London – Ministry of Magic – Ministry's Universal Room
night of October 31st, 1981,
The Universal Room, a sanctuary of serenity within the Ministry of Magic, stretched before them. Its imposing vaulted ceiling and walls adorned with dark porcelain tiles evoked the labyrinthine corridors of the Ministry. At one end stood a monumental fireplace, spacious enough to accommodate a standing man, flanked by two clocks. At its center, a set of tufted black leather sofas formed a circle around a low table.
Behind this lounge area, a long table stood, adorned with old books, a globe revealing continents that sometimes vanished, and two oil lamps casting a soft, warm light.
Facing the fireplace, enchanted windows opened onto an idyllic landscape—a valley of rolling hills where a river meandered beneath a sky of pure blue, offering the occupants a moment of escape.
A sense of rest washed over the group as they entered the hall. Sirius Black let out a smile, recalling moments shared here with James.
Albus Dumbledore took in the scene with evident satisfaction. His old friend Elton, an enigmatic character and longtime companion, lounged on a sofa, a cup of tea in hand, engaged in conversation with a dog whose age seemed to defy natural laws. Dumbledore lingered on the animal he had not seen in years. It had aged, certainly, but still appeared to have several decades ahead of it. Perhaps the bond it shared with its master had prolonged its longevity?
As for Elton Elderberry, he was an aged wizard. His imposing white beard and hair, forming a sort of crown around his bald head, gave him a kindly appearance. His long olive-green robe reinforced the image of a benevolent grandfather, while the wrinkles lining his face bore witness to the countless smiles he had shared over the years.
"What a pleasure to see you, Albus. May I offer you a cup of tea?" Elton called out, raising his cup. "Please, have a seat. Say hello, Herbert."
Sirius and Hagrid exchanged surprised glances. Sirius had crossed paths with Elton before but had never exchanged a word with him. His attention shifted to the dog, curious to see if it would actually speak. But the animal merely observed them before looking away.
"Herbert sends his regards," Elton announced with a smile as the wizards settled in front of him, Harry cradled in Sirius's arms.
Suddenly, Herbert growled, drawing his master's attention.
"Herbert? A cat? What nonsense are you spouting?" the old man asked, raising an eyebrow.
The three wizards exchanged perplexed looks. The dog had not spoken. Dumbledore, however, sipped his tea with a knowing smile. He was well aware that Elton's infusions were exceptional, the old man crafting his blends with meticulous care.
Hagrid felt the cat tense in his arms at the dog's growl. The animal was on guard but not frightened. Hardly surprising to Hagrid—if it was indeed part Kneazle, it would know how to defend itself.
"My dear friend, a cat is indeed among us," Dumbledore replied with amusement, indicating Hagrid and the feline. "Let us hope Herbert will exercise restraint."
"Most certainly," Elton replied, casting a mischievous glance at the cat. "You hear that, Herbert? The cat is a guest, not a snack."
The old Scottish Deerhound let out a plaintive whimper, staring at his master.
"What did I say, Herbert?" Elton insisted, frowning. "It is neither a treat nor an amuse-bouche! Who knows, it might be just as good a conversationalist. I wonder what it thinks of Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration…"
Sirius blinked, incredulous. Did he seriously believe a cat could debate advanced magic? But as he met the feline's gaze, he thought he discerned a flicker of indignation. He chose not to ask the wizard if he was serious.
"Elton, as fascinating as this conversation is, we need your help," Dumbledore interjected, mindful not to waste more time.
"Oh? That is rare, Albus. Ordinarily, you find your answers alone," Elton noted, intrigued.
"This time, my information is incomplete," Dumbledore admitted, a shadow of concern clouding his gaze. "Have you ever heard of a Horcrux?"
At the mention of the word, an immediate change overtook Elton. His face lost all trace of lightheartedness, his twinkling eyes darkened, and he sat up abruptly, as if the mere utterance of the word had unearthed a buried fear.
"It has been a long time since I last heard that term, Albus," he said slowly before casting a piercing gaze upon the other wizards. "Can they be trusted?"
"What… What does that mean?" Sirius bristled.
"They have my absolute trust, Elton," Dumbledore affirmed firmly. "Moreover, they are directly involved in this matter. What do you know about Horcruxes?"
Elton scrutinized each of them. His dog, sensing the growing tension, sat up slightly, alert. Only Harry, deep in slumber, remained untouched by the electrified atmosphere.
"Horcruxes are one of the most abhorrent forms of magic," Elton began. "Only an act against nature, accompanied by a specific ritual, allows their creation. It is nearly impossible to find any record of them in official archives, save perhaps in a few ancient libraries like Hogwarts'."
"Professor… what's a Horcrux?" Hagrid asked, his voice laden with apprehension.
"An object in which a wizard has encased a fragment of their soul," Elton explained. "It is not merely about severing one's soul but dividing it. A magic forbidden since Herpo the Foul."
The revelations plunged Sirius and Hagrid into consternation. Dumbledore, however, sank into deep thought. Sirius glanced at Harry and his scar. A realization dawned upon him. Was this why Dumbledore had remained silent on the matter?
"And how do we destroy them?" he asked, his voice tense.
