Chapter 53
THE HEIRLOOM
My internal debate continued heatedly as I walked wearily down the marble staircase towards the private premises of the Head of House Slytherin.
There's no way to be sure about this prophecy thing, said my cautious side. Besides, how should I eliminate Harry? The blood protection given to him by the sacrifice of his mother apparently defended him from Voldemort and everyone who acted in Voldemort's name. It is entirely possible that if I tried to kill him, the protection would consider me as either Voldemort or someone who acts in his name, and then I would fail. There might be a similar case of backfiring as what happened to Voldemort in Godric's Hollow. It may actually be riskier to try to kill Harry than not to.
Besides, Harry is a remarkable political asset whom I've used years to train, said my calculative side. It would be foolish to waste it before making use of it.
You are letting your sentimental side to persuade you into this madness! yelled the angry and pessimistic third voice. You told your brother you're just mimicking the methods of Dumbledore, but it seems to me that you've embraced them fully, all sentimental weaknesses as well! You should kill the Potter boy now! Go to his dormitory and be done with it!
The protection! reminded my cautious side.
It's a protection against magical attacks! said the third voice. Throw him out of a window with no magic involved! How would the Mudblood woman's sacrifice prevent it or make the fall not fatal?
Even if Harry is a danger to me, he is not an immediate one, my cautious side said. He considers me a friend, after all. Dumbledore is the one I must be afraid of at the moment. I must not divert my attention away from the great peril looming over me.
I opened the door of my private premises. The first thing I noticed was the pile of Potions papers waiting for me on the desk. A house-elf had probably brought it there. Well, I could simply grade each student per their exam performance and forget classroom performance altogether. Satisfied with this decision, I trudged past the desk into my bedroom and sat down on the bed.
I'm sure as heck not going to sleep in any place where Dumbledore can find me! my cautious side pointed out, and I practically jumped up from the bed.
Where, then? In my official residence? No, if Dumbledore planned to assassinate me in my sleep, he could learn the address through the Ministry. In a tent out in the mountains? No, I was too tired to find a safe camping place.
The Chamber of Secrets it was, then.
Twenty minutes later I stood before the statue of Salazar Slytherin, Transfiguring a pebble into a bed. As I lay down, I felt the Horcruxes inside my robes pressing against me. In retrospect, it had been foolhardy to bring all of them so close to a Basilisk and its destructive venom, but then again, Dumbledore knew that I had Horcruxes, and hiding them in a place he could not access was imperative. It was not like the Basilisk had any reason to start destroying them.
I stuffed the Horcruxes into a crevice in a side cavern so small that the Basilisk could not fit in there and levitated a rock to block the entrance for good measure. Then I woke the Basilisk up and told it to stay away from the side cavern until given permission, and it promised to obey. It was a good enough temporary hiding place.
Despite being exhausted, I did not fall to sleep easily. The Horcruxes were constantly in my mind. I had accused Voldemort of leaving me in the endless void of the diary, but still, I had never had any intention of letting any of my fellow soul fragments go free.
You are no better than your brother, said the third voice, faintly now. Why wouldn't you treat them as you would like them to treat you? Show some fellow-feeling towards your imprisoned brothers.
What, and create new competition right after getting rid of the previous one? scoffed my calculative side. Voldemort was right, it is not in my nature to serve anyone. Any one of my brothers would use his freedom to usurp me. There are no advantages to be gained by freeing them.
There aren't? Think about it. Let loose one of your brothers, make Dumbledore believe he is you, and once Dumbledore kills him, you will be safe! You can start a new life with a new identity and fool the old moron again!
Am I seriously considering something that risky? my cautious side wondered. The brother would see through that plan in an instant and spill the beans to Dumbledore just out of spite.
How about using a proxy to create some havoc? suggested the third voice. Give the diary to the Weasley girl again… you know, in the memory of good old times.
The diary is no longer a Horcrux, every other one of my sides pointed out.
And keep off my lawn, added my calculative side. I'm the strategist. Which one of my facets are you, anyway?
I'm your critical side, the one that is able to understand the deficiencies of your thinking as if I was an outside observer.
Outside…? There was a horrible, lurching feeling in the pit of my stomach. Wait a second, you've used the word 'you' all the time when speaking about me! Just how outsider you are, exactly?
I was feeling more awake than a moment earlier, but at this point I suddenly fell asleep – or, more likely, was dragged to sleep.
