Author Note: Yay, chapter 3 is done - blame me on all brick jokes, all other languages (translations are at the bottom - they are more setting, though.)
Warnings: All characters are still alive, and will be for quite awhile. Pretentious references. Italian. Ancient Greek.
Beta-ed by the wondrous and wonderful Mrs. Bates93! Have I said - she's wonderful!
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Cheating Death
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III. Of Threes and Prophecies
o0O0o
"Your fathers, where are they? And the prophets, do they live forever?"
Book of Zechariah, l. 5
o0O0o
Back when magic was common practise and known to all, the Sibyl of Cumae was most revered. She was by no means the only Sibyl – a name transferred from other great prophetesses and seers – but the only one still active when the Romans conquered Naples. I say conquered, but what actually happened, was more of an integration of the old Greek cities: Cumae (the first city), Partenope or Palaeopolis ("Old city") and Neapolis,the new city. The majority of the citizens were still descended from Greeks, and they mostly spoke the Ancient Greek language.
But political difference mattered little to the holy ground, where there was much among the cities. Two of them were of special importance to our heroes: the entrance to the Roman Orcus, the underworld. One was nearly next to the Antro della Sibilla, the cave of the seer, the other one was to be found at the Campi Flegrei.
However, currently our heroes are crossing the Alps in one of the many magical trains of Europe ("Full comfort for the magical ride of your life: Over, sideways and under! Wonder by wonder!") – The Cross-Continental Express was to the Hogwarts Express what a five-star hotel was to a youth hostel.
(Harry had long suspected the British ministry of taking the funds for public transportation and using them to fund racing broom companies. In fact, there was this one article in 'The Quibbler'...)
o0O0o
"Watch your money, please!" Bellatrix shouted over the crowd who were either trying to exit, enter, or obstruct the train.
Harry grumbled. He had nearly lost his fingers to the evil pouch; that Hagrid had gifted him some twenty years ago, trying to take some money out. Give it to his evil, mad secretary to doubt his ability to keep the money safe still. (Why again had he decided to take more than 7.000 galleons in cash? Oh, yes: Unforeseen Circumstances, the dread of every traveller.) "I'm watching it!" he replied.
Exiting Napoli Centrale– the central train station – on Piazza Garribaldi, they searched for the nearest way underground. Naples, famous for its cultural and historical sights, the Camorra and pizza, was most familiar to the magical community, because of its intricate web of buildings and tunnels underground. The web extended from the volcano over to Pompeii, Herculaneum, to the coast by Baia, mainly consisting of aqueducts, old quarrying caverns, catacombs, natural caverns and some interconnecting tunnels.
(One such entrance to the underground, ironically, was named after Severus of Naples – the catacombs of Saint Severus.)
Climbing down the narrow rock-hewn staircase proved a little difficult, since handling both the luggage (already feather-weight charmed and size-reduced) and conducting the Lumos light proved more than Harry could handle.
After the trunk had nearly collided with an unsuspecting visitor, only rescued due to Bellatrix's quick "Locomotor!" his annoyed companion had shrunken the trunk and pocketed it.
Embarrassed, Harry left her to manage his stuff.
2641 steps further down; they were standing in front of the entrance of "Urbe della Magia". A little shrivelled man was guarding the grandiose doors of carved stone: white marble framing the black, depicting scenes from Naples varied history, jewels colouring the most famous.
"How do we get inside?" Harry whispered to his companion. The environment demanded reverential silence.
He was met with an arched eyebrow and so softly spoken words "You'll see." he might as well have imagined them.
When they tip-toed closer, the human dwarf looked up with narrowed eyes and observed them coldly. Silently, he signed to them to come even closer, until they were but a breath away from the man's mouth.
"What," he asked them, "is your quest?"
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"Seriously? You have never heard of Monty Python and the Holy Grail? It's the greatest film ever! Well, except for Life of Brian. Or maybe Forrest Gump."
"I haven't," Bellatrix replied sourly, still a little put out by the scene with the door guard. "And I doubt that I will hold it in the same esteem that you seem to do."
o0O0o
"I swear, I will maim you slowly and painfully if you say 'Just around the corner!' one more time!" Bellatrix muttered, her hair-bun loose and untidy, her eyes slightly crazed.
