RoLP Ch.80: The Deathly Hallows (Patreon)

30th June 1996

Little Hangleton, Britain

Lightning lanced across the night sky, the rumble of thunder echoing through the quaint muggle town below. The wind rustled through the leaves and branches of trees, tugging at Harry’s robes as he followed Dumbledore down the cobblestone street.

The tip of the Elder Wand peeked from Dumbledore’s sleeve, its tip glowing a faint yellow as he walked, leaving a slight trail in its wake.

“You know, you could transfigure your suit into something more… inconspicuous.” Harry said, watching a group of teenagers snicker as Dumbledore passed by them. 

“Where is the fun in that, my boy?” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled merrily. “Plus, Pomona always says that yellow looks rather delightful on me.”

“Maybe a better shade might,” Harry muttered.

“Alas, everyone’s a critic.” Dumbledore sighed. “I—”

The Headmaster stopped short, frowning deeply. Harry tilted his head and flicked his wand into his hand. A faint sheen of magic ran down the area around them, sinking harmlessly into the ground.

“Professor, is something the matter?” Harry asked as Dumbledore began to walk around the area, the Elder Wand glowing in his hand.

“I am not certain.” Dumbledore closed his eyes and held out his hand. “I felt… something. But it had vanished now and my detection spells are coming up blank. Almost… too blank.”

Harry walked nearer to Dumbledore’s side, watching the Hogwarts headmaster carefully.

‘There’s nothing here,’ a whisper welled in his mind, sounding like a serpentine hiss. ‘It—’

Harry suddenly pinched himself, clamping down on his Occlumency shields, squashing the voice in his mind. 

A voice that had not been his own.

“Oh yes, there’s something here.” Harry turned to Dumbledore who was waving his wand in complicated motions. “It wants me to go away but it is very subtle. Now that I have my shields completely up, it has even stopped prodding.”

“And yet, I cannot feel any trace of magic.” Dumbledore said. “Not even the echoes of the spells we cast.”

“You can feel echoes of spells?” Harry blinked. “I can only feel when magic is being cast or is actively working— like wards.”

“It is very much possible to feel echoes of spells, my boy.” Dumbledore tilted his head and closed his eyes as if trying to listen to something. “Even the weakest and simplest of spells, say the levitation charm, will leave a trace for a while after it is cast. Admittedly, a short while but the trace that can be picked if one is sensitive enough to feel magic.”

“And magic has been cast here by us only moments ago.” Harry said softly. “And yet you cannot feel anything from it. It means there’s some enchantment or a ward hiding the magic around this area.” Harry twisted his wand sharply and the area around them glowed brightly, a breeze rustling through the street. “…And yet, all detection spells are coming up empty. This one should’ve shown something.”

“Do you have any spells in Parselmagic that might do something like this, Harry?” Dumbledore waved his hand, another ripple of magic running down the area. “It is one of the few branches of magic I am completely unaware of while Tom is the master of.”

“The closest I know of something like that is a spell that redirects detection spells, giving false information to the caster. Or, layering a confundus on the ward scheme to fool detection spells” Harry's forehead creased. “But ensuring no magic is felt despite the magic being present and active? That is… another matter entirely. I do not think it should even be possible.”

Dumbledore’s jaw twitched, a frown marring his face. 

“Yet, it lies in front of us, very much possible.” The headmaster stroked his long beard. “Few know this but even as a young boy in his third year, Tom was brilliant at Arithmancy and far ahead of his peers. He must’ve designed this enchantment by himself to hide his Horcrux.”

The temperature dropped, goosebumps rising on Harry’s arms.

“And if I am not mistaken, that Horcrux is very much sentient, and as of now, scared.” Dumbledore smiled

“What do we do then?” Harry flicked his wand, trying yet another spell, which came up empty again, as if there was nothing there. “If the Horcrux somehow reaches Voldemort… he would be on his way probably with Grindelwald in tow. And I am not exactly keen for a fight between all of us in a muggle town. A muggle town that Voldemort probably hates.”

