The Elder Wand
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all the characters in it belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is a work of imagination and is directed solely at readers of this website. No infringement of any rights is intended and no criticism of J.K. Rowling or her work should be considered to be stated or implied.
Author's note: Sorry for the delay in updating. Blame my holidays and slight apathy. Judging by the paucity of reviews, this story has not particularly appealed to most of you. Still, I've enjoyed writing it and I would like to thank my regular reviewers, (you know who you are). One more chapter after this one, but it might take a couple of weeks to post it.
Part 10. Factoris
Harry and Hermione removed Dumbledore's portrait from the headmaster's study and carried it to an empty classroom, farther down the corridor so that they could discuss their ideas with him in private. Dumbledore, sitting serenely in his portrait resting on a side-table and propped against a wall that was covered in photographs taken during the previous year's Quidditch final, was very impressed with Hermione's plan as she outlined it to him.
"It seems to be a far more certain way of negating the power of the Elder Wand than just leaving it with Harry. I can't see any reason why it should not work," he said, thoughtfully.
"But, what about you Professor?" Harry asked, the genuine concern only too evident in his voice. "You'll be brought back to life and then, effectively, killed again. Are you sure that you can cope with that?"
"My dear boy," Dumbledore replied in the kindly voice that he often reserved for his conversations with students, "how like you to think of the feelings of others when such serious issues are at stake. Don't forget how I died, Harry. I chose to die. I had accomplished what I needed to and it was time to leave things to others. I have no wish to pick up that burden permanently again. So don't worry about me. When the time comes, I will be ready."
"Thank you Professor. So long as you are sure," Hermione interrupted, as Harry continued to look on anxiously.
"You see, Harry," Dumbledore continued. "Fortunately, Hermione is more practical than you are. That is why I always relied on her to do the sensible thing and why I always thought that the two of you worked so well together."
Harry sighed and reluctantly pulled the Elder Wand from within the folds of the Invisibility Cloak. He took the Resurrection Stone from his pocket and placed it on a wooden desk that stood in front of him, the surface deeply disfigured by the impact of many misplaced spells cast by students over the years. Remembering his strange encounter with the hooded figure in the Forbidden Forest and the advice that he had received, Harry carefully placed the tip of the wand against the jagged crack in the stone.
"Reparo!" he chanted.
"What are you doing, Harry?" Hermione asked, surprised by this unexpected action.
"Well, it's best to be safe, isn't it?" Harry replied, gratified to see the Resurrection Stone glow momentarily, as the shiny black matrix bubbled briefly before settling to reveal a smooth, unblemished surface. "The stone might not work properly if it's damaged."
Hermione looked doubtful, wondering why Harry hadn't mentioned this concern to her previously, but decided not to pursue the matter.
Harry took a deep breath.
"OK, here goes," he said, looking across at Dumbledore's portrait, "if you are sure that you're ready Professor, we might as well get started straight away?"
The image of Dumbledore, in the portrait, merely nodded his head in acquiescence.
Harry picked up the stone and, focusing his attention on Dumbledore's portrait, he carefully and very deliberately, rotated it clockwise three times.
At first, nothing appeared to happen, except perhaps a gentle movement of air, like a mild summer breeze, wafting from the direction of the portrait. Then the figure in the portrait started to waiver and distort, like a badly tuned television picture, and as the image gradually became less distinct, Harry and Hermione were aware of the outline of their former professor forming in front of them, slowly filling with colour and becoming solid. In less than a minute, it was over. The painting showed a vacant chair, positioned in an empty study and Dumbledore stood before them, resplendent in flowing white robes, his uninjured hand running over his body, feeling its solidity with a sense of disbelief.
"Merlin's beard, it worked!" he chuckled, but his expression quickly became more serious. "However, I mustn't get used to it. We must press on immediately Harry, in case I change my mind. Are you ready?"
Dumbledore was holding his wand awkwardly in his blackened damaged hand and now transferred it to his other good hand, while keeping his expectant gaze fixed firmly on Harry, who was standing apprehensively before him, breathing rapidly, his eyes flickering between Hermione and Dumbledore, seeking reassurance.
"We must make this look good. We don't know whether the Elder Wand can detect subterfuge. You know what you have to do, Harry," Dumbledore continued.
