To their utter dismay, what seemed like a straightforward path had turned into a complete deadlock.
To learn what sacrifice would compel Death to answer their questions, they first needed Death to answer their questions.
A perfect loop, indeed.
"Now what?" Harry whispered.
"I don't know…" Veratia murmured back.
"How about…" Harry glanced at Lady Death, then back at Veratia. "We buy her another McDonald's? Or maybe try Burger King. I think that'd work too."
"She's already had a meal, Harry," Veratia whispered. "If we're going with that plan, we'll have to wait until tomorrow morning."
While the two whispered to each other, Lady Death watched them leisurely, not saying a word.
"I still think we should grab a couple of Death Eaters from Azkaban and off them on the spot," Cassandra said eagerly, her sights set on Bellatrix Lestrange. From what she'd heard, that notorious Death Eater was the one who'd led the Malfoy family astray.
At least, that's what Lucius had told her, and for the sake of her dear great-nephew, Cassandra chose to believe him.
"Those souls are utterly tainted," Newt countered. "As Lady Death herself has said before, she's not particularly interested in human souls…"
"Then what do we do?" Cassandra shot back. "I'm sticking to my idea—grab a few heinous Death Eaters from Azkaban."
"At this point, we might as well wait until tomorrow," Harry whispered. "Sorry to trouble you, Veratia, but could you pick up some McDonald's breakfast in the morning?"
"I don't think we can wait that long, do you?" Veratia said softly, pressing Harry's arm twice. "Stay here. I'll step out and figure something out…"
Harry trusted Veratia would come up with a plan. Feeling a bit more at ease, he looked back at Lady Death.
Truth be told, Lady Death wasn't what Harry had expected. She wasn't some gleeful harbinger of doom or a murderous maniac, but rather a kind, almost grandmotherly figure.
Just… not the easiest to negotiate with.
Still, having principles seemed fitting for a deity—not exactly surprising.
"If you're not in a hurry to return to the underworld, my lady…" Dumbledore offered, "perhaps you could stay at Hogwarts for a while. After all, there's not much else worth visiting."
At Dumbledore's words, Newt, Harry, Cassandra, and Mr. Flamel turned to him in disbelief.
Seriously? You're inviting everyone to Hogwarts?
What did he think Hogwarts was—a magical halfway house?
Of course, they only dared think it. Saying it aloud? Not a chance.
"Regrettably, it's not as you imagine," Lady Death replied gracefully, her voice slow and deliberate. "I don't reside in the underworld. The ritual you used to summon me to the mortal realm is permanent. The world of the living is quite captivating, and I'm in no rush to return to where I came from. If you can provide me with a place to stay, that would be most agreeable."
A sly glint flickered in Dumbledore's eyes.
Inviting her to Hogwarts was a feint. His real aim was to slip in his question and get answers.
Classic Dumbledore—exploiting a loophole.
At least he'd gleaned two key pieces of information: one, Death didn't dwell in the underworld; two, this summoning was permanent.
"Your wand," Lady Death said, turning to Dumbledore. "The Elder Wand, correct?"
Dumbledore drew the wand from his robes and handed it to her without hesitation.
"Yes, my lady. This is one of the Deathly Hallows—the Elder Wand."
To everyone's surprise, Lady Death didn't take it. Instead, she smiled.
"I've heard the rumors," she said. "Gather the three Deathly Hallows, and you'll become the master of Death. Some even claim I crafted them myself." She chuckled softly. "But those are just tales spun by the Peverell brothers, trying to gild their alchemical creations."
"I see," Dumbledore nodded, understanding dawning.
"The Resurrection Stone, however, is a fine piece of alchemy," Death continued leisurely. "It can summon the 'souls' of the departed. But I must warn you—what it calls forth isn't a true soul, but rather the person as they exist in your memory."
"The person in our memory?" Dumbledore echoed.
"Indeed," Death confirmed with a nod. "And since it's you, I'll grant you one question—"
At that moment, Veratia returned, dragging Gellert by the collar.
"My lady," Veratia said with a smile, addressing Death. "I've brought you a sacrifice…"
"Oh, heavens, sister," Gellert drawled sarcastically. "This truly wounds me. Dragging your poor brother out of bed in the middle of the night to offer me up to Death?"
Veratia smirked, unfazed.
"You little thief who raided my vault," she retorted. "All you're good for is driving up the price of bread!"
"Alright, Veratia," Harry stepped in, blocking her. "We can't actually use Gellert as a sacrifice. He's your brother, after all…"
"Heh…" Veratia glanced down at Harry and plopped beside him. "I didn't realize you two were so chummy now, Saint Potter."
Cassandra's face darkened.
Saint Potter?
That was her nickname for him.
"Of course, I didn't expect this crook to make a decent sacrifice," Veratia continued. As she spoke, she pulled a necklace from Gellert's person, its centerpiece a glittering emerald the size of an egg.
"This is an ancient Egyptian emerald necklace," Veratia said, handing it to Lady Death. "Supposedly an ornament of Anubis, the Egyptian god of death. Take a look."
Harry recognized it instantly. Wasn't that the necklace they'd seized from the Ashwinder headquarters? At least, that's what the Ashwinder leader had claimed. Harry hadn't cared much for it, so it ended up in Veratia's vault.
At the same time, Veratia looped her arm around Harry's.
"What's up?" Harry whispered.
"Recharging my magic," Veratia replied softly.
Death took the necklace, examined it briefly, and nodded. "Indeed, this belongs to that dog Anubis. It'll do as a sacrifice."
