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(Enchanting Melodies) Chapter 190: Wisdom and Choices
🕑 Added 2023-12-26 11:06:20 +0000 UTCChapter 190: Wisdom and Choices
17 February 1994, Hogwarts
“Stop trying to sound like an old man, young Potter. It doesn’t suit you. But that’s enough time for pleasantries. I don’t care about what could have been. Hell, I don’t even care about Dumbledore and his constant empty platitudes. For some ungodly reason, you seem to be the boy with the answers, so tell me, Potter, what is happening to Neville? What is happening to my grandson?”
Harry stiffened at the woman’s tone and just replied, “It’s complicated.”
The Longbottom Matriarch raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “Then uncomplicate it.”
“It’s a very long story…”
“And I have time,” she briskly replied.
“Can’t you just take him to a healer, they should be a lot more qualified about this than me.”
The older woman snorted, “I’m taking Neville this afternoon to a private healer, but you know as much as I do that family crests can be unpredictable. I can’t very well tell them that my grandson’s scar is messing with his crest, and that’s why he almost killed a boy in a school tournament. I need more information.”
Harry hesitated for a moment and the woman pounced further, “Let me make this absolutely clear. My grandson, my only remaining descendant, the last thing I have left of my son and my husband, is in danger and you have information that could help. There is nothing in heaven or on Earth that will stop me from getting what I want. I don’t care about Arcturus Black. I don’t care about Dumbledore. I would burn this castle to the grounds with every single child inside, just for a chance to he would be better. So, young Potter, look me in the eyes. Do you think I am bluffing?”
The young Slytherin looked at her in the eyes. He expected a Legilimency probe or something similar, yet he only saw pure determination and steel in the woman’s eyes. To his Arcane hearing, Augusta Longbottom’s song felt like war drums, slowly getting quicker and quicker, louder and louder, until Harry simply nodded, “You’re not bluffing.”
He saw the woman visibly relax and he took a deep sigh, “What I’m about to tell you is not something you should share. This knowledge, if people knew you had it, will make you a target. Many people want these facts to be concealed, Dumbledore included. So, be very careful.”
“I know more secrets than days you’ve been alive, young Potter,” she answered with an amused smile on her face, “I think I can handle a few more.”
“It’s your funeral, but I warn you. Should anyone figure out that you got this knowledge from me, should I be endangered in any way because I chose to help your grandson, then don’t expect your family name to last very long.”
The older woman froze, and her amused smile became barely more than a thin line, “Fine. Speak.”
“What do you know about Tom Riddle?”
The older woman furrowed her eyebrow and asked, “What does some Slytherin boy from the forties have to do with Neville’s condition.”
“A lot. The fact that you dismiss the name so, means that you don’t really understand. Tom’s story is a tragic one, not enough to justify his actions, but enough to act as a cautionary tale. He was a brilliant boy, a magical genius, but he lived in a muggle orphanage in London. Dumbledore saw his potential, and he didn’t like it. Every action the boy took, every attempt he made to get help, was stopped by Dumbledore in the background. That kept happening until one summer, London was attacked and he almost perished. The concept terrified him, and he did his best to find a way to never die, a foolish endeavor. Yet, the boy was desperate as well as a genius, a very bad combination, all things considered. What I probably didn’t tell you, was that Tom’s mother was called Merope Gaunt.”
Harry could see the gears turning in her head until she came to the realization, “Voldemort. You’re talking about Voldemort…”
With a nod, the last Potter continued, “Yes, Lord Voldemort was born from the ashes of Tom Riddle. Back to the story, Tom had known about his legacy in his first year, you know, being a Parselmouth and all, but it took him some time to find the Chamber of Secrets. From there, he used the Basilisk there to petrify students, hoping to repel Dumbledore from the castle since he was the castle’s protector. Obviously, it didn’t work, until by mistake, a girl happened to be near the entrance. She met the Basilisk’s gaze directly by accident, and she perished. Tom didn’t know what to do, so, instead, hoping that the girl’s death wouldn’t be in vain, he did something stupid. He created a Horcrux.”
