minerdude: The Nazis were famous for going after occult artifacts, most famously the Ark of the Covenant. But there was another one that he was rumored to have possessed and lost.
The Spear of Longinus, or the Spear of Destiny, is the spear said to have pierced the side of Jesus when he was crucified.
said to make the person who holds the artifact unbeatable in battle.or had sway of the entire world's destiny.
I just couldn't put in a repository of dangerous artifacts and not include my favorite World War II myths.
"'CRACK!'
Harry fell to the ground, gasping for air and trying his best not to lose his lunch. He had learned from Ted Tonks' many trips to Apparate him that he did not like Apparition. Harry had thought that he had grown accustomed to it, but perhaps not Apparating for four months had weakened the tolerance he had built up.
"Pathetic Potter, can you not even apparate without making a scene?" Chided snape, although he was missing the old vitriol he used in the first year when insulting Harry.
"Obviously not, Professor." Harry said, straightening up while still gasping for air and groaning. "That is the most unpleasant sensation I've ever experienced, and I broke seven bones earlier this year."
The sallow bat snorted out a slight laugh. "Your father was quite the same during our apparition lessons. It was one of the only times a piece of magic managed to shut his fat mouth."
Harry chose not to respond to Snape's ribbing about his father. Harry straightened up the rest of the way and took in the majestic structure of his family home. Harry cleared his throat and called out, "I, Harry James Potter, the Lord Potter, welcome Severus Snape into this house for the duration of this visit only." Harry had decided to make Snape ask permission to come back, no matter his recent change in attitude toward Harry. He still didn't like the older man.
As he and Snape continued up the drive, he thought of a question. "So, what book are you looking for? One of my elves, Tappy, runs the library and will most likely know if we have it." And at that, Tappy herself popped in front of them just as they were about to enter the mudroom of the library.
"I am looking for a book titled "Sanguine Lingua: A Translation by Enoch." It is, to my knowledge, one of the only near-complete runic compendiums for the necromantic script." The potions master explained to Harry.
"Well, Tappy, do we have that book?" Harry asked brightly.
"I is not knowing, sir, that book sounds like it would be in the masters private vault, sir, many dark magics are held there." Tappy said with much chagrin.
"That's okay, Tappy. Can you show us to the master's vault? You didn't take us there during the tour, did you?"
"Oh no, sir, no, we are not showing you there it is down below the sub basement. I have never even been seeing the door."
"'Crack!' Tuppy appeared; his old visage had somewhat decreased. Being fed on the increased allotment of awoken family magic appeared to be helping him regain some youth.
"I can show you the way master. but your guest must stay else the family magic will - do unpleasant things." The old elf shivered.
"But he has to come! I don't know what I'm looking for. Can't I grant him permission to come with me?"
"It's fine, Potter. Most old family mansions have areas like that. You will most likely see the Potter family's biggest secrets in that vault. It is not meant for outsiders. While you are there, I will search the library for further references." With Harry's nod, the professor walked off, the cloak billowing behind him.
Harry gestured for Tuppy to lead on, and the elf led through the library, past the kitchen, down a flight of stairs, and through the basement, down another flight of stairs, and through the sub-basement, past a door marked "Pantry/Canning Storage." Intrigued, he peered into the room and saw what was essentially a grocery store. The walls were lined with shelves as well as three aisles of shelf space that ran along a room that must have been fifty feet long. Empty canning jars filled the shelves, except for a few still-full specimens dotted here and there.
"Are these safe to eat, Tuppy?"
"I thinks so sir but I is not an expert in muggle canning mistress dorea did this as a way to help the muggles during their war and kept it up after the war becuase she liked doing these picklings these filled jars are all that's left of hers pickles the jar of eggs is well over 30 years old. I'se not recomend eatings those'
"Hmm, maybe I'll pick it back up during the summer? It would pass the time, at least," said Harry before continuing down another flight of stairs. Then, after the elf unlocked the hatch, he went straight down a ladder for a seemingly endless journey downward before coming to a door that glowed red with a handprint on its tarnished surface.
"You must place your hand on the mark, Master. The door will open. I know not what it asks for." And then Tuppy popped away with a scared look in his eyes.
