Oh Ashes Ashes, Dust to Dust
According to “The Manifold Mysteries of the Pellarastic Rite” the burial rites for the Pellarastic Church – of which Binns was likely a member – weren’t dissimilar to those of non-magical churches, insofar as the rites that were ruled as needed by the Synod of the Arcane. The particularities of the rites acquired, the more pressing aspect of his research was centered on the burial places themselves. More specifically, attempting to discern any effect the rites may have had on the graves of those given the rites.
Naturally, he had already visited mundane cemeteries, specifically older sites. Unsurprisingly, the majority of the sites had no unique noise to them, though there were a small number that held a barely-there chiming ring. Which left magical burial sites. Which left him with a visit he had to make, thus his presence in a particular forest. As he began strumming his lyre, Harry pulled his leg up to rest on the branch he had decided to sit on.
As the hours ticked by, leading morning to afternoon, Harry played on, eventually hearing a distant voice mutter something before the snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves that were still on the ground, culminating in Cedric coming into the clearing Harry was resting in.
“Songbird? What are you doing here?”
Hopping off of the branch, Harry let his lyre rest at his side, picking his staff up from where it lay.
“Beyond having been in the area, I happen to be in a bit of a quandary, in that I need to visit the graves of magicians, yet I remain unaware as to where they happen to be.”
“Well, that is a quandary, isn’t it?” Cedric replied, grinning. “Maybe I could help?”
“Perhaps you could.” Harry replied. “Though I suppose you might have to… redirect your parents.”
Cedric’s response was a sharp laugh.
“My dad’s at work, won’t be back until nine, and mum’s busy somewhere, probably regretting her life, so we’re good to go.”
“That sounds… incredibly depressing.” Harry commented as he walked alongside Cedric.
“Yeah, well, there’s a reason I don’t get along with them.” Cedric offered. “Hey, you’ve used the Floo Network, right?”
“The what?”
“Yeah, no, thought not.” Cedric sighed as he let them into his house. “Floo Network. You throw some Floo Powder in the fireplace, say your destination’s name, step through the fire, and presto chango! You’re there.”
“That seems… incredibly unintuitive.”
“Blame the Vittugr.” Cedric replied. “So, I’m thinking we go to Dowr Lehen. Thoughts?”
“That would be the settlement in Kernow, yes?”
“That’s the one! Shorter travel time that way.” Cedric replied, picking up a pinch of powder from an ornate pot attached to the mantle. “Oh, and keep walking when you enter the fire, makes the exit easier.”
It was simple enough to use the Network. Simply throwing the powder into the fire, a call of “The Lion’s Claw,” and stepping through. The actual experience was rather more disorienting, given the spinning through the fire while being able to see through the fireplaces he passed by, though the exiting was as smooth as the entrance. Stopping quickly to dust off the soot that had collected on him, Harry made his way to where Cedric was standing. Leaving the establishment – which seemed to be a tavern of some sort – Harry noticed something rather odd.
The gaping lack of a building in the center of the town square.
In lieu of asking a question, Harry looked at the mysterious gap, then looked to Cedric, quirking his eyebrow as he did.
“Oh, it’s the Basilica. I mentioned Pellarastic Christianity was an initiatory religion last year right?”
“Indeed.” Harry answered, following Cedric.
“Well, if you aren’t part of the Church you can’t see any of their buildings. Cemetery is all good though.”
Wandering over to the aforementioned cemetery’s entrance, Harry took stock of the town. It was… quaint. There were the houses, what seemed to be a greengrocer’s, an apothecary, and a bookstore all in the town square. Off in the distance, he could hear the running water of the Dowr Lehen, from which the town took its name. As they set foot in the graveyard, Harry inhaled sharply.
“You okay?”
“Ah. Fine.” Harry replied. “I had rather expected this.”
“Expected what?”
“Certain denominations view the Folk as fallen angels. Or, in a word, demons. Thus minor pain for myself when on hallowed ground, given particular circumstances.” Harry answered. “No issue. I have a task after all.”
“So that’s why people avoid you.” Cedric muttered.
“Pardon?”
“Oh, yeah, people are kind of scared of you. Whenever I asked why, they just gave me a weird look. I never really got it, I mean, you look nice.” Cedric replied. “I mean, your magic!” He hurriedly added, blushing.
“Yes well, as much as I enjoy conversing and how you sound, I would appreciate silence.”
Now visited by the sweet silence he required, Harry began to walk the paths between the graves and mausoleums, careful to avoid stepping on the graves, and began listening. Wandering through, he ignored the graves that lacked a unique emanation, honing in on those that held a crystal-like tone to their collective songs. Some had a distant tone, others barely held a trace of that same tone. Fearing he wouldn’t find what he was looking for, Harry was elated when he came to a standstill in front of an archway that had clearly had restorations performed on it.
“Cedric, you wouldn’t happen to know who this monument is dedicated to, would you?”
“I… would not.” Cedric replied as he ambled over to where Harry was standing. “We could check Town Hall?”
-{╣ ҉ ╠}-
“Pardon?” The clerk asked.
“I was wondering if you had anything in the town’s records about the archway in the graveyard?” Cedric asked.
“We’d be entirely willing to file the appropriate forms if such measures exist.” Harry added on.
“Well, this is… highly irregular, but I do think we have some records on the cemetery.” The clerk replied, leafing through a large tome before reading one of the pages and muttering a spell. From around a corner, a packet of parchment came flying before coming to a stop on top of the desk. After a quick look, the clerk handed the packet to Cedric.
“Let’s see…” He muttered as they left the Town Hall with the copied information. “So, apparently it was the entrance to an… ossuary? No clue what that is.”
“A building or enclosed container used for the resting place of the dead, frequently constructed and decorated with the skeletal remains themselves.”
“Okay, that. It was apparently the entrance to the… Hockley Abbey’s ossuary, and the arch was made of the… ‘first Abbott’s bones.’”
“Is there no notation of who the Abbey’s founding Abbott was?”
“Uh… just a note about Saint Hockley.” Cedric replied after a few seconds. “You reckon the Historical Society would have anything?”
“I suppose it would be the likeliest, bar the Church and the Ministry. Where are they headquartered?”
Diagon Alley was the answer, as it turned out. Thankfully, they did, indeed, have the sought-after material concerning Saint Hockley, known otherwise as Frederick Hockley. Though the details were scant, primarily focused on the acts that allowed him to be sainted, there were two pages about his death and interment. Most relevant to Harry was that both the Office of the Dead and the Final Commendation and Farewell had been performed before his integration into the archway. The natural conclusion, then, was that those graves which held a slight tone had had incorrectly or partially performed burial rites prior to the recipient’s interment.
Now, to find where the professor had been buried.