The older woman, completely engrossed with the story, asked, “What’s a Horcrux?”
“One of the vilest worst magics ever devised. It was created by Herpo the foul as a doomed way to achieve immortality. It essentially consisted of ripping one’s soul and putting a piece into an artifact, to act as an anchor should their body be destroyed. Tom Riddle was a genius, but as I said, he was desperate. He wasn’t prepared for the ritual, which happened to be beyond him completely, and he ignored the risks involved. You see, one of the catalysts for the ritual is murder, and like it or not, he killed that poor girl.”
“That’s how he survived?”
Harry nodded, “Yes. But that’s not really important. What’s important is the fact that the soul is not really quantifiable. Sure, he was ripping shreds of his very being apart to act like anchors, but what he was truly doing is sacrificing parts of himself, emotions, ambitions, everything he felt he didn’t need to create the Horcrux. The issue was that he put too much in the diary. He was still growing. His soul hadn’t matured yet, and he was inexperienced when it came to rituals. And slowly, as Tom Riddle slowly started to wither away, Lord Voldemort was born. He did this again and again, until he was barely more than a killing machine, leaving only his hate, anger, and magic in his body. He was a very dangerous being, a good strategist, a remarkable duelist, but that was it. All that remained of Tom Riddle was a monster.”
“That’s all very fascinating,” the Longbottom Matriarch answered, “and I can see why people would kill for this information. But what does this have to do with Neville?”
“A lot. You see, on that fateful day, Voldemort killed your son and his wife in cold blood. I don’t know the details, and I don’t understand what happened, but from what I could theorize their deaths was fueled in a sacrificial alchemical ritual anchored to Neville’s blood. A life for a life. They would give their lives so that Neville would live. Voldemort cast a killing curse at Neville without hesitation. When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, one of them loses their characteristics. Neville’s protection won, but at a price. The killing curse rebounded, but Voldemort’s soul was so warped, so unstable, that it marked Neville in some way.”
“You’re saying that Neville is a Horcrux?”
Harry shook his head, “The truth is that I don’t know. I don’t know enough about soul magic to postulate that. What I do know is that the scar is deeply connected to Voldemort. It burns Neville when he’s near or if he feels an intense emotion. My guess is that Neville’s protection protected him for years from its influence, like a door locked away. Until…”
“Until we unlocked his family crest… But how? It’s a documented case that possessed individuals can’t access their crests. It’s one of the fundamental protections put on them since their creation.”
“You have to understand that what happened to Neville is completely unprecedented. As far as I know, no one other than Voldemort has ever made more than one Horcrux. A sacrificial ritual like the one that happened on Samhain hasn’t been documented for thousands of years. Hell, no one has ever had an unstable soul like Voldemort. I don’t even know for sure if Neville is a Horcrux. The main reason I have this theory is the fact that Neville somehow gained Voldemort’s crest when that happened and as you know, crests use some kind of soul magic...”
“That’s impossible, the conflict between two different activated crests connected to a single magical circuit network would make the connection unstable at best. At best, using any spells would have unpredictable consequences as both crests activate at the same time, and at worst, it might even kill the user…”
Harry gave her a slight grin, “Only if they’re connected at the same time. What if one of the other crests acted differently? What if one of the crests didn’t have a physical manifestation, and didn’t connect to the magical circuits but used something different to pass on the magic, perhaps even the soul or blood as the connection deepens?”
“Then it would be possible to inherit two crests at the same time… But Salazar Slytherin didn’t have a crest; it was one of the biggest perks the Founders used to make Hogwarts a legitimate place of learning. Unless Salazar lied…”
“I analyzed it myself. Parseltongue is a spell, one that could be cast by anyone. It is a crest, and your grandson inherited it.”
The Longbottom Matriarch hummed, “When we unlocked Neville’s crest, it got into conflict with the already activated Slytherin one he got from Voldemort, a crest with unknown origins, probably with a deeper connection to souls…”
“Frank and Alice’s sacrifice would stop Neville from being possessed directly, but you allowed the Longbottom crest to act as a buffer between Neville and whatever is in his scar. A scar that probably contained a portion of Voldemort, his knowledge, his emotions… It would explain Neville’s jump in talent, like some sort of bleed through, while it slowly takes over the Longbottom crest. As I said to Neville, his parents’ protection locked the door, but you opened a window.”