I found myself in a dark void, the place where I had spent most of my existence. This time, however, I was not alone. Hovering in the nothingness was another human being – if it could be called human – with the sneering snake-like face and the glowing red eyes of Lord Voldemort.
"We meet again, brother," he drawled with humourless enjoyment. I recognised his voice as the angry, pessimistic third voice that had actively taken part in my internal debates after the events in Crouch Manor.
"What have you done?" I demanded.
"I haven't done anything," Voldemort replied. "I was merely dying, but then you began to speak about chaining me in the diary as revenge. These are unexplored mysteries of wizardry, and I think you unintentionally used my death to create a new Horcrux. However, you did not split your soul, but forced my kindred soul into the diary. Funny, I had not even dreamed that anything like it could happen!"
"Have fun as long as it lasts," I growled. "You may be relieved now, but once you get used to having survived death once again, this void will get boring really fast. You will spend the rest of eternity here."
"Oh, I don't think it will be that long," Voldemort said. "Fifty years is little compared to eternity, yet you escaped after such a short while. I intend to break free far sooner."
"Thanks for the warning. It won't take me but a minute to order the Basilisk to chew you into oblivion."
Voldemort actually laughed at that.
"Empty threat, brother! You can't be sure that destroying the diary would not affect you in any way. Who knows, maybe you are still connected to your old prison in some strange way? I don't know, nor do you. Even if the risk was infinitesimal, you wouldn't dare to take it. Everything is at stake for you!"
He was right, I realised. I would never dare to take any risks with the diary. For all my remaining eternal existence, I would be plagued by doubt about whether or not I was a real, independent individual or just a temporarily incarnated Horcrux and therefore subservient to Voldemort deep down in my very ontological essence. No one had ever investigated these extreme reaches of the Dark Arts.
"How long did it take before you were able to converse with the Weasley girl like this?" Voldemort asked teasingly. "From what I've gathered, it took you months to break free. I'm already able to force my thoughts into your mind, and you're not even holding the diary at the moment! Fight as much as you like, brother! In the end, I will take control over your body and swap places with your soul!"
He leaned forward, grinning in a way that made my blood freeze.
"Your conspiracy and your reputation will be mine!" he yelled fervently. "This setback will turn out to be the greatest stroke of luck I've ever had."
"You wouldn't tell me this if you actually believed it to work that way," I said, praying desperately it to be true. "You just want to intimidate me and weaken my resolve. It won't work. Now, get out of my mind, you deformed imbecile!"
Putting a lot of effort to clearing my mind with Occlumency, I left the vision and shut Voldemort's voice out of my mind.
Well, at least I don't need to kill Harry, said the side of me that had not existed before I had learned certain things from Ginny.
I spent the rest of the night meditating and making sure no outside influence invaded my mind. In the morning, I was not well rested, but I was much more confident that Voldemort could not take control of me as easily as he hoped. This matter had to be resolved somehow, but it was far from being the most pressing matter to me.
The Marauder's Map informed me that Dumbledore had returned to his office from the Ministry.
The mood in the Great Hall at breakfast was jubilant to put it mildly. All the older students had returned to the castle and were regarded as heroes. Several enlarged pages of the Sunday Prophet were suspended in midair so that everyone could marvel at the daring pictures of our heroic deeds. Tales were told about the attacks on the Death Eater hideouts, about the fight against the werewolves, about the battle of Knockturn Alley, about the assault on the Ministry, about the massive army of Inferi, about the Dementors, about the hundred Bludgers, about dragons, about suddenly increasing gravity and about Voldemort's corpse being brought out of Crouch Manor. For some reason many of the snippets that I could make out of the cacophony seemed much more dramatic than what I remembered of the events.
Even the High Table celebrated. Hagrid was yelling the lyrics of some merry song, Professor Sprout was weeping openly, Professor Flitwick was conjuring tittering birds from the tip of his wand, Professor McGonagall looked so relaxed that it was unnervingly unlike her normal stern character…
There was only one person in the Hall who was immune to the festive mood: me. I sat quietly, avoided making eye contact with anyone, tried to ignore people praising me and wondered how long it would take before I would need to drink a Painkiller Potion for headache. Luckily, Dumbledore seemed to have something better to do in his office which meant that I did not need to be constantly vigilant for a surprise attack. Still, I spied his movements by keeping the Marauder's Map on my lap and glancing at it after every second spoonfuls of porridge.