"Only a few more steps," Harry cheerfully replied, turning his map of the underground labyrinth around – again. Equally cheerfully he ignored the threat of the former death-eater, knowing full well it was void – a stipulation of the work-release was swearing an unbreakable oath of never intentionally killing a person. "We should actually..." He frowned at the map. "Whoops. Turn around again." He squinted. "The light here is really bad for my eyes," he complained.
"For heaven's sake!" his companion exclaimed. "Give the blasted map to me!"
Wrestling ensued. Before the precious map could be torn apart, Harry relented though, and let the woman look.
"This is all written in Ancient Greek!"
Harry snickered. "You think? I keep getting lab and bal confused, and can you believe that pod and trapeza have the same root?"
"How do you know Ancient Greek? You don't even know Latin!"
He shrugged. "Picked it up somewhere. Will you let me navigate now?"
Without her whining, it took Harry two more minutes to find the sanctuary of the ancient prophetess.
Inside the cave, it was wet and cold. The smell of sulphur, or more specifically, sulphur oxide, permeated the air. The normally yellow to orange light of the Lumos spell turned green.
"Ohh," Harry exhaled. "Spooky."
Bellatrix murmured something, causing the light ball to integrate into the walls, still looking very green.
"Now that's overdoing it," he criticised, making Bellatrix roll her eyes.
Walking further down the cave, they encountered a wall – a sign "Attenzione! Babbani e Touristi! Si prega de tenere la magia al minimo!" was attached beneath an arrow pointing through the wall.
"See," he pointed to it. "That was a waste of magical energy anyway."
On the other side of the wall, there were a few people scattered around looking at walls and a few plaques – but the most attention-grabbing feature was the all-encompassing, deep silence that crept into all loops and gaps.
Ignored by all visitors was a translucent sphere of maybe a square foot base.
"Is that–"Bellatrix whispered reverential.
"Probably," Harry replied normally, but it echoed very loud in the cave. He approached the cone carefully. "Now. Any idea what language she speaks?"
A faint, very faint laughter reverberated through the cave. "Trust the Englishmen," someone said, "to come to my home without knowing which language to speak."
Harry looked at Bellatrix. Was that really the most famed Sibyl? This was most definitely English.
"At least, they aren't as conceited as the Italians, who assume I have to speak their language. After all, what other language is there?"
"Erm," Harry demurred. "Actually..."
"Yes. I do know why you are here. If what you are thinking is correct, you have all the time in the world. So why not entertain a fellow immortal? Since I was not able to leave this cave since millennia, whereas you are as free as a bird to go wherever you want, you are eternally young, whereas I am no longer a body; I am a voice, lecturing those that are alive in the truest of forms.
"I want, Mr Potter. I want, I pine, I crave, and I yearn. I don't need. I never need. I am eternally needless. But oh, how I want."
"Yes," Harry answered. "But how does that pertain to me?"
"The selfish youth of all times," the voice sighed. "Impatient. You will wait. My speeches take time, a commodity you have in abundance. Your companion does not, but she has slept long – there will be a reckoning. Very well. Ask your questions. I will allow you three questions, three, because it is your magical number."
"What is a magical number?" Harry asked without thinking, followed by Bellatrix elbowing him in his side. "Ouch!"
"What your companion is trying to tell you; is that you are asking the wrong question to get the answer you seek," the voice replied, audibly amused. "But I will answer you: your life has been unequivocal influenced by Three, meaning it becomes your magical number. You have been birthed by those who have thrice defied a dark Lord, you were the third to be killed on Halloween of 1981, you are a parseltongue, and the ancient symbolism of the Runespoor snake is the Three, three disturbed confrontations between you and the dark Lord, three friends– three Hallows, three wands you can use very well, three kids, the list goes on."
"How do you know all of this?" Harry asked, only to flinch a few seconds later, because now he had asked two questions, only being allowed three. He had not even begun to ask questions on the topic he had come for.
