Chapter 13: Ashes and Understanding

Hogwarts Courtyard, Highlands, Scotland, Great Britain

Harry stood in silence, the weight of centuries pressing down on his shoulders like the chill mist curling through the courtyard. Before him, the incinerator—a rune-etched, magically reinforced construct—hummed softly. Its enchanted flame burned with a pale blue intensity, a cold sort of heat that consumed completely, leaving not even ashes behind.

One by one, the skeletal remains of former students, professors, and villagers were floated into its open mouth. Bodies wrapped in Hogwarts robes, tiny and frail. Some had House badges still half-attached to tatters of fabric. Others bore medallions or wands, melted, fused, or warped by time. All were handled by magic—no hands touched them. There was something sacred in the detachment. Reverence, perhaps. Or fear.

Harry didn’t know what kind of disease had wiped them out—only that it had been devastating, fast, and magical in origin. There were no signs of Dark Magic—no curse signatures, no energy echoes. Whatever had spread through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts had been unlike anything he had seen. Alien. Quiet. Merciless.

He could still hear the echoes of the portraits—how they had told him that the castle “slept.” That the children had died in their beds, one by one, until Hogwarts itself sealed its doors and shut out the world until now.

The incinerator had been his only choice. Fiendfyre might have been faster, but it was chaotic, uncontrollable, and risked destroying more than just the remains. Too many memories lingered in these stones—too many ghosts.

So he’d chosen to burn the dead gently—with runes powered by the Potentia of the Atlantis base, which now operated on ley lines and backup power. The decision had left most of the base dormant, but it was worth the cost.

Around him stood nearly four thousand house-elves—silent, unmoving—the ones from this world, and the ones he’d brought with him. Even Sam Carter stood among them, arms folded, face solemn, a faint shimmer of the bulla corpus spell glowing around her. She said nothing. She didn’t have to. The atmosphere was enough.

The entire courtyard had become a kind of ritual space, echoing with ancient grief.

The bodies continued to pass into the flame. Names lost to history. Faces erased. And yet, in this moment, they were honoured—not as numbers, but as lives.

And Harry watched them all.

The Day Before

Dis had taken him deeper into Hogwarts’ foundations—into what had once been the Hufflepuff dormitories. The protective doors were gone, replaced with intricate woven hangings and elven markings etched in chalk and wand-burn. The architecture had changed—softened. Cosy lighting from floating stones lit their path, and a sweet scent of herbs hung in the air. This was no longer just a dormitory. It had become a home.

When Harry finally sat in the largest armchair in the Hufflepuff common room—a piece patched and polished lovingly over decades—he realised just how many eyes were on him. Thousands of them. All wide, all shining, all holding some mixture of awe, curiosity, and hope.

It was overwhelming.

He gestured for Dis to sit beside him.

Dis froze. Then, as if something inside him snapped, he burst into tears. Loud, sobbing, hiccuping tears.

Harry sighed inwardly. So that hadn’t changed.

He gently pulled the elf into a one-armed hug, instinct overriding thought. Dis clung to him like a toddler, wailing against his side. Harry patted his back awkwardly, aware of every eye in the room watching him, hanging on his every move.

He needed to be careful. Elves weren’t humans. They had their history, their own culture, their burdens. Treating them with kindness shouldn’t be a spectacle, but here… it was almost sacramental.

He eased Dis away after a few moments.

“Dis,” he said softly, “are you calm now? Can we talk?”

Dis nodded, sniffling. His enormous eyes shimmered with gratitude. “Elders always say Masters and Mistresses were kind. Dis believe, but never knew. But, Great Master, you are kind. So kind. You let Dis sit. You hugged Dis. How can Dis serve such a Great Master?”

Harry winced. “Dis, where I come from, I have many house-elves. Would you mind if I called two of them here?”

That was his mistake.

More tears. Not just from Dis this time—dozens of others teared up as well.

“You ask permission, Master?” Dis choked. “Of course! Call them! We are honoured!”

Harry muttered under his breath and shook his head. “Hugo. Dobby.”

Two pops rang through the space. Hugo and Dobby appeared, blinking. The sight that greeted them rendered them speechless.

Elves. Wall to wall. Staring at them.

“Master Harry called Dobby—” Dobby began, but his voice faltered. His ears twitched.

The tension was thick. Several older Hogwarts elves stepped forward, ushering the children away with subtle but urgent gestures. The distrust wasn’t directed at Harry, but rather at the newcomers. Strangers. Outsiders.

“Dis, everyone—this is Hugo. And Dobby,” Harry announced, trying to bridge the invisible gap. “They are my elves. My family.”

Dobby, sensing the shift, turned to Harry. “Master… may Dobby call others too?”

Harry nodded. “If they’re willing.”

Dobby gave a slight bow and disappeared.

Seconds later, he returned on the opposite end of the room. Then came a cacophony of pops. Dozens at first. Then hundreds.

Kreacher arrived, dragging Sam Carter along, who was encased in a glowing bubble of protective magic that looked entirely like Kreacher’s doing. Her expression was bemused and faintly annoyed, but she didn’t protest.

Harry noticed something curious: Sam was being carefully guarded, but not feared. The elves didn’t shy from her the way they had from Hugo and Dobby. They understood humans. Elves, on the other hand—those were the unknowns here.

He suddenly realised the divide: he stood at a crossroads between two peoples who had once shared a history and now stood estranged by a century of isolation.

For a moment, no one spoke. The room was silent.

Then one young elf—barely older than a toddler—stepped forward, extended a hand in an unfamiliar gesture, and looked up at the other side.

The moment shattered.

Like floodgates bursting, the elves rushed forward. Chatter erupted. Not in English. In their language, fast, fluid, musical. The Hogwarts elves and their own mingled, exchanging words, laughter, and names.

Harry blinked. He hadn’t known. Of course, he hadn’t.

Six years at Hogwarts, and not once had he stopped to wonder: how do elves speak to each other? What language did they use? Had they taught themselves English for the convenience of wizards?

The realisation stung.

Turning to Sam, he said, “Let them have this. Come—I’ll show you something else.”

She nodded, adjusting her gear. Harry flicked his wand, expanding the bulla corpus to encase them both.

As they moved through the halls, Sam broke the silence. “That wand of yours—it’s incredible. I’ve seen you cast dozens of effects with it. Is it some kind of neural control device?”

Harry smiled, amused. “Nope. Just a wand.”

“It’s not just a wand,” she retorted. “You animated staircases with it. Altered gravity. Controlled fire. It interfaces with… with everything. That’s not possible.”

“It is,” Harry replied, eyes twinkling. “It’s magic.”

Sam scoffed. “There’s no such thing.”

“There is.”

“There’s not!”

“There is,” he repeated, grinning. “Maybe your science just hasn’t caught up yet.”

She frowned, ready to reply—but then stumbled. The hallway abruptly ended in open space.

Harry caught her arm, steadying her. “Watch it. Stairs are moving again.”

She blinked down at the vast chasm, just as the enchanted stairs began rotating back into place—stone segments snapping into alignment midair like a Rubik’s Cube of architecture.

“No hydraulics. No gears,” Sam muttered. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s Hogwarts,” Harry said, stepping onto the stairs. “Nothing’s impossible here.”

Sam hesitated, then followed.

“You still think magic doesn’t exist?” he asked.

“Everything magical can be explained by science,” she shot back automatically.

“Maybe,” he said. “But where’s the fun in that?”

They bickered the entire way to the Entrance Hall.

To be continued…

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