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0608 Winter
🕑 Added 2025-01-24 10:30:54 +0000 UTC"Is it possible, Professor Binns—" Bryan twitched the corners of his mouth, and his lips curled into a wry smile as he spoke. "I am the Bryan Watson who arrested the dark witch Cliodna at the 422nd Quidditch World Cup final in August 1994."
Professor Binns' heavily wrinkled ghostly face trembled, the translucent skin quivered like ripples on a still pond. He continued to stare at Bryan, his pale, eyes wide with both surprise and confusion, as if trying to connect the young man standing before him with the historical figure, he remembered from the records of wizarding history.
Bryan knew the reason for his bewilderment. Some magical history journal had probably recorded his duel with Cliodna this past summer and compiled it into historical documents, commemorating it as a landmark event in the wizarding world. Only in this case would Professor Binns, who often struggled to remember the names of his own students, recall Bryan's name with such clarity.
For Professor Binns, the people who appeared in history books were basically buried six feet under, their lives and deeds were reduced to mere words on a page, lifeless and still!
"Alright, I am Zlanite, Professor Binns—" Bryan sighed heavily and the air escaped his lungs in a slow dejected exhale. He basically had no hope of getting any key information from the absentminded Professor Binns at this point.
"I came here to consult you about the contents of this thesis, um, it's about the Deathly Hallows. Do you have any impressions of it?" Bryan asked, trying to steer the conversation back on track.
"I told you, Beedle—" Professor Binns began, staring blankly at the patterns on the parchment in Bryan's hands, but his eyes skimmed over the faded ink without really seeing it. Suddenly, he looked up sharply at Bryan and his face contorted into a scowl as he scolded him in an angry, raspy tone,
"The study of history should be down-to-earth, based on credible and reliable historical documents, not the hearsay of some ridiculous rumors and tales! Mixing them together like a fiction writer creating a fantastical story will only serve to mislead others. That kind of historical revisionism can have serious consequences!"
"Uh——" Bryan was stunned into silence for several long seconds, his mind spun as he tried to process Professor Binns' sudden outburst and realized that this ghost professor's thoughts had once again jumped off track, speeding into completely another topic.
"But there are many cases that prove the Deathly Hallows really exist, professor—" Bryan pressed on, his eyebrows twitching with frustration. He drew out his wand from his robes with a flourish.
The tip of Bryan's wand swept through the musty, gloomy air, trailing wisps of silvery magic. A small black stone, no larger than his thumb, materialized in the space before Professor Binns, hovering and spinning in midair. A crack ran down the center of the stone, splitting the strange symbol carved into its surface in two.
"For example, take the Resurrection Stone. It is clearly recorded in the records of Hogwarts' history that the great Salazar Slytherin himself once owned it,"
Professor Binns seemed captivated by the sight of the black stone floating and spinning hypnotically before him as his pale eyes tracked its movements in silence.
The seconds ticked by, stretching into long minutes, the only sound the soft whisper of the stone slicing through the air and Bryan's own breathing. If it weren't for the amazement that never disappeared from that old face, Bryan almost thought Professor Binns' mind had completely crashed.
Then, as suddenly as he had fallen still and silent, Professor Binns sprang 'back to life', his eyes narrowed as he glared at Bryan with renewed irritation in his raspy voice.
"Salazar did indeed have a gold ring set with this similar black stone, but never in all my years of studying the founders did I once read him refer to this as the Resurrection Stone!"
Professor Binns shook his head in disapproval. "Paynes, it's pointless to obsess over these mythical objects and tall tales. They can't help you become a great wizard or witch! I sincerely hope you can refocus your thesis on reliable, documented history. Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to have someone remove it from my office. I'm afraid my office can no longer serve as a repository for baseless mythological stories!"
'A gold ring.'
Bryan, who had his name changed three times in just a few minutes, latched onto the one useful scrap of information buried in Binns' rant - confirmation that Salazar Slytherin had indeed possessed the Resurrection Stone and worn it as a ring. He also immediately realized that Paynes was the writer of this thesis.
With an exaggerated look of disappointment, Bryan appealed to Binns, asking 'sadly', "Who did you have cleaned out those theses, Professor?"
"Dinate, Bohawk, Lanity... I don't remember, Bryan!" Professor Binns waved a dismissive hand, his annoyance palpable as he clearly wished to be done with this line of inquiry.
Floating back to the cold fireplace, Binns adopted a solemn, lecturing tone as he gazed at Bryan. "On an entirely different note, your thesis on the 1289 International Wizards' Conference is simply not up to snuff, Bryan. If you don't submit a revised version before the Christmas holidays, I'm afraid even an 'Exceeds Expectations' on your OWLs won't be enough for me to allow you into my NEWT-level classes!"
After another fruitless half hour of pestering the exasperated ghost professor for any scrap of useful information, Bryan was unceremoniously kicked out of Binns' office. The grumpy old ghost had clearly reached the limits of his patience.