“No, I imagine you aren’t.” Dumbledore walked closer to the side of the road, hoovering his hand near the trunk of a tall, withering tree. “Tell me, Harry. Are you carrying your invisibility cloak?”

“I always am,” Harry pulled out the silvery cloak from the pouch on his hip. “You want me to go through the wards under it?”

“You’ve said before that it allows you to bypass any enchantment or ward without worrying about being detected.” Dumbledore gave him a minute shrug. “And, I want you to go in and try and figure out the wards. As you might know, it is often easier to discern wards from the inside than from the outside. Though, do not proceed ahead without me— or, Merlin forbid, do anything dangerous.”

“Understood.” Harry draped the cloak over himself. “Wish me luck.”

Taking a deep breath he slowly walked forward, his steps measured. As he crossed the tall tree over which Dumbledore had been hovering his hand, the world rippled. 

A rough, cobblestoned path appeared, splitting into two in the distance between which a dilapidated shack rose. Wild weeds grew around the shack and mold covered the path and the rotting tree trunks around the property.

‘This is the worst place I’ve ever been in.’ Harry turned around to see Dumbledore still standing a few feet away, outside the wards with a puzzled and concerned expression on his face. ‘Right, the wards. Dumbledore cannot see me.’

Harry immediately reached out with his senses, allowing his magic to touch his surroundings. Immediately, he felt the magic covering the ground—a trigger ward that was meant to… set off something around the shack if someone magical stepped on the ground or undid the wards around the property. 

‘Probably a protection Voldemort put in place. Oh, this definitely is it.’ Harry felt excitement well in his chest as he allowed magic to lift him off his feet hoovering a few inches off the ground. ‘Time to get to work.’

Harry took off the invisibility cloak and stowed it back into his pouch. Immediately, a whisper drifted to his ears, calling him to the shack.

Harry shook his head, tightening his shields and the whispers ceased, stopping their prodding. 

‘The Horcrux is very much sentient. One equally bad as the diary if not worse.’

A spell leaped from his wand and the air between him and Dumbledore shimmered, a deep gong reverberating through the place.

Dumbledore took a step back on the other side before raising his wand, nodding slightly.

‘He cannot see me but he can feel the ripples in magic. He knows I have begun my work.’ A smile curled on Harry’s lips and his wand glowed a brilliant blue. 

Harry hissed in parseltongue, and a beam of magic slammed into the wards, creating whorls that turned into a cyclone of sparks as the wards strained. On the other side, Dumbledore thrust his wand like a sword into the center of it.

A brilliant flash of white lit up the town of Little Hangleton as the wards burst with an ear-piercing bang, louder than a thunderclap.

Harry felt his senses go numb for a moment before they returned in full form as he was thrown several feet backward, barely maintaining his balance in the air. Spots of white danced in his eyes and his ears rang. 

Tugging at his magic, he pointed his wand at his face and a moment later he felt his clarity return, as if someone had woken him from sleep by dunking him in ice-cold water.

“Harry?” Dumbledore stepped toward him.

“Shit.” Harry whirled around at the ground rumbled. 

“The Ministry will be on their way soon.” Dumbledore winced as a serpentine head made of rocks broke out of the ground, followed by six others. “Can you get a few wards up while I deal with the…” Dumbledore squinted at the rising form of the serpent. “Hydra construct?”

“I can, professor.” Harry turned around and rose higher into the air, his robes flapping. 

Thunder boomed in the sky above while Harry waved his wand, a haze rising back around the house. ‘Repello Muggletum, Domus Protego, Salvio Hexia, Repello Incium, Fianto Duri.’

One after the other, the charms rose, intertwining with each other all around the shack. Dumbledore meanwhile had dismantled the hydra within moments and was watching Harry cast the protections in silence.

“Good work.” Dumbledore commented as Harry returned to the ground, glancing at his golden pocket watch. “Those protections ought to keep the Aurors away once they arrive. Which, given their usual response time should be within a minute. That is, if Tom doesn’t show up.”

