Harry Potter: The Mage's Path Chapter 9

Hi all,

Harry visits his Account Manager and then Godric’s Hollow. What will he discover at his parent's cottage?

25th June

“This is Account Manager Grimmjow's office,” the Goblin escorting Harry stated.

The Goblin knocked on the door. “Harry Potter here for his appointment.”

“Enter,” came the guttural reply.

“Thank you,” Harry said politely, entering the office and shutting the door behind him. Seated behind a solid oak desk, a Goblin was hunched over a parchment, peering at it intently. The top of his head featured a crown of bluish-grey hair, hinting at the Goblin's age. Since there was no one else here, he assumed this was Grimmjow.

Goblins could live for a long time, from what he understood. It meant that the Grimmjow probably saw the eighteenth century.

Harry looked around the office and immediately determined it was designed for a hunter, with various trophies mounted on the walls, many of which he did not recognise. Mounted behind his desk was an odd sword; a blade resembled a rigid crooked ‘S’ with a light blue sheath. A small shelf of account ledgers indicated that he hadn’t stepped into the wrong office.

“Well, are you going to stand there gaping like an idiot?” Grimmjow raised his head. “Take a seat.”

Harry managed to keep his expression even as he sat down, even though he was slightly terrified. Grimmjow’s right cheek was torn entirely, exposing the Goblin’s fangs and gums for all to see. It was a brutal sight, and he wondered why the Goblin didn’t seek treatment. Didn’t the Goblins have their own type of magic?

Grimmjow noticed his gaze but didn’t seem offended. “Beautiful, isn’t it? I received this wound in the Goblin Rebellion of 1890. The wizard who cursed me didn’t live very long after I ripped his entrails from his body. Good times.” He licked his claws with his elongated tongue as if he remembered the taste of the human from long ago.

Harry swallowed, resisting the urge to run out of the room. “Thank you for seeing me, sir.”

Grimmjow waved his claws. “Dispense with the formalities, kid. Call me Account Manager Grim.”

“That sounds like I’m meeting my maker,” Harry laughed nervously.

“I’m afraid you would have to make an official request on that one,” Grimmjow smirked. “Bad for business to kill the Potter Heir and the fabled ‘Boy-Who-Lived.”

“Right, I suppose we should get down to business,” Grimmjow sighed, looking melancholy. At least, that’s what he interpreted from the goblin's expression. “You wanted to peruse your account statements? I’m afraid you will have to gain permission from your magical guardian.”

“What is a magical guardian?”

“That you even asked the question tells me that you have never met him,” Grimmjow leaned back in his seat. “A magical guardian is essentially an adult who looks out for your interests in the magical world if you have muggle guardians. They have no way of helping you in emergencies, so Magical Guardians are given agency.”

Harry took a logical step and guessed their identity. “Mine's Dumbledore, isn’t it?”

“Well, you were quick to figure it out,” Grimmjow said. “I assume you have access to some prior information.

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “Why haven’t I seen him before if he looks after my well-being? Isn’t that considered negligence?”

“Not if you have guardians in the muggle world,” Grimmjow explained. “Then his actual responsibility doesn’t begin until you enter the magical world.”

Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “But he was responsible for placing me at the Dursleys in the first place. Did my parents leave a will that stated their wishes for my placement with a family?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Grimmjow shrugged. “We are a bank. It would be best if you asked someone in the Ministry Estates and Inheritance Department. But I don’t imagine you will have much luck.”

Harry didn’t know if he wanted to draw attention to himself by entering the Ministry of Magic. From what he had learned of the government, he hadn't been impressed. Who knows if there are wizards and witches in the halls of power looking to exploit his ignorance?

“Can you give me an idea of how my family account is doing? Please tell me I’m not getting robbed blind by Dumbledore,” Harry said humorously.

“You have nothing to worry about in that regard,” Grimmjow took out a folder in his cupboard and opened it to peruse. “Albus Dumbledore doesn’t have any control of the Potter Family account. Per the Potter charter, it is managed by the Account Manager until you come of age. Your parents gave me some freedom in choosing what investments to make, and I can say that I have substantially increased your gold in the last ten years.”

“That’s reassuring,” Harry murmured. “What about my trust vault?”

“He can withdraw funds if he has a valid reason,” Grimmjow put the folder away. “A sum of five Galleons has been transferred to the bank account of Vernon and Petunia Dursley every month since November 1981.”

