led Dumbledore and Grindelwald to part ways in a duel, one heading towards the pinnacle of power and imprisonment, and the other towards solitary vigil and atonement.

They are all puppets of fate, performing their joys and sorrows on a predetermined stage.

The Deathly Hallows, especially the Elder Wand which represents "conquering death," are crucial pieces on the chessboard of fate.

At this crucial juncture, with Voldemort yet completely defeated and Harry yet to complete his mission as savior, fate would never allow the Elder Wand and the Invisibility Cloak to easily deviate from their original trajectory and fall into the hands of this anomaly, Genichi Hanyu.

The mission Dumbledore carried was itself a shackle bestowed upon him by fate, a destiny he could not escape.

Genichi Hanyu was almost certain that no matter how much Dumbledore struggled internally, no matter how deep his guilt towards Ariana was, under the invisible weight of fate and before the suffocatingly heavy banner of a greater interest, his final choice would never be to hand over the Hallows.

"It's highly unlikely that we'll get it."

Genichi Hanyu calmly assessed the situation in his mind.

But this does not mean his plan has failed.

His goal was never to possess these two hot-buttoned artifacts permanently.

Their power itself is not indispensable to him, but the mysteries of the laws of death and the traces of the threads of fate contained within them are of immeasurable value to his study and control of the fundamental rules of this world.

A ruthless and ingenious plan quickly took shape in Genichi Hanyu's mind.

Since we can't take it directly, let's borrow it.

What he needed was an opportunity, a brief chance to get acquainted with and delve into the mysteries of the sacred artifact.

The two brothers before him, torn apart by kinship, regret, and fate, were the perfect lever for him to pry open this door.

The cold, scrutinizing expression on Genichi Hanyu's face subtly shifted.

The sharp edge softened slightly, replaced by a kind of almost hypocritical sincerity tinged with understanding and concession.

He spoke again, his voice slightly softer than before, yet still carrying an undeniable air of control:

"Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Aberforth."

His gaze swept between the two, as if he were mediating a heated family dispute.

"I understand your pain, and I also understand the positions you each hold firm to."

He deliberately avoided words like mission and madness.

Dumbledore and Aberforth both looked at him, their eyes filled with surprise and uncertainty.

The frantic hope in Aberforth's eyes hadn't faded; instead, it had grown even more urgent: "What do you mean? You want to back out?"

“No, Mr. Aberforth, the promise remains valid.”

Genichi Hanyu raised his hand, signaling him to calm down, but his gaze turned to Dumbledore with a considerate look.

"Professor, I have a compromise suggestion." 407

He stepped forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret: "I don't need you to permanently relinquish ownership of the Elder Wand or the Invisibility Cloak; I only need to borrow them temporarily."

"Temporary loan?"

Dumbledore frowned, his vigilance undiminished.

What is this cunning young man up to now?

"Yes."

Hanyu nodded.

“I am very interested in the ancient magic contained in the Deathly Hallows themselves, and the principles by which they are intertwined with the threads of fate. This is purely an academic exploration. I only need them to stay in my hands for three days, no, even one day.”

He held up his index finger to emphasize how short the time was.

"In exchange."