Chapter 44
The Last Diary of Rowena Ravenclaw
Professor Dumbledore pulled out the small rope he had used to guide Harry through the woods and held his wand over it.
“Alastor, Kingsley, Remus “ thank you for your assistance. I will see you all again at the next meeting of the Order. With some luck,” he cast a quick look at the diary in Harry’s hands, “I shall have some very encouraging news to report. Farewell.”
“Good luck Albus, Harry,” said Lupin, putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder in good-bye. Kingsley nodded and Mad-Eye Moody growled.
“Now then, keep a firm hold on that diary, Harry “ it would be a shame to lose it now,” said the headmaster as he waved his wand over the rope. “Portus.”
A faint blue light began to radiate from the rope.
“On the count of three. One…two…”
Realizing the headmaster meant to travel back to Hogwarts via Portkey, Harry quickly hugged the diary close to his body with his right arm and reached out to touch the rope with the other.
“Three.”
He felt the familiar tug behind his navel and the world around them swirled uncontrollably, disappearing in a blaze of dark colors. Soon the colors in the swirl changed and the inside of Dumbledore’s office came into view. Resolute on completing a Portkey trip just once without falling on his face, Harry waited until the last possible moment to step forward. He stumbled, but came out standing up.
With his head was still spinning, Harry heard a number of excited gasps and anxious voices all around them.
“They’re back!”
“Finally!”
“Where is it? Do you see it?”
As the spinning subsided Harry looked up to find the entire wall of portraits watching him and Dumbledore anxiously.
“All right, Harry?” asked the headmaster.
“Yes,” he replied, making sure he still had the diary. Fortunately he did.
“So…do Moody and the others know about the Half-Blood Prince then?” Harry asked.
“They know that we are trying to recover an important artifact from Hogwarts’ history, but the details of it they are unaware of. Remus of course knows, but””
“The diary, Albus “ do you have the diary?” interrupted the portrait of Percival impatiently. Dumbledore turned to face the wall, a smile on his face.
“Yes, everyone. The mission was a success. Harry here holds in his hands the final diary of Rowena Ravenclaw.”
Awe filled the room as the gaze of every headmaster and headmistress from the past eight hundred years turned their eyes on Harry. He slowly brought his arm down from his chest, revealing the midnight-blue cover of the diary.
A short, amazed silence followed. Then Tradwell snapped, “Well then open the damn thing already and tell us what it says!”
Dumbledore chuckled. “My sentiments exactly. Harry, if you will””
The headmaster motioned towards his desk. Not needing further persuasion, Harry took a seat and set the diary on the table as the headmasters and headmistresses buzzed around them. Professor Dumbledore took the seat next to him, excitement lighting up his features like a candle. He moved the diary between them so they could read at the same time. Just as they were about to begin, he looked up to address the portraits.
“Now, I know you’re all anxious to find out what is in here, but please allow us to read in quiet. I daresay Harry and I are excited enough ourselves to have sufficient difficulty without any additional distraction.”
The portraits clamped up immediately, like so many obedient first years in a McGonagall class.
“Thank you. Allow me, Harry,” said the headmaster, taking a deep breath and opening the diary. The familiar, arcane writing spread out before them. Harry felt his heart begin to race. If the legend was true, this diary would tell them the location of the map that led the Half-Blood Prince. Doing his best to clear his mind of all the excitement, he focused on the first paragraph and began to read.
Sum…summer So..Sol..Solstice, 1077
Af…after a…rather long ab…absence, I find…myself re…returning to the…home of my col…collea…colleague and dear friend, G…Godric Gryffindor. The writing was still difficult to make out, though Harry was now somewhat used to it.
While the s…school itself has flo…flour…flourished, we have enter…entered dangerous times since the de…departure of S…Salazar Slytherin. The animo…animosity…between those who w…welcome relations with the Un…Ungifted Ones and those who de…despise them has grown considerably stronger.
Once more Harry felt the familiar sensation of an image beginning to form in his mind as he read. Having learned from the previous diaries that the image would fade if he stopped reading, he focused instead on the words in front of him. The image grew stronger.
With s…society in such a state, I find my…myself once more journeying towards Elm’s Hollow. This time on a most unfortunate errand…
Soon the image became so clear it blocked out everything else and Harry found himself walking down a familiar dirt road. It was a sunny summer day. The sky was immensely blue and spotted here and there with puffy white clouds. In front of him he could see the village of Elm’s Hollow, gently bobbing up and down with Ravenclaw’s steps. Though they were only nearing the outskirts, Harry could tell the village had grown considerably since his last visit as a number of new buildings had filled the picturesque valley.
