Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

Memoirs of a Serpent’s Son

--Age 17—part 40

March 18 –continued

The room was silent and still as death. No one moved and no one spoke for an interminable time whilst Dumbledore’s portrait surveyed our faces carefully. The words he had spoken seemed to have such a powerful effect that no one dared move on with the conversation until due respect was given…

The Deathly Hallows.

I know I’ve heard that… I know I must know it from somewhere… but where?

How does this seem familiar?

I racked my mind and all my soul for answers, trying to find the trigger for the memory that would reveal to me what I needed to know… but nothing came.

Where had I heard that before? What did I know of it?

What are the Deathly Hallows?!

After the moment of silence, people began to stir uncomfortably, though no one’s face seemed to reveal any actual knowledge relating to the subject. Not until…

“Albus!” McGonagall gasped suddenly (though given the state of things, it might not have been as sudden as it seemed). “You cannot mean –”

“Indeed, I do, Minerva,” Dumbledore’s portrait replied sagely though his face was grim with his own thoughts. McGonagall did not seem prepared to accept such a simple retort.

“But, Albus,” she began rather desperately. The lines on her face seemed deeper and held untold shadows and worries that I had never noticed at Hogwarts. “Surely there is some mistake! If what you are suggesting is true than that would mean that –”

“I’m afraid there is no mistake, Minerva,” he replied quietly. The conversation between them went on in the very annoying fashion of two great friends discussing something of only intimate knowledge between them while everyone else sat around, listening in wonder and complete confusion. “And I’m afraid I am fully aware of the implications of such a revelation.”

“What revelation?” Harry exclaimed, suddenly very displeased with the idea of being out of the loop. “What implications?! What’s going on?? What are the Deathly Hallows?!”

As I looked around the room, taking in the faint details on the faces of each person present, I realized that everyone felt much the same way that Harry did… and no one knew any better than he did either.

“The Deathly Hallows,” Dumbledore began, turning his attention back to the audience before him. He spoke in the manner of one reading from a book, though it was easy to tell that his tone masked many more emotions and concerns than what was noticeable to the eye or the ear. “are part of one of the most ancient and revered legends of wizarding kind. Stretching back through history, the idea made its first prominent appearance in the time of the Early Britons, though many different versions of it can be traced back through branches of culture hundreds of thousands of years prior to that. It was a legend dealing chiefly with the subject of most legends and myths of any time period: Death and Eternal Life.” Dumbledore took an appropriate pause to let the first bit of information sink in to everyone present.

“You see, every society, magic or non-magic, have considered and debated what occurred in the event of Death and where one’s soul then goes. The legend in this case,” he continued. “went on to claim that once a witch or wizard dies, their soul is separated from their body and moves on to another world where they subsist for the rest of eternity, meeting with lost loved ones to watch over those that are still living.” Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles and let his eyes rove over every different face in the semi-circle. “The Deathly Hallows is, ultimately, the World of the Dead.”

And with that revelation another awkward and stunned silence set in for a brief moment. Everyone tried to consider the possible connotations of this concept in relation to Voldemort and Florean Fortescue, though I’m afraid nothing plausible came to my mind.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one.

“The World of the Dead?” Weasley asked in shock. “You mean there’s another world where all those lost souls go?”

“But I don’t understand,” Harry admitted, frustration written clearly on his face. I pushed back against the back of my chair and kept my mouth shut. Random images were flashing in my mind… things I remembered but couldn’t put together. They were a chaotic puzzle of memories that, in the right order, would have told me exactly what I needed to know but refused to be organized. “That’s only just a legend… why would Voldemort care about a legend about the Deathly Hallows??”

Dumbledore gave Harry a knowing gaze and there was a familiar twinkle in his blue eyes. This was a look that I’d learned was reserved for Harry and Harry alone. He never quite had the same fond expression when gazing upon any other student or person of any sort.

