After dinner, Harry sat on his bed with Ginny at his side, holding her hand.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had already decided to tell Harry how Slughorn obtained the book and what information it contained. However, Hermione had firmly and hastily told Ron and Ginny, after pulling them aside in the empty seating room that night, ”For now, we must keep it secret from Harry that we’re trying to mend his soul. He surely won’t take it well if he finds out." Looking dejected, Ron and Ginny had agreed.
After listening to Hermione describe the potion ingredients they had read about in the book, Harry asked, “The first ingredient—you think it’s a Thestral’s hair?”
Hermione resumed her pacing, while Ron sat nervously in a chair beside the desk. He knew their discussion with Harry would inevitably reveal their purpose, something Hermione had warned against revealing so soon.
“Yes,” Hermione answered. “Based on the description in the book, Thestral hair seems very likely, unless you can think of something else, Harry.”
Harry shook his head. “How will we get the hair then?”
“Well,” said Hermione, glancing uncertainly at Ron and Ginny, not sure if she should mention asking Hagrid. “We don’t actually know yet. We need hair from wild Thestrals, and they’re rare.”
“I know who can help us,” Harry said excitedly, though his friends had already guessed who he meant.
“Hagrid?” Ron asked, wanting to confirm Harry’s thought.
Surprised, Harry wondered if Ron could read his mind. Ron smiled awkwardly.
“Yeah,” Harry replied. “He loves magical creatures, so he may know where to find them in the wild.”
Hermione nodded in agreement. “Good idea, Harry. Let’s send him a letter.”
Ron quickly volunteered, “I’ll do that.”
“Right,” Hermione said tersely. “Now that we’ve decided, let’s move on to the next ingredient.”
“Oh, finally,” Ginny muttered.
Hermione held the book and read aloud, “A piece of the doorway where life departs.”
They all stared blankly at Hermione. Ron was certain each ingredient gave him a headache.
“Why can’t they just say ‘a pinch of salt’?” Ron asked in frustration. “So is it talking about a cemetery gate?”
“Is it like a portkey?” Ginny chimed in.
“Hmm...” Hermione murmured uncertainly about Ginny’s idea. “Portkeys instantly transport anyone touching them to a specific place...it could be a doorway, but that’s doubtful. ‘Where life departs’ doesn’t really fit with that.”
“Some kind of portal then?” Ginny guessed again. “That would make sense if it meant a portal. But trying to find a doorway leading to the afterlife seems impossible. I’m out of ideas here.”
“We can try communicating with the dead to inquire if they know of any passageways,” Ron suggested sarcastically. “Perhaps their spirits could enlighten us.”
“Ron’s proposal isn’t unreasonable,” Ginny stated. “We could question the ghosts at Hogwarts if necessary.”
“Do you think they’d have answers?” Hermione asked skeptically. “If they were aware of any portals, their souls would’ve moved on already instead of lingering as specters. They wouldn’t haunt this place forever.”
“Is there any other method to speak with departed spirits then?” Ron asked hopelessly.
“There is one,” said Hermione. “I know it’s futile to even mention since it was lost in the forest...” she trailed off, glancing uncertainly at Harry.
“You mean, the Resurrection Stone?” Ron asked, instantly recognizing what she meant.
Harry looked up sharply as memories of the Forbidden Forest flooded back.
“Yes,” Hermione said. “The Stone can summon the dead, but...” She trailed off uncertainly.
Harry watched them uncomfortably as there was nothing they could do about the stone. He wouldn’t be able to pinpoint its exact location, and searching for it again would be extremely difficult and a waste of time. Though he wanted to help his friends, it would be futile, just as Hermione had said.
“Let’s just forget about the stone,” Ron said quietly. “Do any of you know another way we could speak to a departed soul?” He looked at his friends expectantly, but they all remained silent.
Harry closed his eyes, remembering the night he had spoken to his parents and godfather Sirius, whom he missed terribly. He still couldn’t believe the dream where Sirius had floated away into the Veil and died.
Harry inhaled sharply, his eyes flying open as he repeated the ingredient to himself: “A piece of the doorway where life departs.” His heart raced—could the Veil be a doorway because souls departed through it, like Sirius? The idea fit perfectly.
Seizing the moment, Harry interjected, “Yes!” His eyes shone intensely as he addressed them.
Hermione halted her incessant pacing, much to Ron’s relief. “What do you mean, Harry?” she asked keenly.
“The Veil,” Harry said simply. At first, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny didn’t understand Harry’s reference to ‘The Veil’. Slowly, as the fog cleared from their minds, realization dawned on their faces.