Harry grit his teeth to restrain himself from cursing out aloud. The Dursleys had often repeated what a burden he had been all his life, even though they didn’t spend a penny more on him than was necessary. Now, he finds out they received a substantial amount of money to care for his needs.

“No need to restrain yourself on my behalf, kid,” Grimmjow waved his claw.

“Bloody wankers,” Harry burst out, followed by every single curse word he had gained over the years.

Grimmjow smirked, leaning forward to dispense some wisdom. “You know, it is a goblin’s warrior instinct to get revenge on those that wronged them. I can share with you a few delightful methods that will make them regret that they ever lived.”

Why did he think that he was talking to Celeste at the moment? “I will make them pay in the future, something that suits the crime and nothing more.”

Grimmjow looked at him with disappointment. “Was there anything else you needed?”

“Do you know where Godric’s Hollow is located?” Harry asked. “I would like to visit the graveyard where my parents rest. Do you know of an easy way of getting there?”

“It’s located in the West Country of South Western England,” Grimmjow replied. “An easy method to get there is to summon the Knights Bus.”

“I’ve heard of the Knight Bus but not how to summon it.”

“Step out onto the curve and raise your wand with your dominant hand, and the bus will appear,” Grimmjow instructed.

Harry got to his feet. “Thanks for the information, Account Manager Grim. You seem a bit a lot less formal than other Goblins.”

“I’m an oddity,” Grimmjow pointed at the sword on the wall. “That's what my enemies tell me before I run them through with Pantera.”

“Right,” Harry backed towards the door. “If I need anything else, I will make an appointment.”

<====({owo})====>

Harry lifted his eyes from the book he was reading when he sensed Celeste over the bond. He was tackling the subject of learning Latin, and he was only a third of the way through the book, and it was only the introduction to the language. He hadn’t received a skill, but he deduced that he would get it once he finished reading it. A nifty tool that helped him remember words was using flash cards.

Interestingly enough, Hedwig was keen on learning and remained perched on his shoulder through the lessons. Harry amused himself by imagining Hedwig as a scholar with a pair of spectacles perched on her beak.

{Celeste} ‘I’m back, baby.’

{Hedwig} ‘There goes the peace.’

{Celeste} ‘What was that? I think I heard the barking of a mad—’

‘Enough. We will meet you outside, and you can tell us all about your adventures.’

‘ID Escape.’

“So, how was the appointment? Did you learn anything interesting?” Celeste flew over and alighted on his shoulder.

“Nothing much of interest,” Harry leaned back against the fort wall and told her the information he had learned.

“It looks like there is no changing your legal guardianship yet,” Celeste rubbed her chin. “Since you have me around, it doesn’t matter where you live now.”

“All hail, my lord and saviour, Celeste,” Harry bowed at the waist.

“That is lady, peon,” Celeste sniffed haughtily before collapsing in a fit of giggles.

Harry picked the fairy up and brought her close to his face. “Alright, will you tell me what you got up to?”

Celeste turned solemn. “I was looking for my adopted Mother. She was a part of a group of fairies that took me in as a child.”

“Did you find her?”

“The entire Fairy Garden has disappeared,” Celeste’s wings drooped. “I’m not surprised that they have moved on in the intervening years. Most of the forest they are staying in has been destroyed by humans.”

“Well, I apologise on behalf of my entire race,” Harry stroked her translucent wings in comfort. “Can you think of anywhere else they would go?”

“Well, if they wanted to set up another Garden, they would have to be close to the magical leyline and away from civilisations.”

“Why do they need to be close to a deeper source of magic?” Harry asked.

“Because unlike yours truly, the fairies of the present are a lot weaker. They cannot absorb magic directly as I can, so they survive on a diet of magical plants, which need to absorb a lot of magic to sustain their needs.”

Harry nodded. “Well, we will keep an eye out for them in the future.”

He almost expected to receive a quest, but nothing happened. Shrugging, he didn’t give it much thought. Besides the main quests, he had no idea how quests were triggered.

{Hedwig} ‘So are we heading to your parent's home, hatchling?’

“No time like the present,” Harry replied.

{Hedwig} ‘I will meet you there. I don't like travelling in vehicles.’

Harry nodded, and Hedwig flew off, heading west. She would follow his magical signature, which is how all post owls delivered their mail accurately.

He climbed down the fort. Since a few kids had spread rumours of a ghost, the fort was abandoned. Harry was given free rein in his little castle.

Harry stepped up to the curve and ensured his scar was concealed beneath his cap before raising his wand. With a bang, a giant purple double-decker bus appeared out of nowhere, almost sending him sprawling.