"Now, for the first question," Lady Death said, turning to Harry. "But before that, we need to discuss Poppy Sweeting—specifically, her condition."
"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked urgently.
Veratia and Cassandra looked up, eager to hear what Death had to say about Poppy.
Newt didn't hesitate. He spun around and dashed out, shouting, "I'll get her!"
Moments later, Newt returned with Poppy in tow.
Poppy, ever the curious soul, glanced around the room, unsure why her "grandnephew" had dragged her here.
"Hey, Harry, Veratia… oh, and Cassandra!" Poppy greeted them one by one until her eyes landed on Death.
The moment she saw her, Poppy let out a squeak and darted behind Harry, who was seated on a bench. She peeked out, her small head barely visible, staring at Death.
"Y-You… why are you here?" Poppy asked, trembling.
Harry froze.
Poppy knows Death?
"You're quick to flee," Death remarked. "Second only to the French I've met."
Her words left both Poppy and Mr. Flamel speechless.
Mr. Flamel, for his part, was itching to master time magic just so he could travel back to World War II and give his wayward descendants a proper lesson.
Merlin's beard, the French reputation's been utterly ruined.
"If I were you, Miss Sweeting," Death said slowly, "I'd stick close to Potter—much like Miss Malfoy and Miss Grindelwald. Haven't you noticed it's getting harder to maintain your Magizoological form?"
"Huh? Is it?" Poppy tilted her head.
Death didn't respond, merely giving her a look that screamed, You know exactly what I mean.
"Let me explain," Mr. Flamel sighed. "Miss Sweeting does need to stay close to Harry. She requires the aid of the Philosopher's Stone."
"Indeed," Death said, finally smiling.
"But… it's a difficult choice, isn't it?"
It was hard not to find the situation amusing. Harry was flanked by Cassandra on his left and Veratia on his right, his arm currently clutched by Veratia as she "recharged" her magic. Meanwhile, Cassandra maintained her haughty demeanor.
"Go on, Aunt Poppy!" Newt whispered encouragingly.
Poppy stepped forward, retracting her horn. She glanced at Cassandra, only to notice Cassandra's hand gripping Harry's arm tightly, her expression practically screaming, Not a chance.
With a shrug, Poppy dove forward, snuggling into Harry's lap.
"Gimme some—heehee!" She giggled triumphantly. "Alright, it's settled then—Cassandra on the left, Veratia on the right, and me in the middle!"
Just as Cassandra and Veratia were about to unite against this new intruder, Mr. Flamel spoke again.
"I've told Miss Sweeting before," he said. "As a partial spirit, she can use the Philosopher's Stone to restore her physical body…"
Veratia, who'd been about to tease Poppy, froze. "What did you say, Mr. Flamel? Poppy's… a ghost?!"
Cassandra turned to Flamel, equally curious about Poppy's situation.
Poppy, however, buried her face in Harry's lap, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.
"I'm sorry for keeping this hidden so long," Flamel said regretfully. "But it's true. Due to a mishap while practicing Magizoology, Miss Sweeting is stuck in a state between ghost and unicorn."
"Is that true, Poppy?" Harry asked urgently.
He tried to pat her head, but both his arms were still trapped in Veratia's and Cassandra's grips, leaving him immobile.
"Yup," Poppy mumbled, nuzzling Harry's stomach like a foal. "It's true, it's true… ugh, I told Flamel to keep it a secret, but he just had to spill it."
"It's for your own good, Miss Sweeting," Flamel said calmly. "This is an urgent matter. Do you really want to stay trapped as a unicorn forever?"
"Poppy," Veratia said softly. "Is what Mr. Flamel said true?"
"Mhm," Poppy nodded. A shimmer of light enveloped her, and a translucent Hufflepuff girl appeared in her place—a ghost, but noticeably different from the other spirits at Hogwarts.
"Restoring a ghost to a physical body is no easy task," Flamel said with a smile. "But Miss Sweeting's case is unique. She's not quite dead, yet not entirely alive either. Her transformation into a Magizoological form failed due to insufficient magical energy, so the Philosopher's Stone can help her regain her body."
"What about others?" Harry asked, thinking of Sebastian.
"Only she can be helped this way," Flamel said regretfully.
Seeing Poppy's ghostly form, neither Cassandra nor Veratia had much to say.
Fine.
One more wasn't a big deal, and one less wouldn't change much either.
Besides, a ghost? How could she possibly compete with the likes of a Grindelwald or a Malfoy?
At that thought, Veratia and Cassandra locked eyes again, their gazes meeting over Harry.
"We should focus on Poppy," Harry said, feeling a bit suffocated by the pressure from both sides. It was like being caught in the eye of a storm, a fragile reed battered by two warring hurricanes.
To Veratia's surprise, Cassandra suddenly let go of Harry's arm.
"I think Potter's right," Cassandra said, turning to Flamel. "Rather than siphoning off life energy, Poppy's condition is what needs attention. And no, I'm not some shameless cat stealing scraps—I wouldn't stoop so low."
She glanced at Harry, whose arm was still clutched by Veratia, practically deformed from the grip.
"Clinging to a half-grown boy every day, forgetting your so-called 'friends,'" Cassandra sneered. "Not that I have any unsavory hobbies, unlike some people."
Before Veratia could retort, Cassandra turned to Flamel. "Tell us about Poppy, Mr. Flamel. I think someone in this room needs help more than others. Is this why she can't eat?"
"Correct," Flamel nodded. "But restoring Miss Sweeting's body will require some rather… unconventional methods."
"What are they?" Harry asked, looking up.
At that moment, Veratia finally released his arm.
--
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