The Archivist
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Ministry of Magic ~~ Ministry All-Purpose Room ~~ Night of October 31st 1981
The Ministry All-Purpose Room, a haven of tranquillity nestled within the Ministry of Magic, unfolded before them in all its majestic splendour. Its imposing vaulted ceiling and walls clad in dark porcelain tiles mirrored the labyrinthine corridors of the Ministry itself. At one end of the room stood a grand fireplace, large enough to accommodate a standing man, flanked by two majestic clocks whose hands danced to the mystical rhythm of the magical world. At its heart, an array of black leather sofas, meticulously tufted, formed a circle around a dark wooden coffee table that seemed to swallow the surrounding light.
Beyond this lounging area, a long table was set, adorned with an eclectic collection of ancient tomes, a globe depicting perhaps unknown continents to the uninitiated, and two oil lamps casting a soft, warm glow. Nearby, four wooden desks faced each other, each illuminated by its own lamp, providing a discreet and intimate workspace.
Opposite the fireplace, enchanted windows revealed an idyllic landscape: a valley ringed by lush hills, through which meandered a tranquil river, all under a pristine blue sky, transporting the room's occupants far from the worries of the wizarding world.
The group's entry into this sanctuary offered a moment of reprieve, a welcome pause in the whirlwind of their lives. Sirius Black, the young wizard with an adventurous heart, couldn't help but let slip a nostalgic smile, recalling moments of confidences and mischief shared with James in this very room. Alastor Moody, the warrior with the piercing gaze, had been the unwitting protagonist of many pranks, moments of lightness that contrasted with his mantra of "Constant Vigilance," yet somehow, reinforced his resolve.
Albus Dumbledore, the sage among sages, delightedly immersed himself in the scene, his legendary intuition once again unfailingly guiding him. His old friend Elton, an enigmatic figure and longtime companion, lounged on one of the sofas, tea in hand, deep in conversation with a remarkably long-lived dog. Dumbledore, intrigued by the presence of the animal he hadn't seen in decades, found himself pondering the secret behind its exceptional vitality in a world where magic and mystery intertwine at every turn. He noted, however, that the animal had aged, perhaps its lifespan had been extended by the bond it shared with its master?
Elton Elderberry was a wizard of considerable age, sporting a grand white beard and hair of the same unblemished colour, forming a crown around his head and revealing a shining, bald forehead. He was accustomed to wearing a deep olive-green robe, giving him the appearance of a kindly grandfather. His face bore the signs of time, with pronounced wrinkles that spoke of a long life and a gentle nature, especially around the eyes and mouth, revealing the many smiles he must have shared over the years.
"What a pleasure to see you, Albus. Would you like some tea?" Elton called out upon seeing him. "Please, take a seat. Say hello, Herbert."
Sirius and Hagrid exchanged surprised glances at the old man's behaviour. Sirius had indeed crossed paths with him before, but they had never exchanged words; after all, it wasn't his habit to converse with every wizard he met. His attention turned to the dog, named Herbert, curious to see if it would obey its master and prove capable of speaking. His disappointment was palpable when the dog simply watched them before looking away, refocusing on Elton.
"Herbert says hello," Elton said with a smile, as the three wizards settled on the sofa opposite him, Harry in Sirius's arms.
Suddenly, Herbert began to growl, under his master's puzzled gaze.
"Herbert? A cat? I don't see any cat here, what nonsense are you talking about?" the old man wondered.
The three wizards looked towards the animal; the dog hadn't spoken. Dumbledore, on his part, smiled as he poured himself a cup of tea. Although he had had some just before, he knew Elton's brews were exceptional, the latter taking care to concoct his own blends. A true delight for the senses, and particularly soothing for the occasion.
As for Hagrid, he felt the cat tense in his arms at the sound of the dog's growl. The poor animal had been alarmed by the noise but didn't seem scared. Hagrid wasn't surprised, convinced that if the cat was a half-kneazle, it was perfectly capable of standing up to the dog. Kneazles, after all, were magical creatures of great intelligence and considerable strength, their sharp claws capable of tearing through most skins, except that of a dragon.
"My dear friend, a cat is indeed among us," Dumbledore replied with a smile, sipping his tea, while nodding towards Hagrid and the cat. "Let's hope Herbert can keep his composure, shall we?"
"Indeed, indeed," Elton replied, casting a mischievous glance at the cat. "Did you hear that, Herbert? The cat is our guest, not a snack."
The old dog, a Scottish greyhound with grey and white fur, brown eyes, and a nose of the same colour, merely let out a soft whimper as he stared at his master.