They entered the town and walked along the same road Ravenclaw had taken him down during his first two visits, the one that led to the town square. As they walked, Harry slowly came to the realization that something was wrong. While the houses, shops, and other dwellings (many of which obviously hadn’t been built for humans) were neat and tidy as always, something was definitely out of place. There were no people. Previously they wouldn’t have walked twenty feet without a resident or visitor of Elm’s Hollow coming out to greet them and engage in small talk. Now, however, the streets and buildings were completely empty “ the bright little shops and the quaint cottages completely devoid of life. What was going on?
They walked through the village square (also empty), down a long street, and began making their way up a hill with a smooth, gradual slope. Still they saw no one. Perhaps it was just his anxiousness, but it also seemed to Harry that Ravenclaw was walking much slower than usual. He could also hear her breathing raggedly, something he had never noticed in the previous diaries. It seemed the small hike up the hill was causing her a definite physical effort.
At length they reached the top of the hill and Harry saw the first signs of life. Off towards their left, nestled in a small valley between two towering, granite mountains, was a group of large buildings. They appeared to be built from stones hewn from the grey granite mountains behind them and had a solemn, stately look about them. Through a gap between the two center buildings was a broad opening that stretched back all the way to the mountains themselves, though he couldn’t see it entirely for a large congregation of people had gathered in front of it. A memory buried deep within Harry’s consciousness stirred, but flitted just out of reach.
As Ravenclaw drew nearer Harry got a better look at the congregation. To say the group was ‘large’ was an understatement “ it appeared that the entire town was there. Wizards and witches, Muggles (or the ‘Ungifted Ones,’ as they were called), centaurs, elves, and even a few elves were gathered together, strangely quiet for such an enormous group. From the appearance of the congregation Harry gathered that it was a special occasion, whatever was going on, as a number of white banners streaked across the sky and almost everyone was wearing white clothes. The centaurs, who didn’t wear clothes at all, had enormous wreaths made of leaves hung around their necks and had their hair done in small, ornate braids. Altogether they looked far more clean and ceremonial than he had ever seen a centaur. The group was gathered in a large half-circle with their backs facing Harry, apparently listening to someone speaking from within the circle.
Ravenclaw continued walking towards them. As she came nearer the various residents of Elm’s Hollow turned and stepped back to allow her through. Most of them nodded or gave small, wan smiles of recognition as she passed, showing the customary reverence and respect Harry had always seen shown to her. In their eyes, however, he noticed a sadness and despondency that gave him his first clue this wasn’t a happy gathering. Immensely curious as to what was going on he looked around for more clues, but saw nothing.
Soon they emerged from the crowd onto an open stone patio and Harry got his first look at the man everyone had been listening to. He was a short, older wizard in flowing white robes. He stood at the top of a set of stairs facing the audience and had been in the middle of speaking when he looked down and noticed Ravenclaw emerge from the crowd. He stopped his speech entirely and bowed respectfully towards at her, the same sad smile as the rest of the congregation lengthening his face. Just in front of the man, resting at the base of the steps, Harry noticed a large block of marble with flowers strewn about it.
Ravenclaw nodded at the man but continued walking towards the curious block of marble, as though she didn’t mind interrupting in the least. Apparently the man or the crowd didn’t mind either, as they simply watched her in a respectful silence. As they came closer to the block Harry realized that the top of it rose and fell in small valleys and round hills, as though something were carved into it. The rest of the sides were carved completely square. He didn’t realize what it was until they came right up alongside it.
It was a tomb.
Ravenclaw kneeled. The top of the tomb had something carved into it (which explained why it was a different shape than the rest). It was an effigy “ the effigy of a tall, muscular man with a noble brow and a flowing mane of hair.
No, it couldn’t be… Harry thought in disbelief.
The pale, wrinkled arm of an old woman reached out suddenly and grasped the hand of the effigy. A raspy voice spoke.
“Farewell, my dear friend. The conflicts and battles of a lesser world cannot trouble you now.”
Rowena Ravenclaw let her hand linger on the tomb for a time. Finally she withdrew it, arose, kissed the forehead of the effigy, and turned to face the crowd. There was a woman standing in their path who hadn’t been there before; a pretty, slender, middle-aged woman with brown hair and large doe eyes. Ravenclaw opened her arms towards the woman and the two embraced. For a moment all Harry could see was a mass of brown hair.
“Thank you for coming,” the woman whispered tearfully in Ravenclaw’s ear. “Thank you.”
