Chapter 302: The Source of the Dark Age
"The idea of dark magic first came from a secret organisation in ancient Egypt. Its leader was called Herpo. You should have heard that name before."
In the dim underground laboratory, Slytherin, cloaked in silver‑green, spoke in a low voice. Opposite him, Albus Dumbledore, white hair and beard gleaming in the murk, held a quill in one hand and wore an expression of keen interest.
"Yes. Herpo the Foul. His name is still well known in the wizarding world even today."
"Herpo the Foul… a very accurate description."
Slytherin paused briefly, then went on in that same deep, steady tone.
"He was one of the earliest wizards to be labelled a Dark wizard. At that time, 'Dark wizard' was not used for scholars of dark magic, but specifically for those who committed countless atrocities."
"He invented many curses, bred horrors such as the basilisk, and even created Horcruxes, those notorious abominations that twist and profane the soul."
His voice remained flat, drained of any emotion.
"But none of that is the most important part."
He suddenly lifted his head and stared straight into Dumbledore's eyes. There was nothing in his gaze at all. The emptiness in it made the skin crawl.
"The most important thing is that he invented a concept. One he called the Hall of Lost Dreams."
"The Hall of Lost Dreams? That was his work?"
Dumbledore frowned. That was one thing he had never considered.
The concept was not exactly common knowledge in the wizarding world, but any witch or wizard who had delved deeply into magic would have come across it in one form or another.
It was also one of the chief reasons many wizards believed death was not truly the end.
"Isn't that supposed to be a place only those on the brink of death can reach?"
"Now, yes."
Slytherin's lips curled into a smile that held no warmth at all.
"But in the beginning, it was something Herpo devised for one specific purpose: the makers of Horcruxes."
"In this construct, every wizard whose body had died while their Horcrux remained intact would fall into the Hall of Lost Dreams and wait there for a chance to return to life."
"According to Herpo's own description, the place exists between reality and illusion. Any wizard who enters it is freed from the torment of negative emotion and the suffering of time. They can simply and peacefully wait for the day they rise again."
"But those negative emotions do not truly vanish. They drift through the Hall, slowly gathering until they are all drawn down into a spring made entirely of malice and despair."
"Legend says that if anyone could find that spring and be touched by its waters, they would come to understand the true nature of emotional magic and gain power beyond imagination."
"So dark magic came from someone tapping into that power?" Dumbledore asked, curious.
"No. It was far worse than that."
Slytherin's voice was as deep and colourless as before.
"Even from the description alone, it should be obvious that this so‑called Hall of Lost Dreams was mostly a story Herpo spun to sell his Horcruxes."
"Think about it. Unlimited life, the promise that even an 'accidental' death would send you to the Hall to wait painlessly for your resurrection, and on top of that the chance to grasp a power that could make you invincible."
"With a magic like that, who would not be tempted to try?"
"And events proved that Herpo truly was… a plague upon the world."
"After the invention of Horcruxes, countless wizards tried their hand at crafting these abominations. They even sparked a chaotic war that pushed both the wizarding world and the Muggle world to the brink of collapse."
At this point, Slytherin faltered, as though some terrible memory had surfaced. He fell silent.
"And then?" Dumbledore prompted, still intrigued. "So far, you have not said much about dark magic itself."
"Quite."
Slytherin inclined his head.
"It should have remained nothing more than a crude lie. Unfortunately, long after Herpo vanished from history, someone made that lie real."
"Lady Morgana?" Dumbledore rubbed his chin.
When Fawkes was reborn, Evans had passed on a number of stories he had heard about dark magic.
"She was merely a puppet," Slytherin said with a bleak little smile. "A puppet being controlled without ever realising it. Sadly, that particular puppet's capacity for destruction was… excessive."
"I do not know how she did it. I only know what came of it."
"She took that imaginary world and laid it in a sheet over the real one."
There was a clear note of reluctant admiration in his voice.
"Even I have to admit she was a true genius. The Hall of Lost Dreams was purely fictional. Even genuine makers of Horcruxes had no idea whether such a place existed."
"And yet, even so, she took the descriptions and used them to build a world like that from nothing, then draped it over reality."
"So everything that had once been used to describe that imaginary place became real?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes."
"The moment she succeeded, the nature of dark magic changed forever."
Slytherin's voice sank back into its earlier, heavy cadence, with a hint of regret threaded through it.
"Within Herpo's concept of the Hall of Lost Dreams lay a spring that channelled forth the very source of human wickedness. When that world overlaid our own, that source erupted into reality and poured its power into every spell tied to negative emotion."
"Those spells no longer required years of study or an understanding of magical theory. All they demanded was a little flesh and blood, perhaps a sliver of soul, and they could unleash magic strong enough to threaten a Grand Sorcerer."
"You can imagine what happened when such magic appeared."
His voice was cold now.
"No one wanted to spend years on the arrangement of runes or memorise line after line of complex formulae. And even if there were those who did, they could never compete with wizards willing to sacrifice body and soul for power."
"In time, wizards lost the will to pursue knowledge. They fell into endless cycles of slaughter and war, turning every soul and every scrap of flesh they could get their hands on into fuel for their spells."
He paused, and when he continued, his voice was even lower than before.
"But even that was not the greatest consequence of the Hall of Lost Dreams."
"As the years passed, wizards finally discovered what it meant to have that place draped over the world."
"The dead could no longer truly fade, could they?" Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed. "In the concept, only those caught between life and death were meant to enter."
"Exactly."
Slytherin nodded, his expression complicated.
"The dead no longer passed on. They became ghosts or vengeful spirits, wandering the world, gathering in ever greater numbers, eating away at the living's space to exist. And there was no way to disperse them."
"After all, that realm was made for souls between life and death."
He fell quiet for a heartbeat, then added in a near‑whisper:
"In that place, we were the ones who did not belong."