“Yes!” Hermione squeaked delightedly. “Oh goodness, Harry! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Ron questioned, giving Harry a smirk that conveyed both surprise and approval for sparing them from overthinking.
“I only just remembered the dream I had of Sirius floating away through some sort of archway,” Harry explained to Ron. “And then you told me he fell through the Veil.”
“Couldn’t you still remember everything that happened that day?” Ginny asked sadly, looking at Harry.
Lost in thought, Harry said, “I’ve had fragmented memories surface...but they’re jumbled in my mind somehow. Anyway—” He sat up straight. “Let’s assume we’ve figured out the second ingredient. How do we get to the Death Chamber where the Veil is located? And what does ‘a piece of a doorway’ mean? Do we have to chip off rocks around the Veil?”
“Reaching it was very difficult and confusing,” Hermione reckoned, pondering hard. “The Death Chamber housing the Veil is a room in the Department of Mysteries. To access it, we must take the lifts to Level Nine from the Ministry Atrium. Apart from the plain black entrance door, that level has no other windows or doors...and the chamber has a circular room with handleless doors that would disorient unauthorized people, but it would open the correct door if verbally requested to exit.”
“We may need to ask someone from the Ministry to do us a favor and retrieve that artifact,” Ron suggested. “But, it won’t be easy to convince them. They’ll want to know why we need it.”
“Perhaps Dad or Percy could help,” Ginny proposed. “Dad was in the Department of Mysteries guarding the prophecy a couple years ago. He’s familiar with the Veil.”
Ron scoffed when he heard Percy’s name mentioned. “Sure, Dad would trust him, but I’m not so sure. Percy has always been self-centered and meddlesome. I still haven’t forgiven him for how he treated our family,” Ron said.
“He’s different now, Ron,” Ginny argued. “Percy knows he was wrong and is trying to make amends. Don’t forget, he gave up his room for Harry to show his loyalty. You should forgive him. Percy doesn’t mean us any harm now.”
“I’ll forgive him if he even knows where the Veil is at.” Ron snapped at her. “I’m sure he doesn’t even know how to get to the Department of Mysteries.”
Ginny could only sigh in frustration as Ron snapped accusations. Harry knew it was futile to argue with Ron once he was upset. Staying quiet was the only option.
Hermione interjected to end Ron and Ginny’s brief squabble. “Harry, I agree with you. They’d need to chisel off part of the stone arch since it specifies a ‘piece’ of it.”
“You really think I could swallow that potion with a chunk of rock and Thestral hair in it?” Ron said, looking revolted. “I might vomit before we even get to the third ingredient.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The trio swiftly glanced at the next-to-last component listed in the book before starting the brew.
A tear from a guise to obscure from demise
After reading, everyone but Hermione chorused in confusion, “A what?” Ron scratched his head, clearly unhappy with what he had read. “‘A guise to obscure from demise,’” he repeated, staring at his two deep-in-thought best friends. “What does that mean?”
“Well,” Hermione began, “‘guise’ means ‘form.’ ‘Obscure’ means ‘undiscovered’ or ‘unknown.’ And ‘demise’ means ‘death.’” She expertly translated the puzzling words for them.
Ron tried to guess Hermione’s meaning, but his mind drew a blank at that moment.
“We must search for a form that eludes even death itself,” Hermione finally declared.
The three friends stared at her expectantly as she awaited their suggestions. When no one spoke, she sighed and prompted, “What might allow a form to remain undiscovered?”
“If someone tries to conceal it?” Harry ventured uncertainly.
Hermione nodded. “And evading death’s discovery means...?” she motioned for Harry to keep guessing.
“Wait,” said Ron, looking puzzled. “Is it even possible to elude death? I mean, if it’s your time, you die. There’s no way around that, right?”
“I don’t think it means literally dying,” Hermione explained patiently. “I believe it refers to Death personified. So, shall we return to my original question?” She looked at them eagerly, and they nodded. “To hide from Death signifies...?”
“Being invisible,” Harry responded at once. “And for that, you need the—”
“Invisibility Cloak!” they chorused excitedly. Ginny’s eyes lit up, thrilled to finally decode the cryptic hints.
Ginny posed the question that was on all their minds: “Where is the invisibility cloak?”
Hermione quickly answered, “It’s still in my beaded bag.”
“Did you bring the bag with you, then?” Harry asked urgently.
“Yes,” Hermione replied. “I brought it when I came here. It’s in Ginny’s room. I haven’t emptied it out, so everything we took from the Burrow months ago is still inside.”
Harry felt relieved. He had started to panic at the thought that Hermione might not have had the cloak this whole time.
Ron asked curiously, “What do we do with the cloak then?”