The women separated and the wife of Godric Gryffindor took a step back. She was older than the last time he had seen her, which would have been the third diary when Gryffindor had announced their engagement. She had filled out some and had the lines of care and worry etched into her face, yet she still retained the pretty, innocent wholesomeness she had had before. Ravenclaw’s withered old hand reached out and gently wiped a couple tears from her face and the woman smiled. She then motioned behind Ravenclaw, towards an open seat set on the front row and a bit to the side of the congregation, obviously a seat of honor. Ravenclaw nodded gratefully and took the seat and the man in the white robes nodded pleasantly. He turned to face the crowd.
“We are honored with the presence of Mistress Ravenclaw.”
A soft murmur of approval went through the crowd and the man resumed talking. Harry didn’t hear what the man said, however, as he had followed the widow of Godric Gryffindor back to her seat on the other side of the circle. There was a small white canopy set up for her, with two burly centaurs standing on either side.
It was then that he saw him.
Underneath the canopy, in a seat just next to Gryffindor’s widow. A tall, healthy young man with a noble brow and a mane of golden hair, just like his father’s.
Wulfric Gryffindor.
Although there was nothing other than the similarity of looks with Godric Gryffindor to base this assumption on, Harry somehow knew it was him. He could feel it. The lad (not a boy, but still not quite a man), had the same look of sorrow in his eyes as all the others, though it seemed to go deeper, all the way to his heart. He wasn’t looking towards the tomb or the white-robed man, like everyone else, but gazed towards the mountains with a far-off look, as though he saw through him. His face wore the expression of someone who knew their life would never be the same. Next to him sat two young boys “ one with dark brown hair and the other with blonde “ whom Harry assumed were his brothers.
Harry’s mind whirled, trying to piece together all the new information as the man droned on. Obviously a long time had passed since the third diary “ several decades, at least. Godric Gryffindor had died, apparently of old age, and Rowena Ravenclaw didn’t look like she had much longer to go herself. If she was this old it was likely that Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin had passed away as well, leaving her as the lone remaining founder. In addition to all this, the Half-Blood Prince, Wulfric Gryffindor, was sitting just across from him, close enough that he could throw a Quaffle to him if he had had one handy. It was a lot to take in.
Harry was gradually able to digest all the new information, just as the man in white robes was wrapping up his eulogy.
“…while troubled times lie ahead for us all, let us never forget that Our Brother has shown us the way. Through his bravery, his generosity, his loyalty, and his love, he has shown us that creatures of different backgrounds, can thrive together in perfect harmony, united by a common desire for peace. The memory of Godric Gryffindor will live on, not only through his posterity”” here he motioned towards Gryffindor’s family, who looked back with teary eyes, “”but in our hearts as well. As long as we keep that memory alive and stay true to one another, no outside force shall ever conquer us. That is what Our Brother has taught us.”
Harry looked around and noticed that the entire congregation had tears in their eyes. Though he had never known Godric Gryffindor personally, he couldn’t help but share in their loss. The goodness of the man was evident by the emotion in the faces of every single member of the congregation. The wizard in white paused for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was loud, clear, and, strangely enough, victorious.
“So then, my brothers and sisters, in honor of that memory and to keep Our Brother always near us, let Elm’s Hollow now forever be known “ as Godric’s Hollow.”
Harry thought he heard the crowd roar in approval, but wasn’t sure. This latest bit of information was so surprising it jarred him completely out of the vision and found himself back in the headmaster’s office.
His head shot around in disbelief. “Elm’s Hollow is Godric’s Hollow!” he said to a group of portraits in front of him who only stared back, utterly confused. Harry didn’t care though “ this new bit of news was unbelievable. To think that the place he had spent the summer was Elm’s Hollow, a town of legend founded by Godric Gryffindor himself! To think that the place he had been wandering through in nearly all four of the diaries was the same place his father and grandfather had left him a home! Suddenly it all fell together “ the ruins Dumbledore had taken him through at the beginning of the summer, the giant stone columns and blocks, the chamber that held Gryffindor’s family tree “ he had been in Godric’s Hollow the whole time. In fact, he had probably even seen the general location of Potter’s Cove in a previous diary. The new discovery was mind-boggling.
“So, where is it?” asked a voice suddenly, snapping Harry out of his amazement. He looked up and found the portrait of the blonde wizard Tradwell gazing excitedly at him.
“The map to Wulfric Gryffindor “ do you have it?” he asked hungrily. Apparently he had seen Harry out of the book and assumed he had finished reading.
