0401 The Tale


    Bryan stood motionless in the great hall, his eyes scanning the vast expanse where the Dementors were being bred. The sight before him was both terrifying and mesmerizing. Luminous auras, reminiscent of brilliant, swirling nebe in the boundless dark cosmos, danced around him, casting eerie, ever-shifting shadows on the ancient stone walls.


    Since his encounter with the woman named Cliodna, a maelstrom of thoughts had been churning relentlessly in Bryan''s mind. Each new discovery in this forsaken ce was like an intricate puzzle piece, slowly uniting in his consciousness to form aplete, disturbing, story.


    This grand picture was nearlyplete, but itcked the most crucial piece—why were all these secrets revolving around him?


    Solving this riddle would essentially allow Bryan to uncover most of the truth behind the entire affair.


    "When I was imprisoned in Azkaban," Sirius began, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the oppressive silence, "there weren''t nearly as many Dementors on the ind as we just saw up there. And certainly not as many as down here—"


    "One hundred and sixty-two," Bryan interjected, his expression remaining impassive as he calmly continued. "ording to the official Azkaban records released by the Ministry of Magic this March, that''s the current number of Dementors. Ten years ago, there were one hundred and sixty, and ten years before that, one hundred and fifty-nine."


    He paused, allowing the information to sink in before continuing, "To this day, the Ministry hasn''t been able to determine exactly how Dementors reproduce. Leading magical academics and researchers believe these creatures multiply through a process simr to self-division. They theorize that once a Dementor has absorbed a sufficient quantity of happy memories from its victims, it bes capable of reproducing."


    How Dementors were bred was no longer a matter of spection; the scene before them provided the answer. Sirius blinked rapidly, his mind racing as he pondered the implications of what Bryan had just said about the increase in Dementor numbers over the years.


    Noticing Sirius''s furrowed brow, Bryan exined. "Over a decade ago, after Voldemort''s downfall, Death Eaters and their outer circle of followers were rounded up and thrown into Azkaban en masse. This sudden influx of prisoners likely meant that the Dementors no longer had to worry about going hungry. Their food source became abundant. Consequently, their poption growth elerated."


    Within the expansive ruins, numerous rooms remained unexplored. Rowena Ravenw and Godric Gryffindor, driven by a sense of urgency, had headed straight for what they believed to be the core area. The room they now upied was undoubtedly the heart of the ruins.


    As they stood there, everyone''s attention was drawn to a small door on the right side of the chamber. It stood partly open, presumably leading to another chamber.


    "Let''s go, Rowena—" Gryffindor''s voice cut through the silence, his usually energetic tone now somber. He called out to Ravenw and turned towards the small door, his hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his sword.


    Bryan and Sirius followed closely behind, both men sharing an unspoken premonition that the memory they were experiencing was drawing to its conclusion.


    Beyond the doory a passage that, while not particrly long, seemed to stretch endlessly before them. Solid rock walls, slick with moisture and adorned with strange, phosphorescent fungi, nked both sides. At the far end, barely visible in the gloom, stood another door. This one, unlike its matching part, showed obvious signs of forced entry. The wood was cracked and scarred, hanging precariously from rusted hinges.


    For several centuries, the two Hogwarts founders were likely the only wizards to have entered these ruins. Apart from them, probably only that wizard shrouded in mythical lore had entered this ce.


    They entered the room behind the damaged door one after another, their footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. As Bryan crossed the threshold, a spark of interest flickered in his eyes, which had been dull for most of the day. Rowena Ravenw showed a simr reaction.


    This new chamber was another spacious room, but unlike the others. Around the walls, intricately carved wooden shelves held a small portion of ancient books. But it was the vast majority of parchment manuscripts, stacked haphazardly on tables and overflowing from cubby holes, that drew the eye. The air was thick with the musty scent of old paper and ink, a smell that seemed to awaken something in both Bryan and Ravenw.


    "Herpo''s collection of books?" For the first time since arriving on the ind, genuine enthusiasm soared in Ravenw''s voice. She walked over quickly, her robes swishing around her ankles, and reached out to grab a particrly interesting book (for her). Its cover was stained with what appeared to be dark, dried blood.


    But as her fingertips brushed against the ancient leather, the book suddenly crumbled to dust, leaving only a wisp of pungent smoke curling around Ravenw''s slender fingers.


