Herpo the Foul—to Sirius, it was just another name from the dusty pages of magical history, albeit one that sent shivers down the spines of those who truly knew its significance. His name was etched in faded ink on the yellowed title pages of numerous dark magic tomes, hidden away in Hogwarts's Library's Restricted Section. But why should anyone worry about a dark wizard who died two thousand ago?
However, as Sirius followed the memories of two legendary Hogwarts founders through this nightmarish underworld, he realized just how terribly wrong he had been!
Horcruxes—the very word tasted like ash in his mouth. The concept of splitting one's soul, tearing apart the very essence of one's being to achieve a twisted form of immortality—could the human soul truly be divided like a piece of parchment?
That's what Godric Gryffindor himself had said with a grave expression. Sirius's mind reeled, unable to fully grasp the horror of it all. But the earth-shattering revelation that Dementors—those soul-sucking abominations that had tormented him for over a decade in Azkaban—were once wizards who had excessively split their souls... it shook him to his very core, leaving him feeling as though the ground beneath his feet had turned to quicksand.
And then there was Rowena Ravenclaw's chilling claim that house-elves were likely Herpo's creation. To create an entire race of intelligent life through the sheer power of magic—Sirius couldn't begin to fathom the level of magical prowess and twisted ambition required for such a feat.
"Bryan?" Sirius's voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper, heavy with the weight of these terrible revelations.
They finally stepped onto a staircase that made Sirius's stomach churn with disgust. Each step was crafted from the twisted hands of house-elves, their bony fingers interlocked in a parody of unity.
Walking on such a grotesque path, it was impossible for anyone sane to maintain even a semblance of composure. They did their utmost to avoid gazing at the sides of the staircase, where the faces of the elves, frozen in death maintained their characteristic expressions of humility and fawning subservience. The group descended in a silence so thick it was almost suffocating.
Sirius, his face now ashen and drawn with a mixture of horror and dawning realization, suddenly broke the oppressive silence.
"You've been investigating Herpo all along, haven't you?"
Bryan, caught off-guard by the directness of the question, was momentarily stunned into silence. After a long silence, he nodded gently.
"But—could it be!" Sirius began urgently, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. However, the memory of the earlier conversation between the two Hogwarts founders suddenly flashed through his mind, causing his face to grimace with a new level of horror.
"This... this monster is still alive?!" The words came out as a strangled gasp, as if Sirius's very breath had been stolen by the terrifying possibility.
"I suspect so," Bryan said expressionlessly, seeming to be in a bad mood.
"Alive for two thousand years?!" Sirius's voice cracked, distorted by disbelief and fear. "And when we first arrived, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor mentioned Merlin— what's all this about?"
But this time, Bryan offered no response. His gaze was fixed intently on the roiling sea of lava below them, his eyes narrowed as if he had spotted something significant in the molten inferno.
"Fine—" Sirius began, realizing that Bryan was clearly unwilling to answer these pressing questions. He reluctantly fell silent, biting back the torrent of inquiries threatening to spill forth. But after a few seconds of tense silence, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath,
"Looking at the nightmarish situation here, I'm starting to think Voldemort isn't quite so dangerous after all. Merlin's beard, what have we stumbled into?"
There were indeed objects floating in the lava—the bleached bones of creatures whose flesh had long since been incinerated by the intense heat. Most of them were unrecognizable. But Bryan could still discern that one massive set of remains belonged to a dragon. The bones of this beast were far thicker and more robust than any dragon species he had encountered before, implying at some kind of primeval dragon ancestor that time had forgotten.
It became apparent that Herpo was using this vast lake of lava as a kind of magical incinerator, a place to dispose of evidence or failed experiments perhaps. Everyone's attention was drawn to the various remnants bobbing in the bubbling lava, most of them mercifully incomplete. Considering that these creatures' remains had been soaking in the molten rock for well over a dozen centuries without being completely consumed, one could only imagine with a sense of dread how formidable and terrifying they must have been when alive.
They descended to a level even with the lava, separated from the churning molten rock by only a thin, shimmering magical barrier. As the lava flowed in hypnotic patterns, unmelted creature bones constantly struck the barrier with sickening thuds, carried by the fiery waves. Even though they knew that the barrier would hold, it still made their hearts race and their palms sweat.
Gryffindor and Ravenclaw no longer conversed with each other They quickened their pace forward, and finally, after what felt like an eternity but was likely only about ten minutes, they stood before a massive jet-black door at the very bottom of the lava lake.
The door was an imposing monolith of obsidian-like stone, its surface adorned with several colossal snakes that seemed to writhe and coil across its face. The serpents' eyes, inlaid with some sort of glowing gemstone, gazed down at the intruders with an unsettling intelligence. Their mouths gaped open, revealing rows of venomous fangs that seemed to drip with ghostly poison, sending shivers down the spines of all who observed them.
"Basilisks—" Bryan murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the bubbling of the lava. He didn't want to dwell on the implications, knowing all too well the deadly power of those mythical serpents. And, he also knew how to open the door.