“I, er…haven’t gotten to that part yet,” Harry mumbled in reply.
A look of supreme annoyance came across Tradwell’s face. “Then WHY in Merlin’s beard aren’t you still reading?”
“I…Godric’s Hollow…” Harry started to explain, then saw the impatience etched on the faces of the portraits and turned back to the book.
“Er…nothing. Don’t bother me while I’m reading.”
Eventually he found his place and was able to get the memory going again. He was back in Elm’s Hollow (now Godric’s Hollow) and the man in white had just finished speaking. The crowd cheered, showing their unanimous approval for the decision to rename the village. The man then looked at him and nodded, as though giving Ravenclaw a signal for something. She slowly rose from her seat and walked over to where he was standing and the man held up his arms for silence.
“It is fitting that you honor Godric in this way, for a more noble and courageous man I have never known,” said Ravenclaw to the gathered crowd. Though her voice was old and raspy, she still had the power to project it out over a crowd, an ability doubtless gained from her many years of teaching.
“While my purpose for journeying here was to pay my last respects to this great man, I have been entrusted with another errand “ one far more significant and daunting.”
Here Ravenclaw turned her focus slightly to the right of the where a small group of centaurs stood huddled within the crowd.
“Darius, it is time.”
As she said this the foremost of the centaurs in the small group “ a large, solemn looking male with grey hair and a sand colored body “ stepped away from the crowd and joined them on the stairs. While the effects of age were apparent on the centaur, he was larger and more muscular than any Harry had seen before. His face also wore the deep rooted lines of wisdom and experience and his eyes were a striking, fathomless green. He wore more jewelry than the other centaurs and had small flowers woven in the wreath around his neck, suggesting that he was someone important. A murmur went through the crowd as he turned to face them.
“Godric Gryffindor has been a friend to the centaurs for many, many, years,” the centaur began in a voice as smooth and calm as Firenze’s. “While other tribes of my people have been hunted, scourged, and forced into captivity, Godric Gryffindor has been our advocate and our defender, fighting for us in ways we cannot. What’s more, he offered us a safe haven in which to live. Many of my people have even chosen to live alongside those of you here in Godric’s Hollow. Any creature who sought peace was welcomed here with open arms.
“We shall ever be indebted to Godric Gryffindor. For this we wish to honor him. Should the seed of Godric Gryffindor ever stand in dire need of aid, the centaurs will answer the call. That is our oath.”
Here the majestic centaur paused and looked over the crowd. A light gust of wind blew his long hair over his shoulders.
“We wish to enter into the covenant of Fidelius Paciscorium.”
Gasps of awe and disbelief swept over the crowd. Fidelius Paciscorium? What was that? Harry had never heard of it before. Whatever it was, it was obviously a big deal to make the crowd react so. Ravenclaw held one arm up for silence.
“This is a singular honor,” she said when the crowd had settled down. “It is a mark of the highest respect that hasn’t been performed by our kind in over a century. To complete the ritual we shall need”” Ravenclaw turned to the white canopy on the right, “”the firstborn of Godric Gryffindor. Wulfric, if you are prepared.”
All eyes turned to the young Wulfric Gryffindor, who nodded solemnly and rose from his seat. As he made his way towards them, however, Harry noticed a small disturbance beginning to form in the back of the crowd. Apparently Ravenclaw noticed it as well, for her attention went from the approaching Wulfric Gryffindor to the part of the congregation Harry had noticed. They couldn’t see much, but it was apparent that someone (or something) was making its way towards them and causing quite a stir as it did so. The members of the crowd nearest stepped back suddenly, whether in surprise or revulsion Harry couldn’t tell. They then whispered to one another in disbelief as whatever it had passed.
Soon the front row parted and Harry saw what it was. Five surly, shrewd looking goblins emerged from the crowd and looked up at him.
Harry hadn’t had much experience with goblins; most of what he knew was from Professor Binns’ History of Magic lectures (which he had never been able to pay much attention to). He did know that they had caused the wizarding world a tremendous amount of trouble since the return of Voldemort. While they hadn’t exactly sided with the Dark Lord, they definitely hadn’t helped the wizard cause by confiscating Gringott’s Bank and certain other financial elements of society, all of which they claimed was retribution for past wrongs.
Yet he also remembered in the first diary, before the founders had brought up the idea of Hogwarts, how Godric Gryffindor had just returned from fighting a war against the goblins. If he remembered right, he had even stood up for them when the others were mentioning how vile they were. It would be interesting to hear what they had to say.