“We must hurry.” Harry agreed. “It is unlikely since he hasn’t shown up yet, but we must not take chances.”

“For all his intellect, Tom was equally hubristic.” Dumbledore walked toward the shack, his sharp blue eyes scanning their path. “He would’ve never thought that this place would’ve been found, let alone its protections have fallen short.”

“I am not taking the chance.” Harry declared, marching toward the door, avoiding the pieces of rocks that littered the ground, courtesy of Dumbledore destroying the snake. 

As they neared the dilapidated shack, the air turned pungent and the air turned colder. The grass around the shack had withered to dust and black mold grew over the crumbling walls. 

All that was left of the door was a rotting piece of wood that barely clung to its hinges, a dead snake nailed in its center.

“There’s a curse on the door.” Harry ran his wand down the door’s length. “One that would inflict pain and nightmares if touched.”

“Then we must remove the curse and proceed,” Dumbledore raised his wand. “Allow me.”

“Sorry, I have a better solution.” Harry slashed his wand, reducing the crumbling wall next to the door to dust, creating an entry for them. “Tom, as you said, was hubristic in his own work.”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore gave him a soft smile. “This is it, Harry. One of Lord Voldemort’s Horcruxes. Do you have the sword?”

In a flash of silver, the sword of Gryffindor appeared in Harry’s hand. “I always do, professor. Are you sure it’d be capable of destroying a Horcrux?”

“It is made of goblin steel. One which has absorbed basilisk venom.” Dumbledore stepped through the hole, the tip of his wand glowing. “I am positive.”

“Fair enough.” The wood under Harry’s foot creaked dangerously as he followed the Headmaster. “Is it bad that I am more afraid of falling through the floor than any of the traps Voldemort has set?”

“Just fly, Harry.” Dumbledore said absently as balls of light flew from his wand, lighting up the room. 

A second later, a wave of magic roared from the Elder wand, clearing all the dust from the floor and removing the pungent, rotting odor from the house.  The Headmaster closed his eyes and walked forward, his hand stretched out as if he was grasping at an invisible threat. 

“I can feel Tom’s magic,” he whispered. “It is scared… afraid… angry.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.” Dumbledore breathed. “The house is saturated with his magic even after my attempt to cleanse it. It wants to fight us but it can’t. It is doing its best to misdirect.”

Harry felt a chill down his spine as a whisper flitted through the walls, and foreign magic twisted and stabbed at his mind. Beside him, Dumbledore winced, his blue eyes glowing with pain.

“There, Harry.” He grunted, pointing at a patch on the floor a few feet away. “That’s where he is.”

The presence stabbing at Harry’s mind retreated instantly before he thrust his wand forward, yanking it upward. The floorboards were ripped apart, revealing a small box, a little bigger than Harry’s palm. With a flick of his wand, the box rose from the ground, the runes carved all over it flaring.

Harry’s wand circled the box, its tip aglow with a rainbow of colors as he got to work.

“Anything of note?” Dumbledore’s voice rang from behind him. 

“The box is warded, as expected. Very tightly warded with more torture wards layered on it than any tomb in Egypt.”

“That’s saying something.” Dumbledore commented. “Can you—”

Dumbledore trailed off as Harry swung the sword of Gryffindor, chopping the top of the lid in a brilliant burst of purple light. The box fell to the floor, crumbling into dust, leaving behind a golden ring with a dark gemstone glowing on its crown.

The Horcrux.

“Oh my,” Dumbledore breathed, his voice awed. “I cannot believe it.”

Harry turned to see Dumbledore’s eyes fixed on the ring— the Horcrux that lay on the ground. The band of the ring glinted in the light of the orbs hanging in the air, shining like a snitch.

“Yes, we found the Horcrux.” Harry pursed his lips. 

The gold band shone brighter and Harry saw a snitch fluttering in his mind. Harry squashed the temptation to reach out and grab the ring, smothering it like the last flames of a campfire.

“By Merlin,” Dumbledore brushed past him walking toward the ring. “It is the last hallow.”

