CHAPTER FIVE

LIFE OF THE SOUL

Harry knocked three times on the door of Mr Lucas Eduardo for the third time that day. The sun was now high in the sky; it was almost noon.

The wandmaker answered the door with the same scowl as he had earlier. His recognition of Harry and Luna only made his scowl more pronounced.

"Busy. No English," Mr Eduardo muttered again and tried to close his door.

Harry pulled out a pouch of coins from his pocket, which stopped the man in his tracks, and threw it to him. Mr Eduardo caught the pouch and felt the gold inside, then grunted, and opened his door, allowing Harry and Luna to enter.

The small hut was dusty and cluttered; somehow worse than Ollivander's. A thick line of dust caked all the surfaces and several wand boxes lay strewn across the tiny floor, empty. On the desk, Harry could see a wand split in two down the middle, seemingly in the process of being carved and cored. Mr Eduardo brushed all the pieces off his desk and tucked them underneath.

Mr Eduardo turned to Harry and Luna again.

"How can I help?"

Harry chose not to comment on the man's sudden ability to speak English.

"My name is Mr Potter. I work for the British Auror Department. We're in the middle of an investigation and this wand we believe is a copy of the culprit's wand. We want to know if you've ever sold a wand like this," Harry explained and handed it over.

Mr Eduardo examined it for only a second, then looked up.

"I have sold many Cashew wands for many years. This length also. I cannot name them all," Mr Eduardo muttered.

Harry pressed on, "Have you ever sold this wand exactly – but with the feather of a Thunderbird as the core?"

Mr Eduardo's eyes shot up back at Harry's and Harry knew he had remembered something.

"Yes... one time."

Harry couldn't stop himself from grinning.

"Please can you tell me anything you can remember about it?"

Mr Eduardo put the Cashew wand down on the desk.

"Are you familiar with the Thunderbird?" He asked.

"Er – no..." Harry admitted.

"It is a North American bird that creates storms as it flies," Mr Eduardo explained, "The tail feather of a Thunderbird can be used as a wand core – but it is very difficult to master a Thunderbird wand. If you can master it, however, it helps with Transfiguration magic. It is also believed Thunderbird wands can sense danger and react quickly. Cashew is also a very difficult wood to make wands of, and so the combination is not something I would be eager to produce."

Harry let the wandmaker continue his story without interruption.

"There was a man, many years ago, who asked me to make such a wand."

"How many years ago?" Harry asked.

The wandmaker frowned, trying to think.

"At least twelve years ago, maybe fifteen," Mr Eduardo replied, "He came to me with a lot of gold and asked for that exact wand. I told him that the Wolfe family, descendants of Shikoba Wolfe, were the wandmakers he needed. They specialise in Thunderbird feathers and are one of the biggest wandmakers in North America. But the man said it must be me, and it was a lot of money, so I did it."

"Do you know who this man was?" Harry inquired, "Do you remember what he looked like?"

"It was many years ago. I cannot remember what he looked like. I remember, dark hair. British."

"You don't remember his name? You don't have a receipt for his purchase?" Harry pressed.

"It was many years ago. I cannot tell you any more." Mr Eduardo said, irritably.

Harry felt like he was so close to getting something: but now all he knew was that it was a British man with dark hair. He stewed in bitter disappointment for a moment and then nodded.

"Very well. Thank you for your time, Mr Eduardo."

The wandmaker grunted, but did not say anything else. He pulled out his wand remnants from under the counter and Harry and Luna let themselves out.

"I really thought we were gonna get something useful," Harry complained, mostly to himself.

"I think we found out many useful things," Luna said excitedly.

"Well, we found out that this fake wand is maybe owned by a British wizard with dark hair who had his wand made here. That's not much to go on, Luna," Harry said.

"True, but if it were me, I would look into Dabria next. If you are on the right track, this person wanted a wand exactly like this witch from ancient Brazilian history. It may give you something else to go on."

Harry nodded, shaking off the cobwebs of self-doubt.

"You're right," Harry said, "What was the name of the magic Dabria specialised in?"

"Vida da alma," Luna recited.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"It translates as Life of the Soul."

Harry frowned and repeated, "Life of the soul..." under his breath, but it didn't make much sense to him.

"I'll look into it," he replied, after a short silence and pulled out the broken umbrella from inside his robes.

"Portus!" Harry said, pointing his wand at the umbrella. The blue-white glow returned.

Luna held out her hand to touch the umbrella as well.

One... two... three.

Several weeks later, Harry was still no closer to finding his culprit. Upon his return from Brazil, he had asked his Auror Department to find out whatever they could about a branch of magic called Vida da Alma. He even asked Hermione if she could do some research in her spare time. She was happy to help. Harry knew that if anyone was going to find what he needed, it would be Hermione.

Harry was right.

He remembered it was only the following afternoon when she arrived at Grimmauld Place, with a thick roll of parchment under her arm, and a sheepish smile on her face.

"Oh, it's just like our school days, isn't it?" she said excitedly, as Harry let her into the house.

"Nice to see you too, Hermione."

Hermione blushed.

"Oh, I didn't mean to be rude – how are Ginny and the kids?"

Harry grinned.

"Absolutely fine, and thanks for coming. I know you don't have a lot of spare time."

"Oh, I can find the time, that's no problem. What is especially annoying is coming here without any of the press seeing me. I hate being stopped in the street like that," Hermione replied.

"Well, it sort of comes with being the most famous witch in Britain, Hermione. I know a little something about that as it goes," Harry quipped.