Hiss—
Ravenclaw once again used Parseltongue. As she spoke, Bryan's eyes flashed keenly, his sharp mind carefully memorizing every nuance and strange intonation of the sounds. He knew this knowledge might prove crucial in the future.
Hum—
With a heavy rumbling sound, the darkness that bloomed before them quickly swallowed the dazzling light emitted by the lava.
The difference on either side of the threshold was as stark as night and day, like crossing between two entirely separate realms of existence. The chamber they entered bore an eerie resemblance to the entrance hall that come first of Hogwarts' Great Hall.
In this cavernous, gloomy room that seemed to stretch endlessly upward, they felt no hint of the scorching heat that had assaulted them moments before. Instead, the damp air carried a bone-deep chill—a chill that had been perfectly preserved in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw's memories, which Bryan and Sirius could now feel as if they were truly there, transported across the centuries.
"There are Dementors here!"
The trauma from his over a decade of imprisonment in Azkaban proved too great for Sirius to bear. Upon feeling this horribly familiar chill seep into his very bones, he instinctively curled in on himself, shivering uncontrollably. His eyes darted about, seeking escape, and for a moment he seriously considered transforming into his Animagus form.
Clang!
After they had all crossed the threshold into the hall, the massive door swung shut behind them with a sound like a funeral bell. There was no visible light source around them, except for the faint, ghostly starlight that filtered down from the domed ceiling high above. Opposite where they stood, another tall stone door loomed ominously. Its cracks and the gap beneath it continuously spewed forth tendrils of white, mist-like vapor that carried that bone-chilling cold.
Gazing directly at this door, everyone shared a moment of grim realization— they had probably reached the core of this underground ruins.
As they approached, the large door opened automatically, finally revealing a room as grand as the temple hall on the Isle of Avalon.
Gryffindor raised his sword for the third time since landing on the island, but once again, Ravenclaw stopped him.
"It's pointless, Godric—" Ravenclaw's voice was heavy with resignation, her beautiful face marred by lines of exhaustion and gloom. "We've already tried, remember? We cannot destroy these... these abominations."
"What on earth is this?"
Sirius's voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with astonishment as he stared into the vast hall. His chaotic thoughts whirled unable to form any rational judgment.
Sigh—
Bryan heaved a deep sigh, his face heavy, "I suppose... this is the Dementors's processing plant'—"
The sight that greeted them in the enormous hall was as beautiful as it was terrifying. From the stone door where they entered to as far as the eye could see on the opposite side, every few steps floated a mesmerizing, pearly white halo. These ethereal rings hovered a few feet above the ground, pulsing gently with an inner light. Like a vast field of dazzling nebulae suspended in the cold, desolate expanse of the cosmos, they were hypnotically beautiful.
While nebulae nurture the stars, the halos before them vaguely revealed the outlines of incomplete human forms.
Gryffindor, his face set in grim determination, stretched out a hand. It passed through one of the nearest halos, disturbing the luminous particles that drifted lazily through the gloomy air like playful stars. But there was nothing playful about the founder's expression as he turned to his companion.
"Are these... the soul energies stolen from the living beings in the nearby seas?" Gryffindor asked, his voice heavy with the weight of terrible certainty. After Ravenclaw confirmed this chilling conclusion with a solemn nod, Gryffindor shook his head and sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging beneath an invisible burden.
"Beautiful souls becoming the cradle of evil. We must stop Herpo from manifesting, otherwise all magical and Muggle civilizations alike will face utter annihilation."
Ravenclaw seemed to see deeper connections. She sighed as well; her melodious voice tinged with sorrow. "These soul energies... they come from the Dementors we encountered above. Those foul creatures slaughter sentient beings, absorbing their power, only to transmit it here to nurture more of their kind."
Sirius's face had gone from ashen to nearly translucent, the blood draining from his features as the full horror of the situation dawned on him. At a glance, there appeared to be about a thousand Dementor embryos suspended in the vast hall, each one a ticking time bomb of malice.
If all these Dementors were to be born, to surge forth into the world above... it would spell certain doom not just for the wizarding world, but for all of humanity.
The thought was almost too terrible to consider.
As they ventured deeper into the chamber, the broken souls within the halos grew increasingly defined, more closely resembling the familiar and dreaded form of fully-formed Dementors. When they reached the innermost sanctum of this unholy nursery, the black shadows within the halos were already moving about restlessly in their 'eggshells,' like chicks preparing to hatch. Sensing the approach of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw—they eagerly struck at the boundaries of the hotbeds that nurtured them.
Ravenclaw halted her steps, coming to a stop before a nearly mature embryo. Her ice-blue gaze, sharp as a razor's edge, continuously analyzed the origins and nature of these budding Dementors. But as her observation continued, her expression grew increasingly gloomy.
"Herpo—he cultivated these colorless, fragmented souls in this manner to create virtually indestructible beings. Through this perversion of nature and magic, he has ultimately given rise to such a unique evil species."
Ravenclaw turned her penetrating gaze to Gryffindor.
"And for us, our path is clear. We must destroy every single individual of this species, down to the last embryo. If we leave even one alive, if a single Dementor escapes to propagate anew... we will have failed completely, and the world as we know it will be lost."
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