    "When Merlin entered this library, he destroyed its defensive magic. These books have been without any protection for hundreds of years and have basically disintegrated."


    Gryffindor''s face broke into a slightly mischievous, schadenfreude-tinged smile at witnessing his friend''s disappointment. Sirius, picking up on the moment of lightheartedness, grinned and patted the shoulder of Bryan, whose face had once again darkened.


    Besides the bookshelves lining the walls, the library contained numerous desks arranged in neat rows. Ravenw, learning from her earlier mistake, didn''t attempt to pick up any more books. Instead, her piercing gaze swept across the room, suddenly fixing on a particr spot. Her feet began moving again, gracefully weaving around the obstructing shelves towards that point of interest.


    In the center of the library stood a desk that immediately drew the eye. Unlike the others, this one was a stark, gleaming white. As they drew closer, it became apparent that the desk was not made of wood or stone, but from the bleached bones of some massive, unknown creature. The sight was both beautiful and horrifying, a testament to Herpo''s cruelty and magical prowess.


    Havinge this far into the heart of darkness, they were no longer shocked by such disys of Herpo''s malice. Ravenw approached the bone desk with unhurried steps, her gaze falling on a stack of manuscripts ced on its gleaming surface.


    The text on the first page of the manuscript was written in ancient runes. Both Ravenw and Bryan were quite proficient in this script, so, reading it wasn''t too challenging.


    "What does it say?" Sirius, who understood only somemon runic symbols, craned his neck, utterly bewildered by the strange patterns that danced before his eyes.


    "It seems to be about magic... or a ritual," Bryan began, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I''m not entirely sure. Thenguage is archaic, even for ancient runes. Wait, let me see—"


    Learning from her previous lesson with the crumbling book, Ravenw didn''t attempt to turn to the second page of the manuscript. But it was evident that she had some way of reading the subsequent contents, her eyes moved weirdly as if scanning invisible pages.


    <strong>"Hallows."</strong>


    Unexpectedly, Ravenw suddenly uttered this word while fully engrossed in reading content that Bryan couldn''t see.


    "Hallows?" Gryffindor repeated, his brow furrowing as he searched through all his considerable knowledge of magic and alchemy-rted topics. Despite his vast knowledge, he came up empty-handed. "Is it some kind of evil magic, like Horcruxes?"


    <strong><em>''Hallows? The Deathly Hallows?''</em> </strong>Bryan''s brow creased slightly, a glimmer of recognition sparking in his eyes. This was something he had heard of before.


    "It''s the exact opposite of Horcruxes. You''re right, Godric, this is indeed a very evil magic, and it''s extremely dangerous."


    Ravenw said, her voice heavy with the weight of her discovery. "The fact that this notebook still remains here is significant. After we return, I indeed need to spend some time studying it."


    "Hallows... I think my father mentioned something about that to me and Regulus when he was alive—"


    Surprisingly, Sirius had also heard something about this. He blinked rapidly, his face tinged with confusion as he struggled to recall the details of a long-ago conversation.


    "It originally came from ''The Tale of the Three Brothers'' in ''The Tales of Beedle the Bard''..." Sirius thought aloud, his voice growing stronger as the memories solidified. Then, a look of realization appeared on his face. "But Gryffindor and Ravenw are much older than Beedle, right? Oh! The Hallows!"


    Sirius suddenly eximed, his voice echoing off the ancient stones, "The legend of the three brothers... Don''t tell me the Death in that story is actually Herpo!"


    "Stories and truths often diverge greatly, but as it stands, the Hallows seem inextricably linked to Herpo. Moreover, the Hallows might actually exist," Bryan said thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming thinking about something.


    A few more minutes passed in tense silence, broken only by the asional rustle of Ravenw''s robes as her eyes brushed over the ancient texts. She seemed to have an ability to memorize all the contents of the parchment stack, as her eyes moved at an inhuman speed across the pages.


    Finally, she looked up, surveying the surrounding bookshelves with a look of regret in her eyes. It was clear that, given enough time, she could have memorized the contents of all the books and manuscripts in this vast library. Unfortunately, she clearly didn''t have the time to stay here and transcribe all these magical texts.


    "Let''s go, Godric," Ravenw said atst, her voice tinged with reluctance. "Let''s check out the room behind the library. That''s thest chamber."


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