“The what?” Harry blurted, whirling toward the Headmaster, who was inching closer to the ring.

“The resurrection stone.” Dumbledore whispered. “I could see Ariana again.”

“Professor?” Harry said loudly. “You might not want to touch the ring.”

Dumbledore didn’t seem to hear him as he knelt next to the Horcrux, his eyes fixed on the ring like a child’s eyes on candy. 

“I am going to see Ariana again.”

“Professor, what are you doing? HEADMASTER?” Harry yelled as Dumbledore stretched out his hand. “No. Expelliarmus!”

The beam of crimson roared from Harry’s wand striking Dumbledore in the chest before he could touch the ring. The Headmaster was flung back, his silvery white hair and beard flailing as he was smashed against the brick wall of the house, breaking through it.

Harry immediately felt a sharp stab at his mental shields as the Horcrux turned on him. Voldemort’s serpentine whispers rang in his ears, hissing incoherently.

“No,” he growled, pulling on his magic to protect himself. 

The sword of Gryffindor weighed down in his hands as if someone was trying to tug it free from his grasp. Pulling it up, Harry brought it down on the ring with all his might, cleaving through the golden band.

A deafening explosion of magic ripped through the shack, sending shards of wood splintering in all directions. A piercing, pain-filled screech rang over the cracking of the walls as a dark specter rose from the ring, looking remarkably like Voldemort.

The grotesque specter writhed, its form twisted and contorted in agony, the stench of decay and death filling the house.

With a final, gut-wrenching wail, the specter was torn to swirling motes of black smoke that dissipated, leaving the echoes of screams in its wake. The two pieces of the gold ring remained, lying on either side of the sword of Gryffindor that was hilt deep into the floor.

Harry collapsed to his knees, feeling bile rise in his throat. His head throbbed and something tugged at his magic, calling to him to his left, where Dumbledore was.

Dust fell onto his face from the ceiling as cracks began to spread.

‘No.’ Harry raised his wand, his arm trembling. 

“Reparo.” Harry croaked. “Reparo Maxima. Fortis. Fortis.”

The cracks sealed and the house around him stopped trembling as the foundations were repaired. All that remained were two huge holes in the wall— one that Harry had made to enter and the other one that Dumbledore had gone through.

Harry hurled himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he stumbled toward Dumbledore.

“Professor? Headmaster?” Harry stepped over the debris of the wall.

Dumbledore lay on the ground, dust coating his clothes and skin. Blood trickled slowly from multiple cuts on his arms and face. A bruise was welling on his temple, turning blue against Dumbledore’s pallid skin.

His breathing was shallow little grimaces flashing on his face with every breath.

“Enervate,” Harry murmured.

Dumbledore flinched awake, his eyes shooting open, panicked. 

“Professor? Are you alright?” Harry knelt next to him. 

“Harry? Is it… what happened?” Dumbledore said hoarsely, trying to sit up.

“You were enthralled by the ring.” Harry gave him a disapproving frown. “I hit you with a disarming hex before you could touch it. There was probably a very nasty curse on the ring. Or worse, the Horcrux might’ve tried to possess you like it did to Ginny.”

“I was foolish,” Dumbledore sighed, closing his eyes. “I saw the stone… and I—”

“Lay still.” Harry barked as Dumbledore’s face scrunched in pain. “You have broken ribs. And multiple lacerations.”

“Harry… it can wait.” Dumbledore grabbed his wrist, stilling the wand. “You need to take it.”

“The stone?”

“And the wand.” Dumbledore turned to his right where the Elder Wand lay against the mud.

Harry’s magic tugged as soon as he laid eyes on the Deathstick, the wand calling to him. 

“If I take it…” Harry whispered. “We don’t know what will happen.”

“You must, Harry. Voldemort might be on his way.”

Harry nodded, holding out his hand. Immediately, the Elder Wand shot forth, slamming into his hand. Harry felt a thrill shoot through his body as the air warmed around him, the Elder wand bonding with his magic. Power surged through his arm like an electric current and his form glowed.