The door opened, and Harry climbed inside, with Celeste sitting invisibly on his shoulder.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this afternoon. Where are you headed?”

“Eh, the Potter house in Godric’s Hollow,” Harry said. “I want to pay my respects.”

“Who are you?” Stan asked rudely

“None of your business,” Harry snapped. “Now, the price?”

“Eleven sickles. You get a hot chocolate for thirteen and fifteen, a hot water bottle.”

Why would he need a hot water bottle in the current climate? “Just the ride, thanks,” Harry paid the man.

He found a seat in the middle but almost fell over as the bus suddenly accelerated.

“Bloody hell,” Harry cursed.

‘Oh man, why did I follow you? I could have used Hedwig as a mount and enjoyed an easier ride. Do you think I could fit a little saddle on her?

‘I think hell would freeze over first.’

Fifteen minutes later, they appeared in a village after a dizzying ordeal of bruising encounters with the floor and a headache after his head bounced off the window.

“Godric’s Hollow,” Stan called.

Harry followed a witch out of the bus, feeling queasy. He rested his hands on his knees and took a few breaths.

“Can we not ride the Knight bus ever again.”

“I totally agree,” Celeste groaned. “I think I left my stomach on the bus.”

Ahead of them, standing in the centre of the square, was an obelisk. As he approached, it vanished, turning into a statue of three figures: A man stood next to a woman with a baby cradled in her arms.

Harry looked up at his parents for the first time, albeit cast in bronze. It struck him how young they looked, and he realised for the first time that they must have married soon after leaving Hogwarts. Knowing nothing of their lives was frustrating, but he recalled that the Tonks had known them well. So, it seemed he would be hitting them up for details of his parents' lives.

He looked a lot like his Father, with the same untidy hair and slender physique. It seemed that he had also inherited his poor eyesight from him. His Mother was beautiful, with delicate features and a shapely figure. She was looking up, and the strong and fierce gaze was captured in its glory, a proud and strong woman. Whoever created this statue had captured his Mother perfectly.

He lowered his gaze to the plaque beneath the statue.

Lily and James Potter, the parents of the Boy-Who-Lived who tragically lost their lives on the night of Halloween, 1981. They died at the hands of You-Know-Who whilst trying to protect their son. May their memories live on in their friends and family's hearts and minds.

“My name is Harry Potter,” Harry shouted, angrily kicking the ground. “Why must I be saddled with this awful hyphenated moniker.”

Celeste flew forward and patted his cheek, wiping a stray tear. “They were amazing parents. I do not doubt that they did something to protect you that night. There is no way that a mere baby defeated a Dark Lord.”

"Maybe I filled my diapers with a real stink bomb," Harry chuckled wetly. "Voldemort expired from the smell alone."

Celeste giggled. "It would be a fitting end for a Dark Lord.

Harry took a breath and took off his glasses, wiping his eyes before wearing them again. “Let’s go and see if we can find out what happened that night.”

They made their way to his parent's home, passing several cottages with front porches and a quaint charm. After reading A History of Magic, he knew Bathilda Bagshot lived in one of the nearby cottages.

Harry stopped in front of his parent's cottage, having no trouble recognising it with half the roof and side of the second floor missing, exposing the place to the elements. Hopefully, they were under some wards to protect the interior. There must be, as there was no way that kind of damage went unnoticed by the local non-magical population.

He crossed over the front yard and onto the porch. Next to the door was a sign, and Harry read through it but merely repeated the same lines from the statue. In addition to heaping a lot of praise on his hyphenated nickname. Harry grimaced in disgust.

Below the sign was a pile of bouquets, some with cards. Harry grabbed one at random, opened it and read the contents.

‘Thanks yous for stopping the dork lord, Mr Harry Potter, sir.

Dobby the House-elf.

Celeste read the card over his shoulder and chuckled. “I love house elves. Such a comedic and underestimated magical race.”

Harry smiled at the message, which looked like a child had written.

“Do you think it’s unlocked?” Celeste asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Harry said cynically. “It is a heritage site, after all, and drums up popularity for the Ministry.

He opened the door, and it swung open. Stepping through, Harry got an instant sense of something stuck in a time bubble, forever preserving the horrific memory of that Halloween night.

Harry began investigating the rooms on the first floor. Most of the personal effects had been removed, only leaving the furniture and some broken debris behind. Luckily, he found a shattered frame on the ground, with an undamaged photo of his parents. He stuck it in his inventory and continued searching.

“There’s nothing down here,” Celeste said after they searched for twenty minutes.