“And do you have any idea about how to stop it?” The older woman asked.
“No. If I had, I would have helped Neville without anyone being any wiser. You probably noticed that I don’t like attention much… But you need to hurry; the more you leave things, the more Neville is affected.”
“How long does he have?”
“It depends on Neville. The bleed through seems to be very quick whenever he either fights or feels tremendous anger. Pretty much, the more he acts like Voldemort, the angrier he gets, the greater foothold the scar gets… It’s like a feedback loop. The angrier he gets, the crests amplify that, making him even angrier and so on. At the minimum, I would recommend Occlumency lessons to at least slow down the spread, but anything more than that is just beyond me. At the end of the day, I’m a thirteen-year-old wizard, and a student at that…”
When he looked at the Longbottom Matriarch’s face, he noticed that it was paler than it was before, “Are you sure about that?”
“I’m not. This is theoretical at best. I told you that Neville’s case is unique, and I wasn’t joking. It’s why I suggested going to a healer or Dumbledore, although the headmaster’s help is bound to have strings on them…”
“And how does a third-year student know about all of this? You have to admit that your knowledge is a little out there.”
“Perhaps,” Harry hummed, “but I think I have a right to have a little privacy. I agreed to help you for the sake of your grandson’s health, and I think I told you more than enough to help. Honestly, if he didn’t have a real risk of end up possessed or dead, I probably wouldn’t have said anything. I try not to involve myself in other people’s affairs. I don’t really have anything more to add about Neville’s condition. The rest is fully in your hands…”
“Your parents would have been proud of you, young Potter. Thank you for your help. House Longbottom owes you a debt…”
Harry suppressed a grimace at the thought of his mother approving of him, “I suppose they would be proud. It would be a useless thing to ponder on what could have been and forget about the present. As for the debt, it’s not required; I did owe Neville a favor. This is me repaying it… As far as I’m concerned, we’re even now.”
And he meant it. After this, Harry would be completely free of the guilt for gaslighting Neville earlier. Activating the crest was probably something that Neville was going to do this summer either way. He would have been in this position regardless. Whatever happened to Neville after this would be completely out of Harry’s hands.
The Longbottom Matriarch asked Harry one final question, “Out of curiosity, if we somehow disabled Neville’s crest, would it help in any way?”
Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “I’m not qualified to answer that. A healer would be more appropriate.”
“You thought of something, I could tell. I did not get to grow this old by being foolish. I am going to verify every single claim you made, young man. Why not make one more?”
Resigned, the young Slytherin tried to think of the possibility, “I will reiterate that I’m not an expert in the matter, but as far as I know, the connection between the scar and Neville’s magic has already been made. Without a crest acting like a buffer, there shouldn’t be any bleed through, but the connection will still remain. For the scar to influence it, he’d have to consciously decide to use it… I don’t know Neville as much as you do, but self-control was never his strong suit.”
“Quite… Thank you for your time, young man. You have been very helpful.”
Before the older woman could leave, Harry asked one final question, “Out of curiosity, I’ve never heard about removing an activated family crest.”
“It’s not a common thing and it’s deactivating the crest, not fully removing. That would be impossible. It’s a last resort, though. I’ll take Neville to our private healer first, maybe look for a few specialists and curse breakers. But if nothing works, at least we have options.”
“I didn’t know that was possible,” the young Slytherin commented.
The older woman looked sad for some reason, “It is. It’s not commonly done, and it’s often a last resort. But you can deactivate a crest permanently by disinheriting someone and casting them out of the family. I will have to choose between my grandson’s life and being able to call him such, because if I do go through with this, he will not be a Longbottom anymore.”
Well, shit.
Comments
Delltree100
great chapter author sama.
TypistTyphon
Good chapter, good dialogue - granny L to the rescue
