The Spanish Galleon

The symbol of the Deathly Hallows shimmered around Pallando's neck. The Cloak of Invisibility, the Resurrection Stone, and the Elder Wand, holding each other in unison. Ever since they had set foot on the Land of the Wizards, it had become his mission – his life's work, to find his way back to power and immortality. And piece by piece he was succeeding, having found the Elder Wand in the possession of wandmaker Mykew Gregorovitch, who never learnt the name of the man who won it from him, nor understood the wand he had held in his possession, and continued to make wands till this very day. Pallando had grieved the loss of his immortality. The decay of time was unkind to most who dwelled in these lands, and he feared the ending of his life; for it seemed that the spirits of wizards in these lands were the same as all Men, and not even the Valar knew what happened to their spirits after their death.

Pallando knew of the location of the Resurrection Stone. So close he was to obtaining it, only for it to be stolen out from underneath his very nose by some insolent student from Hogwarts. Taken from the hand of Morfin Gaunt as though it was nothing more than a trinket! It had angered him deeply, and he had taken it out on Alatar more than once. He had traced the student down. Finding him in dark places of the Wizarding World when not attending Hogwarts. Working at Borgin and Burkes' during the summer. Wasting his time at the Riddle's House in Little Hangleton during the last two winters of his school career. He had named himself Lord Voldemort. Lord – as though he was of noble rank rather than a mere orphaned child. But people were drawn to his power, and he spoke to those loyal to him with a silver tongue. It didn't take long for an invitation from Lord Voldemort himself to fall into his hands, inviting him into his inner circle, and he thought long and hard about accepting it. He never got a chance to meet with this young Lord, as Alatar defeated him in a final duel shortly before making his decision, and took with him the Elder Wand, and locked him here in his own prison.

The Cloak of Invisibility, however, he held no knowledge of. The last person who had held it was Ignotus Peverell's son, who sired no male heirs after, and the Cloak had been lost to history since then. It had been Alatar's task to find it, and he had searched and searched his books for answers –to no avail.

And now Alatar had told him a story of another Ring. A Fourth Ring of Power. One he had worn on his finger in secret for so many years. Given to him by Círdan the Shipwright for safekeeping, and it had given him light and courage and life, while leaving him to deal with all the hardships of Middle-earth alone. And the Ring was now lost along with two of his students, and soon the very reason the Vala Oromë had sent Alatar to Middle-earth will fail, as will all the other Istari.

He was angry with Alatar, more than ever before. But at the same time, he had never been more grateful. Elated, even, that there was a way back to Middle-earth, because Círdan had told Alatar the way of The Straight Road to reach its very shores by ship. A way back to the immortal life he so desperately craved. A way back to Valinor, and dwell in the Halls of Nienna once more. To walk in the Gardens of Lórien with Irmo and Estë, and to climb his way to the top of Mount Teniquetil to hear the wisdom of Manwë's blessed words again. But to get there, the Lord of the Rings had to meet his desmise, and the Estari had first to fulfil their task. And there was a ship, now in the hands of Durmstrang's young new Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff. A Spanish Galleon, salvaged from the sea as though risen from the dead. A galleon that could sail under water and travel through lakes, and was now harboured in a lake that borders Norway, Finland, and the Soviet Union. There, on the border, stood Durmstrang, hidden from view from the common people, and yet a beacon of power to those that held magic. It was time to break the invisible chains that bound him to this place.

Chamber music was playing on a gramophone, and tea was cradled in their hands as Alatar told his story on the loss of Kémya, and how it had lingered and waited on the bottom of the Great Lake for all those years. Tea and music were a thing they had always done when words needed to be kindly exchanged, and it felt as though the last thirty-two years of his imprisonment had never happened as they set here in the comforts of his prison castle. Much of his admiration for the wise man before him had withered with the years, but his love for him had always remained unyielding. Untouchable and unbreakable, despite all the dishonesty, and despite all the fighting and breaking of each other's spirits.

