Chapter 26
The next day, everyone was sitting in the living room area of the tent when Landry remembered that Dumbledore had never finished his story about the Trelawneys. Dumbledore was sitting on the couch across from her and Miles, laughing at something Grindelwald had said. Landry grimaced. She did not want Grindelwald to know about this thing that had seemed so important to Dumbledore yesterday. "Mr. Dumbledore, could I talk to you, please?" she asked.
"Certainly, Landry," he said, looking up at her. "What is it?"
"Um, I meant alone," she replied, eying Grindelwald.
"Very well," he said, reluctantly, getting up from the couch and following Landry out of the tent. "Now, what did you need to talk to me about?" asked Dumbledore.
"Grindelwald's arrival kind of interrupted that story you were telling me yesterday," Landry explained. "About Professor Trelawney and her great-great-grandmother?"
Dumbledore's expression softened. "Ah, of course," he said, sitting on a nearby log and patting the spot beside him so as to signal Landry to sit next to him. She sat. "So where was I?" asked Dumbledore.
"You were about to tell me what Professor Trelawney predicted, Sir," Landry reminded him.
"Indeed," he replied. "Yes, your Divinations teacher made a prophecy, that is for certain."
"What was the prophecy?" Landry asked, impatiently.
Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm getting to that, Landry," he said. "I assume you've heard the tale of the Three Brothers?"
"Yes, of course. The story of how the Hallows came to be. Death created the Hallows for the Peverell brothers as a trick, but was only able to outsmart two of them," said Landry.
"Precisely. But the brothers are not what I'm concerned with at the moment. This all has to do with Death," explained Dumbledore.
"Death?"
"Long ago, when Death still roamed the mortal realm, he impregnated a witch," Dumbledore said.
"Sir, with all due respect, please never say the word 'impregnate' ever again," Landry said, her face shriveling up in disgust.
Dumbledore would have normally chuckled in response to this, but his face remained blank. He ignored her comment and continued. "The child of Death was like any other wizard. He lived a normal life, and died at the ripe old age of 132. His descendants remained the average wizarding family, eventually merging with other pureblooded families, thus eradicating their original name altogether. The family eventually stopped keeping track of the lineage of Death, and the story faded into legend. But it is true. Very, very true…"
"Sir, where are you going with this?" Landry asked, suddenly growing quite nervous.
Dumbledore looked solemn as he said, "Professor Trelawney's prediction is as follows, and forgive me if I do not quote her word for word."
"The daughter of Death will come into the light. The symbol of her linage will shine brighter than the stars, and she will be faced with a deathly challenge. She will find the stone her ancestor made, and the balance of life and death will be tampered with. Only she has the ability to realign the realms and disassemble the tools that are said to be her master. Only she can right the wrong the imbalances caused."
Landry paled. Her suspicions were confirmed, but she did not want to believe it. Dumbledore gave her a sympathetic look. "It is said that the descendants of Death all possess one rare similarity," he said.
"A thestral patronus," said Landry, shakily.
"Indeed," Dumbledore confirmed.
"I'm….the great-great-great-great…how ever many great's….granddaughter of…Death?"
"It seems so, Landry," Dumbledore said. "I do believe the prophecy is coming true. I had my suspicions from the moment we met, but only when I saw your patronus, the symbol of your linage that shone brighter than the stars, did I know for sure."
"I….I can barely wrap my head around this. I'm just Landry!" she cried.
"Of course you are," said Dumbledore. "You're the same girl you have always been."
"No, I'm not! I'm…Death!" Landry said, her voice sounding more and more panicked by the second. "What do I do, Dumbledore? I'm now apparently the only one who can save us all! I'm not that special! How do you expect me to do that?"
"With our help," said a voice from behind her. Landry whirled around, and there was Miles, peeking out timidly from inside the tent. Landry immediately stood up and ran to hug him. "Sorry for eavesdropping," he apologized. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I probably shouldn't have done it."
"It's completely fine, Babe, I would've done that same thing," Landry said, her heart swelling with love for her boyfriend.
"I love you, you know that? No matter what," Miles told her, hugging her tighter.
"Even though I'm the literal spawn of Death itself?" Landry asked, giggling weakly through the tears that had begun to fall down her face.
"So what if you're a descendant of Death? I'm double-jointed. We all have our quirks," Miles replied.
Landry laughed. "Actually, double-jointedness isn't real. What causes you to be able to bend your joints in the ways you can is hypermobility, which can actually cause health problems later in life," she explained.
"I feel like most people would find that irritating, but I just find it endearing," Miles giggled, kissing his girlfriend.
—
"This is unacceptable! I cannot believe that we have not been able to locate Potter yet!" hissed Voldemort.
"I assure you, my Lord, it is all we are doing, we are working day and night to find him," a Death Eater replied.
"Work harder!" Voldemort cried. "Now go! Do not show your face again until you have found him!"
The Death Eater left, leaving the furious Voldemort alone. He stood from his throne and walked out of his tent. He was in the mood to spill blood. As he walked across his campgrounds, he said to Delphi as he passed her, "I will be with our special guests for several hours now. Nobody is to bother me."
Voldemort eventually arrived at his destination, entering the dark, slimy cave. Several shadowed figures were chained to the wall. "Hello. It is ever so nice to see you all again," Voldemort said in a sickening voice.
"What do you want from us? Where are we? What in the name of Merlin is happening here?" one of the chained people said.
"Yeah, tell him, Prongs!" said the person next to him.
"Don't provoke him!" cried another of the prisoners.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you," Voldemort replied.
"What are you talking about? We're already dead," said a feminine voice.
"You were dead. As was I. Was. As in, past-tense," said Voldemort.
"What? How?" asked a fourth prisoner.
"It's all thanks to your son's stupidity," Voldemort explained. "He should have destroyed the stone when he had the chance. But alas, he left it in the forest for anyone to find. And a silly little girl did."
"Don't you dare insult Harry!" one of the prisoners cried fiercely.
Voldemort chuckled. "Calm yourself, stupid girl. You're almost as daft as your son."
"You can hurt us all you like, but you will not cause any more harm to Harry!" yelled the first prisoner.
"I'll do whatever I like," said Voldemort, grinning wickedly.
"There will always be someone to stop you, as long as there is still good left in the world. You've lost twice before, you'll lose again!"
But that simply isn't so," Voldemort responded.
"Go ahead and believe that. I don't care. It makes no difference to me, nor does it change your fate," said another prisoner, through gritted teeth.
"It does not, you're right. But you have no idea what I have in store this time. I will not fall this time. I will rise, more powerful than ever," Voldemort cried.
"Over my resurrected body," said James Potter.