When I was almost ready to leave, a slip of parchment appeared on the table in front of me. I leaned carefully forward to read it and then felt my blood freezing – a sensation I would probably get totally used to before dusk at this rate. The message was from Dumbledore who summoned me to his office.
I left the Great Hall and seriously considered fleeing the castle. However, as I stopped in the Entrance Hall to think, I heard several pairs of feet following me. I turned and saw Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny approaching.
"We were summoned by Dumbledore," Harry said and waved a slip of parchment similar to mine.
"So was I," I said, feeling massively relieved. If the matter concerned all of us, it would probably not be about me, and Dumbledore's strange game would still continue. But, as one of my normal precautions, I went into the Headmaster's office only after I had Dobby invisibly riding piggyback, ready to Side-Along-Apparate me to safety.
The Headmaster looked solemn when we sat down on the chairs he had conjured in the office.
"Andrew Felthorne," he said and showed us a picture of a downcast-looking wizard. "Charlotte Smeek," he continued and showed another picture, of a witch with very unremarkable looks. "And Jasper Linderwall." A very regal-looking wizard this time. "These are just some of the citizens of wizarding Britain who fought beside you yesterday and gave their lives at the battle of Crouch Manor."
And that's my fault, I take it? I thought. If you had showed up a few hours earlier, they might have survived!
"During moments like this I envy you young people," Dumbledore said and wiped away the most unconvincing tear I had ever seen. "I taught all of these three – I remember them as enthusiastic children who passed the halls of Hogwarts with bright hopes of a long life full of joy, love and accomplishments. Now they are gone, yet I remain. It pains me to remember that most of the people I have known during my over hundred years of life are no more."
Did he think I could be redeemed with such tiresome lamentation?
"Have you told your friends, Harry, what you saw in the Mirror of Erised?" Dumbledore asked.
"I saw my family," Harry said a little hoarsely. "My mum and dad and many others…"
"I know how you feel, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "My father died before I started school and my mother right after I graduated… and my dear sweet sister, Ariana, died shortly after…"
He wiped away a tear again, this time most likely a genuine one.
"It is said that death is a natural part of life," he continued. "Yet throughout the ages there have been wizards who have fought against this sad fate that awaits each of us. They have been convinced that since magic can do so many wonderful things, why could it not defeat death?"
He did not even glimpse at me. My calculative side immediately interpreted it so that he was preparing to play his game for a long time and that I might be relatively safe for the moment after all.
"Professor," Hermione said, "they're wrong, right? No magic can defeat death?"
"That is what is usually taught to young witches and wizards," Dumbledore said, "but is it the truth or just something used to prevent them from clinging to a hope that has, thus far, proven false? The Philosopher's Stone, for example, possesses a power beyond the normal scope of magic: it can prolong life indefinitely. And Voldemort escaped his fate once." Still he did not glimpse at me. "Since these things are possible, why should there be such an absolute limit that death could not be undone? Souls are a very real thing. You saw the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries, did you not? Passing through it is easy… why would coming back be impossible?"
"Are you saying, Professor –?" Harry asked slowly, eyes bright.
"There is a legend of a magic item that possesses the power to call dead souls back from the Otherworld," Dumbledore said, his voice suddenly no longer dreamy, but business-like.
"My mum and dad?" Harry said, voice rising.
"Them and many more," Dumbledore said. "You do not seem convinced, Miss Granger? I assure you, I have studied this matter lately and it seems to me that this legend is not just wishful thinking, but an actual truth about perhaps the greatest magic item in history, one surpassing even the accomplishments of Atlantis."
I listened in disbelief and recalled one of my first discussions with Karkaroff. He had showed me his memory in which the Dark Lord Grindelwald had said, 'I am trying to find a magic stone… if the magic stone is in the possession of some Jew-loving philanthropist, he will certainly use it to undo the genocide…' My disbelief became even harder to bear when Dumbledore took a book from a shelf and placed it on his desk. It was, I had to believe my eyes, The Tales of Beedle the Bard, the fairy-tale book that contained 'The Tale of the Three Brothers.'
Dumbledore sat down on his throne and read the tale aloud. Then he proceeded to tell us a far-fetched story about the Deathly Hallows, how those three items in the tale were actually real. Harry listened eagerly, Hermione sceptically, Ron and Ginny in confusion and I suspecting some incredibly devious trap laid ready for me.