"To know the past is to know the future, because the present is followed by the future and has been the past for a few seconds."
"This is useless," Bellatrix snarled and turned around. "I don't know why you thought asking a seer for information, was a good idea! The only thing they're useful for is being a host for parasites!"
"Now, now, young lady, there is no need to spew such venom. You have much to learn."
Harry Potter watched the two females bickering, reminisced of home and the females bickering there; and then had a rare moment of utter clarity. He knew what to ask and why he had come here. "Is my..." he interrupted their argument, "...life, is it destiny?"
"Maybe we each have a destiny, or we're all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but maybe it's both," the sibyl quoted. "What I know is that you are still living under a prophecy. Also, the people in power don't like anyone breaking the Rules. It was a toss-up between you and Dumbledore, this Hallow thing. Why couldn't you just put your trust into your worthiness? There had been a prophecy about you. In every instance you and the dark Lord would annihilate each other. The general world wouldn't have cared."
"But then, you had to master all of the Hallows. The three Hallows. And the symbolism of the three took over. You were born under a prophecy. And that prophecy could have been fulfilled two times already: first, when you were barely one year old; the second time, during the Battle of Hogwarts. But your life was under the sword of Damocles – the blasted Three. Three times the charm, so the last verse, the stupid verse, the most vague verse, may not have been fulfilled before the battle."
The voice paused. "Where was I? Oh yes, neither can live, while the other survives. This is the tricky bit. What I guess it means now, is that for you to be able to die, Voldemort must be alive. Or maybe it means something completely different, because someone forgot to relay the pause. Maybe the first part of the prophecy is one strophe, whereas that line, completely disregarding the tone of the first strophe, is another prophecy, regarding that child, i.e. you. I like that."
"That's destiny. But there was Death in your story, just like Apollo in mine. When I made a deal with him, he betrayed me, just like I betrayed him. But he was more powerful, so I was punished most severely."
"I haven't done anything to Death, that's worth punishing me for!" Harry exclaimed, and was quickly shushed.
"For a man who calls himself Death? You have resisted Death two times before the Hallows," the prophetess replied.
"And countless times after! If third time's the charm, why haven't I died?" Harry argued.
"That's the punishment. You have the Hallows, therefore you are the Master of Death, and therefore you cannot die. To un-master the Hallows is to die."
"So how do I un-master the Hallows?"
"There is nothing in the past that could help you, Boy-Who-Lives. There was nothing in the present that could aid you, Master of Death. Pray that there will be something in the future to assist you, Harry James Potter."
There was something sacred in the words, something to trust. At the same time, it made him wonder – made him think of things in life he would sorely miss. He could swear there was an ethereal figure of a pleasing shape. A woman, maybe in her twenties.
"Always look on the bright side," she whispered and whistled. Then, she vanished.
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Bellatrix saw the outline, too. The woman was very beautiful, but not in the conventional way. She had character, life experience. "There are always two sides of a coin," she said, and it felt like someone was stroking her hair. "Somebody cursed you. You may live in interesting times, and you will find what you are looking for. Take all the time in the world, for in the end, it will come true."
Then, both the white sphere and the woman inside it vanished. She looked over to her employer, her travel companion, her rescuer. Interesting times.
Well. Who would have thought?
She shivered. Maybe one got used to good things faster than to bad.
Hell might be other people, but heaven probably was, too.
"Let's go," her boss said quietly, when the oppressing silence vanished, too. "We'll catch some cold or another, if we stay down here any longer."
"I fear the sulphur has already clogged my brain permanently," Bellatrix replied.
"Perhaps it's the sulphur giving the prophecy, not some stupid higher power," he grumbled. "It was pretty nebulous, too."
Bellatrix's "Mmh." was very non-committal.
"What do you say to public transportation?" Harry proposed after the little walk outside, very cheerfully. "I am so sick of caves!"
o0O0o
Half an hour later, found them in another cave. It smelt only slightly of sulphur, was reasonably dry and not very cold, but was still very much a cave.
"For Merlin's sake! Can't there please be some magical place on the surface of this city?" Harry exploded, nearing his Uncle's condition of calmness.