“All legends have their foundations in truth,” he went on to explain with his seemingly infinite wisdom. “The Deathly Hallows is no exception to that. While the stories have changed and evolved with the passing of time and the modification of what our society deems acceptable and believable, the Deathly Hallows is indeed real. It may not be the brilliant image of paradise that most myths depict. Nor might it be a shining beacon of hope to remind all that we never do truly cease to exist, but it does maintain some of the characteristics it was given.” The lighting shifted and Dumbledore’s face seemed to be more clearly illuminated. “It is, in fact, a parallel world where all the souls of witches and wizards go once they depart their bodies. All souls remain there and I wouldn’t be surprised if there is truth in the notion that one can join their lost loved ones. However, there is something very important about this world that was forgotten or ignored as the legend was passed down.”

“What’s that?” Granger asked eagerly, sitting on the edge of her chair and trying not to seem too overly enthusiastic, given the situation we all found ourselves in. Her eyes lit up with interests, though she did maintain the careful expression of concern and anxiety.

“I’m sure by now that Draco has explained the finer points of both Blood and Soul Magic to you all, correct?” Dumbledore asked. I turned a faint shade of red as all eyes were diverted to me before turning back to the portrait to respond.

How did he know that? How did he know that I know about those things???

Dumbledore’s portrait simply smiled knowingly at me and waited for an answer.

“Yes, he has,” Remus replied calmly.

“Then you all know that, essentially,” he proceeded to explain. “what makes a witch or a wizard is their Soul Magic. Blood Magic has important properties of its own, much as I’m sure he’s explained, but Soul Magic contains the essence of power that makes or breaks a wizard. Now, if the majority of the power a witch or wizard has is retained in the soul, what question then arises?”

I knew where he was going but I kept my mouth shut. I did not trust myself to speak. Not only because I hated to be wrong, but because I was afraid that my voice would crack inappropriately.

“What happens to the magic when a soul leaves a body?” Granger pieced the question together slowly as she stared at the ground. Harry looked over at her, thinking on her words and then realizing that there was no better question than that. What did happen?

“Very good, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore congratulated. “Indeed, what does happen? That is precisely what interested Tom Riddle, I imagine, and led him to kidnap Florean Fortescue to find his answer. Books no longer document these issues. Indeed there is only one area of the wizarding world that knows anything about this subject anymore and they are bound to secrecy. Florean and other Keepers of the Histories being the exceptions, of course.

“When a soul separates from its body, the magic attached to it follows it to the Deathly Hallows. Since a soul cannot perform magic on its own, the magic eventually separates from the soul.” Dumbledore paused and glanced over at Harry. “Magic cannot die. It is one of the forces of the universe that cannot be destroyed, no matter what kind of attack you mount on it. It can fade from an area and move on, leaving parts of the world, or people, with no magic at their disposal, but it never ceases to exist entirely. Thus, all the magic that was once attached to the souls of dead witches and wizards remains rampant and wild in the Deathly Hallows, only accumulating over time. It is the most intensely magical place – so-to-speak – in existence.”

More and more questions popped up around the room as everyone considered the possibilities that this kind of knowledge might bring about. None of them were particularly good.

“I see you are all still rather unsure,” Dumbledore continued, noting the expressions on each face. “Allow me to put it this way: why would a power-hungry wizard like Voldemort find this information particularly interesting?”

I thought on that for a moment but cursed myself almost immediately after I thought it. I knew why he would be interested. It was the same reason any other wizard might be interested, though few other wizards would dare actually think on their desires. Voldemort was the kind to nurture the desire and allow it to grow until it became more of an obsession.

“Well… I suppose he would want to harness that power, wouldn’t he?” Harry said, though it was hardly a question. I studied his face in profile. I let my eyes move cautiously over the line of his brown and down to his nose and finally over his soft lips as he bit them angrily. “He’d want to get all the rampant magic he could. It would make him very powerful, wouldn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore agreed. “I do believe that if he managed to harness all the lost magic of thousands of years’ worth of witches and wizards he would inevitably make himself the most powerful wizard of all time, regardless of the consequences. I’m also inclined to think that part of the reason he wanted me killed before you was in order to make all the magic that was a part of me available to him.”