Hermione hesitated, avoiding Harry’s gaze as she whispered, “We tear it.” She knew he wouldn’t like that, but the book left her no choice.
“What?!” Harry exclaimed, hoping he’d misheard.
Ron and Ginny watched tensely as Hermione croaked out, “It’s what the book said, Harry.”
“But—”
“We only need to rip a small portion of it,” Hermione asserted quickly, adding in a low voice, “I believe.”
Harry’s mouth hung open in disbelief that they actually had to damage the cloak.
“The Cloak of Invisibility is legendary!” Ron declared. “Could you really rip it apart?” He gazed at Hermione uncertainly.
“Remember, Xenophilius confirmed no magic can harm it, but the possessor can,” Hermione said, glancing at Harry, who looked away. “You’re the possessor, Harry.”
Harry struggled to accept Hermione’s suggestion. He had treasured the cloak, an heirloom passed down through generations, only to face destroying it himself. Though reluctant, he knew deep down she was right.
After a moment’s pause, Hermione gently reiterated, “It may be our only option.”
Harry nodded, resigned though unsettled.
Wanting to move on, Hermione silently checked her book, glad to let the matter rest and read the last ingredient.
A drop of the afflicted’s blood
“It’s my blood,” Harry said simply. There was no need to deduce it; it was obvious. Hermione nodded in understanding.
“How long do you think we’ll have to wait before we’ve collected all the ingredients?” Ginny asked.
Hermione mentally calculated. “Since we just need the Thestral hair and a piece of the archway, hopefully it won’t take more than a few months.”
“Months?” Ron asked incredulously. He stopped himself from saying more as he realized what he was about to imply. Glancing apologetically at Harry, who dismissed the meaning, Ron mumbled “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Harry said quietly, looking away. “I know you meant that I don’t have much time left. I wish I could deny it, but I’d only be lying to myself. So I guess I’ll just do what I can to stay alive as long as possible.”
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny fell silent for a moment as they contemplated their next steps.
“We’ll have to ask your dad about the Veil, Ron,” Ginny said quietly, “and send a letter to Hagrid right away.”
“It’s too late now,” Ron pointed out after checking the time. “Dad’s asleep already and Pig won’t want to deliver mail at midnight when the recipient is fast asleep too.”
“Let’s do it first thing in the morning then,” Ginny suggested, looking apologetically at Harry. But he just shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.
“So how long do we have to brew this potion?” Ron asked, glancing from Hermione to the book she held. “Does it say?”
Hermione checked the page. “Only an hour. The ingredients are really difficult to find for someone without knowledge of—” She gasped suddenly.
“What?” they all asked her in alarm.
“I’ve just realized something - though it must be a coincidence,” Hermione said, her eyes wide as she muttered to herself.
“Out with it already!” Ron cried impatiently, exasperated after one too many guessing games. Harry shared his frustration, eager to hear what she had discovered.
“The three ingredients,” she said excitedly, “they’re similar to the Deathly Hallows!”
They looked astonished.
“Thestral tail hair is a powerful wand core,” Hermione explained hurriedly, “like the Elder Wand. The Veil’s archway lets you see the afterlife, like the Resurrection Stone—”
“I remember hearing faint whispering and murmuring noises as though someone was standing right behind the Veil, trying to communicate with me when I approached it,” confessed Harry. He was unsure why this memory had suddenly resurfaced, as if the trauma of Sirius’s death had blocked it out until now. It seemed his recollections were jumbled, and piecing them back together was a struggle.
“Right,” agreed Hermione. “And Harry’s Cloak of Invisibility is the same as the one in the story, so we have all three Deathly Hallows ingredients.”
Confused, Ron asked, “So...what does that have to do with anything?”
“Having these three objects, just like the three hallows, makes you the Master of Death,” asserted Hermione confidently.
Ron pondered, “You said brewing the potion only takes an hour...but why is the time so short?”
“Finding the ingredients is complicated enough that most wouldn’t dare try,” Hermione guessed. “I’d say the ingredients share a unifying power, allowing them to combine quickly when brewed together.”
These revelations made Harry’s heart race as relief washed over him. He began to feel excited and hopeful that a cure was possible. Before he could stop himself, Harry exclaimed, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I can’t wait to drink that potion and be free of this damaged soul!” A smile spread across his face as renewed hope ignited within.
If there was one thing Harry didn’t expect after figuring out the ingredients, it was his friends’ reactions. Fear and alarm crossed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny’s faces, as if they’d swallowed something foul. Ginny’s hand turned ice-cold in his, Ron broke out in a sweat, and Hermione stood frozen, looking petrified.
“What’s going on?” he asked uncertainly, his expression growing terrified as their reaction continued. “Did I say something wrong?”
No one dared meet Harry’s gaze. Hermione fidgeted anxiously, miserably failing to calm herself. Ron and Ginny looked away, eyes darting elsewhere.
“What?” Harry asked again, patience waning.
Taking a deep, nervous breath, Hermione said in a quivering voice, “Harry...please don’t be angry. Just hear me out first.”
“Why? What did you do?” His tone grew dangerous.
“Nothing!” Hermione squeaked. “We did nothing, Harry.”
“So what’s the problem?” He was growing impatient.
Hermione hesitated, her throat suddenly dry. She looked to Ron and Ginny for help, but they only returned worried glances. Clearing her throat, she said, “Harry... the potion is meant to be drunk by... us.”
“What!” Harry was utterly flabbergasted by Hermione’s revelation. Clearly they had misread the book, he thought in alarm. “But why? There must be some mistake. I’m the one with the damaged soul, so I should drink the potion, right?” He glanced at them for confirmation.
“Harry, the book didn’t say you had to drink it,” Ginny said softly, though nervous. “It said those trying to save your soul must.”
Harry felt like his head would explode. He stared at Ginny, worry and panic mingling in his eyes. “Wait—what do you mean, ‘the ones attempting to save?’” But somehow he already knew the answer.
“We’re the ones trying to save your soul, mate,” Ron finally revealed the secret Hermione had warned them not to tell. “We’re the ones drinking the potion.”
Harry shook his head in protest. “No, that can’t be right. You must have read the instructions wrong.”
“It’s the only way, Harry,” Hermione said quietly.
“The only way to save my soul?” Harry asked incredulously.
Ron frowned at him. “Why? Did you really think you’d be doing this alone?”
Harry snapped in frustration, “That’s exactly what I think! I don’t want any of you involved in this.”
“It’s our decision!” Ron fired back. “We’re willing to risk our lives to save yours, even if it means endangering our souls.”
Stunned, Harry bellowed, “WHAT! Did I hear you right? You would risk your souls?” Panic flooded Harry’s mind at the thought.
Terrified he had accidentally revealed too much, Ron pleaded, “Harry, please listen!”
Hermione cried out in desperation, “Harry, please, just hear us out!”
Harry suddenly stood up and grabbed the book from Hermione’s hands. She realized too late that he was frantically flipping through the pages as if searching for something. His insides went numb when he found the passage they had been reading, which said: ‘It would amount to a higher price to recondition the soul back if attempted. And if it should fail, in accordance with who may have tried, the cost will, therefore, be marked the same as the other.’
Devastated, Harry felt the blood drain from his face as his hands started to shake. He dropped the book and stumbled to the bathroom, where he vomited up everything he had eaten that afternoon.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny quickly followed him out, watching worriedly as he retched and sobbed over the toilet. Ginny rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him while Ron and Hermione exchanged sad looks, realizing the gravity of what Harry had just discovered.
… Marked the same as the other... Those words kept repeating in Harry’s mind. They can’t do this. They shouldn’t do this. Their own souls will be in danger!
“Please...” Harry said weakly, “Why do you all want to risk your lives for me?”
“It’s obvious, mate. We’re family, and families help each other out,” Ron replied calmly.
Harry considered this silently. “But if you fail in this attempt—” he trailed off as his vision blurred with unshed tears.
“Who said we’re going to fail?” Ginny asked incredulously. “It seems like you expect us to mess up. You need to have faith in us, Harry.”
“Do you trust us?” Hermione asked, a hint of hurt in her voice.
“Of course I do,” Harry answered quickly. He leaned against the wall and sank to the floor. “I’m sorry if it doesn’t seem that way. I just hate the idea of you all risking your lives for me. Your souls will suffer the same fate as mine.”
Hermione reasoned, “Harry, we’ve already discussed that consequence and decided to proceed regardless.”
“Where’s the excitement without any risk?” Ron exclaimed as Hermione stomped on his foot. “Besides, aren’t you glad to have us helping you? You can’t do this alone. To win, you need backup.”
Harry smiled, grateful for his steadfast friends, though still worried for their safety. They made it sound easy, but he knew the coming task held real danger. Yes, together they had overcome many risks, but he wished this chance would succeed, proving worthwhile.
That night, Harry slept fitfully, haunted by images of his friends’ souls being agonizingly shredded because of him. Awake in the dark, he mentally reviewed the potion ingredients and lessons learned. They had come so far, soon his friends would brew the potion, drink it, and gamble their lives. A question occurred - did the book require all three to drink the potion to save a soul? He couldn’t recall it specifying. He would ask Hermione in the morning. Harry closed his eyes and drifted off again.
To be continued...