'Can you forgive an old soul, for taking you with me into a life you never wanted?' Alatar said. Tears had formed in his kind blue eyes as he looked up at Pallando in shame.

'How can I not, when all your wrongdoings were wrought from love,' he answered.

…o0o…

'Sugar quill,' she hissed through pursed lips.

With her back straightened and her chin held high, Minerva McGonagall waited impatiently for the ugly gargoyle to spring aside, and swiftly strutted up the spiralling staircase that led to the Headmaster's office. It had been over three weeks since Lily Evans and Severus Snape had disappeared from the face of the earth, and it had been several days since Albus Dumbledore had left – no, abandoned the school without as much as a whisper. She had taken over his place as Deputy Headmistress, and it had drained her energy and her magic, to say the least.

The Ministry had given in. For several weeks they had searched the Great Lake; from the surface to the deepest depths, and every nook and cranny in between. The only thing that was found was a fresh crater at the bottom of the Lake by the Pettigrew boy, and it was enough for the Ministry to call it in as a tragic magical accident – and leave it at that. And Dumbledore wasn't here to watch the Ministry pack their bags and leave. He wasn't here to see Lily and Severus's parents being informed that all hope on finding their children was lost. He wasn't here when students and staff were told that there was likely nothing left of them, and he wasn't here to watch them all crumble under their own failing. He wasn't here at all.

With a firm swing, Minerva tossed the door to the Headmaster's office wide open, and was ever so slightly relieved to find Fawkes the Phoenix still sitting on his perch. She pranced her way across the room and sat down behind his desk in an orderly fashion. With her legs crossed and her knees firmly pressed against each other, she started searching the desk for any clues of the Headmaster's whereabouts. The silver instruments lay scattered all around. Some broken down into little parts like pieces of a puzzle. Others moving and tangling up on their own axes, airing puffs of smoke on their own clock. She found no note, no letter, not even a jotting down of words on the margins of a students' detention paper. She twirled around her fir wand between her fingers and let out an inaudible sigh. The office felt cold and unwelcoming without the presence of her friend in it. The centuries of knowledge that had gathered in this room felt as though it tried to suffocate her, rather than invite her into their secrets. The darkness that was settling into their world was simply too much. Too overwhelming, and it caused her heart to ache with sorrow.

Tears were welling up in her eyes, but she forced them back in or she would not be worthy to the courage House of Gryffindor. This was not the time to abandon all hope. Quite to the contrary, this was the time to find as much hope as possible. Hope that the two students were still alive, and hope that the Headmaster of Hogwarts would return.

She looked around, and her eyes pulled her to one of the silver instruments on the shelves to her left. There stood a large glass pyramid. In its centre, a hollow sphere held up by a vertical rod. It would have seemed insignificant, had it not been for the fact that it was the only instrument that wasn't either in little pieces, or moved around. It stood dormant and dusty, and Minerva knew what is meant. She picked it up from the shelves and placed it in front of her, and she felt a slight tremble in her hands as she opened the fragile door of the pyramid. It could not be seen that the pyramid contained anything else from the outside, as was the trick of the instrument, but on the inside a book was leaning against the hollow sphere. With a gentle touch she pulled it out of its glass case and read the cover: "The Tales of Beedle the Bard." It was a rare first edition, dating back to the fifteenth century. Its blue cover had nearly turned to dust, and its pages were yellowed and faintly smelling of almonds and vanilla flowers. The spine cracked loudly in protest as she opened the book. On its first page she saw the familiar loopy handwriting, having scribbled his own name in a deep green ink. The 'A' of Albus in the shape of a triangle. The circle and vertical stripe as though it were a menacing eye staring back at her. It made her feel uneasy. She leafed through the book, and on the first page of The Tale of the Three Brothers, a small letter fell out. The letter looked as if it had been wedged between the book for many years, as though it had been abiding its time in peaceful anticipation until this very moment. It bore her name, though written in a fading light-blue ink this time.

Not wanting to delay the inevitable, she broke the letter's seal and began to read.