A moment later, it all vanished and the Elder Wand thrummed in his hands, ready to be used.

‘Heal.’ Harry pointed his wand at Dumbledore and the Headmaster let out a loud gasp as his wounds were healed and his ribs snapped back into place. The bruise on his temple faded to a rosy red than the bluish back it had been turning.

“Go, get the stone too,” Dumbledore breathed. “Be careful. There might still be something left of the protections.”

Harry nodded and turned around, walking back into the shack, pocketing his own wand and holding the Elder Wand ready.

The ring lay on the ground, next to the sword of Gryffindor, the stone glinting at its crown. No whispers rose in Harry’s mind as he walked closer to it. The only sound in the room was the creaking of the floorboards beneath his weight as he walked toward the stone.

With a thought, the sword of Gryffindor vanished, leaving a deep gash in the floor, onto the ground. Harry flicked the elder wand, the magic flowing easier and faster than ever, leaping to bid his command to examine the magic on the ring.

‘The Egyptian rotting curse.’ Harry flinched. ‘Thank Merlin, Dumbledore didn’t touch it. Or he would've been breathing his last breaths right now. But it also means that I have to destroy it.’

Harry thrust the Elder Wand forward, a gust of red flames leaping from its tip, devouring the golden band. With a mere thought, the fire stopped, leaving behind a red-hot stone.

‘Bloody hell. The wand makes even Fiendfyre so easy to control.’ Harry glanced at the long wand in his hand before glancing at the red-hot stone on the pile of ash. ‘Time to take the third hallow.’

With a flick of his wand, the stone rose, and steam billowed from it as it cooled down. Harry held out his hand and the stone dropped in his palm. 

Harry waited with bated breath for something to happen.  The Elder Wand thrummed in his hand and the stone felt ice cold but nothing happened. The Hallows remained as they were.

‘So they are nothing but just rather powerful magical objects created by the Peverell brothers and not death.’ Harry let out a sigh and slipped the stone into his pouch. ‘Time to get going I suppose.’ 

Harry turned around to see Dumbledore standing by the hole in the wall, looking slightly disappointed.

“Let’s go home, Professor.” Grasping Dumbledore’s arm, Harry twisted on his spot, and they vanished from the scene, leaving the Gaunt shack a crumbling ruin that it had been.

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1st July 1996

Headmaster’s Office, Hogwarts

The clock chimed twice, the enchanted baby phoenix popping out twice from the grandfather clock on the wall. The moon hung outside the window behind the Headmaster’s chair, its silver light glinting off the trinkets that whirled and smoked around the office.

“Today was an eventful night, wouldn’t you say, Harry?” Dumbledore asked tiredly. 

“You almost got killed by an Egyptian withering curse.” Harry said dryly. “I’d say so.”

“And the three hallows were found and united for the first time in history.” Dumbledore smiled. “An achievement like none other. In addition, a piece of Tom’s soul was destroyed. One could argue that it was a very successful night.”

“The hallows turned out to be a sham.” Harry snorted. “Yes, the wand is powerful beyond measure. I have never had more ease casting magic. But… it is nothing more.”

“I always suspected that the Peverells were rather gifted wizards who created these objects.” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. “Or even just one of the brothers, whose tale was exaggerated into a legend that we know of today.”

“Seems like it.” Harry sighed. “I had somehow hoped that they would be more, you know?”

“Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. Magic is a curious thing, Harry.” Dumbledore gave him a piercing stare. “For all we know, you are yet to discover their true power.”

“The Master of Death?” 

“The hallows as depicted in the story, Harry, represent the three aspects of death.” The Headmaster ran a hand through his beard. “The wand represents its power— both terrible and liberating. The stone represents the sorrow it brings and the longing it leaves. And the cloak represents its inevitability. Death cannot be stopped or predicted. And yet, it always comes.”

