Harry was excited as he focused on claiming the Lordship of the Peverell family.
He did not know what exactly to do but the Peverell brothers had claimed that he only had to think about it and he would instinctively know the procedure.
And to his utter surprise, as he willed about claiming the Lordship, he felt his own magic stirring, guiding him toward the correct ritualistic words.
It was as if the knowledge was automatically being pulled from the newly unlocked depths of his mind.
Standing straight and straightening himself to his full height, his voice boomed with a clarity and authority he had never possessed before:
“I, Harry James Potter, son of James Charlus Potter and Lily Evans Potter, hereby claim the Lordship of the Peverell Family.
I declare myself to have been chosen as the true magical heir of Antioch Peverell, Cadmus Peverell, and Ignotus Peverell, by Magic and Death itself.
I swear to take up my duties as Lord Peverell sincerely and responsibly.”
The moment the oath left his lips, his magic flared and ripple erupted from him.
A golden circle intermixed with shades of grey appeared around him like a constantly flashing and chaotic whirlwind.
Harry felt a heavy, ancient weight pressing against his soul, as if he were being weighed and judged by Magic and Death itself.
After several tense moments, the golden circle contracted sharply, converging into his chest and sealing the oath.
Harry Potter was now, officially, Lord Peverell.
Harry grinned, the thrill of the momentous and spectacular moment coursing through him.
He looked around the small attic, wondering how he would receive the surprise the brothers had promised.
He did not have to wait long.
To his astonishment, his school trunk, which had been locked and ignored in the corner, snapped open with a violent crack.
He frowned, wondering what was happening when something emerged from the trunk.
It was his Invisibility Cloak which had flown out, expanding in size until it wrapped itself around his shoulders like a regal and majestic shawl, its fabric feeling heavier and more alive than ever before.
Before he could even process what had happened, two more objects manifested out of thin air.
The first was a small, octagonal stone of dark black colour.
As Harry watched, the stone drifted toward his chest.
A golden case materialized around it, and the stone was snapped shut inside the case, before hanging itself around Harry’s neck on a fine golden thread.
The second object was a wand.
It was long, gnarled, and pulsing with a power that made the air in the attic hum with pure magic.
Harry instinctively raised his hand, and the wand flew into his palm with a perfect resonance.
The moment his fingers closed around the wood, a majestic golden light, far more brilliant than the first, erupted around him, illuminating the entire room with a golden glow.
When the light finally faded, Harry was standing in the silence of the attic, trembling slightly.
In his hand, he was holding the Elder Wand, around his neck the Resurrection Stone was hanging, and draped over his shoulders was the Invisibility Cloak.
He now held all three legendary Deathly Hallows, and for the first time in centuries, they were no longer sealed.
They were whole with all their powers unleashed, and they were his.
When the light vanished, the three Hallows had disappeared with it.
They had become invisible.
Harry could still feel their immense power thrumming through him, connected directly to his soul. New chapters come out on g.com first.
With a mere thought, he knew he could summon any of them back to his side in an instant.
The first and most stunning realization was about his very own Invisibility Cloak.
He had never imagined that the heirloom he had been using to sneak around school was one of the legendary Deathly Hallows.
He remembered with a scowl and irritation how easily Dumbledore had seemed to see through it.
Ignotus had stated that no ward or protection should be able to detect the Cloak.
Even in its sealed state, it should have been impenetrable.
The only logical explanation was that Dumbledore had layered it with detection and tracking charms over the years.
Harry felt a surge of relief as he sensed, through his soul bond with the artifacts, that the Hallows were now restored to their full, unsealed potential.
Better yet, the restoration process had acted as a cleansing too, stripping away every tracking spell, curse, or foreign ritual placed on them throughout the centuries.
They had been returned back to their original state as they had been in the hands of the Peverell brothers.
He willed the Cloak to appear.
It appeared instantly, draped over his shoulders like a shawl.
He pulled the hood of the shawl over his head and vanished from sight.
A true, perfect invisibility.
With another thought, the Cloak vanished back.
Next, he focused on the Resurrection Stone.
The moment he did, he was assaulted by a jagged and disoriented wave of Voldemort’s memories.
To his utter revulsion, he was seeing through Tom Riddle’s eyes.
The theft of the Gaunt ring, the cold-blooded murders used to anchor a soul fragment within it, and its transformation into a Horcrux.
Harry felt disgusted and slammed his mental door on those memories, refusing to dwell on the darkness for now.
As Antioch had said, Harry had been able to absorb the memories of Voldemort and his encounter with the stone had triggered a small portion of those memories.
The stone had appeared, hanging from the golden thread around his neck.
His first instinct, a desperate, aching pull in his chest, was to use the stone and summon the soul of his parents.
But he forced himself to stop.
He could not do this.
Cadmus had not explained the mechanics of summoning a soul.
He did not even know if would even be able to be successful or not in it.
And also, Harry refused to risk disturbing his parents’ peace without knowing the consequences.
He resolved to sort through Cadmus’s memories and conduct his own research before making such a monumental decision.
Finally, there was the Elder Wand.
He willed and the wand appeared back in his hand.
And as Harry looked at its appearance with a little focus, his eyes widened in shock.
He recognised the wand. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
It was Dumbledore’s.
He had seen that wand once before, peeking out from under Dumbledore’s sleeve.
He had never seen the Headmaster use it in a duel or for a spell, but the unique shape and the appearance of the wand was unmistakable.
A flurry of questions raced through his mind.
Did Dumbledore know he was wielding a Deathly Hallow?
If he did, what about the Cloak?
Had his father truly lent it to the Headmaster, or had the Leader of the Light simply stolen a piece of a legendary cloak from a dying man?
Harry had far too many questions and far too few answers, but for the first time, he had the power to find the truth himself.
For the next few minutes, Harry sat in the silence of the attic.
A myriad of emotions were coursing through him ranging from astonishment and wonder to pure, unadulterated shock.
He let out a dry chuckle but amused chuckle.
“Who would have thought that your small gift would be the legendary Hallows themselves,?” He muttered to himself.
“I had thought that maybe like the rest of the world I would have to try and collect them myself.”
And this had caused a lingering question that was tickling at the back of his mind.
Was he the Master of Death now?
This was the question which had left him in constant wonder and contemplation.
While he was feeling a profound connection to the three hallows, there was no ghostly voice, no skeletal figure appearing to bow before him, and no sudden sense of godhood.
He concluded that the Peverell brothers had been right.
That the Master of Death was likely a myth or a misunderstanding.
A mere rumour to sensalise things.
Shifting his focus from the Hallows, he began to consider his next move.
The weight of his ignorance, his lack of knowledge pressed down on him.
He had a realization that he lacked the fundamental knowledge of the wizarding world required to even begin forming a plan.
He was a Lord of a house and yet did not know what all this entailed.
He was the prime target of the dark lord, yet he barely understood the laws or history of Wizarding Britain.
For the next few days, he would retreat into his mindscape to methodically sort through the memories of the three Peverell brothers and the memories of Voldemort’s past.
And he would also go through all the books that he had purchased from the Diagon Alley.
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