Harry turned and looked at the ancient silver door that pulsed with a strange, ethereal crimson light. He reached out and placed his palm down on the red handprint. He tried to pull away when he felt it was wet and slimy, but he couldn't; his hand was stuck to the door, and trying to pull away got him nowhere. But he froze when a voice echoed forth—not in his ear or in his mind, but from the door.
"What do we have here? The newest Lord Potter? A bit young, aren't you?"
"Who—what are you?"
"My name is Blackstone. I am the magic of this house, but I was once a wizard named Garland. It was my life that fueled the magic and wards for this hall, and it is the wizard Garland's personality and voice that I speak so that I may ascertain the worthiness of all the later Potter Lords who come to this door seeking entry."
"And how do you ascertain that?"
"By touching the door, I am not here to instruct you on how magic works, child."
Whatever force held Harry's hand vanished, and Harry pulled his hand away, the cool, wet liquid sticking to his palm, which Harry quickly cleaned off with a few evenescos. The door popped open, and Harry saw the most horrible sight he had seen yet: a skeleton wreathed in ethereal tendrils of red magic, with the eye sockets of the skeleton glowing a bright red as well. This putrid sight was what provided the only light in the room.
The room itself was small, about twenty feet by twenty feet. One wall was covered by an ancient bookcase with about three dozen books on it and a few dozen more scrolls. The other parts of the room were covered in what Harry could only call display cases filled with odd artifacts, weapons, the skeleton of a strange many-legged creature, and in one corner, a mummified severed head and a spike that seemed to still be oozing blood down the pike. Harry walked over to one of the display cases and saw an earthenware chalice, an ornate golden ball with a tag labeled "Eden—do not touch," and a rusty spear that appeared to be covered in fresh blood, once again with a note: "Retrieved from Grindelwald's Muggle commander, 1943, Berlin, Germany, A.H."
Harry had no clue what any of this was or how an old clay cup was so dangerous as to be locked away down here for however many centuries. Finally, Harry noticed a picture on the wall, the sole occupant watching him with silent suspicion. After approaching the painting, he could see the name tag on the frame: GARLAND.
"Your garland, Potter?" The painting didn't respond right away; he was apparently still sizing him up.
"—Yes," it responded in a clipped tone. "What are you looking for down here, boy? It is my job to direct this room."
"So you know where everything is?" asked Harry.
"Obviously, you dolt! Has the education in this country gone so soft? What has my cousin's school been doing these past centuries?"
Harry ignored the question because he suspected it was rhetorical.
"What was Charlus thinking, passing the lordship to a little runt like you?"
"He didn't have much of a choice, being dead and all," Harry snapped at the painting.
"hmpf! what is it you want. DONT TOUCH THAT YOU IDIOT!" Harry was about to touch a very odd looking crystal dagger.
"That is a ritual dagger found in the center of Stonehenge. It's nearly 30 thousand years old and has enough magic stored in it to melt half the planet! Touch nothing unless I tell you. These things in this room are dangerous, hidden away here so no one can use them for the wrong reasons."
"Err, I'm looking for a book—a book that translates the necromantic rune script called "Sanguine Lingua."
"The painting narrowed its eyes at Harry. And why is someone so young trying to learn the necromantic language? If you're the Lord, that means Charluses spawn and Muggle-born wife died before he was meant to. You're not trying to bring them back, are you?"
"No, there's some crazy thing going around Hogwarts carving necromantic runes into students' skin and draining their life force. Do we have the book or not?"
"Third shelf, eighth book on the left of the middle divider. Also, grab the scroll with the Berkana rune on the knob as well. The second cubbyhole down on the right should be black and..."
But he was cut off as Harry yelled, "Got it!" and waved the scroll above his head.
"I can take these out of here, right? I can't read anything in this room's red light."
"You are the lord of this house. I dare say you can do as you please."
With his treasure in hand, Harry went back for the door but stopped. "Garland? Is that you?" Harry pointed to the skeleton frozen in time, kneeling on its knees, arms scrunched to its chest, and head thrown back in a long-dead, silent scream.
"Yes, giving myself to wards was most likely not a pleasant decision or experience, good thing those memories were not added to my portrait, else I'd probably be as mad as a hatter. To watch the process was most likely even worse than experiencing it, but none of my family ever spoke of it after it was done."