My dear Minerva,

If you find this letter, it means that I am gone.

Not gone as though my spirit has left me, but gone as though my time has come to return to the mysterious place I hail from. It is a place I would not return to unless something of utmost importance has crossed my path that needs to lead me there again. And so it seems, it has.

We have exchanged many words on this matter before, and therefore I found it best that you did not get to see me leave. Gellert Grindelwald and I, we are cut from the same cloth, and it is therefore that our story binds us together no matter in what realm we roam. As you are reading this, either we have already departed through the Great Lake, or we have yet to go. Either way, I ask you not to come looking for me. It is folly to do so.

But do not fear my departure, for I shall return before all turns to ash. I have no doubt in my heart that, for at least a little long while, you can carry the burden of leading this school for me. For so many years, you have been my mentor, my voice of reason, my guiding light, my dearest friend. I place my faith in you in your own hands.

With love,

Albus Dumbledore

Quiet tears were streaming down her face as she looked up from the letter, unable to contain them any longer. Albus had been a mystery to her from the moment they had met, and the mysteries only kept piling up over the years. His strange relationship with Grindelwald, and their strange obsession with finding immortality. As though they held it once –and lost it too. His wielding of the Elder Wand, and his countless hours spent on researching the lost Cloak of Invisibility.

And now he spoke of a different realm he hailed from. And of travelling through the Great Lake back to it – whatever that might mean. It felt as though he somehow had known all along that someday students would disappear at the bottom of the Lake, and he would have to leave to find them again. The disappearance of Lily Evans and Severus Snape was all connected to it somehow, and it was important enough to leave the castle while in the midst of a rising war. It made no sense at all.

Minerva's body shook, but not from fear. A raging fire she had not felt for many years pent up inside of her, and with a firm swipe with her arm, she wiped the glass pyramid of the desk, causing it to fall onto the ground and shatter into a million pieces. Had she not been focussed on being angry at the entire situation, she could have heard footsteps swiftly leaving the room, and the swishing of an invisible cloak following closely behind.

…o0o…

The air had turned electric, and the tension could be felt on everyone's fingertips. Over thirty-two years had passed since the day Captain Snape had lost his men because of his choices, and for the first time since then, he had entered the house of the very demon that had stripped him of his labour and life's work. Of his leadership and authority, and of his dignity and pride. A man who had become the very symbol of his downfall. That very same man whose daughter has now gone missing along with his own son. Tobias did not believe in destiny nor faith. Not in the way his own mother had done, and yet he couldn't help but feel as though his life was intwined with that of Erwin Evans through some cosmic intervention – or a divine comedy, as he preferred to call it. His own narrative of a real-life journey through hell. Sitting at the dinner table of the man who guarded its ninth and lowest layer, who would dine along with Judus and Cassius atop their frozen lake.

Erwin Evans had offered him tea, and he reluctantly accepted it. They sat there with the four of them in awkward silence as Petunia busied herself in the kitchen. Only the sound of clattering dishes and boiling water could be heard. It wasn't until Petunia had served everyone tea and closed the door on herself to the living room that Eileen spoke up. 'I want to start off by saying thank you,' she said, sounding mousy and afraid, 'for looking after our son when we were lost on what to do with him.'

Arnica looked up at her and smiled. 'He's a good kid,' she said. 'That I know to be true.'

Tobias huffed. 'I doubt that Mrs Evans. He's been spending the past two Christmases with those minted friends of his up in Wiltshire. Pretending he's there to do research on Stonehenge or something. He's always been one for the books, but I know when he's lying. He wants to believe he's good at it, but he's not. I fear those friends have been instilling strange thoughts into his head, and I think he's radicalising.'

'Lily told us that Severus stayed at Hogwarts during Christmas,' Arnica responded, sounding surprised. 'And what do you mean by radicalising?'

