Every realm has its reckoning.
But not every reckoning has a schedule.
Long ago, before divination was a school subject—before seers were born and prophecy whispered—it was said that the stars themselves kept a calendar.
Not of seasons.
Not of births.
But of ends.
And now, that calendar was opening again.
The Dread Calendar.
It started when Professor Sinistra noticed something strange in the Astronomy Tower.
A constellation that didn't belong—one that didn't match any known star chart.
It blinked red, slowly.
Seven stars.
Seven pulses.
Seven days.
Hermione triangulated the signal with Kamar-Taj and the Royal Astronomical Society.
Her face turned pale.
"This… this isn't astronomy. It's numeromancy. It's counting down."
And then they saw it:
a new crescent-shaped glyph in the sky, readable only through enchanted lenses.
One word formed in starlight:
"Dumbledore."
SYSTEM DETECTS:
Entity: Dread Calendar
Type: Chrono-Cosmic Construct
Function: Predicts (or sets) the death of pivotal magical figures
Status: Active – Next Event in 6 days, 23 hours
Target: Albus Dumbledore
Danger: Irreversible fate lock unless overwritten via Soul-Bound Temporal Anchor
Suggested Response: Seek Architect of the Calendar or Sever Fate Thread
Aarav froze.
"He's supposed to die… but not yet.
This is early. Someone is moving the clock."
Clues were scarce, but Aarav had a lead.
He remembered the girl with silver eyes—the one who appeared in his Codex vision, holding an hourglass that counted backward.
"She's not a seer," Luna said, brushing her fingertips across a Mirror-Rune.
"She's a Threadbinder. They don't read time. They tie it into knots."
Together, Aarav, Wanda, Luna, and Strange followed a time echo into a pocket realm known only as The Quiet March—a dimension of still clocks and walking shadows.
There, in a cathedral made of moonlight, they found her.
She stood barefoot on a starmap, strings of gold and crimson wrapped around her fingers.
"You shouldn't be here, Anchor," she said softly.
"I don't make the Dread Calendar. I just help it be read… safely."
Aarav demanded answers.
"Who decides the names? Who moves them forward?"
She looked sorrowful.
"The Calendar doesn't kill. It records what becomes true when certain threads are left unchecked."
Then she held up a single thread—Albus Dumbledore's.
It was turning black.
"Something in your world is changing fate.
You're trying to preserve too much. Fate… corrects."
She gave Aarav a choice.
"You may untie one thread. Save one soul.
But the calendar must be balanced.
Another name will take its place."
Aarav clenched his fist.
He'd spent his life defying inevitability.
But could he barter a life… for a life?
"What if I give mine?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"You are Anchor-Bound. Your death would collapse five timelines.
You must choose another."
SYSTEM ADAPTATION:
Unlocking: Ethereal Substitution Protocol
Function: Create a Chrono-Double – a living echo from a non-primary timeline
Result: Substitute target's fate without triggering balance shift
Cost: Must erase a future version of yourself in one alternate reality
Risk: Cannot access that version's skill tree or memories again
Proceed?
→ YES | NO
Aarav whispered:
"Yes."
In a moonlit circle drawn with the ashes of burned time-turners, Aarav invoked his Chrono-Double.
From the air coalesced a version of Dumbledore who had fallen in the Battle of Nurmengard.
Silent. Brave. Fully aware of what was to come.
"Will it be painful?" he asked Aarav.
"Only for a moment," Aarav said. "Then… peace."
The Double stepped into the thread's place.
And the black faded.
The Dread Calendar shimmered—then rewrote itself.
The new name that appeared:
"Unknown."
A blank.
A pause.
SYSTEM RECORD:
Thread Alteration Successful
Target Preserved: Albus Dumbledore
Chrono-Double Sacrificed: Timeline-46D
New Title Gained: Keeper of the Unwritten
Perk: May delay death events for one target per arc
Calendar Status: Unstable – Architect now aware of interference
Far beyond the stars, in a throne of time fractures, the true Architect watched.
He marked Aarav's name in a book bound with phoenix feathers and starlight ink.
"Interfered. Again."
"Very well… Next, we test the boy."
Below that, a name was etched in flame:
Harry Potter.
And beside it:
Execution Day: To Be Set.