“Let’s check out the second floor,” Harry said.

There were three rooms and a bathroom upstairs. Harry checked out his parent's room first, but just like downstairs, the only thing remaining was furniture. He checked the room thoroughly in case something was left behind, but he didn't find anything.

Next, he checked out the guest room but spent only a minute there, deducing that there was nothing of interest.

The last room he entered was the nursery, which had taken the most damage, with a gaping hole in the wall, revealing the front yard. He surmised that he had been in this room when Voldemort targeted him. What did his parents do that ensure his survival?

Harry spotted the crib behind a pile of twisted beams and whistled in disbelief. Even if he managed to survive Voldemort, he was lucky the crib wasn’t crushed in the fallout. Carefully moving his way around a wooden beam, Harry reached the crib.

“Man, what a mess,” Celeste flew over and peered down into the crib. “You must have one powerful guardian angel.”

“What is that?” Harry pointed at a spot above the crib. A small cloud of red mist floated above the crib, shifting in and out of his vision like a ghost trying to manifest.

“What is it?” Celeste turned and looked at where he was pointing.

“A Memory Shade,” Celeste exclaimed.

“What is it?” Harry said, summoning his wand as a precaution.

“Don’t worry,” Celeste said, flying closer to the mist. “It’s completely harmless as long as the mist doesn’t touch you.”

“What does it do?”

“A Memory Shade is essentially an echo or a recording of a traumatic memory that has been given a little sentience. When magic is involved, all sorts of strange things can happen.”

“Has it been here the entire time?”

“Yep, it basically exists until someone comes along and watches the memory.”

“Wait a minute,” Harry said. "Why hasn't anyone tried to watch the memory? I'm sure that plenty of people have come to have a look at this place.

"Hmm," Celeste tapped her chin. "It may be that it has gained enough sentience to determine a course of action on its own. It has been hidden from others because they are not supposed to see the memory."

"So it wants me to see the memory," Harry realised. "And you can see it because you are my familiar."

Celeste shrugged. "It's a good theory."

Harry stepped forward eagerly. “This is why the quest has led me here. There must be something in that memory that I need to see."

“You sure you want to do that? Considering the location, this is probably a memory of the night your parents died.”

“I don’t care,” Harry said stubbornly. “I need to watch it.”

Harry reached out and touched the mist. It seemed to be drawn to him as it swirled around his hand for a moment before rushing straight into his head. It was so sudden that Harry couldn’t dodge it in time. He was pulled into memory. Harry watched from the corner of the restored room as his Mother played with baby Harry.

He wanted to reach out and touch her but realised he was frozen, only able to bear witness as it all unfolded.

Harry peered up at his Mother and giggled as she played a game of hide-and-seek with the boy.

Suddenly, there was a loud commotion downstairs.

“Lily, he’s here. I will buy you some time. You know what to do. I love you!” A voice shouted from downstairs.

Lily sobbed in terror as she climbed to her feet. As if working on a pre-rehearsed plan, she reached down and dragged the small rug in front of the crib out of the way. On the floor was a faint outline of a runic circle.

She grabbed Harry, placed him in the centre of the circle, and pointed her wand in his direction, sticking him to the floor. Harry cried out in protest and tried manoeuvring his body.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but this is your only chance of surviving. Mommy loves you.”

She conjured a knife, sliced her hand, and did the same with Harry after a brief hesitation. Harry cried out, but she continued determinedly. She held their two bleeding hands over the circle, and the blood dripped onto the floor. Strangely, the circle seemed to have a life of its own as it absorbed the blood. After thirty seconds, she raised Harry’s hand and healed it with a flick of her wand.

Lily cried out in grief as she heard the short scream and the cold laughter. Footsteps sounded as someone climbed the stairs. Lily stood up and turned around with her wand pointed at the floor, not even defend herself.

Harry began to wriggle even further as he perceived that something terrible was about to happen. His magic followed his intention somewhat as he released his upper body. He raised his head and tried to peer through his Mother's legs as a figure stepped through the door.

“Stand aside, girl. "

"Who are you?" Lily asked in surprise. She had been expecting someone else.

The man's face was obscured, but it didn't hide the menacing grin on his face. "Call me Uriel."

Lily raised her wand, pointing it at the man. "How did you find us behind the Fideleus Charm? Did you do something to Peter?"

The man ignores the question. "Do you realise who that boy is? If he is allowed to live, he will bring about the apocalypse. It is distasteful killing a child, but it is my sacred duty. I have righteousness on my side.”