'I can see it in his eyes,' Tobias said as he shrugged it off. 'You think he told us beforehand that he was going to have adventures in Wiltshire? Of course not. We found out through a letter professor Slughorn had sent us, informing us that he had seen Severus had jumping the train back to London after having been signed up on the list of students staying over Christmas break.'

'I went to platform Nine and Three-Quarters to pick him up,' Eileen elaborated, 'but he never arrived.'

'Took a long time to pry it out of him,' Tobias growled. 'But I got it out of him, eventually. He never mentioned any names, but they're all people of a certain influence and status, and that he was going back to them the following year whether we liked it or not. These friends offered him a place to stay after he would graduate. Sounded more like he was being recruited.'

'Being recruited for what?' Erwin asked.

'Beats me,' Tobias said. 'He must have talents of some sorts, but I don't deal with the affairs of their magical world, and neither does Eileen.'

Arnica frowned. 'Do you not receive any news from their world Eileen?'

Eileen shook her head. 'I renounced my magic and my heritage a long time ago,' she answered timidly. 'Marrying Tobias meant I was no longer welcome, and so my wand was snapped – and I stayed away.' Arnica could sense that there was something Eileen was not telling her, but decided not to pry and remained silent. 'I don't know of any big news from the magical world,' Eileen added, 'but I can sense that something's going on. Severus has been restless. More than normal, at least.'

'And what about your daughter?' Tobias asked. 'Has she ever told you anything?'

'All we know is that Lily had a falling out with Severus about something she didn't want to mention,' Erwin explained, 'and that she wanted to try and reconcile with him this school year. But of anything major going on in their world? No. Just that she missed him a lot. We missed him a lot. We miss them both terribly.' Tears welled up in Erwin's eyes as he said it.

Tobias shifted in his seat and pushed his tea aside. With his hands firmly clasped, he bent over the table. 'Severus was never yours to raise, Lieutenant Evans,' he stated. 'There was no need for that. And yet you still pried, as always.'

Erwin dismissed the aggressive stance Tobias had taken. 'Severus will always be one of ours, whether you like it or not, Captain Snape,' he said sincerely. 'I have seen what it is you do to him. You seem very keen on breaking gentle souls – and your son appears to be no exception to your terror.'

'We're not longer talking about our missing children, are we?' Tobias said while leaning in even closer.

'It was only a matter of time before this conversation would turn ugly,' Erwin said, looking disappointed. 'And you're right. We're already not talking about our missing children anymore. We're talking about the way you treated your men. Starving them, to teach them some sort of lesson on survival. How you made them fight each other over food and water. Had them point their weapons at each other and played mind tricks on them. You treated them so bad that they cowered in fear when you approached them. And yet you still wonder why they radicalised? Are you not seeing what I'm seeing here, Captain?'

Eileen and Arnica looked at each other, and found, without words, a mutual understanding on what was about to unfold in front of them. On the other side of the door, was Petunia standing flat against the wall, listening attentively to the conversation unfolding. She was flipping a Galleon between the knuckles of her fingers. The dragon and the goblin's head twirling back and forth. It had been a gift from Lily when she had returned for the summer after her fourth year at Hogwarts. It was more than a gift though, as it was also the seal of a promise. It was then that Lily had revealed to her that terrible things were happening in the magical world. That there were large groups of wizards who did not like witches like her. The ones born without magical ancestry, as though they had stolen it somehow, and hunted them down. And there was a war on the rise as well. Led by someone who hates her kind, and who wants to hold power and control over the wizarding world. Lily had cried and cried, telling her that the worst thing of all was that Severus was becoming friends with people that hated her. That she was losing him to them who handed out false promises of protection and recognition. She didn't want mum and dad to know, or they would surely have pulled her out of Hogwarts, not understanding that it was the safest place for her to be. Lily had begged her to keep her silence.

Petunia had resented Lily ever since that acceptance letter to Hogwarts had fallen on their doormat. Jealousy of Lily's magic had made her bitter, but all this talk on war and magical birth-right had watered down some of those feelings. For once, she was glad not to be a part of it all – and could live the normal life she would inevitably have.

