Hogwarts Raven (Harry Potter) Chapter 212 113 That Year, That Day, That Transaction Part 1

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Over the course of a thousand years, countless legends have erged about the Resurrection Stone.

Among them, the most well-known is, of course, the tale of Death and the Three Brothers. In that story, the Resurrection Stone is said to be a gift from Death to Cadmus Peverell.

According to legend, it possesses the miraculous ability to bridge the divide between life and death. However, those who have truly possessed the Resurrection Stone know that it does not bring back the dead in any true sense.

Instead, it conjures forth an echo, sothing more tangible than a ghost yet less corporeal than a living being, shaped by the wielder's mories and longing. It does not grant true resurrection.

Perhaps the wizards of old misunderstood its nature, or perhaps the author of The Tales of Beedle the Bard simply embellished the story, but there is a kernel of truth in the legend.

For the Stone does, in the end, lead its owner toward death. The figures it summons are not the souls of the departed but illusions, visible only to the user. And these illusions, in their silent pull, inevitably draw the wielder closer to their own demise.

Rather than restoring the dead, it would be more accurate to say that the Resurrection Stone harbors unseen forces, ancient, watchful, and not entirely benevolent. These entities, whatever they may be, are attuned to human desire, using it to weave their deceptions and claim what life remains.

Because of this, Ian had always regarded the Deathly Hallows with a certain detachnt.

To him, they were rely relics of remarkable wizarding craftsmanship. Of the three, only the Elder Wand held any real, practical power. The Resurrection Stone and the Invisibility Cloak, while remarkable in their own ways, were hardly the divine artifacts so believed them to be.

Previously, Ian had stopped Helena from attempting to destroy the Resurrection Stone to rid the world of Tom, not out of any reverence for the Hallows, but out of sheer curiosity about the enchantnts that bound the Stone's magic.

"The Resurrection Stone ca from here?"

Ian stared at the ring in Rowena Ravenclaw's hand, his voice edged with disbelief. He wasn't alone; Helena, too, looked stunned.

Clearly, Ian wasn't the only one who had questioned the legend of the Three Hallows.

"The Resurrection Stone, the Elder Wand, and the Invisibility Cloak all ca from here," Rowena said with quiet certainty. She handed Ian both the Resurrection Stone ring and Slytherin's locket, her expression betraying little interest in the artifacts she claid had such extraordinary origins.

"Were they really forged by Death?" Ian couldn't help but frown as he asked this. The notion seed improbable.

Truthfully, he had always doubted that the Hallows were divine gifts. It seed far more likely that they were masterpieces of magical craftsmanship, exceptional works of alchemy created by the prodigious Peverell brothers.

Like the Philosopher's Stone. Like so many other legendary magical objects, the Hallows could easily have been the subject of myth-making over the centuries. Perhaps the story of Death bestowing them upon the Peverells was nothing more than a flourish added by storytellers, or even a clever fabrication by the brothers themselves, ant to enhance the allure of their creations.

After all, in all the tales Ian knew, both of history and of what was yet to co, it was Albus Dumbledore who would eventually unite the Hallows. And yet, even ard with all three, the great Headmaster of Hogwarts had not conquered death.

Skepticism toward the Hallows was only natural. But who would have expected Rowena Ravenclaw herself to present Ian with an entirely new version of the legend?

"Who can say?" She mused, a knowing smile playing at her lips. "I have been here a long ti but not long enough to rember that."

She did not answer Ian's question directly, and he suspected she never would.

"Then how can you be certain the Hallows ca from here, Mother?" Helena asked before Ian could voice the sa thought.

"Because of the materials, my child."

Rowena plucked a stone from the ground and held it up. It was nearly identical in texture to the Resurrection Stone.

A coincidence, perhaps—, but a striking one.

And, in that mont, the old tale flickered to life in Ian's mind: Death, standing on the riverbank, plucking a stone from the earth and handing it to Cadmus Peverell.

Had the legend held a grain of truth after all?

"That's absurd!"

Ian had never noticed this before. He stooped to pick up a stone from the ground and, upon closer examination, found that it indeed bore faint, intricate markings, runes so complex they defied comprehension, much like those etched into the surface of the Resurrection Stone.

"But what about elder wood? There are no elder trees here! And the material for the Invisibility Cloak!" His frustration was not born of disbelief in the existence of Death itself; rather, he struggled to accept that such a supposedly divine craftsman had produced artifacts with such… inconsistent effects.

"The Elder Wand is not without a core," Rowena Ravenclaw said calmly. "It is rely that its core hails from this realm of the departed, beyond the sight of mortal eyes. That is why the wand's power is unparalleled."

With an effortless motion, she crushed the stone in her hand. She had barely applied any force, yet a substance that might have been capable of forging a second Resurrection Stone crumbled into dust between her fingers.

"Mother, I don't recall you ever having much interest in the Hallows." Helena's reaction mirrored Ian's, proving that he was not alone in his astonishnt.

Rowena Ravenclaw's deep knowledge of the Deathly Hallows was wholly unexpected.

"Salazar studied them extensively. He was always preoccupied with such things," Rowena said, her gaze flicking toward the locket in Ian's grasp.

"And the Invisibility Cloak, do you truly believe it was once worn by Death?" Ian tightened his grip on the locket, his thoughts still dwelling on the origins of the Hallows.

To be fair, their craftsmanship was exceptional. Even Voldemort's lingering fragnt of a soul, which had managed to corrupt the very diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, had left no mark upon the Resurrection Stone ring.

Ian had long assud this was simply a testant to superior magical craftsmanship. But if Rowena Ravenclaw was of sound mind, and he rather hoped she was, then perhaps there was another explanation for why Voldemort's soul had failed to taint the Stone.

After all, it was no ordinary artifact. It was a relic of Death.

"I have not studied Death's laws in great depth," Rowena admitted, cutting across Ian's thoughts. "But I do know a great deal about this place."

She did not wait for Ian to reply. Instead, she fixed him with a penetrating look and asked,

"Tell , little one, do you know what this place once was?"

Ian glanced at Helena, who looked just as bewildered as he felt. He turned his gaze outward, surveying the jagged peaks surrounding them, mountains that, in all honesty, bore a striking resemblance to the foreboding crags of Mount Doom from The Lord of the Rings.

"The dwelling of Death?" He ventured hesitantly.

Rowena Ravenclaw gave him a long, knowing look, her piercing eyes alight with a aning he could not quite grasp.

"Would anyone truly wish to live in a place such as this?" She said, her voice heavy with sothing between amusent and sorrow.

Then, with a faint sigh, she continued,

"This was once Death's domain, the very edge of the Twilight Realm. Beyond this point, one steps into the next great journey… And yet, in ti, this place beca proof that Death could be defied."

Ian frowned. "Defied?"

"There were no mountains here before," Rowena said, as if recounting a mory long buried. "Only rivers of fire and scorched earth. The peaks you see now were not shaped by nature but built by those who ca before us, by a people who sought to stand against Death itself. No one knows how long their struggle endured, only that it left its mark upon the land."

Ian's eyes widened. "rlin's beard! Who could have done sothing like that?"

His mind whirled. The place truly did remind him of Mount Doom. But surely the mysterious force that had once ruled here had not drawn inspiration from a modern tale like The Lord of the Rings… right?

"You shouldn't ask such things."

Rowena Ravenclaw stepped toward a small rise, her gaze fixed upon the highest volcano in the distance, lost in thought.

(To Be Continued…)