One of the goblins, the smallest and least well-dressed of the five, approached Harry and looked as though he wanted to speak. Ravenclaw leaned down and turned her head to hear him. When he spoke, it was in a strange, guttural language that Harry couldn’t make heads or tails of. Apparently Ravenclaw understood goblin, however, as she nodded her head in recognition as he spoke.
Once the goblin had finished talking she jerked her head suddenly, as though something he had said had completely startled her.
“You’re jesting,” she said in English, an uncharacteristic tone of astonishment in her voice. The goblin simply looked back at her and said nothing.
Slowly she rose back to her full height and turned to face the crowd. The entire congregation was watching her; curious, questioning looks on their faces.
“W…we are graced with the presence of Durgark the Cruel, King of the Goblins,” she began, then hesitated. She cast her eyes on the goblin in the middle of the group, a warty, shriveled fellow with a large golden loop around his neck. He looked back at her through his shrewd, black, little eyes and nodded, as though confirming an uncertainty in her mind. She turned back to the crowd.
“The goblins also wish to enter into the covenant of Fidelius Paciscorium.”
If the reaction to the centaur’s announcement had been big, it was nothing to what the crowd did now. Looks of supreme surprise and incredulity passed over the varied features of the congregation, and more than one creature gasped in astonishment. All of which, of course, made Harry even more curious than ever to know exactly what Fidelius Paciscorium was.
The goblin named Durgark the Cruel began walking forward, motioning to Harry as though he wanted to say something. He climbed the stairs next to him and Ravenclaw held up her arm once again for silence. Wulfric Gryffindor cast a curious, shrewd look of his own at the goblin, but said nothing. The creature turned and surveyed the congregation with a stately, almost haughty look that was oddly impressive, then spoke in the same guttural language as his messenger.
Ravenclaw stooped downwards in order to hear better, nodding when he paused and rising to address the congregation.
“King Malgrot says he is compelled to make this gesture as a way of evening out the debt the goblins owe to Godric Gryffindor. During the last war with the goblins, or the ‘misunderstanding’ as he phrases it””
She leaned over again, tilting her head in order to better hear.
“”he realizes that many humans were intent on destroying the southern goblin clans entirely once the tide of the battle had been turned, and that, the war being originally instigated by the goblins, we might have been justified in doing so.”
Another stoop, followed by the strange goblin talk.
“”he later found out that Gryffindor had been an ambassador for his people, playing a major role in staying the hand of vengeance from falling on the goblins. This, despite protests from the other human leaders””
More goblin talk.
“”in short, they have a debt to repay to Godric Gryffindor and he proposes that this is how they will repay it, with a pledge of fidelity. The scales must be balanced.”
The goblin king then turned to face Wulfric Gryffindor and said something to him, which Ravenclaw kindly translated for him.
“Will you accept this payment?”
The young Wulfric Gryffindor regarded the goblin for a moment before answering. In that glance Harry somehow got a feeling of his character. He seemed to have the same fiery temperament as his father; the type that would burst with laughter over a friend’s jest at a tavern or flare with indignation at the sight unjustness with equal readiness and intensity. But there was also a wisdom there, one that seemed old and out of place in someone so young.
“I do,” he said simply. He held out his arm towards the king, who nodded, took his arm, and did a strange sort of shake with it “ a gesture Harry guessed was the equivalent of shaking hands.
“Very well then, let us go to the Place of Covenant.”
The transaction thus confirmed, Ravenclaw led the small company of centaur, goblin, and humans towards the towering granite cliffs, into the small clearing Harry had noticed earlier. It was set into a small alcove into the mountains “ a grassy area spotted with stepping stones that were set into the ground and flanked by a number of solitary granite columns that pointed skyward. Harry realized he had been there before “ just a thousand years later. It was in the same general area as Gryffindor’s family tree.
The entire village of Godric’s Hollow followed behind them, each resident eagerly anticipating the solemn ceremony that was about to take place.
As they neared the gigantic cliffs Harry saw that the stepping stones and columns were actually arranged in a large circle, leaving the center entirely empty with the exception of three rectangular stones that were stacked in a curious way. It was to this central stack of stones that Ravenclaw led the party, and as she drew up along side it Harry realized it was an altar.
Ravenclaw moved to the head of the altar so she faced Wulfric, the centaur Darius, the goblin Malgrot, and the rest of the congregation. She first motioned to Wulfric to kneel at one side of the altar, her left side, then to the centaur and the goblin to take a similar position on the right. They did so and ended up facing Wulfric. They regarded one another silently for a moment. Harry could only guess what was running through their minds.
