Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0403 The End of Memory

Gryffindor didn't stop Ravenclaw from taking away the ominous-looking archway. They returned along the original route, passing through the library and the hall where Dementors were bred, returning to the upper levels via the chilling path made of house-elf hands and heads.

When they emerged from the initial stone chamber back onto the island, the gloomy sky of Azkaban had turned pitch black.

The Dementors restlessly roamed nearby, likely afraid of the massive stone pillar still floating in mid-air, never daring to approach.

Sirius, despite knowing full well that this was just a memory couldn't help but release a long, shuddering sigh of relief as his feet touched the scorched earth once more. Perhaps because the experience below had broken his worldview, Sirius finally overcame some of his initial fears. As he stood there, feeling the coarse, lifeless soil beneath his feet, Sirius found himself gazing at the tall, eerie stone tower standing against the dark background, his eyes were filled with complex emotions.

Six months ago, Sirius would have sworn that he would never regret his decision to accept imprisonment in this hellish place. It had been his choice. But now, standing here in this memory-world, face to face with the tower that had stolen so many years from him, Sirius felt an overwhelming conflict raging within his heart.

What had changed his mind wasn't the harsh reality of his past experiences, but rather the stark contrast provided by the simple beauty of a normal life – a life he had only recently begun to taste again.

In the months since his escape, Sirius had encountered a world he had almost forgotten existed. He had met this exceptionally talented young wizard beside him, regained Remus's friendship and, most importantly, reclaimed his own innocence and in the months at Hogwarts, he had met many pure and kind-hearted young witches and wizards.

But perhaps the most significant change had been the opportunity to shoulder the responsibilities he should have borne long ago. Taking on the role of godfather to Harry, offering guidance and protection to the son of his best friend, had given Sirius a renewed sense of purpose. It was as if he had been given a second chance to make amends for past failures.

As these thoughts swirled through his mind, Sirius realized that he no longer wished to dwell on whether his decision to accept imprisonment had been right or wrong. The past is unchangeable, and such contemplations served no purpose. Instead, his heart was filled with a fierce determination to protect the good things he now possessed – his freedom, his friendships, and the chance to make a difference in the lives of those he cared about.

While Sirius was lost in his self-examination, Ravenclaw's voice suddenly cut through the oppressive silence, startling him back to the present moment.

"I'm pondering a question, Godric—" she began, her tone thoughtful and tinged with concern.

Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, unlike Sirius, seemed to have little interest in the imposing spiral structure of Azkaban. They had spared it only a cursory glance, showing no inclination to explore its dark interior. Instead, their attention was focused on the magical anomalies they had discovered beneath the island.

Standing beneath the immense, rough-hewn stone pillar that had sealed the underground chamber, Ravenclaw's piercing gaze was fixed on its surface. Even in the dim light, the faint magical nodes etched into the stone were visible, pulsing with magical energy. She continued,

"To hatch the embryos below, these creatures have been systematically draining the life force from the surrounding waters. But their hunger is insatiable, and they won't be content with this limited feeding ground forever. To propagate their kind in greater numbers, they will inevitably leave this sea and encroach upon human society."

Ravenclaw's ice-blue eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now held a hint of genuine fear as she explained the dire consequences of their potential spread.

"These beings have lost all capacity to discern between good and evil. They lack even the most basic ability to restrain their voracious appetites. Their unchecked expansion will trigger a catastrophe of unprecedented scale, Godric. The Muggle world will be reduced to a helpless hunting ground, its inhabitants nothing more than prey waiting to be devoured. And we wizards, for all our magical prowess, lack the means to control them effectively."

The scenario she painted was indeed nightmarish, a future that seemed all but inevitable unless they could find a way to eliminate all the Dementors before they grew beyond control. However, that very task presented an almost insurmountable challenge, given the creatures' indestructibility and their ability to multiply.

Gryffindor, his brow furrowed in deep concentration, took a moment to survey the island. His eyes scanned the desolate landscape, taking in every detail as if searching for inspiration. After a thoughtful pause, he offered a suggestion, his voice carrying a note of cautious optimism:

"This island is enveloped by powerful magic left behind by Herpo to repel outsiders. Perhaps we could employ a similar strategy, Rowena. We could implement some measures to prevent these creatures from leaving the this island."

Ravenclaw, however, was quick to point out the flaws in this plan.

"Ordinary magical barriers would prove utterly useless against them, Godric. These creatures operate on a fundamentally different magical principle. The only way to restrict their movement would be through direct suppression of their soul energy – a feat that requires constant magical maintenance. And therein lies the crux of the problem: if we were to die, these measures would inevitably fail."

Gryffindor's frown deepened at this sobering assessment. He turned to Ravenclaw, his eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and determination. "What do you propose we do, then?" he asked, his voice low and serious.

It was a very tricky problem, and Ravenclaw didn't immediately provide an answer.

After a long moment of contemplation, she spoke, her words measured and thoughtful: "I need more time to consider all the variables. Once we return to Hogwarts, I intend to study these creatures in greater depth. While it's clear that Herpo's original purpose in creating them wasn't for torture and slaughter, we must take decisive action to ensure these beings don't spiral out of control."

Boom!

A resounding boom echoed across the island. The massive stone pillar that had been hovering in the air slowly descended, sealing the deep hole in the ground once more.

Ravenclaw approached the pillar, her slender fingers brushing against its rough surface.

"I can sense," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "that there are objects on land with the same magical fluctuations as this pillar."

Gryffindor, who had been listening intently, suddenly broke into a wide grin. He ran a hand through his fiery red hair, which had been tousled by the relentless sea breeze, and exclaimed with unbridled enthusiasm:

"Leave the next expedition to me, Rowena! To be entirely honest, I find that adventures with you lack a certain... excitement. You always manage to unravel every mystery before we've had a chance to truly explore. Where's the thrill in that?"

His playful complaint was met with a look of mild disapproval from Ravenclaw. Her ice-blue eyes fixed on Gryffindor, conveying a seriousness that contrasted sharply with his jovial mood.

"I hope you can face reality, Godric," she said, her tone carrying a hint of exasperation. "This is not some frivolous adventure we're upon. Ever since Helga experienced those troubling visions and made her prophecy, everything we've done has been to prevent this world from eventually falling into eternal darkness."

Coo-coo—

The ethereal call of an unseen bird echoed across the island, its haunting melody at odds with the miserable surroundings. As the sound reverberated, a strange phenomenon began to unfold. The dark, ominous environment of Azkaban started to fade rapidly, as if being erased by an invisible hand.

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw remained standing beneath the stone pillar, their conversation continuing, but their voices became increasingly distant and dream-like. Their forms began to shimmer and blur, as if they were nothing more than mirages on the verge of disappearing.

Panic gripped Sirius as he watched the world around him dissolve. The solid ground beneath his feet seemed to lose its substance, and the oppressive environment of Azkaban began to melt away.

"What's happening, Bryan?" Sirius called out; his voice tight with anxiety. He reached out instinctively, trying to grasp onto something solid, but his hands passed through the dissolving scenery as if it were made of mist.

"As we anticipated earlier, we've been existing within either Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's memory. Now that this memory has reached its end, it's time for us to return to our own reality." Bryan replied, his expression complex as he watched the Hogwarts founders gradually disappear into glowing silver threads.

Bryan's voice also sounded muffled in Sirius's ears. He wanted to ask more questions, to understand better what was happening, but before he could form the words, a deafening thunderclap shook the disintegrating world around them. In an instant, Sirius's vision went completely dark, plunging him into a void of nothingness.

The sensation was akin to suddenly sinking into the depths of a bottomless ocean. Sirius felt an overwhelming sense of suffocation and fear, his mind reeling as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. He struggled desperately, and then—

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the darkness lifted.

"Whoa!"

With a startled cry, Sirius sat bolt upright, his sudden movement causing him to collide with something solid above him. There was a loud crash as he knocked open what appeared to be a door panel that had been pressing down on him.

The unexpected impact sent a shock wave of pain through Sirius's head, and for a moment, his newly recovered vision began to grow dark once again. He wobbled on the edge of consciousness, as the world spinned around him in a dizzying blur.

After a few moments, Sirius's vision began to clear. He found himself clutching his swollen forehead, wincing at the throbbing pain that radiated from the point of impact. With considerable effort, he managed to push away the bent door panel that had been pinning his legs.

Staggering to his feet, Sirius took a moment to steady himself. As the world slowly came into focus, he lifted his gaze skyward, and was met with a sight that took his breath away.

Above him, the night sky stretched out in an endless expanse of velvety blackness, studded with countless stars that twinkled like diamonds scattered across a dark cloth. The starlight was soft and graceful, a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of Azkaban that still lingered in his mind.

Sirius drew in a deep breath, savoring the crisp, salty air that filled his lungs. The sea around them was calm, its surface a mirror reflecting the starry sky above. The gentle lapping of waves against the hull of their vessel was a soothing rhythm, sinking him in the present moment.

A movement caught his eye, and Sirius noticed a few seabirds perched on the broken mast of their ship. The birds tilted their heads curiously, their beady eyes fixed on him as if trying to make sense of this strange, disheveled human who had suddenly appeared in their midst.

It took Sirius several long moments to fully grasp his current situation. His mind was still reeling from the abrupt transition, struggling to reconcile the vivid memories of Azkaban with the peaceful night that now surrounded him.

Turning his head, Sirius sought out Bryan, who had awakened a few steps ahead of him and was now standing by the ship's rail. Bryan's posture was relaxed but alert, his gaze fixed on some distant point on the horizon. Curious, Sirius followed his line of sight.

There, in the distance, an island loomed. It was barely visible, shrouded in the only patch of dark clouds that marred the starry sky.

"We made it in?" Sirius asked, his voice hoarse and uncertain.

Bryan turned at the sound of Sirius's voice, and it was then that Sirius noticed something extraordinary. In Bryan's hands, gleaming softly in the starlight, were two objects that made Sirius's breath catch in his throat.

Ravenclaw's diadem and Gryffindor's sword!

Sirius's eyes widened to the point of pain; his gaze locked on the two legendary alchemical artifacts. He found himself holding his breath, as if afraid that the slightest movement or sound might cause these Mythical objects to vanish.

"These are from the memory," Sirius breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He blinked rapidly, half-expecting the artifacts to disappear. But they remained solid and real in Bryan's grasp.

As the initial shock began to wear off, Sirius felt a bubble of laughter rise in his chest. It was a sound born of disbelief, amazement, and perhaps a touch of hysteria. He chuckled, shaking his head in wonder.

"I bet if people knew you had these two items, Bryan," Sirius said, his tone casual despite the tremor in his voice, "you'd never have a moment's peace again."

The sarcasm was almost comical. Sirius knew all too well the power these artifacts held, not just in terms of their magical properties, but in their historical and cultural significance. The wizarding world would be turned upside down if word got out that these long-lost treasures of the Hogwarts founders had resurfaced.

Bryan's response was a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement and perhaps a hint of mischief. "Ha, there aren't many wizards capable of taking things from me,"

Their conversation was interrupted by a fluttering of wings. The seabirds that had been perched on the mast, apparently growing bolder, flew down to land on the ship's rail near Bryan. Their slightly dim eyes held a hint of pleading as they gently pecked at his fingers, clearly hoping for food.

Bryan's demeanor softened as he observed the hungry birds. With a casual wiggle of his fingers several small fish, each about the size of a finger, suddenly materialized. They flew out of the scale-like waves, arcing through the air before landing with soft plops on the ship's rail.

The seabirds immediately erupted into a cacophony of joyful, low cries. They scrambled over each other, wings flapping and beaks snapping as they fought to snatch up the unexpected feast. The scene was so normal, so mundane, that it created a surreal contrast with the magical artifacts and the lingering tension from their otherworldly experience.

Sirius watched the squabbling birds in silence, his mind whirling with thoughts and questions. The simple act of kindness – Bryan feeding the birds – seemed to ground him, bringing him fully back to the present moment.

After a few moments of contemplative silence, broken only by the sounds of the contented birds, Sirius spoke up.

"I'll keep what I've seen here a secret, Bryan—"

Bryan raised an eyebrow at this, turning to look at Sirius properly. Sirius met his gaze steadily, trying to convey the sincerity of his promise through his eyes alone.

The moment stretched between them, filled with unspoken understanding. Then, unexpectedly, Bryan's lips curved into a small smile. He shifted his gaze away from Sirius, looking out towards the distant silhouette of Azkaban. His fingers tapped gently on the ship's rail, a rhythmic sound that seemed to match the echo of the lapping of the waves against the hull.

"No," Bryan said at last, his voice calm and measured. "I hope you can tell—"

Sirius raised his eyebrows in surprise, a question forming on his lips. However, before he could speak, Bryan continued, cutting off any potential interruption.

"But not now," Bryan added, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. His deep gaze seemed to pierce through space and time, as if seeing some distant future.

"In the future, if one day I suddenly disappear and you urgently need to find me, then please tell Dumbledore everything you've seen—"

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