“You will not touch my baby, you bastard." Lily cast a purple curse at the man, but it splashed harmlessly against an invisible shield.

"You think you can match me, witch? How laughable. Now stand aside. I already have killed your husband. I have no qualms of doing the same to you."

"You are a monster. Voldemort has nothing on you," Lucas cried angrily.

“Oh, that little upstart. I have already taken care of the so-called Dark Lord. I met him on the way here. It seems we had the same idea of ending the child tonight. Who would have thought?”

Lily stood there in shock, hardly believing what she was hearing.

The man’s tone became softer as if trying to reason with her. “The boy is the only other magical blood to be spilt tonight. Once the boy is dead, the Potter line ends for good. You can go live the rest of your life like usual."

“No, not Harry,” Lily shouted. “Over my dead body.”

"Do you know how much effort I made to come here? Don't think that runic circle will protect him, even with your sacrifice.”

Lily stared at him stonily.

"It may have worked on Voldemort, but it won't do anything to me. Now stand aside."

Lily refused, raising her wand again.

“Very well, if you insist."

Harry's brilliant green eyes widened in terror as he sensed his Mother was in trouble. He had always been able to tap into accidental magic from a few months old, and now he used that ability to enact a difference.

Harry’s hand glowed briefly, and the runes beneath him reconfigured into an entirely new shape.

As Harry’s eyes reflected the two curses colliding in front of him, he was blinded temporarily, and then an explosion sounded; Harry screamed in terror.

Harry began crying as the roof collapsed around him, unable to sense his Mother. She had disappeared without a trace.

Harry gasped as he was torn from the memory. He threw up on the floor, his body physically affected by grief and confusion. Tremors struck his body, and he started hitting himself to try and get them to stop, without realising what he was doing because his mind was still stuck in the memory, cycling through the final moments like a time-loop.

Minutes passed before he returned to a semblance of normality. He found himself lying on the floor, staring at the sky through the destroyed roof. Celeste appeared in his vision, hovering in front of his face.

“Are you okay?” Celeste asked, her eyes streaked with tears. She had been really worried about him. Harry felt a touch of warmth, but that feeling passed when he tasted the vomit in his mouth.

“Yeah,” Harry grimaced in distaste, sitting up and shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. Grabbing a bottle of water from his inventory, he rinsed his mouth several times until the taste disappeared.

“Do you want to talk about it?" Celeste asked. "I imagine seeing Voldemort kill your parents must be painful.”

“It wasn’t Voldemort.”

“What?”

“The man who was there that night,” Harry clarified. “He called himself Uriel.” He recounted all that he could remember.

Fairy floated down and sat on his chest. “There’s so much that doesn’t make sense. I wish I could have seen the memory as well. Maybe I would have had a different perspective and seen something you didn’t.”

Harry tried to recall as much of the memory as possible, but already some details were becoming murky, just like waking from a dream. If he knew this would happen, he would have focused more on increasing his Intelligence; if he spent the twenty AP now to improve it, would it help him recall the details?

“Is there another way to view a memory?” Harry asked.

“A Pensieve,” Celeste exclaimed, then shook her head.

“But they are pretty rare. You will be lucky to find it anywhere for sale.”

=====

A Desperate Gamble 02

Seeking Answers

Description: Harry Potter has discovered that his Mother’s body is missing. The events surrounding her death are a mystery. Search the Godric Hollow home for clues to what happened that Halloween night.

Current Objective: Obtain a Pensieve and view the memory for information.

Time Remaining: Twelve days (Time adjusted for time spent in Dungeon.)

This quest is mandatory.

=====

Harry stood up and looked around with distaste. “Let’s get out of here.”

<====({owo})====>

Harry knelt in front of his parent's grave, paying respect to his parents. He wished he had brought some flowers to lay at their graveside, but he could return at any time.

Hedwig had arrived and was perched on a tree above him, overseeing him with her glowing amber eyes. She had been distraught when she showed up twenty minutes later, upset that she hadn't been there to support her hatchling. He felt she wouldn't let him out of her sight for a while."

Harry traced their headstone, feeling the smooth marble beneath his fingers before it paused on the eulogy.

The last enemy to be conquered is death.

What the hell did that even mean? It sounded like some inscrutable pile of garbage, but he was just a kid. What did he know?

If there was one positive thing that he received from that memory was the knowledge that his parents had loved him. Growing up, he couldn’t recount all the times his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon lambasted his parents, calling them drunken wastrels that were killed in a car crash.