And now her sister was missing, along with her awful, and by the sound of it, radicalising friend. Vanished like a puff of smoke, as though they never had existed. The conversation on the other side of the door had turned ugly. There was a lot of yelling involved. Pain and nightmares were being dug up from the trenches her father and mister Snape had endured all those years ago, not knowing that their own children were preparing for their own war.

The Galleon slipped between her fingers and clattered down on the hardwood floor, clinking loudly as it bounced. It fell silent with the dragon's side up, and Petunia knew what she needed to do. Gathering all her courage together, she swung open the door and stomped her way towards the table. 'Stop it!' she shrieked. 'There's a war rising up in their world, and they've known about this for a few years now, and they've kept you all in the dark! Lily's a Muggle-born, and there are people who hate her for it. And then there's that wonderful son of yours,' she said as she glared up at Tobias. 'You're right about him. He is radicalising. Joining the very people that want to kill my sister. As far as I'm concerned, it's his fault that she's gone!'

'Petunia, what is the meaning of –'

But Petunia didn't let her mother finish. She ran up to the front door as waves of sadness and tears washed over her. Her hands were shaking out of anger and despair as she turned the doorknob and ran into the garden. She didn't even know if her last words were true. For all those years, that strange boy had been so kind to her sister, and yet he had also hurt her deeply. She just wanted him to carry the blame, hoping that it would alleviate some of the pain her sister's disappearance had caused on her. Tears streamed down her face like a river as she walked on the path between the herbs and flowers she had planted with Lily. There, in the little patch where purple petunias and yellow arnicas grew together, something unknown to her had sprouted in their midst. She knelt to take a closer look. It were two little flowers she had never seen before. Their delicate leaves whiter than the whitest snow she had ever seen. Stray tears fell onto the flowers, and it shattered the light of the autumn sun into the air. Lily and Severus had taught her enough about plants to know when magic was involved, and she took it as a sign that they were still alive, together, somewhere.

A/N Tom Riddle stole the ring and heirloom (and incidentally also the Resurrection Stone) from Morfin Gaunt in 1943 and graduated from Hogwarts in 1945. Grindelwald was defeated by Dumbledore in 1945. I don't think we'll ever know if Grindelwald was aware of the Stone being in Gaunt's possession (as I write this in November 2021, for all we know it'll be revealed in the Fantastic Beasts franchise), but I like the idea of Grindelwald getting two middle fingers from a teenage Tom.

A/N Ignotus Peverell's son (unnamed) passed on his Cloak of Invisibility, having no male heirs, to his daughter Iolanthe Peverell, who lived in Godric's Hollow. Iolanthe married Hardwin Potter (son of Linfred of Stinchcombe, who was nicknamed the Potterer for being a pioneering potioneer), and told him that the Cloak, by family tradition, must be kept secret. It was passed on to the eldest child in the Potter line since then.

A/N Rowling once stated in an interview with Accio Quote that Durmstrang is located somewhere in Scandinavia. Viktor Krum also describes Durmstrang to be in a location where there's very little sunlight during the winter months, and there are many high mountaintops and several lakes around the school. Personally though, I think it makes the most sense for Durmstrang to be located high up north where the borders of Norway, Finland, and Russia (then Soviet Union) meet, since the school crest uses a Cyrillic and a Latin spelling of the school's name. (If you've ever played Skyrim, in my mind it kind of looks like a smaller Winterhold).

A/N In Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire movie, Dumbledore is seen in his office with some of his silver instruments (and I deeply wish we knew more about these strange instruments of his). One of those instruments is shown very briefly in the film in the shape of a glass pyramid with a hollow sphere inside that was kept in place by a large vertical rod. A creative license from the props department to put the Deathly Hallows in his office.

A/N "Fir wands were particularly suited to Transfiguration, and favoured owners of focused, strong-minded and, occasionally, intimidating demeanour." – Pottermore

A/N Malfoy Manor is in the county of Wiltshire. Stonehenge is also located in Wiltshire.