"What have I told you, Herbert?" Elton asked, frowning. "It's neither a snack, nor a delicacy, much less a quick meal. And besides, it has as much right to be here as you do. Who knows, it might be just as good a conversation partner. I wonder what it thinks about Gamp's Law on Elemental Transfiguration..."
Sirius Black blinked several times, stunned by the words of the wizard before him. Did he truly believe a cat could formulate thoughts or comments on any subject? He reconsidered upon seeing the cat's indignant look, as if it had read his thoughts and felt offended. Sirius wondered if the evening's events had affected him more than he had initially thought.
"Elton, I would appreciate if we could continue this fascinating discussion with Herbert, but we require your assistance," interjected Albus Dumbledore, eager not to waste more time.
"Oh?" exclaimed Elton, surprised. "It's rare that you need me, Albus. Usually, you manage to find information on your own."
"Indeed, but the information I possess is insufficient," Dumbledore conceded, betraying his concern. "Have you ever heard of a Horcrux?"
At the mention of the word "Horcrux," a change came over Elton Elderberry. His face darkened, his sparkling eyes gave way to a look filled with interest, and he straightened up suddenly, as if the mere mention of the term "Horcrux" had injected new vigour into his posture.
"It's been a long time since I've heard that term, Albus," Elton responded before turning to the other wizards. "Are they trustworthy?"
"What... What do you mean by that?" Sirius protested, offended by the insinuation.
"They have my absolute trust, Elton. Moreover, they are directly involved in this matter," Dumbledore interjected. "What do you know about these artefacts?"
Elton observed the three men with interest, while his dog, sensing the tension in the air, stood on its paws, eyes fixed on the wizards, ready to react to any sign of danger. Only Harry, deep in slumber, seemed oblivious to the electric atmosphere that prevailed.
"Horcruxes are considered one of the most malevolent forms of magic," Elton began. "Only an act against nature, accompanied by a very specific ritual, allows their creation. It is extremely difficult to find any reference to such rituals, except perhaps in archives or in one of the great magical libraries, like that of Hogwarts."
"Professor, what's a Horcrux?" asked Hagrid, who had been silent since their arrival at the ministry.
"Horcruxes, my dear sir, are objects in which a wizard has locked away a part of his soul," Elton explained in Dumbledore's stead. "However, it seems that instead of simply severing his soul, the wizard splits it. This is a forbidden magic, forbidden since its creation by Herpo the Foul."
Elton's revelations plunged Sirius and Hagrid into deep dismay, while Dumbledore fell into deep thought. The wise headmaster had considered the possibility that Horcruxes could divide the soul, viewing the soul as an impenetrable mystery; after all, how could one precisely detach a portion of it? Sirius, for his part, cast a glance towards Harry and his scar. Elton's words echoed within him like a distant memory, and if one could visualize his thoughts, a light bulb would appear above his head. He now understood Dumbledore's reluctance to speak clearly about Harry's scar, secretly hoping the headmaster could be mistaken.
"And to neutralize them? To make them disappear?" inquired Sirius, casting a furtive glance at Dumbledore, whose expression darkened, confirming his worst fears.
"Hmm..." murmured Elton, taking a sip of tea. "A Horcrux can neither be neutralized nor dissipated, only destroyed. Destroying a Horcrux is complicated, as the object housing a soul fragment is protected by the same defences as the soul itself. It is nearly impossible to destroy a soul; upon our death, our soul leaves our body for an unknown destiny. Our body is not inherently linked to our soul, otherwise we would all be immortal and nearly invincible. However, in the case of a Horcrux..."
"The infused object inherits the attributes of the soul, including its nearly absolute resilience," continued Dumbledore, looking distressed. "And if the host is a living being?"
Elton paused, struck by the question, before his gaze fell upon the child. He quickly realized that the child could be a Horcrux, but if that were the case, he should have been possessed immediately. It was evident that the child remained himself.
"Normally, a living being would be immediately dominated by the Horcrux," began Elton, furrowing his brows. "But perhaps not, after all. It would depend on the being in question. An animal would easily succumb, their soul not having its own consciousness, but a human? I doubt a fragmented soul could prevail over a whole soul, except perhaps in an individual unconscious or already drained of their essence, like those who have suffered the kiss of a Dementor. May I?"
The ministry archivist extended his hands towards the child. Sirius hesitated for a moment before reluctantly handing Harry over to Elton Elderberry. In the old man's arms, the child seemed to awaken and displayed a radiant smile at another soft beard, which he hastened to grab. The old man smiled, comforted by this unexpected but soothing reaction, reassured to see that the child was not under the influence of possession. He then focused his attention on the scar, from which emanated an aura of both dark and light magic.