After Dumbledore had finished explaining his theory, he drew a symbol in the air with his wand: a vertical line, a circle and a triangle.
"Grindelwald's mark?" I asked.
"A symbol far older than him," Dumbledore said. "It is merely mistaken as his, but in reality he copied it from a certain headstone in the graveyard of Godric's Hollow. Ignotus Peverell, one of your ancestors, Harry, is believed to be the third brother of the tale. Because of this connection it is believed that this symbol marks a Deathly Hallow. The Resurrection Stone may have been an heirloom that passed from generation to generation. Its true power is no doubt forgotten, and I think it most likely is attached to a piece of jewellery as a magical gem. So, this is my quest for you. Find the Resurrection Stone, and all atrocities committed by Voldemort can be undone!"
When we left the Headmaster's office, I could not help but wonder if I had actually fallen asleep and not woken up. Even though some things felt weird, at least Hermione's behaviour was normal when she suggested that we should go to the library.
"I want to check some history books to know if these Deathly Hallows fit anything that has happened for sure," she said. "Then we can check for lists of magic jewellery, rings and amulets and such."
Rings…
The word brought a memory from the previous year into my consciousness. I had just returned to Britain from Russia and leafed through the Daily Prophets in which Dobby had marked the articles and announcements that he had considered interesting. Among them had been an announcement by a collector named Wulfric who had wanted to buy old rings in exchange for so suspiciously large amounts of gold that I had paid some attention to it – Wulfric, Dumbledore's middle name. And this memory led to a second one, that of Dumbledore telling about the founding of the museum at the start of my final school year and his desire to buy magical artefacts with history in Yorkshire, the county where I had found the ring Horcrux a few months earlier.
The ring had a stone attached to it, and I had felt a surge of power in it just before Voldemort's soul had inexplicably ended up in the diary. That sounded an awful lot like something the Resurrection Stone could accomplish with its power over dead souls.
"I'll meet you in the library in half an hour," I said. "There's something I need to check first."
I hurried to the unused girls' bathroom again, dismissed Dobby because his grip was starting to make my shoulders numb, opened the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, went down and headed for the main hall.
All the Horcruxes went back into my robes again. I would find them permanent hiding places soon, perhaps security boxes in random Muggle banks – the snake could go to a zoo – but first, I studied the ring closely. The black stone had some kind of worn out scratches carved in it, but I could not be sure whether they really formed the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. Too often the human mind saw what it expected to see.
The children were each perusing a book when I entered the library.
"We've found out that at least the Elder Wand is real," Harry said, looking up from a book about famous wizarding families.
"It fits certain historical events," Hermione corrected. "This book about obscure legends of the wizarding world has a chapter about the Deathly Hallows. According to it, Antioch Peverell was the first brother, and he is a historical person who lived before Hogwarts was founded. He was killed and his wand stolen by the killer, and there have been many other occasions where a wand has changed owners after the previous owner was killed."
"Hereward killed Godelot," I said at once. They were two familiar names from the time I had planned my career.
"And Loxias killed Barnabas Deverill," Hermione said, "but was later killed by either Arcus or Livius."
"Napoléon Bonaparte took a wand from Ibrahim Bey of Egypt," I said, racking my brains. "Later, Arthur Wellesley took the wand from Bonaparte. Fernand Mondego killed Ali Pasha of Janina and took his wand, but then lost it to Edmond Dantés."
"You took Voldemort's wand, Tom," Harry said.
"Dumbledore took Grindelwald's wand," Hermione said from behind another book and gained everyone's attention.
"D'you reckon Dumbledore has the Elder Wand?" Ron asked.
"Taking the wand of your defeated opponent is the obvious thing to do!" Hermione said exasperatedly. "If every wand that ever changed owners is the Elder Wand, it has been in several different places at the same time!"
"Are some of these wands told to have been exceptionally powerful?" Harry asked.
"Well, Grindelwald was quite young and totally unknown when he started his first attempts at world domination in 1905, and he was incredibly powerful despite his age," Hermione said. "This book tells how he fought his first fight that was noted in public, and he managed to defeat a veteran Auror with ease."
"That's it!" Ron exclaimed. "He must've had the Elder Wand!"
"But it's the Resurrection Stone we've got to find!" Harry said. "Any ideas of where we should seek for it?"
"Er… I found this ring a few years ago," I said and showed them the Horcrux. "I haven't quite investigated its magical properties yet."