Still, Bryan pondered, the conversation hadn't been a total bust. He had gathered two vital pieces of information: confirmation that Salazar Slytherin had indeed possessed the Resurrection Stone, one of the Deathly Hallows, and made it into a ring.
Professor Binns had also, for the briefest of moments, actually called Bryan by his proper name, though he seemed to be under the impression that Bryan was still a student.
The importance of the Resurrection Stone being in Slytherin's possession was significant. If the four great founders of Hogwarts had been united in purpose, then the ring would have been Slytherin's most valued possession, even more so than that of his locket. Slytherin would definitely have gone to great lengths to ensure that the Resurrection Stone could be successfully passed down through the centuries to the present day.
This realization sparked an alarming thought in Bryan's mind. Assuming that Voldemort had somehow obtained this ring, left by his great ancestors... Would he have made it into a Horcrux?
Given what Bryan knew of Voldemort's obsessive fascination with any relics or artifacts connected to the Hogwarts founders, it seemed extremely likely. But then the question became - where would a wizard as cunning and secretive as Voldemort had hidden such a precious Horcrux?
Would he have entrusted it to one of his most loyal Death Eaters for safekeeping, as he did with the diary? Or would he have locked it away in one of the dark, forgotten places that held meaning to him, like the seaside cave where he'd hidden Slytherin's locket after distorting it with dark magic or like the Ravenclaw's diadem Bryan accidentally discovered?
It was a complex riddle, and one Bryan had few leads on. Perhaps Dumbledore, with his knowledge of Voldemort's past, would have some leads on the matter...
Just then, a gruff, hoarse voice pulled Bryan from his churning thoughts.
"Watson! I've been searching the castle top to bottom for you!"
Bryan blinked, startled from his intense contemplation. He took a look at his surroundings and realized that while intending to return to his office, he had instead wandered down to the second floor in his distraction and was now standing in a daze in front of an archway.
"Professor Moody?" Bryan inquired, a note of surprise in his voice as his eyes flicked to the rather ominous-looking parchment clutched in Moody's hand. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Two young students happened to pass, clearly eager to avoid the intimidating Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. After perfunctory greetings to both Moody and Watson, they scurried off, whispering to each other.
Clearly unwilling to discuss whatever matter he wished to raise in such a public space, Moody had his mouth shut. Bryan took the cue and waved a hand towards the stairs.
"Perhaps we should go to my office, Professor Moody? I've a warm pot of tea that would be just the thing to drive the chill from your bones and dry your soaked boots..."
The scene shifted flowing like mist before reforming into the hidden depths of the Forbidden Forest. There, amongst the towering trees, stood the sacred temple of the centaur tribe, a place seldom seen by human eyes.
Inside the temple, the centaur elder known as Horn knelt on the floor, his head bowed in respect and apology before Cliodna who sat calmly upon a cushion of pine branches showing a hint of the weariness.
Gusts of cold wind, carrying snowflakes and the crisp scent of impending winter, swirled through the open temple door. They caught strands of Cliodna's hair setting the long hairs dancing around her face. Only the faint crease between her eyebrows revealed the depth of her concern.
"Our most profound apologies, Lady Cliodna," Horn said solemnly with regret. "Now that the snows have come, securing supplies has become increasingly difficult within the forest. We centaur have managed to lay aside sufficient food reserves to last our own people through the long cold months, and of course we would gladly share with you and yours!
But Alas I'm afraid we still won't be able to ensure that your followers living in the secret land can fully spend the winter."
"We should be the ones apologizing, Elder Horn. This is the trouble we have brought to you—" Cliodna bowed slightly. "It was my lack of consideration, Elder Horn. I will find a way to solve the food problem as soon as possible."
"But what do you plan to do?"
There was worry in Elder Horn's voice. He looked at Cliodna with kind eyes that he never had when communicating with Bryan and Dumbledore.
"Your followers can't go into the forest to gather food. They can't be exposed to the sight of wizards. You can only buy food from the wizarding world, but this requires wizard currency. I think you probably don't have a lot of gold galleons—"
"We still have some Muggle currency—"
Cliodna said after thinking for a while,
"I can use that money to go to the Muggle world to buy some. You know, we don't pursue enjoyment. We just need to simply fill our stomachs."
Horn fell silent.
There were hundreds of Druid followers living in the secret land. If it was only 'some Muggle currency', it was obviously not enough to support them until next spring and summer.
"You are serving the castle now, Cliodna. As far as I know, wizards will give salary, those..."
Cliodna's shoulders drooped as she shook her head once more. "Alas, I have already spent the galleons I earned on potion ingredients. The ingredients for brewing Polyjuice are not cheap."
Horn nodded slowly, rolling this information around in his mind. Then his face lit up.
"Potion ingredients?"
Horn blinked and perked up a bit.
"Oh, I remember. Indeed, many wizards used to go deep into the forest to collect some plants... If you can teach us what is valuable to wizards, we can help collect them. Then you can take them to exchange for currency or food among the wizards!"
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