"Can you go to the other parts of the house?"
"Yes, but I rarely do. After a millennium or so, social outreach loses its charm."
"Well, I'm going to be here for about 2 months. I'd like to learn more about my family history. I never got to meet my parents, you know."
"Doesn't Charlus have a portrait you can bother?"
"I don't think so. There aren't a lot of talking portraits here. Well, goodbye, Garland."
"Fare thee well, Lord Potter," the portrait said before going to sleep.
After leaving the vault and finding his way back to the main floor through the two ways to the creepy basement levels, and then finding his way to the library carrying the heavy tome and thick scroll, Harry was shocked when, upon entering, he discovered Snape bound to a chair, hanging upside down and arguing with Peeves, who was also upside down, floating in midair. Harry stared in shock as the two argued about Snape's magic use in the library.
"Let me down, you stupid creature. I was only summoning a book to me from a high shelf!"
"No! you is bad wizard, you be breaking rules!"
"Just you wait until I-" Snape finally noticed Harry.
"Potter! Order your elf to let me down at once!"
"Tappy, put the professor down. He didn't know your rules. I'm sorry, that's my fault for not telling him."
"Snape, don't threaten my elves when they're just following orders and protecting my property. Using magic in the library is forbidden. There are ladders here for a reason."
Snape disappeared for a split second before reappearing, unbound, standing directly below where he had been floating. "Excellent. Did you find the damned books or not?"
"I did, and I think I found another reference scroll. Be gentle with both; they both look more ancient than Hogwarts."
"That is most likely true. Would you mind if I left to work with these in my office, or would you prefer I remain here on the grounds?"
"Feel free to make yourself at home, Professor. I don't think the house will let those who enter leave the property." At those ominous words, Snape peered around, looking at the walls and ceiling. "Indeed."
The potions master got to work translating the complex runic diagram that had been carved onto the students. Harry left to explore his house more. He went to inspect the instruments hidden below the dance floor that he hadn't been able to see last time and found a large, well-furnished potions lab situated in a well-ventilated room above the library. Harry immediately took stock of the over two hundred empty jars of items and ingredients and left for a trip to his apothecary. Over this year, with Snape's improvement in teaching, Harry found he liked brewing potions, and since he was allowed to do magic outside of school, he figured he'd start brewing more potions and experimenting with techniques. Given that train of thought, he also bought a whole set of brand-new equipment to replace his grandfather's set that was probably pushing 40 years old. Late in the day after returning home and making out and replacing all the beakers, alembics, retorts, cauldrons, and everything else, the sun was setting. Harry had just set the fire under a medium-sized cauldron, preparing to brew a long-term potion he had found in his grandfather's notes, a potion he had invented but had never gotten around to publishing.
"The Mood Potion," a derivative of Polyjuice inspired by the Metamorphmagus, will, when ingested, make a person's hair, eyes, and fingernails and toenails change colors depending on their mood." A note was scribbled into the margin next to the description: "I feel I must note that this is a challenge given to me by my son, James, who will probably prank the whole of Hogwarts with it."
Right as Harry began preparing the ingredients for the first step, Snape walked in and froze. He was taken aback by the sight of the shining potions lab and Harry utilizing it.
The potion master narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing, Potter?"
"Preparing the ingredients, sir."
"Why are you preparing ingredients, you insolent child?"
Smirking, Harry replied simply, "To brew a potion, can't you tell?"
Snape nearly went into a fit. Talking through his teeth, Snape said, "Unless you have prepared lodgings for me, I must leave and sleep."
"No, no, feel free to stay, Toppy!" Harry replied before calling for the youngest elf, who appeared with a loud 'CRACK.'
"Would you please escort Mr. Snape to a guest room and also show him where the nearest bathroom is to the room you choose for him."
"Professor, follow the elf. They'll also bring you clothes and have yours cleaned and laundered by morning."
"Right then," the dour potions master said before following the elf out of the lab, looking around the room as he left before stopping and gesturing to a set of glass tubes that Harry had set up. "May I?" Snape asked, and at Harry's nod, he rearranged the set slightly. "This is the proper setup for this concentrator. You most likely confused a few pieces while rebuilding it."