A quiet hush fell over the crowd as Ravenclaw withdrew her wand and took a deep breath.
“Fidelius Paciscorium”
Her wand glowed a bright, heavenly blue. She brought it down and placed its tip on the altar in front of them, which slowly began to glow with the same blue light, as though it were absorbing it out of her wand. When it seemed to have absorbed it completely there was a bright flash and Harry saw a white, shimmering sphere surrounded the altar and the four individuals who stood there. This sphere separated them from the crowd, though it was transparent enough that he could see each reverent, solemn face on the other side. Whatever was happening was some serious magic.
“Darius, Leader of the Centaurs,” Ravenclaw called, and the strong, sober looking creature turned his head to look at her.
“For the many kindnesses he has shown to you, you have pledged the support of your people to the seed of Godric Gryffindor. Should he ever call, your people will be there to answer the summons. If this is your oath, place your mark upon the altar and make it forever so.”
The centaur slowly turned his head from Ravenclaw to the altar beneath him. After looking at it for a moment, his right hand clenched into a fist and he pressed it onto the stone top of the altar. As he did so a second bright flash burst from the altar and radiated to the sphere around them, causing it to pulse with greater energy. Harry felt the hairs on his neck stand up, which was impressive considering that he wasn’t actually there. He had seldom seen such splendid magic.
“Durgark Malgrot, King of the Goblins!” Ravenclaw called next. Harry noticed the sphere begin to pulsate with greater intensity.
“Your people have been spared by the mercy of Godric Gryffindor. With the desire to balance the scales, you too have pledged to offer their support should the seed of Gryffindor ever require it. If this is your oath, place your mark upon the altar and make it forever so!”
The goblin coolly, emotionlessly nodded and placed his leathery, three fingered hand on the altar next to the centaur’s. Another bright burst of light, and the sphere grew even brighter.
“Seed of Gryffindor!” Ravenclaw yelled, the sphere now emanating a near-deafening roar. “If you accept this covenant and will claim the fealty of those who pledge it to you, place your mark upon the altar and make it forever so!”
Slowly, hesitantly “ as though he had some premonition of the destiny that lay in store for him “ Wulfric Gryffindor brought his hand up and placed it palm down on the altar. There was a final, blinding flash and the glimmering sphere collapsed upon itself, gathering first into the altar, then channeling up the arm and directly into the body of Wulfric Gryffindor in a blast that threw him several feet backwards, as though hit by an invisible force.
All at once the roaring dissipated and Harry heard the rumbling of the crowd. He wanted to make sure Wulfric Gryffindor was all right but was unable, as Ravenclaw had fallen to her knees behind the altar and was gasping for breath. Apparently the spell had been quite taxing on her. Soon there was the sound of a horse’s footsteps and two strong arms helped Ravenclaw stand.
“Are you all right, Mistress?” asked the deep, calm voice of Darius the centaur.
“Yes, thank you. I will need a moment to regain my energy,” said Ravenclaw exhaustedly. Her line of sight went slightly to the right, where the wizard in white robes was standing.
“Cyril, carry on without me.”
The man nodded and walked away to address the crowd. Ravenclaw placed a weary arm on the altar to support herself and hung her head down to rest. Her vision was focused on the stone top of the altar, and Harry noticed three distinct marks that hadn’t been there before. On the right, towards the back of the altar where Darius had been standing, was the large marking of a fist, completely black as though it had been seared into the stone. Next to it was the strange, three-fingered outline of the goblin’s hand, also seared into the altar. Finally, on the left was the familiar outline of a human hand, though instead of a black marking it was more of an indentation an inch or so into the stone itself. How the spell could have caused such a thing to happen, Harry didn’t know, but looking at it one last time noticed a faint shimmering of blue light still in the handprint.
Harry heard the sound of footsteps on the grass. Ravenclaw looked up. Wulfric Gryffindor had recovered and was standing before them, a concerned look on his face.
“Rowena, are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, Wulfric, I will be fine. You?”
“I am well enough,” he replied, turning to face the crowd gathered at the far side of the clearing. A wry smile came to his lips. “Though I confess I wasn’t quite ready for that little kick at the end. You really could have warned me, you know.”
Ravenclaw emitted a dry rustling sound that Harry realized was a chuckle.
“I didn’t want to scare you.”
The young man bent his head back and gave a hearty laugh that forcefully reminded Harry of his father. Wulfric was wearing a loose white robe, and as he laughed Harry noticed two dark marks on his chest that hadn’t been there before. He only got a glance, but they appeared to be exact replicas of the markings left in the altar “ the fist of a centaur and the three-fingered handprint of a goblin.