The last bit of information made my stomach churn uncomfortably. I felt all the colour drain from my face and my breath caught in my chest.

Was it possible? Did Voldemort threaten me into killing Dumbledore just so that he could take his magic from him and make himself more powerful? Was I really just a pawn in helping him become the most powerful wizard in history?

Was I really the first domino to fall?

Harry’s face grew steadily darker as the conversation progressed and he learned of the possible intentions of his infamous nemesis.

“That’s mad!” he finally exclaimed. “That’s just bloody insane! Is that even possible? How can he actually use all that magic? Can he get to the Deathly Hallows? Can he use the magic that’s there?? Wouldn’t he have to die to get there??”

Far too many questions were thrown out in one go, in my opinion. Not that that meant that they were any less valid or important. They were just a mess of queries. It was just a mess… everything was just a mess.

“I’m afraid it is very possible,” Dumbledore sighed. “Under normal circumstances, the only way to get to the Deathly Hallows would, indeed, be to die. However, considering Voldemort’s desperate determination to be immortal, I do not see him regarding that option as a viable one. And he need not consider it, anyway.” The portrait grew darker somehow. “There are two places on earth through which one can gain access to this world. I’m sure you know them both very well, though only one might have seemed obvious.”

“What places??” Harry demanded urgently. “How do you get there?”

“The first of these places,” Dumbledore explained. “is neither an option for you or Voldemort. It is the most direct entrance to the Deathly Hallows, but to tread over the threshold means to forfeit your life. It is located in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic.”

A muted gasp ran around the circle.

“The Veil,” Harry said breathily, his eyes wide. “The Veil that Sirius passed through… that’s the first entrance.”

Dumbledore’s portrait nodded gravely. Remus, who was sitting next to me, shifted in his chair and cast his eyes downward. Tonks placed a hand on his wrist and squeezed though the action seemed to hold little comfort for him.

“Yes, Harry,” the old wizard continued. “The Veil is the direct passage between the worlds. It was literally a tear that the officials who worked for the Department of Mysteries caused in the material that separates the World of the Living and the World of the Dead. The room and archway was built with magical wards to isolate the area and stop the souls and magic from filtering into this world. That, of course, did not stop anything from passing back through to that world, though the consequences were great.”

Harry shut his eyes and tilted his head downwards, trying to control the rage that coursed through him at the thought of his godfather’s death and what it now meant.

“What is the other way?” he inquired through gritted teeth.

“The second location is not a direct entrance,” Dumbledore admitted. “Though you do know it very well I’m sure. It is the point on earth with the highest and most ancient concentration of magic. Through history this place has been linked to Death rituals, both of worship and of summoning. It has served as an altar to the Dead, a burial ground and many more purposes that relate back, inevitably, to the Deathly Hallows.”

“What place is this??” Harry asked, getting more and more impatient as time passed.

“Stonehenge.”

I answered before anyone else could and before I could even stop myself from doing it. I hadn’t even thought the word before it escaped my lips and forcibly made everyone turn their attention to me. I forced down the impulse to turn a deep shade of red and had my face set. My body was suddenly controlling my actions without paying any mind to what it was my brain thought was the best course of action.

“How do you know that?” Harry asked, surprised. He looked as though he wasn’t sure whether or not to be happy that I was informed or angry that I hadn’t told him.

“I… My mother took me to Stonehenge when I was a child,” I finally admitted. The memories had rearranged themselves to make sense and it came flooding back. “She took me to the site and proceeded to tell me all sorts of things about the historical importance of the place and how intensely magical it was. I didn’t pay very close attention to it. I wasn’t interested at that time… She never mentioned anything specific about rampant soul magic or anything like that… but she did briefly mention the Deathly Hallows. I couldn’t remember until now.”

Dumbledore’s eyes were boring into mine; even if they were just painted, they felt too real and too penetrating to me. I shifted uncomfortably.