Harry's scar, curiously evoking the Scandinavian rune Sowilo with its lightning bolt shape, raised questions for Elton. However, some discrepancies in the contours distanced it from the hypothesis of an actual rune, suggesting instead the imprint of a distinct spell. Intrigued, Dumbledore revealed to him the events that had taken place earlier in the night, thus illuminating the true nature of the scar: the precise gesture required to cast Avada Kedavra, one of the three Unforgivable Curses.
Elton, with his previous research on these curses, knew that the Cruciatus Curse, or Crucio, dated back to the early Middle Ages, well before the establishment of the Ministry of Magic. This curse, notorious for inflicting extreme pain without leaving physical marks, was prized by torturers and wizards exerting power over others, used both for interrogation and for domestic discipline. Its prohibition in 1717, following the foundation of the Ministry, was a response to the recognition of its devastating aftermath: persistent pain, convulsions, insanity. Elton speculated, however, that due to its action on the nervous system, Crucio could theoretically heal certain pathologies affecting motor skills.
The Imperius Curse, the second of the Unforgivables, was conceived around the same time to completely subjugate the victim's will to that of the caster. Used in family contexts to enforce obedience or forced marriages, it also found application among some Healers and Aurors in response to suicide attempts, although this was rare. Its ban in 1717 was due to the difficulty of proving its influence on individuals, allowing many wizards to falsely claim its grip to evade their responsibilities. Elton sensed that history was inclined to repeat itself.
The last of the Unforgivables, the Killing Curse, was also created in the Middle Ages. Its primary purpose was to kill instantly, leaving no visible trace on the victim's body, hence the gesture associated with the lightning bolt. Unlike the other two curses, Avada Kedavra had no other purpose than death, although it could be used in various circumstances, from assassinations to armed conflicts, from slaughtering animals to executions, long before the advent of the Dementors. Contrary to popular belief, the success of this curse did not depend on a murderous intent, but on great magical power, capable of expelling a soul from its corporeal shell.
The survival of young Harry, despite the onslaught of such a fatal curse, astonished Elton, who nonetheless perceived a magic of a much older and purer essence than that of the Unforgivables, a magic imbued with the innocence of sacrifice. He surmised that a voluntary act of sacrifice had been performed, likely in connection with magical numerical symbolism, the number three or seven. He leaned towards three, associated in numerology with the cycle of life and the union between body and soul.
For Elton, one thing was clear: the Horcrux did not reside in Harry himself but was confined to his scar, isolated from the child by the protective veil of the sacrifice. An encouraging revelation.
"There is indeed a Horcrux here, and one who has seen one can recognize another without difficulty," explained Elton to his audience. "However, a spell of sacrifice of unprecedented power isolates the Horcrux from the child. It seems feasible to detach the scar to..."
"Detach the scar?" exclaimed Sirius, leaping to his feet. "Are you considering mutilating my godson as if he were a mere piece of flesh?"
"Just a bit of healing balm would mend," assured Elton in a soothing tone. "It would only require putting the child to sleep and making an incision on the scar. However, the effect of extracting the soul fragment on the child is uncertain. After all, it is the sacrifice that keeps them separate, and once the soul fragment is removed, the reason for this isolation would disappear. But all indications are that the protective spell would remain with the child ad vitam aeternam... and..."
"And?" pressed Dumbledore, captivated by Elton's reasoning.
"It is possible that the child could be immune to malevolent spells," continued Elton. "It's merely a supposition, but the sacrifice seems to have been designed to protect the child from any curse. Thus, I would recommend using an enchanted blade for the incision rather than a spell, fearing that the latter might backfire on its user."
Faced with these revelations, Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black, and Rubeus Hagrid remained contemplative. Dumbledore, with a heavy heart, measured the full extent of Lily Potter's sacrifice. Love, that powerful conduit of magic, had always been a field of study he sought to understand, particularly through sacrificial magic. He remembered giving Lily a book on this subject, which she had evidently read and absorbed. But magic, always seeking balance, demanded a price: if Harry was under such protection, it meant that Lily had not only offered her life but perhaps her soul, and maybe even that of James. The possibility that James's death had activated the protective spell, explaining his lack of resistance, was a hypothesis to consider.
"Are you sure it will be safe for Harry?" worried Sirius, having regained his composure but no less anxious. "I don't want to take any risks with his life..."