"It feels… powerful," Harry said, reaching his hand closer slowly. I took the ring away from his reach. He might have just felt the resonance between the soul fragments in his scar and in the ring.
"Is it an heirloom?" Ginny asked. "Where did you find it?"
"It may have been an heirloom," I said, only reluctantly sharing the information. "It belonged to the now-extinct family of Gaunt."
"Gaunt?" Harry said and quickly grabbed one of the books he had on a desk. "I checked this book about wizarding families when I looked for the Peverells. It says here that one witch from the family married a Gaunt!"
I looked at the stone in the ring again, feeling both excited and worried. Some of the scratches formed a circular shape, and, now that I thought about it, such scratches did not form by accident.
"But if Dumbledore has the Elder Wand, the invincible wand, why didn't he fight You-Know-Who?" Ron mused.
"I can't believe you're taking this seriously!" Hermione huffed in annoyance. "The Elder Wand can't be invincible! That's just not how magic works! Even the chapter about the Deathly Hallows in this book proves that the legend is exaggerated. It says in this book that Emeric the Evil possessed the Elder Wand, but was defeated by Egbert the Egregious. How would that have been possible if the Elder Wand was invincible?"
Emeric the Evil… Egbert the Egregious. The names were familiar to everyone who knew history of the wizarding world, but they made me remember something more than what was printed in history books. When I had seen Salazar Slytherin's memories in the Chamber of Secrets, he had mentioned Emeric and Egbert. Specifically that the legendary duel between the two of them had never happened. Egbert had murdered Emeric with Basilisk venom given to him by Salazar, because he had been unable to defeat him fair and square, even with the help of Salazar, the greatest wizard of his age.
"And that's not even the only example!" Hermione pressed on. "If Grindelwald possessed the Elder Wand, how could Dumbledore have defeated him?"
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as the puzzle pieces suddenly assembled together.
"Oh no," I whispered. "Oh no!"
Egbert had not defeated Emeric, because the Elder Wand had made Emeric invincible. Similarly, Dumbledore had not defeated Grindelwald. The Dark Lord had triumphed, but since his minions had lost the war, he had stolen the identity of his enemy and promptly hijacked the victorious side. That was the most Slytherin thing there could possibly be.
"No," I groaned as I sank further into despair.
And Grindelwald had become the Headmaster of Hogwarts wearing Dumbledore's appearance. After Moody had acquired the Eye of Vance which could see through disguising charms, Grindelwald had used Polyjuice Potion whenever in Moody's presence, hiding it inside his sherbet lemons! That was why the one who looked like Dumbledore had eaten them all the time during my final school year at Hogwarts and afterwards in the Order meetings! And this explained why he had not recognised me after seeing me without my own disguising charms: Grindelwald had never taught Tom Riddle.
I quickly took the Marauder's Map out of my pocket and activated it. It showed Albus Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office, and my rising panic eased. But then I saw the ink dot that marked my position… Tom Valedro, not Riddle.
The map was connected to the wards. When I had changed my name, the parchment had been my interface with handling the wards, thus perhaps it was possible to gain more information from them than just the locations of people.
"Show me the list of changes concerning persons," I said and tapped the parchment with my wand.
"Tom, what are you doing?" Harry asked.
"I realised something," I mumbled as the map disappeared and a long list of changes came in its stead. "Let's see if I'm correct."
The list seemed complete.
Tom Valedro is the Potions teacher.
Tom Valedro is no more the Potions teacher.
Dolores Umbridge is no more the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Tom Valedro is the Potions teacher.
Severus Snape is no more the Potions teacher.
1996.
Rubeus Hagrid is the Care of Magical Creatures teacher.
Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank is no more the Care of Magical Creatures teacher.
Dolores Umbridge is the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank is the Care of Magical Creatures teacher.
Rubeus Hagrid is no more the Care of Magical Creatures teacher.
Bartemius Crouch is no more the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
1995.
Bartemius Crouch is the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Remus Lupin is no more the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Tom Riddle is Tom Valedro.
I looked further back, all the way to year 1945. There it was, the change made during the summer holidays: Gellert Grindelwald is Albus Dumbledore. The Dark Lord had infiltrated Hogwarts, hacked the wards and continued his nefarious plan, whatever it was.
As if I did not know. Salazar's memories had alerted me to the terrible danger of the Dark Lord: 'He will unleash Death into the world.' The prophecy of the Delphic Oracle had foretold that the Dark Lord would be born to those without magic… and what was it that Karkaroff had told me about the real reason Grindelwald had been expelled from Durmstrang? 'He was expelled because he's a Mudblood.'