"No, actually, my grandfather's setup was lacking several pieces. The person who runs my apothecary said it was outdated about 25 years ago," said Harry.
Snape looked around at the ingredients strewn about the table in front of Harry. "Ah, it looks like you're making Polyjuice. Why are you making such a complex potion?"
Harry sighed, deciding not to raise Snape's blood pressure any further. "I'm not. This potion is from my grandfather's books. It's just based off the Polyjuice process," Harry said, indicating an open book, which Snape walked over and examined.
"This is still a very advanced potion, Potter. Do you really think you have the skills to brew a potion like this?" asked Snape, sounding like he was trying to keep the derision to a minimum.
"Well, you know I'm not an expert, but my grandfather wrote that the execution is simple enough. What makes it hard is the sheer amount of time it takes to brew—a full moon cycle. Only three sections have to be advanced at the perfect time, which I have the calculations necessary to find those times. I just need to time when the brewing starts."
Grandfather wrote his journals as if they were textbooks, with caveats and explanations, sometimes for every step. It's very helpful. I'm sure that I can keep up with this using these instructions.
"While I am here, Potter, I implore you to come to me if you have questions. It would be against my duty as a—a potions master if I let you get hurt, because you're too much of a dunderhead to ask for help when you need it." Snape hesitated in his speech, seeming to pick a different word at the last second.
"I will, Professor, thank you," Harry responded as he went back to mincing some vervain root, a root that produces different colors depending on how you treat it. About an hour went by, and Harry lay in his bed in the master suite of Blackstone Manor wondering what his friends were doing now. What was Hermione doing? What was Ron up to? How was Ginny's recovery going? Harry decided to go check out the Weasleys' home soon, and he drifted off to sleep.
The first week back at Blackstone Manor was very productive for Harry. On top of fixing up and using his grandfather's potions lab, Harry also helped the elves to modernize the bar/lounge area above the formal ballroom. Harry and Hermione, who had come over during the time that her parents were at work, introduced Kreacher to the Dewey Decimal System that Muggle libraries use, and the two spent several days completely reorganizing the Potter family library and reprogramming the index book to function with the new system. Daphne came over a few times and worked on tutoring them in proper wizarding society as well as to pass along an invitation for Harry to come to the Greengrass Manor New Year's celebration.
Several people, from Headmistress McGonagall to the Minister, came by the manor to get a progress report from Snape, and it was always the same response from the dour man.
"Translating the necromantic runes is a long, drawn-out, and time-consuming process. It takes the time it takes, and there is no speeding up the process without making a critical error." Hermione had asked if she could assist him in any way, but he almost politely turned her down.
"Do you miss Granger speak or know how to read or write Sumerian? Or do you know who can translate Sumerian to Latin and then into English? No? Then you will be of no use to me."
"Well, I would like to learn—"
"To pass on knowledge of the necromantic languages and magics in any form is a sentence to Azkaban, no less than ten years. I have done many things I hate to avoid such a fate. Now, if you would be so kind as to stop pestering me, girl!"
"But if it's illegal, wouldn't Harry get in trouble for-"
"No, he will not, as I can already read, write, translate, and use these runes. Due to my unfortunate background, I have this knowledge. So allowing me to read these books is not illegal at all, and owning the books is not illegal either, provided they are kept away from easily accessible reach."
"But you're a teacher. Surely they wouldn't allow you near students if-"
"Enough, girl! Leave me be!" And Hermione left. Neither Harry nor Hermione spoke to Snape for the rest of his visit, which ended a little over two weeks before Christmas. But even though he did not speak to the two teens, either Snape would appear in Harry's potions lab each night and double-check Harry's work, either giving quiet nods and leaving or silent corrections to Harry's processes.
Three days after Snape left, a letter arrived from Hogwarts, inviting him to return to school early to assist the curse-breaking teams.
("Dear Lord Potter,
If you would be so kind as to come to Hogwarts as soon as it is convenient, the Gringotts curse-breaking team is requesting your assistance in the manner previously asked of you. Smara is also impatient to see you again.
-Minerva McGonagall)