Bellatrix calmly sipped her drink and polished her finger nails. She was watching the local clients very inobstructively. There were the obvious tourists, sure, but there also was what looked like a nymph, and what was that man with the grass-green overcoat (tailored, possibly rich) smoking?
A few teenagers were watching each other playing "magic sticks"– juggling with wands.
"Scusi,"a woman from the next table bent forward to speak with Harry and showed him her very developed cleavage. Very big earrings dangled next to her painted mouth – she had sunglasses keeping her curls back. "I could not help but overhear," she spoke with a very faint accent. "The sister of my boyfriend's friend, her parents have opened a new inn in the magical part of the Orto Botanica di Napoli– it belongs to the University and the French, you see – most of the magical folk around here stay underground. Sulphurous air is supposed to heal migraines, and infertility, impotence, cancer, pestilence, the common cold, influenza, bronchitis, homosexuality, heterosexuality, dry skin, oily skin, oily hair, big noses, small noses, big feet, small feet – you get the idea. Anyway, they're still depending on word of mouth advertising; and that's what I'm doing, right! There are sweet little cottages, and Mamma is cooking, and if you're searching for a retreat on the surface, it's your place. You know, it's also about 200 metres away from the Plazza di Garibaldi, there's the National Archaeology Museum with the Secret Cabinet – the famous erotic art collection..."
"Yes, thank you," Harry interrupted her excessive loquacity. "We'd be glad to go there. By any chance – how do we get there?"
"Oh, that's simple!" she stood up very suddenly, so that her cleavage almost popped into Potter's face, her jewellery clinking. "I'm heading there as well. Very good coffee. You and your mother?"
"Secretary," Bellatrix inserted with a distasteful sneer.
"Yes, can follow us," she finished. Then, she picked up her handbag and possible boyfriend with the word "Allora, andiamo!" and they were introduced to traffic in Italy for Dummies: the more you shout, and the brighter your smile the faster you will be, where you want to be.
o0O0o
It was September, the grass and trees were painted with the most delicious green, flowers were blooming, the vines carried ripe grapes, and Bellatrix was elegantly sipping the most delicious cup of cappuccino. It was warm outside and the sun was shining.
She leaned back on the sun-bed and relaxed, listening to Potter's conversation with his daughter.
"–and then –Dad, are you listening?"
"Yes, dear," he answered smiling.
"He told the door stopper: 'Why, there couldn't be someone more beautiful than you, could there?' – and the door stopper blushed! He blushed, daddy – then Marina, she's the female prefect told us about classes. You know, there is this really odd ghost, they call him Professor Binns, and he's giving lectures on goblin revolution on the second corridor, he's done that for centuries apparently, but they are so boring! Fred says, he goes there when he has trouble sleeping."
"Sounds like you are having fun, Lily."
"Of course I am! I'm in Hogwarts! Dad, Albus says hello, and asks to tell you that you are supposed to be eating. He has a friend, and his parents divorced, and then they stopped eating, and had to be sent to St. Mungo's because of food-poisoning. You are eating, aren't you?"
"Of course I am eating. How are Al and James?"
"Fine. Dad?"
"Yes, Lily."
"Why are you and mum divorced?"
"We aren't divorced yet, Lily. We are separated. It's because your mum thinks, I didn't grow up."
"Why does she think that?"
"Because I look just the same as I did when we married."
"That's stupid," Lily said with all the conviction only eleven-year-olds can muster. "I wouldn't divorce my husband because of that."
"But your husband might. I find it's very tedious, if she constantly belittles me."
"Oh," Lily said. "What does tedious mean? I don't like it when Al and James belittle me, too."
"Tedious means annoying, tiring..."
"Okay. It's now curfew."
"Well, then –goodnight, little Lily."
"I am not little!"
"Good night. Hugs and kisses."
"Hugs and kisses, daddy."
He looked up, and Bellatrix could see all the way from her resting place how pained his eyes looked, and how tense his back was.
"You wouldn't be able to see her even if you were home," she said.
"Yes," he choked out.
"There's nothing you can do about her growing up," she clarified.
"Yes," this wasn't less painful.