“The Black family put a lot of stock in old legends,” Dumbledore added. “They were particularly adamant about the legend of the Deathly Hallows because they had a tendency to die very young. Naturally the legend they told their children was very different from the truth. Sirius never paid much mind to the tales, I imagine, because they often portrayed the Black family as rather divine. I suppose it was a rather great shock to see the real thing, wasn’t it Phineas?” There was a hint of amusement in Dumbledore’s voice.

“Well I imagine it wasn’t all you’d pictured it to be either, Albus,” Phineas Nigellus’ voice came back with a lot of bite and a mite of disdain. Dumbledore paid him no mind.

“Nevertheless, Draco is correct,” the old wizard’s portrait went on. “Stonehenge is in fact the location of the second possible entrance.”

“But muggles go there all the time,” Granger protested. “And nothing happens to them. None of them die or anything like that. How is this an entrance? What else is there to it?”

“As I said, it is not a direct entrance,” Dumbledore repeated. “To gain entrance through the Stonehenge site is very difficult and requires very complex magic, though it is the only way to enter the Deathly Hallows without forfeiting one’s life. This is thus the only way that Voldemort will be able to pass through.” He turned his attention from Granger back to the whole of the group. “Furthermore, there are many wards and protections that the Ministry officials in charge of this matter have put in place to protect muggles –and magic folk, consequently –from the possible effects of this location. Accessing through the muggle touristic site is even more difficult than accessing it through the other site.”

Now this is where I stopped following.

There are two sites? And what? WHAT?

“What do you mean, Professor?” Harry asked, trying to grasp the concepts. “How can their be two different sites for Stonehenge? And what Ministry officials are in charge of this? Weren’t there only a few, you said?”

“Ah, forgive me,” Dumbledore said. “I’ve gotten ahead of myself.” He bowed his head. “The Ministry of Magic, as a whole, is absolutely oblivious to the whole matter. The only officials who deal with Stonehenge, the Veil and the Deathly Hallows are a select number of witches and wizards who are part of the Department of Mysteries. Your parents, Harry, were two of the Unspeakables who dealt with this subject. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner.”

Harry froze and gasped, his eyes wide and his face colourless. I unconsciously brought my hand up to rest against his back as he leaned forward on his knees.

“My parents… were in charge of the Deathly Hallows… with the Department of Mysteries,” he repeated quietly and breathily, as though he was having a very hard time assimilating it all.

“Yes, Harry,” Dumbledore nodded softly. “They were two of the four wizards who were assigned the task of researching the Deathly Hallows. They set up the wards around Stonehenge and created a portal from within the Ministry that passes through those wards and directly to the unmodified site. The portal lies behind a door within the Department of Mysteries that always remains locked and has only two keys. One key was assigned to each group of partners.” Dumbledore watched Harry carefully as he spoke, apparently wanting to give him time to take in all the information, but knowing there was no time to give. “Lily and James received one key and the other two wizards received the other.”

“The locked door…” Harry whispered, his eyes looking glassy and his voice strained. “The locked door was the one… that’s the one that blocks the portal to Stonehenge… the door in my dreams… the door we couldn’t open.”

“That is correct,” Dumbledore said, nodding his head.

“But Albus,” Remus inquired, thinking on everything he’d heard. His face was wrought in thought and the scars became more visible with his worry. “Who were the other two wizards who worked with Lily and James?”

Dumbledore considered Remus for a moment. His blue eyes shone a penetrating stare.

“The first was a well reputed wizard who had given many years of loyal and determined service to the Ministry,” Dumbledore explained. “Before his untimely fall from grace. Augustus Rookwood is the holder of the second key to the locked door.”

Rookwood. I’ve heard that name before.

Where have I heard that name?

“Rookwood!” Harry cried, suddenly full of rage. “He’s a Death-Eater! He was working with my parents?!”

That would be the one.

“I’m afraid so, Harry,” Dumbledore admitted. “He worked in research with your parents and was one of the ones who expertly designed the wards around Stonehenge.”

“But that would mean that Voldemort has an easy way in now!” Harry exclaimed in hopelessness. “He has Rookwood’s key and so he can easily get past the wards now. Plus he must know everything that Rookwood did before he was kicked out of the Ministry and sent to Azkaban! That’s it! He’s won!”

