0401 The Tale

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 nebulae in the boundless dark cosmos, danced around him, casting eerie, ever-shifting shadows on the ancient stone walls.Yôur favorite stories at novelhall.com

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 place was like an intricate puzzle piece, slowly uniting in his consciousness to form a complete, disturbing, story.

This grand picture was nearly complete, but it lacked 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 island 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. "According 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 similar to self-division. They theorize that once a Dementor has absorbed a sufficient quantity of happy memories from its victims, it becomes capable of reproducing."

How Dementors were bred was no longer a matter of speculation; 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 explained. "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 population growth accelerated."

Within the expansive ruins, numerous rooms remained unexplored. Rowena Ravenclaw 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 occupied 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 Ravenclaw 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 door lay a passage that, while not particularly long, seemed to stretch endlessly before them. Solid rock walls, slick with moisture and adorned with strange, phosphorescent fungi, flanked 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.

Unexpectedly, Ravenclaw 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-related topics. Despite his vast knowledge, he came up empty-handed. "Is it some kind of evil magic, like Horcruxes?"

'Hallows? The Deathly Hallows?' 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."

Ravenclaw 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 Ravenclaw are much older than Beedle, right? Oh! The Hallows!"

Sirius suddenly exclaimed, 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 occasional rustle of Ravenclaw'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," Ravenclaw said at last, her voice tinged with reluctance. "Let's check out the room behind the library. That's the last chamber."

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