Harry nodded, raising the Elder Wand shakily in front of him, his eyes now locked, unwaveringly on the older man's lips, determined not to be taken by surprise. As soon as he noted Dumbledore's lips parting, with his preparatory breath, Harry launched into his own shouted spell.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry heard Dumbledore cry, just fractionally before the final tones of his own echoed spell reached his ears. The Elder Wand flew from Harry's hand and was expertly caught, alongside his own wand, by Dumbledore, who smiled broadly at the achievement.
"Phase two successfully accomplished, I think. I am now the rightful owner of the Elder Wand once more," Dumbledore exclaimed.
Hermione, who was standing just off to the side, spontaneously clapped her hands and beamed with pride, feeling extremely relieved that her idea seemed to be working, despite her earlier misgivings.
"OK, now for the really important part; phase three and phase four," Harry said, trying hard to suppress a smile. "Can I borrow the Elder Wand briefly, Professor?"
"Certainly, dear boy," Dumbledore replied with exaggerated politeness, leaning forward in a slight bow as he placed the wand in Harry's outstretched hand. "You may borrow it for exactly one minute."
Hermione involuntarily glanced at her watch, mentally noting the time. She found that she was tapping her foot impatiently, inwardly longing for this to be over, her previous strong feeling of apprehension returning.
With all three of the Hallows once again in his possession, Harry stared at Dumbledore, concentrating fiercely, and rotated the Resurrection Stone three times counter-clockwise.
Immediately, Dumbledore's image began to blur and a distorted tunnel of light appeared to join his body to the frame surrounding his now empty portrait. Gradually, his form grew fainter, as if the resolution of the pixels of matter that formed it was diminishing and a hazy image once more began to appear on the background enclosed within the picture frame, propped against the wall. Then with a final brief flash of light the transformation was complete and Dumbledore smiled up at them again from his painting. A vague, distorted haze was all that marked the spot where the professor had stood just seconds earlier.
Harry began to laugh but, as soon as Dumbledore's image was firmly back in place, he suddenly felt dizzy and a wave of nausea pulsed through his body. Hermione, who was just raising her arms in a gesture of triumph and relief, her gaze fixed on the portrait, caught the sagging of Harry's frame out of the corner of her eye and turned to look directly at him as he bent from the waist, hands clutching at his stomach, his face ashen.
"Harry, what is it? What's wrong?" she cried, sudden panic gripping her.
"Don't…know…feel strange," Harry mumbled in a strained voice.
Hermione again felt the same gentle shifting of the air that had accompanied Dumbledore's transformation and an indistinct buzzing noise, like that from a distant swarm of mosquitoes on a summer's evening, seemed to surround her. Behind Harry's stricken figure, hazy patches of colour were beginning to appear, gradually coalescing into the form of a man. Although Hermione had no way of knowing it, the vision, slowly forming as if from the air itself, was the same brown-robed figure that Harry had seen earlier that day at the edge of the clearing in the Forbidden Forest. Only this time, the hood attached to the robe was thrown back to reveal a thin, pale, haggard face with a light grey stubble covering the cheeks and chin. The nose was long and pointed and the eyes were grey and piercing. The forehead stretched back from a heavy brow to a crown that was sparsely covered by long, unkempt strands of silvery hair. As the figure began to take shape, Hermione was conscious that Harry's own image was beginning to fade and as she watched, horrified, the figure's eyes closed, with an appearance almost of ecstasy, and the thin lips spread into a smile of triumph. There was a dull thud as the Resurrection Stone dropped from Harry's hand and rolled onto the floor.
"Finally, after all of this time, this was what was always meant to happen. The Master of Death has used the Resurrection Stone three times," the figure croaked, in a voice weakened and distorted from disuse.
"You're…you're Factoris?" Hermione managed to stammer.
The image of the man, growing increasingly clear and solid, opened its eyes and turned to stare in Hermione's direction, as if becoming aware of her presence for the first time.
"Yes, I'm Factoris and I've waited for this moment for far too long. All of my careful plans ruined by that idiot, Antioch and his ridiculous vanity."
As Factoris spoke, Hermione was acutely aware that, in front of him, Harry's form was now blurred and indistinct. She stared blankly at him, a feeling of desperation rising within her chest, her breathing uneven and tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Had Harry really used the Resurrection Stone three times? Once to bring Dumbledore back to life; once to reverse the process; and…he must have used it in the Forbidden Forest on his way to meet Voldemort! Even though the stone was damaged at the time that must still count…and that made three times. Now, Harry was dying right in front of her, disappearing into oblivion, unless she could find some way to stop it.
With a trembling hand she pointed her wand at the Resurrection Stone, now lying on the floor, close to the fading image of Harry's feet.
"REDUCTO!" she screamed and the powerful curse intended to destroy solid objects pulsed from her wand and buffeted the stone, moving it fractionally but doing no apparent damage.
"Foolish witch," Factoris chuckled, "do you really think that your puny magic can overcome the work of the most powerful wizard who ever lived. You do not want to annoy me, young lady. My regeneration will be over in just a few more moments and then, if you try to hinder me further, you might well regret it."
Ignoring Factoris' threats, Hermione looked around the room, frantically seeking inspiration, but could find none. She glanced at her watch, registering that all of 45 seconds had passed since Dumbledore had given Harry his permission to use the Elder Wand. Only fifteen seconds remained before the wand would revert back to Dumbledore's control and be useless.
"Harry," Hermione cried, finally appreciating their single remaining hope, "use the wand. Please Harry. It's your only chance."
Harry, who was wracked by nausea as his vision dimmed and his surroundings melded into an indistinct blur of colours and shapes, heard the words, muffled and deep, like a gramophone record played at too slow a speed, but his thought processes, although deadened and treacle-like, were still just able to understand them and to register their significance. It was Hermione. Never giving up, trying to help him as always, and he knew that he desperately needed to follow her advice.
He raised his hand slowly and deliberately, still grasping the Elder Wand, feeling a great weight apparently pushing downwards against him.
"Reducto," he muttered indistinctly. The tip of the Elder Wand vibrated briefly but the movement soon faded.
"Try again! Please try again, for me, Harry. Please," Hermione implored, glancing again at her watch. Only eight seconds now remaining…only seven…only six…
The sound of Hermione's desperate pleading penetrated the fog that was gradually obscuring Harry's senses and seeping into his brain. "For her," he thought and with a final immense effort he concentrated all of his remaining mental strength on the blurry image of the Resurrection Stone, using both hands to steady the wavering tip of the Elder Wand that was pointing towards it.
"REDUCTO!" The muffled sound of his own voice reverberated around in Harry's brain and he couldn't be sure whether he had managed to chant the spell or had just imagined it.
But Hermione, to her great relief, heard the word clearly, appearing as if out of the ether, from the place where Harry's image was now just a ragged outline, filled with indistinct blotches of hazy colour. She also heard Factoris' wail of despair as a strong curse shot through the air, shattering the Resurrection Stone and sending a shower of tiny pieces pinging across the classroom floor. Simultaneously, there was a sharp crack, as the Elder Wand fractured and, dropping from Harry's hand, clattered to the floor.
The image of Factoris rapidly faded and was finally extinguished as the energy that it had held surged back into the figure of Harry, reforming and growing in the exact spot where he had turned the Resurrection Stone just a minute previously.
Hermione ran towards him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and clasping her hands behind him, her cheek pressing against Harry's neck.
"Oh Harry, I thought that I'd lost you," she wailed, sobbing.
Harry's breathing, which had been laboured and painful during his transformation, was becoming less ragged and he was relieved that he could now feel the warmth of Hermione's body pressing against him. Without any conscious thought, he found that he was kissing her. Brief, light kisses at first; on her forehead, on her eyebrows, on her cheeks, wherever he could reach; and then, as she raised her face to look at him, a long, hungry kiss on her mouth. He felt Hermione respond, her tongue darting between his parted lips, and it was the most wonderful feeling that he could remember, since that first passionate, but false, embrace with Ginny over a year ago.
"Hermione," Harry muttered, when they finally pulled apart, breathing heavily, "How could I ever manage without you? I think that it's time that we stopped kidding ourselves, don't you?"
Hermione stared up at him, a mixture of hope and concern etched in her expression.
"What do you mean?" she whispered.
"I think you know." Harry paused, taking a deep breath. "I would very much like for us to become more than just friends. What do you say?"
"Is that really what you want?" Hermione frowned slightly, doubt still evident in her eyes. "But, what about Ginny?"
"That's all over," Harry replied emphatically. "It was never real anyway. Voldemort was behind it. This is definitely what I want."
Hermione opened her mouth questioningly, wanting to seek further explanation, but Harry brought one hand up, pressing its index finger against her lips to temporarily silence her, before using his own lips to complete the task.
Dumbledore's portrait smiled knowingly, as if a plan, long in its gestation, had finally come to fruition.
Later, after Harry and Hermione had restored Dumbledore's portrait to its rightful place on the wall of the headmaster's study, they walked back along the corridors, hand in hand, heading for the Gryffindor common room. Harry hardly noticed the painting that had so captivated his interest earlier that day, until he heard his name being called.