Soon everything around him began to fade. From his previous experience with the diaries Harry knew this meant Ravenclaw was about to take him to a different memory. He took one last look at the scene before him, a striking scene that he knew would stay with him for the rest of his life: the white banners blowing against the deep blue of the sky; the young but resolute Wulfric Gryffindor standing in a grassy clearing of Godric’s Hollow, a smile on his lips but his shoulders bent down with the weight of the world; and the entire village of Godric’s Hollow in the background, all gathered of one accord to pay homage to their noble leader.
It was then that he understood.
Prince.
The Half-Blood Prince.
They had known since the third diary why he was called ‘Half-Blood’, but it wasn’t until now that he understood the ‘Prince’ part. Looking at the tomb of Godric Gryffindor and the various creatures gathered reverently around it “ the antithesis of the fountain placed in the Ministry of Magic “ he realized that, while he had been asked to be called ‘Brother’, the honor and esteem the residents of Godric’s Hollow had for the deceased founder was of the sort that loyal subjects would have towards a benevolent king. Indeed, they had even tried to make him a king. Although he refused it, this wouldn’t have changed the nature of their esteem “ in their hearts, he would always be their king.
And what was the son of a king called?
Prince.
Harry smiled with this realization as the scene around him darkened completely. Soon a new image began to form, this one a blur of dark grey and black with small pinpoints of gold. It soon sharpened and came into focus.
Harry now found himself in a broad, circular room no larger than a classroom at Hogwarts and made completely of stone. Other than a few torches set into the walls it was completely dark. As there were no windows it was impossible to tell if it was day or night, but Harry somehow got the feeling it was the latter. While the room appeared to be used mainly for study, that purpose seemed to be abandoned for the time being as the tables and bookshelves had all been pushed to the outer walls edges of the room to make way for a large, curious looking circle that had been drawn into the center of the floor. Within the circle were all manner of arcane runes and complex diagrams. Along its outside border different objects were placed on pedestals at seemingly random intervals. While it was too dark to see any of the objects clearly, Harry noticed the one placed furthest from him at the other edge of the circle was a deep, red color. All in all it looked like the setup for a very complex spell; one more intricate and powerful than anything Harry had ever seen.
After looking over the circle Harry soon noticed that he wasn’t alone. There were two other people in the room “ silent, hooded figures with their heads bowed so Harry couldn’t see who they were. One stood directly to his right and seemed to be speaking softly to himself. The other was walking slowly around the outside of the circle as if studying it closely. Soon this latter figure looked up and walked towards Harry.
“All the preparations are complete, Mistress. I could find no fault in the mapping,” said a woman’s voice. While he couldn’t see much of her face due to the hood, Harry thought she sounded anxious.
Ravenclaw nodded in response and Harry heard her emit a long sigh before speaking.
“Thank you, Evelyn. I suspect we will begin shortly. Please take your place.”
Harry thought he heard a hint of anxiety in the founder’s voice as well, though the voice had become so old and raspy it was hard to tell. The witch named Evelyn nodded and stood in a spot just to Harry’s left.
“I feel compelled to stress once again the secrecy of what we are about to do,” said Ravenclaw to the two others. “Not a soul outside this room, with the exception of Godric’s widow, is to have knowledge of what is about to transpire. It is too risky. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Rowena,” said the woman.
“Of course, Mistress,” said the person on his right, the deeper voice revealing the figure as a man.
“Good.”
They waited in silence for some time, each lost in their thoughts. The only sound was the crackling of the torches on the wall and the wizard to his right whispering what sounded like incantations under his breath. While the only sense he got of the environment was what he saw through Ravenclaw’s eyes, Harry could tell the atmosphere was very heavy and solemn. Whatever was about to happen was very serious indeed.
“He has arrived,” said Ravenclaw at length, shattering the silence.
The man and woman looked up towards the far side of the circular room where a heavy oak door slowly creaked open. Harry saw the silhouette of a tall man enter and make its way towards them. Just then Harry thought he heard a startled shout, though it didn’t seem to be coming from the diary. He paid it no mind, however, as he was busy focusing on the figure who had entered the room. Though he couldn’t see who it was, there was a powerful, masculine sort of grace in the way the figure moved. As it walked around the circle and came to a stop just in front of them, the light from a nearby torch illuminated the man’s face.
High, noble brow. Muscular jaw. Hair swept back like a mane.
Wulfric Gryffindor.