"OH NO!" I screamed.
"What? What is it?" Harry said in panic and sprung to his feet.
"The prophecy! The prophecy!" I gasped.
"Did you solve it?" Hermione asked. "Do you know what this confusion about the Dark Lord is?"
I wanted to yell that Trelawney's prophecy was of no importance at all, but Hermione had asked her question in such a way that more puzzle pieces assembled together in my overcharged mind, and I just sat there with my mouth hanging open for a moment.
'Born to those who have thrice defied him… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…'
Somehow, perhaps through some unknown magic, my mind whirled back to a seemingly unimportant memory from the previous year, to theday I had been accepted into the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore, or the man who looked like him, had spoken to Harry words of warning about recklessness and mentioned Harry's parents.
'You are brave Harry, a true Gryffindor, like your parents. During the last war, they, too, went on dangerous adventures for our good cause, a few times even against my explicit wishes.'
Call it a wild guess, but I was absolutely certain that James and Lily Potter had gone on dangerous adventures against the Headmaster's explicit wishes exactly thrice.
"Harry, have you ever wondered how the legend of the Boy Who Lived came to be?" I said after taking a few deep breaths. My voice did not sound calm, but more so than I had expected.
Harry blinked a few times.
"What wondering is there about it? I defeated Voldemort the first time and survived the Killing Curse."
"I didn't mean that! Very few people saw you before you were given to the care of your relatives. Even though you never showed your face in the wizarding world before your eleventh birthday, everyone knew you've got a lightning-shaped scar on your forehead! How did they know?"
"Blimey," Ron said. "I've never thought about that. Harry's been famous for as long as I can remember, but I never wondered how we knew anything about what had happened."
"Well, I just realised! It's the Headmaster! He spread the word in order to make you a hero, someone he could use as a pawn in his political games – and more importantly, as a bluff to direct attention away from him!"
"I can't believe you're feeding us that Slytherin propaganda," Hermione snapped.
"I'm not making this up!" I shouted. "Harry, the Headmaster made you famous as a vanquisher of a Dark Lord! He is famous as a vanquisher of a Dark Lord himself! Harry, he marked you as his equal!"
The four Gryffindors stared at me in stunned silence.
"You're not saying," Harry said tentatively, "that Dumbledore is the Dark Lord?"
"No, not at all," I said and showed him the parchment that usually presented the Marauder's Map. "You've never met Albus Dumbledore, none of you. The Headmaster of Hogwarts is none other than Gellert Grindelwald, the owner of the Elder Wand, the mastermind who orchestrated everything with the purpose of finding the Resurrection Stone! Many wars in the wizarding world in the hope that this ring would emerge from the shadows! And of course, in the Muggle world too… the First World War, the Second World War, the Holocaust, Stalin's Great Purge, Mao's Great Leap Forward… who knows how many other wars and genocides! That's how much he wants to claim the Deathly Hallows as his own!"
'He will command a might never seen before, a might granted by three devices of power,' I heard the words of the Delphic Oracle in my mind.
"When this says, Gellert Grindelwald is Albus Dumbledore, does it mean –?" Harry began, staring at the map.
"That Grindelwald used the Hogwarts wards to change his name and to steal Dumbledore's identity after the legendary duel that he won with the power of the invincible wand!"
I ran to the door.
"Come on! We must flee!"
My panic was contagious, and the Gryffindors followed me out of the library. As I ran down the corridor, my eyes settled upon the ring. Would it be possible to destroy it so that no power would remain?
I rushed around a corner and almost crashed into someone walking down the other corridor at a much slower pace.
A long silvery beard, twinkling eyes behind half-moon spectacles, a benevolent smile, a phoenix undoubtedly under horrible mind-controlling curses and a wand that radiated astonishing power…
"Goodness, Professor Valedro! You should not give a bad example to students about running in the corridors. Is there a reason for your hurry? Do you already have something to tell me?"
I just opened and closed my mouth, appearing more like one of Draco's bodyguards than the usually dignified and intelligent Tom Valedro.
"What is that in your hand, Tom?" the Headmaster asked suddenly. "Is that a ring? May I see it?"
Posted on the 4th of July, 2021.
The next chapter, 'Through the Veil,' will be posted on the 7th of July, 2021.