It had bothered him that everyone he was related to was horrible. Was he going to turn out the same as his parents? Or would he grow up as narrow-minded and vile as his relatives? Of course, now he knew differently, and it was like a weight had lifted from his shoulders.

“I am Harry Potter,” he spoke softly but with resolve.

“Son of James and Lily Potter, " I will again bring the House of Potter back into prominence. I will not hesitate to destroy anyone who threatens me or my own. Uriel, I will hunt you down and kill you one day if you are still out there.”

The most puzzling aspect of the memory was how both Uriel and Lily Potter vanished that night. Did the explosion completely obliterate their bodies? It was unlikely, so something else was going on.

Who was Uriel, and why did he want to kill him, a baby?

He recalled the man saying something about him causing the apocalypse, which sounded ridiculous.

“I will be back to visit you soon,” Harry promised.

Harry stood up and was about to leave when Celeste called him. “Harry, look at this!”

He strolled over to where the fairy stood in front of a large crypt. Etched into the top was the name Peverell.

“Someone desiccated this crypt with this abomination,” Celeste pointed at the symbol below the name. It depicted a circle within a triangle, with a single line down the middle.

“What’s wrong with it?” Harry asked curiously.

“It is the sign of Grindelwald,” Celeste declared.

“Grindelwald? The Dark Lord before Voldemort?”

“That’s right. He always wore a necklace with this symbol.”

“Um, I think this symbol has been here for a long time,” Harry pointed out. “This crypt looks old. Who’s to say that Grindelwald didn’t steal the symbol and rebrand it for his own purposes?”

“That is true,” Celeste said. “I wonder if this thing is locked.” Celeste comically tried to push open the heavy stone door.

“Why would it be unlocked?” Harry stepped forward, pushed on the door,  and recoiled when he felt a tingle shooting up his arm. The heavy crypt swung open with a rumble, revealing stairs into the depths.

“Merlin’s saggy balls,” Celeste swore.

“What the hell is going on?” Harry asked.

“Who knows?” Celeste peered down.” Are we going down?”

Hedwig flew down and perched on top of the crypt. ‘Is that wise? We don’t know what we will find down there.’

“Spoilsport,” Celeste stuck out her tongue. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

{Hedwig} ‘I think it’s safely hidden behind my common sense. I wonder if you have that specific characteristic?’

“Harry, Hedwig is being mean,” Celeste flew over and landed on his shoulder.

“That’s nice,” Harry said absently, staring into the crypt. Something was telling him that he needed to enter.

“What?!” Celeste shouted in his ear, finally breaking the spell.

“Let’s go down,” Harry decided. “But let’s go slowly and stay alert.”

Hedwig fluttered down, and her claws bit into his other shoulder and barked. ‘This is a mistake.'

Harry stroked her feathers to soothe her. “It will be fine.”

He took out his wand, "Lumos."

They descended the stairs and into the crypt.

=====

You have entered the Property Dungeon: Peverell's Crypt.

Property Dungeons

Unlike Instant Dungeons, Property Dungeons are a system construct that follows a specific theme based on historical events. Inside, there may be actual artefacts and treasures left behind by the previous occupants.

The Property Dungeon acts differently than Instant  Dungeons in that:

It consists of several floors, each with a gradual increase in difficulty.

After entering a floor, the player can only leave once he finds the key to unlock the gate to the next floor.

After finding the exit to the floor, the player may use the teleport to return to the entrance. You can return to any floor previously unlocked.

Once the final Boss is defeated, the Dungeon disappears permanently, but the original structure remains.

Time flows the same within the Property Dungeon as on the outside.

=====

“Well, that is a doozy,” Celeste huffed.

‘What did I say?’ Hedwig stared at them smugly.

“It’s fine,” Harry said as they reached the bottom of the stairs and faced a wooden door. He opened it with a creak, and they entered a small chamber with a door standing opposite. On the left was a circular platform, which was currently dim.

“Think that’s the teleportation device?” Celeste asked.

A noise sounded, and Harry whirled around, illuminating the far corner. A small stone throne was there, with a skeleton sitting there like a king. Harry felt his spine crawl when he realised the skeleton was looking at him.

“Finally, a descendant has returned to our resting place,” it rasped. “We need your help. Gryffindor has led his soldiers into the crypt and seeks to steal our treasure. Find them and kill them all.”

So, what do you think? Who is the mysterious Uriel, and why does he want to kill Harry? And is there really no Voldemort anymore? 

Some more Dungeon delving in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading.