The Hogwarts Descendant

Chapter 53

Mr. Lovegood stopped bustling around the kitchen, turning slowly to face Hermione. He pulled on a chain around his neck, the silver rune displayed against his grungy shirt. "This rune?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, eyes wide at the sight of it. "Yes - what does it mean?"

"It's not a Rune, my dear," Mr. Lovegood corrected with a small smile as he turned back to the tea. "Nearly fifty years ago, it was the symbol of a Dark Wizard known as Grindelwald. Since then, there is a stigma that follows it, but no one ever sees past the darkness to the story behind it."

Hermione glanced triumphantly at Harry, a silent I-told-you-so. "That's what I've come to ask about - what is the story behind it?"

Mr. Lovegood cocked his head at Hermione quizzically. "My dear girl, have you never heard the tales of Beedle the Bard?"

"Those are children's stories," Ron spoke up, cheeks tingling pink when Hermione glared at him. "I just mean... mum used to read those to us at bedtime, you know?"

Mr. Lovegood sniffed as though offended. "Children's stories... my boy, they are more than simple stories. They are legends."

The hair on Dahlia's arms stood up. Legends implied that there was some truth to the tales, but that was impossible. Even a magical pot that produced whatever the user wanted was a far stretch for her, and she'd been brought into the future.

"Are you familiar with the Tale of the Three Brothers?" Xenophilius asked as the kettle on the stove began to whistle.

Dahlia's blood ran cold, her breathing becoming difficult. She shuffled closer, anxiously waiting for the strange man to continue. The tale of the three brothers was rumored to be about the three Peverell Brothers - her great-grandfather Ignotus Peverell, and his brothers Cadmus and Antioch.

"Yes," Hermione withdrew a copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard from her bag. "I brought a copy with me."

"No need for all of that," Mr. Lovegood said disapprovingly. He glanced at each young witch and wizard in turn. "I'm sure everyone else here has heard the story?"

Ron and Dahlia nodded. She hadn't gotten much of a normal upbringing, but like every young witch or wizard she had fallen asleep to the Tales of Beedle the Bard nearly every night of her youth. Harry, however, blushed, shaking his head. "No - sorry, I don't."

Mr. Lovegood huffed, rolling his eyes. Dahlia stopped herself just short of giving Harry an indignant look - she forgot he was raised by muggles. "The story goes like this: there once were three brothers traveling along a dark, winding path at twilight when they reached a deep treacherous rive. Anyone who attempts to cross would be swept away and drowned. The brothers were learned in the magical arts, so they conjured up a bridge with their wands and proceeded to cross. They were halfway across the bridge when a hooded figure appeared before them. The figure was the enraged spirit of Death who felt cheated out of their deaths. Death cunningly decided to pretend to congratulate them, and proceeded to reward them with gifts of their own choosing.

"The oldest brother was a competitive man and asked for a wand more powerful than any other in existence. Death granted his wish by fashioning a wand from a nearby Elder tree on the banks of the river. The second brother was arrogant and wanted to humiliate Death. He asked for the power to recall the deceased from the grave. Death granted his wish by choosing a stone from the river bank and presenting it to him as a Resurrection Stone. The youngest brother did not trust Death and asked for something that would allow him to leave without Death being able to find him. Death was reluctant, but removed his own cloak from around his shoulders and presented it to the youngest brother as a cloak of invisibility so powerful it would hide his own even from Death himself.