"I assure you, the sacrifice that protected this child is of exceptional power," retorted Elton confidently. "You may not realize it, but a voluntary and pure sacrifice is extremely rare. And knowing the assassin and his preferred spell, I have no doubt that the use of Avada Kedavra allowed for the sacrifice of much more than just life."
Sirius, moved by these words, turned to Dumbledore, seeking answers in his gaze.
"It seems Lily offered up to her soul to protect Harry, my boy," Dumbledore shared, his voice laden with sadness. "And it's very likely that James's soul joined Lily's, giving this protection an unmatched strength. To my knowledge, nothing can break such a spell."
"James and Lily?" murmured Sirius, stunned, collapsing onto the sofa. "What does this imply for Harry? And their souls?"
"We can only speculate on such an exceptional event," intervened Elton. "All we know is that the child will be profoundly marked by such a sacrifice, whether physically, mentally, or magically."
"I see..." replied Sirius, still in shock from the news. "How do we proceed with the incision?"
"I think it would be best to perform this operation at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries," suggested Dumbledore. "There's a special room on the fourth floor, designed for reversing unfortunate rituals and treating rare cases of possession."
"What are we waiting for?" said Sirius, rising to pick up Harry in his arms.
The headmaster of Hogwarts, with characteristic serenity, performed a few precise gestures with his magic wand. In a fluid movement, a white emanation escaped from the tip of his wand, quickly transforming into a phoenix of ethereal beauty. It was none other than his patronus, taking the form of Fawkes, his phoenix and faithful companion, a manifestation of his protective spirit.
"Notify Miriam Strout that we will be at St. Mungo's in a few moments, and ask her to prepare skilled Healers in the Bonham Room," Dumbledore instructed his luminous patronus.
The patronus, vibrating with serene energy, let out a melodious cry before soaring through space, crossing walls and obstacles with supernatural grace, leaving behind a trail of light. Its departure was followed by the admiring gazes of the present wizards, once again testifying to the depth of magic that the headmaster of Hogwarts mastered with such ease.
The sudden growl of Herbert, as incongruous as a frog at a wizards' ball, abruptly cut through the solemn atmosphere. Hagrid, whose delicacy with animals was legendary, except perhaps in this specific instance, released the Potter's cat with all the grace of a giant discovering a game of Mikado. The poor feline landed with forced elegance right in front of Herbert, and there, chaos took on a turn worthy of a slapstick scene.
Herbert, confusing bravery with stubbornness, launched into a frenzied chase, like a canine version of Gilderoy Lockhart attempting to capture a Cornish Pixie without the slightest idea of what he was doing. The cat, embodying Peeves' mischief with the agility of a Kneazle, assaulted the furniture with an agility that would have made Minerva McGonagall green with envy.
The room, transformed into a miniature theatre of war, saw drinks, books, and various dishes flying in a chaotic ballet orchestrated by two animals that were complete opposites. The climax of this cacophony came when the cat, defying the laws of nature and interior decoration, chose a clock for its next perch. Herbert, not wanting to be outdone, attempted the ascent, demonstrating that optimism, for a dog of his stature, sometimes bordered on pure madness.
The inevitable law of gravity reclaimed its rights, accompanied by a crash vaguely reminiscent of a troll knocking over a library shelf. Herbert found himself on the ground, as disoriented as a student after their first Apparition lesson. The cat, from its improvised perch, gave him a look that could freeze the blood of a Basilisk.
In a burst of bravery (or pure feline madness), the cat leaped onto Herbert, claws out, landing on his head and turning the dog into a living doormat. Herbert, taken aback, began to run in zigzags, turning the room into an impromptu circus. After a frenetic whirlwind, the cat landed gracefully on the ground, giving Herbert a look that clearly said, "Never underestimate me again."
Herbert, with his mind muddled and his ego in tatters, retreated behind his master, probably swearing, in the language of dogs, to never again underestimate an opponent, regardless of their number of lives. The cat, for its part, triumphantly returned to Hagrid, curling up in his arms with a purring that sounded very much like a victory laugh.
"By Merlin's beard..." Sirius murmured, his eyes widening at the sight worthy of a lost chapter of Quidditch Through the Ages.
And in the echo of his exclamation, laughter rose, led by Elton Elderberry, who, tears in his eyes, watched the scene with unabashed joy.
"I told you he wasn't a snack," he laughed heartily. "Poor Herbert, you thought you were the hunter, but you were the prey!"
In this lightened atmosphere, Dumbledore, Sirius, Hagrid, Harry, and the cat left the room, leaving behind a laughing wizard and a dog that had lost all its pride. Their destination: St. Mungo's Hospital, for a delicate but crucial operation.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-