"Oh, I know! It's absolutely awful."

"So, I can tell by that look on your face you've found something good," Harry smiled.

"I've found a lot of information. Oh, I do hope it's useful."

"Let's dig in, then." Harry replied, enthusiastically.

"Well, first of all, it wasn't easy to find. I found shreds of information in all sorts of different books. Legends of the Magical Realm, South American Magical Heritage, The Amazon and its Gifts, Fascinating Tales of History - "

"Hermione," Harry cut her off, "as fascinating as the library list of books is, shall we move on to what you found?"

Hermione feigned laughter, rolled her eyes and continued on, "Alright then."

She unrolled the parchment a few inches, until she came to a first piece of writing that was highlighted.

"There are several, though not easy to see, references to a branch of magic called Vida Da Alma in several of these books, and further research led me to this…" Hermione said, and she started to read the highlighted excerpt.

"Vida Da Alma is a name often given to an ancient branch of magic originating in South America. Though not much is publicly recorded about the intricacies of this branch of magic, all evidence, including it's translation Life of the Soul, points to it focusing on the giving and taking of life into the soul." Hermione read.

"So… it's killing people and bringing them back from the dead?" Harry interrupted.

"No, Harry… you're thinking about it too literally," Hermione replied.

Hermione put the parchment down.

"Life of the Soul. They give and take life of the soul. A soul exists beyond the physical form we take, once we die, the soul lives on. So what gives the soul itself life?" Hermione asked.

Harry almost felt like a student in Hermione's class for one strange moment, but then it came to him.

"Magic."

Hermione beamed.

"Yes, exactly," she nodded, "so what this branch of magic is really all about is the giving and taking of magic. Which, I did not really know was possible. This is ancient stuff, buried under hundreds of years of literature. But you saw that ancient witch Dabria was known to use it, and what's happening with the muggles, well it fits…"

"So either Dabria is somehow still alive hundreds of years later, or someone is a very good copycat." Harry theorised.

"Well, I don't really think this is the type of thing you can copycat. I don't know any magic, nor do I know any wizard who could pull off any magic, like this. Not even Dumbledore. Which means, whoever is doing it… it sounds crazy, but they must have access to the original source."

"How can you have access to the source of something that no longer exists?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged.

"Maybe it does still exist, used actively, deep somewhere in South America, who are we to say? Or maybe… somehow, someone found the fabled Grimoire of Dabria."

Harry let his thoughts wander. The grimoire in the temple at Encantadore was a replica. Could someone have really found it?

He sighed heavily.

"Thank you, Hermione, for all this hard work you've done. But I just don't know what to do with this information. Say this grimoire is a lead to go on, where would we even start? No-one knows where it is or even if it still exists. It's such an obscure branch of magic I have no idea who could even know about it. And nobody just finds a fabled artefact… if someone has found it, and is using it, they didn't just luck into that. They must have some kind of connection."

"A blood line?"

"I don't know, maybe." Harry sighed again.

"Don't doubt yourself, Harry," Hermione said sternly, "You're Head Auror for a reason. You made a Hogwarts career of solving mysteries. Keep digging, I'll try to do the same. If you find anything you think I can help you with, bring it my way. As for who could know about it, it's a stretch, but if anyone did, I bet it's Mbwana Kondo."

"Sorry, who?"

"Mbwana Kondo. He is the Headmaster of Castelobruxo, the Brazilian school."

Harry nodded.

"Right. I'll see if I can set something up. Thanks, Hermione."

They discussed the rest of her notes, but it didn't tell Harry anything he didn't already know. When Ginny returned home with Lily, from her weekly literacy and numeracy class, Harry and Hermione put the parchment away and tidied up the table.

"Productive?" Ginny asked them both.

"Yeah, actually," Harry replied, "Probably going to need to dive into about five new things now, mind you."

"The joys of being an investigator," Ginny smirked, "Butterbeer, Hermione?"

"Ooh, why not? One quick bottle though… I have to get back for Hugo's piano class at 7."

"How is he doing with that?" Harry asked.

"He's doing wonderfully. Honestly, it's something I always wanted to do myself as a child, but then Hogwarts was such a surprise, I forgot all about playing piano. But Hugo - he's a natural."

"Well, he certainly didn't get that natural ability from Ron," Ginny piped in from the kitchen, "So well done, Hermione."

They all laughed.

When Hermione left twenty minutes later, Harry took Lily upstairs and tucked her in. Ten minutes into reading her The Tales of Beedle the Bard, she was fast asleep. After that, he sent a round of Patronus' to his Auror team, with several leads for them to work on in the coming days, before heading back downstairs.

Harry found himself drifting off into his thoughts several times during the evening, wondering about the cashew wand, about Dabria and her fabled grimoire, about the Muggles who were under constant threat and who he was simply unable to help -

"Harry!" Ginny almost shouted.

Harry snapped into awareness and looked at her.

"Sorry…"

"Listen, Harry," Ginny said, "I know you're under a lot of stress right now, but if you obsess over it constantly, you'll get burned out. Let it go, just for tonight. The issue will still be there in the morning, and thinking about it all night won't get you any closer to your answers."

Of course she was right; Ginny was always right, when it came to reading him.

"Alright," Harry resigned.

"Well, I'm going to bed in a moment. That'll be a good distraction for you, don't you think?"

Harry nodded absent-mindedly. A few moments later, her words sunk in. He followed her upstairs hurriedly.