I spun on him angrily, and grasped his shoulder tightly.

“Don’t say things like that!” I called back to him. “What help is it if you give up on everything?! Are you really going to give in that easily? Do you really want Voldemort to win without a fight?” I let go of him and sat back. “Besides, think logically. If Voldemort really had all the information he needed, then why should he waste his time kidnapping Fortescue?”

“A good question, indeed,” Dumbledore interrupted before Harry could answer my question. “Draco is right, Harry. Voldemort does have Rookwood and it is likely thanks to him that he first caught wind of the Deathly Hallows and the meaning of that legend. But Rookwood could only give him a key to a location he couldn’t use.” Harry opened his mouth to say something but was cut off again. “It would be a foolish act on Voldemort’s part to walk right into the Ministry of Magic, again, and try to get past the wards in the Department of Mysteries, then through the locked door and still have enough time to cast the spell he needs to actually make it through to the Deathly Hallows before they caught him. Furthermore, even with the key and forgetting all the risks of using the entrance at the Ministry, Voldemort was little informed of the complex incantation he would have to use to travel between the worlds. That is why he needed Florean. He was the only available person who could provide him with the details of such an ancient and powerful spell.”

Harry’s breathing was ragged and shallow. He tried to calm himself down but it didn’t seem to work well. I tried again to calm him, feeling guilty for having scolded him… even though it needed to be done.

“But he’s had Fortescue with him for over two years now,” Harry argued hopelessly. “Surely he’s already got all the information he needs.”

“It is very likely that he does, yes,” Dumbledore admitted. “Though I do not think that Voldemort could have acted on his information immediately after acquiring it. Not only does an incantation of that level require a great deal of preparation, but he would require sufficient diversions and obstacles to leave in the path of other wizards to ensure that he had enough time to accomplish his goal.”

“But there are two ways of getting through to the Deathly Hallows,” I finally spoke. I don’t know what made me do it. I wasn’t acting in the controlled manner from before. Something else was urging me on. “If Voldemort uses the muggle Stonehenge site, there is still the possibility that someone can follow him through the site at the Ministry if they had the key.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore agreed, apparently happy to see that I’d joined the conversation. “Voldemort would have never have imagined that anyone else might possess the key to the Ministry. Or that they would even think to use it. He is very probably relying on the fact that very few wizards are informed on the subject. And, as it stands, there are only three people alive who know enough to actually associate all the pieces together and come to that conclusion. Voldemort and Florean are two of them.”

I thought on his words and furrowed my brow.

“Then who is the third person?” Harry asked, tilting his head.

“The third happens to also be the former partner of Augustus Rookwood,” Dumbledore explained after a moment’s hesitation. “That person was in Rookwood’s partner until… ah, an incident with another Department at which point he was removed from his duties.”

“Who is that?” Harry asked.

“My brother, Aberforth.”

-------IIIIIII-------

A/N: Ok so I’m taking a few liberties again with some random things and playing off of the fact that there are a certain number of people (characters) that we know very little about.

GAh. I hope that you managed to follow the MADNESS of this chapter and I hope you liked it! I used Stonehenge because it just seems too perfect to me. In Arthurian Legends and many other myths it actually is a very important site. Uther Pendragon was said to be buried there, there were supposed to be funeral rites performed there as well and well… yeah. Lots of things.

Anyway…. Yeah. EHEHEH. I’m insane. I really am. I’m trying to do my best to get this finished before the book. I think I’ll be able to and hopefully it will all make sense.

Errrr I dunno what else to say except THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING!

I love you all and wish you good things and yummy treats and send all my adoration!

Oh and I do indeed plan to write more fanfictions after this one… though I will likely be taking a break once this is finished, to read the book and relax a bit. But I plan to finish my “Just A Poker Face” fic… and I have a few oneshots or long-shots brewing in my mind that may come to life depending on the possible endings of the seventh book. Ooh I’m so excited and yet so scared T_T Ah well