Elton took a sip of tea before answering:
"This is where things get complicated…" he murmured, bringing his cup to his lips. "A Horcrux can neither be neutralized nor dissipated, only destroyed. And its destruction is complex: the object containing a fragment of a soul is protected by the same forces as the soul itself. A soul does not simply vanish. If it were bound to the body, we would be immortal. But a Horcrux…"
"The object inherits its resilience," Dumbledore added gravely. "But what if the host is a living being?"
Elton froze and looked at the child. If Harry were a Horcrux, he should have been possessed, yet he seemed intact.
"Normally, a living being would be dominated by the Horcrux," he mused. "An animal would succumb, but a human? A whole soul cannot be overridden by a mere fragment—except in extreme cases, such as the Dementor's Kiss. May I?"
He held out his arms. Sirius hesitated, then handed Harry over to him. The awake child clung to his beard with a smile. Reassured, Elton examined his scar, from which an aura of both dark and white magic emanated.
The scar resembled the Sowilo rune but differed slightly, suggesting a unique spell. Dumbledore recounted the events of the previous night and the peculiar effect of the Avada Kedavra curse.
Elton was well-versed in the Unforgivable Curses. The Cruciatus Curse, created in the Middle Ages, inflicted extreme pain and was outlawed in 1717. The Imperius Curse was used to control others and was also prohibited. As for the Avada Kedavra, it was designed to kill instantly without leaving a trace. Its success did not depend on murderous intent but on magical power.
That Harry had survived this spell was nothing short of a miracle. Elton sensed ancient magic—a protective sacrifice. He speculated that the act followed a numerological logic, probably the number three, symbolizing unity.
He concluded, "A Horcrux is indeed present, but it is confined to the scar by the power of the sacrifice."
Dumbledore and Sirius observed him attentively.
"It might be possible to extract the scar to—"
"Extract the scar?!" Sirius burst out. "You want to mutilate my godson?"
"Nothing that a bit of healing balm wouldn't fix," Elton reassured him. "A simple incision would suffice. But the effect of its removal is uncertain. The protective spell is tied to the Horcrux. Once removed…"
He hesitated before adding, "However, the protective spell might persist."
Intrigued, Dumbledore encouraged him to elaborate.
"And?"
"The child could become immune to curses."
Silence fell. Elton concluded, "If the sacrifice has protected him, all malevolent magic could be deflected. It would be better to use an enchanted blade rather than a spell, for fear that it might backfire on us."
Dumbledore pondered. Sirius, worried, held Harry closer.
Albus Dumbledore grasped the full extent of Lily Potter's sacrifice. Love—this uniquely powerful magic—was familiar to him, particularly through sacrificial rituals. Lily might have offered more than her life—perhaps her soul—and James as well. The latter's lack of resistance suggested that he might have activated the protective spell.
"You're sure this will be safe for Harry?" Sirius asked anxiously.
"The sacrifice protecting him is exceptional," Elton replied. "Such a voluntary and pure act is extremely rare. And knowing the assassin, I have no doubt that the Avada Kedavra enabled the sacrifice of far more than just life."
Sirius turned to Dumbledore.
"Lily offered even her soul," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Perhaps James did too. Nothing can break such a spell."
"And their souls?" Sirius murmured, stunned.
"We can only speculate," said Elton. "But Harry will be marked by this sacrifice—physically, mentally, and magically."
"How should we proceed with the incision?"
"It would be best to go to St. Mungo's," Dumbledore suggested. "A special room on the fourth floor could help us."
"What are we waiting for?"
Dumbledore summoned his Patronus, which took the form of a luminous phoenix and soared off to alert St. Mungo's.
A sudden growl from Herbert abruptly shattered the solemn atmosphere. Hagrid, whose gentleness with animals was legendary—except perhaps in this particular case—released the Potters' cat. The poor feline landed with forced elegance right in front of Herbert. Chaos ensued.
Herbert launched into a frenzied chase. The cat, whose gaze was reminiscent of Peeves with the agility of a Kneazle, stormed through the furniture with a nimbleness that would have made Minerva McGonagall green with envy.
The room turned into a miniature battlefield. Drinks, books, and assorted foods flew in all directions under the wizards' stunned gazes. The climax of this adventure occurred when the cat, defying the laws of nature and interior design, chose a clock as its next perch. Not to be outdone, Herbert attempted the climb, proving that intelligence and bravery did not always go hand in hand.
The inevitable law of gravity reminded Herbert of its presence, sending him tumbling to the ground, as disoriented as a student after their first Apparition lesson. The cat, from its improvised throne, shot him a viciously gleeful look.
In a burst of courage (or sheer feline madness), the cat leaped onto Herbert, claws outstretched, landing squarely on his head and turning the dog into a living doormat. Herbert, startled, began zigzagging and arching his back repeatedly, resembling a bull in a corrida. The cat was eventually unseated and landed gracefully, throwing Herbert a look that clearly said, Never underestimate me again.
The humiliated dog retreated behind his master, while the cat triumphantly returned to Hagrid, curling up in his arms with a purr that sounded suspiciously like a victory cry.
"By Merlin's beard…" Sirius murmured, eyes wide.
In the echo of his exclamation, laughter rang out, led by Elton Elderberry, who, tears in his eyes, watched the scene with unhidden delight.
"I told you it wasn't a snack," he laughed heartily. "Consider yourself lucky you didn't become his snack!"
In this slightly lighter atmosphere, they left the room, ready to head to St. Mungo's, leaving behind an old wizard laughing heartily while teasing his dog.