"But you want to anyway."
"No," he said and shook his head. "Yes. Well – she could die. She is going to die, and I..."
"You are a whining whiner. You are utterly ungrateful," Bellatrix interrupted him. "You will never be able to influence a person's death, unless you are killing him or her yourself." She did stop herself from screaming at the boy, but only barely. "I didn't get what that blasted seer was on about in the cave, but now I do – I didn't recognise it at first, because it's inversed, but you have hubris as great as the dark Lord had!"
"What? I do not!"
"What else do you want to call this senseless self-pitying spree you are on? You don't know when you are going to die. Well, message to you: nobody does! So normally people die, when a killing curse is shot at them – Muggles die in car crashes that would never kill a wizard, wizards on average live a couple of decades longer, they don't die of cancer, but eventually all things die! You won't be able to keep your daughter, your sons, or your friends indefinitely. Things change!"
"They don't," her employer said angrily, and the only thought in her head was: "What did I do?" – "Shit. Always. Happens. To. Me."
"Boohoohoo," apparently her mouth worked simply fine without the filter of her brain between. "So you joined the death-eaters to impress girls, and went to prison when you were on crack at thirty? Lost five unborn children by the age of fifty and fought on the side of a madman, a losing war, an unworthy cause, and went back to prison with your husband finally killed, and then have to work under the lone boy who caused you to go back to a hell-hole?" She punctured her argument with pokes into his breast bone. When she was particularly violent, sparks escaped.
"You are one lucky son of a witch!" this she really shouted. "You live, and live, and keep on living! And now, you are finding a way to stop that, fine, be my guest, but stop moping about the family you have left willingly, the friends you have left willingly, and the children you can talk to whenever they don't have classes!"
And with that, she left the blooming paradise, to help herself to some extremely potent grappa.
o0O0o
The next morning, when they both had woken up with hang-overs in the same bed, luckily with their clothes on, they agreed to never mention the evening again.
Also, they agreed that all prophetesses were frauds and drug addicts, and more information was better found at the sources, namely Egyptian rituals (the Egyptians – an advanced civilisation almost older than dirt – had invented most of the rituals, and were rather used to people going west and coming back.)
Author's Note: 1) The Sibyl of Cumae (perhaps, maybe) really existed. Both Greek and Roman sources have mentioned her. It is said that she was so beautiful and wise Apollo wanted to be granted her virginity. She wanted a gift: Immortality. But she didn't ask for eternal youth, and when she tricked the god – well. Also she wrote five books of prophecies and made the last Roman emperor an offer. She burned two, and made the same offer again. When only one book was left (among others prophesying the birth of a messiah after Vergilius) he finally accepted it. 2) This chapter is set in Naples, Italy – Napoli in the national language. All the places within are very much real (although maybe not used by magical people) 3) Campi Flegrei means burning fields (Phlegraean Fields is the more common name), around Naples there are a lot of seismological and volcanic activity. Pretty much all of the fancier ones are called this. 4) I imagined my Cross-Continental Express a little bit like the Oriental Express in England. It's very fancy, you get to eat and there are lots of murder mysteries. 5) Naples is full of pick pockets, has a very big black market, and is a breeding place for little Mafiosi. 6) Camorra is the Neapolitan Mafia. In case you live under a rock. 7) "Urbe della Magia" - an old word for city of magic 8) the gratuitous references to Monty Python and Forrest Gump I couldn't resist. Blame my best friend. 9) Locomotor trunk is used in HP-OotP by Remus. 10) Harry started learning Ancient Greek together with Hermione while hunting horcruxes (she would so do that) lab and bal mean take and throw respectively, and pod (foot) and trapez (table) do have the same root. 11)"Attenzione! Babbani e Touristi! Si prega de tenere la magia al minimo!" - "Attention! Muggles and Tourists! Please keep magic to a minimum!" 12) "Scusi"- "Excuse me" 13) "Allora, andiamo!" - "Well, let's get going!" 14) Yes. I have personally met Italian women. Yes, I like them very much. They do tend to be very over-whelming =)
(Seriously - this has to stop! I hate long author notes!)