He was taller and more filled out than he had been in the previous memory, suggesting the passing of a number of years. While he had grown physically, Harry thought the biggest change was in his eyes. Behind the bright, penetrating gaze was the look of someone who has been forced to mature past their years, a consequence of the role fate had thrust upon him.
Harry knew the feeling.
“The preparations are in order. We can begin as soon as you are ready,” said Ravenclaw. Her manner seemed rather detached and official, even for her.
The Half-Blood Prince simply nodded.
“We have discussed this option extensively and you are well aware of the risks. You are also aware that magic of this type has never been attempted, and even I am uncertain of the outcome. The nature of the creature lends itself to certain…complications.”
“I understand,” replied Wulfric Gryffindor.
There was a long, heavy silence. Even though he wasn’t really there, Harry could feel the weight of the moment. He tried looking around the room for more clues as to what was about to happen, but Ravenclaw’s gaze was entirely focused on the defeated but resolute face of Wulfric Gryffindor and the large, intricate diagram behind him.
“Are you fully resigned to this course, Wulfric?” blurted Ravenclaw suddenly, her softening tone betraying a deep sense of concern.
The Half-Blood Prince let out a long sigh. There was a look of weariness in his eyes, like an animal who has been hunted for far too long.
“I am, Rowena. It feels like I am running away, something never in my life have I done, but I see the wisdom in your and my mother’s council. Our enemies will never let us have rest while I am fighting. For the sake of Godric’s Hollow, I must do this. I must go into this…exile.”
“Alas, I am sorry it has come to this. Even I underestimated the hatred and venom of your enemies. But you speak wisdom “ it is my hope that this storm will soon settle and you can be retrieved as soon as possible. While we have no way of knowing for certain when that will be, I will do whatever possible to ensure the secret is safeguarded. Now then, if you are prepared?”
“I am. Now let us be done with this!” answered Wulfric, a look of obvious pain on his face.
“Very well.”
Ravenclaw motioned towards the circle and the witch and wizard flanking her moved into place, spacing themselves an equal distance apart along the outside border. Wulfric Gryffindor walked to the very center of the circle and stood there, resolute, with his head cast downwards.
“Farewell my friend,” the old voice of Ravenclaw rasped out, more to herself than to anyone else. She then removed her wand, nodded at the wizard to her right, then to the witch to her left.
“Let us begin.”
Just as Harry had prepared himself to see at last the spell that had made it possible for Wulfric Gryffindor to live for a millennium (not to mention another spectacular display of magic), the room began to fade from view. The last thing he saw was the circle glowing a pale red and the solitary, resolute figure of Wulfric Gryffindor standing within it. The room then turned entirely black.
Resolving his disappointment with the knowledge that he was about to see where the map was hidden, Harry was more than a little startled when he instead got an eardrum-shattering screech shoot through his mind like a bolt of lightning. A flash of images accompanied the screech, though he wasn’t able to make any sense of them for the pain. With a concentrated effort he tore himself from the diary and once more found himself in the headmaster’s office.
Completely startled, he looked up to see Dumbledore also out of the diary next to him, tenderly rubbing his temple.
“Yes, I came to that part myself not too long ago,” he said in a weary voice. He then pointed back at the diary.
“Look.”
Harry looked at the diary and found that the last page had been defaced by harsh, black handwriting. Apparently someone had scrawled a note into it, apparently while being very frustrated. He recognized the writing immediately. It was the hand of whomever had stolen the diaries.
Foiled in this quest, our purpose spoil’t!
Yet these efforts have not been in vain.
Seek ye the abyss of our Master’s revenge.
There, nestled ‘twixt stone and serpent,
a prison of nothingness, an eternity of solitude
“ all just recompense
for the Captive of Slytherin’s betrayal!
Harry reread the note twice, trying to understand what it meant. It appeared that whoever had stolen the diaries never found the map to the Half-Blood Prince, which would explain the frustrated tone. But who was this ‘Captive of Slytherin’? And why had the quest been ‘spoil’t’? As he couldn’t be sure what this all meant, Harry instead focused on the lines that did make sense.
‘…abyss of our Master’s revenge…’
‘a prison of nothingness…’
‘…nestled ‘twixt stone and serpent…’
They were describing a place. He read them one more time when realization hit him. There was only one place he knew of in Hogwarts that matched this description.
His eyes met with the headmaster’s, who nodded knowingly.
“The Chamber of Secrets.”
Harry Potter and the Legacy of the Founders by VoldemortsPatronus
Chapter Notes: Here it is. This one came out twice as long as I anticipated, which explains the wait. The next one should be short but sweet. Again, thanks for your comments.