"Mr. Potter. Harry Potter, I must speak with you please. It's urgent."
The voice was plaintive and sounded vaguely familiar, although much more high pitched than Harry recollected.
He turned, releasing Hermione's hand, and retraced a few paces, bending slightly to peer into the picture that appeared to be the source of the cry. Harry noted that the painting now seemed to contain its full complement of characters. The hooded falcon was sitting quietly on its perch and the previously empty space in front of it was now occupied by a tall thin, white haired wizard, dressed in dark blue robes and a matching pointed hat. The resemblance to Anticious Magister was quite striking and Harry surmised immediately that the figure addressing him must be that of the younger brother, Sequis Magister.
As Harry narrowed his eyes, squinting to get a clearer view, sensing Hermione move over towards him, the diminutive figure continued speaking to him in a slightly breathless manner.
"I'm so glad that I caught you and I do hope that I'm not too late, but I heard my brother speaking to you about the Hallows made by Factoris and there is something that he neglected to tell you; something that is quite important and could prove dangerous for you."
Both Harry and Hermione were now peering at the tiny figure, giving it their full attention and straining to hear the faint and slightly tinny-sounding voice that was speaking to Harry.
"I understand, Mr. Potter, that you are the rightful owner of all three Hallows and I believe that my brother gave you the impression that Factoris made the Hallows as a gift for his new master, Antioch," Sequis continued. "Well, that idea is completely ridiculous. The two of them simply did not get on. No, many of us, who were there at the time - unlike Anticious, who was already teaching at Hogwarts and therefore bases his opinion purely on hearsay - believed that Factoris, knowing that he was close to death, presented the Hallows to Antioch as part of a deception designed to enable his resurrection. He styled the Hallows after the legend of the three determinants of destiny - Kuzaliwa, Maisha and Kifo - and he made great use of the magical power of the number three - inherent in all matters of fate - in their formation. All three Hallows have to be possessed by a single person to make them the Master of Death and enable them to use the Resurrection Stone - the great arbiter of life and death. In its turn, the Resurrection Stone must be rotated three times, to give or take away life. But, Factoris also implanted some rather dark magic into the stone so that if it was used three times it would draw the life force out of the user and transfer it into Factoris' own shade, languishing in the place of the dead. So, you should not, on any account, make use of the Resurrection Stone and certainly don't use it three times!"
Sequis paused triumphantly, relieved to have unburdened himself of this message. Neither Harry nor Hermione, recognising his obvious satisfaction, could bring themselves to inform him that his warning had come too late.
"But why would Factoris have taken such a risk? Why rely on Antioch to use the stone?" Hermione interjected.
"Well, he didn't really have any other choices if he wanted to regain his life," Sequis responded without hesitation. "There was no simple, known magic that could accomplish it. Factoris didn't have too much contact with the three brothers as they grew up but, even from his brief acquaintance with Antioch, it was claimed that he found him to be an extremely conceited young man and so I think that it was probably quite reasonable for Factoris to surmise that he would enjoy dabbling in the lives of others sufficiently to be drawn to use the stone repeatedly. However, Factoris misjudged Antioch in that assumption. He underestimated the shallowness of his character and, of course, he knew nothing about Cadmus and the tragic loss of his young love. So, he didn't take account of how desperate Cadmus would be to possess the Resurrection Stone and how persistently he would pester his brother until he got his way."
"It all seems a bit complicated," Harry frowned. "Why couldn't Factoris arrange things so that the Resurrection Stone just brought him back to life instead of the person that it was meant to when it was first used?"
"No, that is impossible," Sequis bridled. "It is not permissable for a wizard to directly regain his own life by taking that of another. Legend states that it has to result from the actions of the other wizard that demonstrate that he is unworthy, in some way. In this case, Factoris utilised the repeated use of the Resurrection Stone, toying with the fate of others, and evoking the power of the magical number - three. In that way, the wizard could be considered to have forfeited their own right to life and their life force could be magically redirected into a waiting spirit, such as that of Factoris."
"Well, thank you for telling me, Sequis," Harry replied smiling, retaking hold of Hermione's hand. "But you can rest assured that the power of the Hallows has been broken. They are destroyed…all except one, that is."
Without any further explanation, Harry shook open the Invisibility Cloak, which he was still carrying, and cast it expertly over himself and Hermione so that they could continue their journey together, undisturbed.