“Thus, if you own all three hallows and master their power— in a way, you control all aspects of death.” Harry massaged his temples. “And the brothers, I suppose, represent the ways one greets death— like a warrior, like freedom, or like an old friend.”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore smiled. “They might be a lesson on philosophy but they might also have a grain of truth in it. A grain of truth that might change all that we know. And after all, even magic knows only the boundaries that their casters set upon them.”

“Right.” Harry shook his head, pulling the elder wand out of his pocket and laying it on the table. “Onto… more important matters, I suppose. Do you want it back, Professor?”

“I am afraid that it is now your burden, Harry.” Dumbledore said gently. “I shall suffice with my old companion. It has always served me well and its handle is rather more comfortable than the Elder Wand’s ever was.”

“It is similar to my original wand.” Harry said quietly. “But, a lot more powerful. I can feel it thrumming and calling to me. I am afraid that Grindelwald will know the very second we meet again that there is a new master of the Elder Wand”

“A little over a year ago you had told me that there was a small ritual you could do to ensure the wand never separated from your line.” Dumbledore clasped his hand. “Something you found in your family grimoire.”

“A blood-binding ritual.” Harry supplied. “It is a mere variation, but should suffice unless I am killed— which would be ending my line itself, thus continuing the cycle that the wand has always been in. But I will still do it once I get back home.”

“It is always better to be safe than sorry, Harry.” Dumbledore nodded. “As you and I both have demonstrated in the past, there are ways more than killing to win the wand. A simple spell catching you off guard might have the wand falling into the wrong hands. Something I'd avoid, especially with both Gellert and Tom on the loose.”

“Of course, professor.” Harry nodded. “Speaking of wrong hands… what do you wish to do with the stone, sir?”

Dumbledore stilled, a flash of longing burning in his eyes. 

“The stone… since my sister died has been my greatest temptation.” Dumbledore whispered. “I have yearned to speak to her for years. To ask for her forgiveness. To hear her voice just one more time. And today, that is what Tom’s soul used to get a hold of me. My temptation.”

“You can do it.” Harry retrieved the stone from his pouch, its edges glinting in the light of the room. “If you want to. Call your sister. Call anyone you wish.”

Dumbledore stared at the stone for a long moment, little trembles running down his arm while Harry waited.

“No.” Dumbledore looked away. “I cannot. It is selfish of the living to drag the dead from their eternal rest. It is a perversion of magic, Harry. I cannot do it in good conscience.”

“So be it.” Harry picked the stone up and dropped it back into his pouch. “Good night, professor. Get some rest and a few potions. You might need it.”

Dumbledore nodded silently as Harry rose from his seat and turned to leave.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Will you—” Dumbledore hesitated. “Will you call your parents with the stone? To… talk to them one more time?”

“I don’t know, professor.” Harry said quietly. “I know I will bind the stone to me. But… calling them? I don’t want to cling to the shadows and flee reality. And yet—”

“You want to meet them. You have the power in your hand.” Dumbledore nodded. “I understand.”

“If they are nothing more than powerful, enchanted objects, I reckon that they’d be nothing but echoes.” Harry said. “An embodiment of how I imagine them to be.”

“If.” Dumbledore repeated quietly. “Unless you try it out, we might never be sure. And somehow, I find it more comforting to not know than to know for this once.”

“So do I, professor,” Harry said. “So do I.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

AND… DONE! Hope you all liked the chapter.

Yes, Harry has control over all the Deathly Hallows now. But is he the Master of Death or are the relics nothing but powerful artifacts? That is something that remains to be seen.

And yes, I didn’t have Dumbledore go down the path that he did in canon because it would’ve been cheap and unfathomable especially with an equally powerful wizard around, one who was not as obsessed with the hallows as Dumbledore and Grindelwald were. Speaking of which, it is three horcruxes down (considering the diary and Harry himself) and thus a huge win for the good guys. Four more remain: The cup, the locket, the diadem, and Nagini.

As for neither Dumbledore and Harry not using the stone for now… we will see more on that in the next chapter.  

A huge thanks to Mughil and Anax for betaing this chapter.

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Stay Happy! Stay Safe! Keep Smiling! Keep Reading!

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