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The feather pulsed with a steady rhythm now.
Not like a heartbeat.
More like a signal — something waiting to be answered.
Harry held it close to his chest as he, Hermione, and Ron crept through the castle's underground levels the next night, ducking beneath low arches and old torch brackets with sputtering blue fire.
"Are you sure this is the way?" Ron whispered, casting nervous glances around.
Harry nodded, staring at the feather. It floated just above his palm now, its tip glowing faintly and tilting forward like a compass.
It led them past the dungeons. Past the Slytherin common room. Past even the wine cellars Filch had once tried to lock up with a screaming lock charm.
At last, it hovered before an old archway sealed with iron bars.
Hermione examined the metal. "These bars weren't made with ordinary magic," she muttered. "They're bound with—"
"Memory wards," Harry finished, surprising both of them.
He didn't know how he knew. He just did.
Hermione stepped back.
The feather floated forward.
As it touched the center of the bars, the iron melted into mist, revealing a narrow tunnel that sloped downward.
Runes shimmered along the walls as they entered, echoing with a low, distant hum.
"Memory lives where memory ends."
📚 The Hollow Archive
They emerged into what could only be described as a library carved out of the earth itself.
Circular shelves spiraled upward and downward in all directions, connected by floating staircases and walkways of shifting stone.
Books drifted through the air, pages fluttering on their own.
But there were no titles.
Only echoes.
Each book radiated a faint image — someone's face, a moment, a piece of a past no longer spoken aloud.
Harry stepped to a podium at the center.
The feather glowed, then gently set itself into a silver socket.
A second image bloomed from the floor — a projection of a young woman, cloaked in blue, standing beside a great mirror.
Seraphina.
🪞 A Forgotten Memory
Her voice echoed around them, though her lips never moved.
"You seek the Tower, but you do not yet understand its price."
"I created the Echoes to remember what magic tried to erase — myself."
"To reach the Tower, you must carry four echoes within you. Not copies. Not thoughts. True memory."
"Begin with this."
The silver podium cracked open.
Inside — a vial.
Silver liquid shimmered inside like a reverse Pensieve.
Hermione gasped. "It's not just a memory... it's an imprint. A soul echo."
Harry reached for it.
Ron grabbed his wrist. "Wait — you're going to put a dead girl's memory inside you?"
Harry looked at the feather. Then the vial.
He nodded.
"She needs to be remembered."
He uncorked it.
And the world exploded.
🔁 The Tower, Then
He stood not as Harry.
But as her.
Seraphina's body. Her heartbeat. Her voice.
He looked through her eyes and saw:
A swirling tower of glass and magic, surrounded by floating platforms.
Spirals of thought — actual thoughts — drifted like birds around the tower's peak.
She held a wand shaped like a quill.
And she was writing into the air itself.
A voice behind her said, "It's too powerful. They're afraid."
She turned. Godric Gryffindor stood in the doorway. But he looked… different. Sad. Older.
"You cannot archive thought this way," he said. "It unlocks people. It makes their minds vulnerable."
"They deserve to remember," she replied.
"You risk unraveling truth itself."
She lifted her wand.
And the tower collapsed inward.
🧠 Back in the Present
Harry collapsed against the podium, gasping.
Ron helped steady him.
"What did you see?" Hermione asked urgently.
Harry's voice was hoarse.
"She didn't build the Tower to control people. She built it to store… everything."
"Everything?" Ron repeated.
"Every thought. Every memory. Every truth someone was afraid of. She built a library of unfiltered memory."
Hermione's eyes widened. "No wonder the Founders sealed it away. That kind of magic would challenge history itself."
They looked at the podium again.
The feather floated free — and split into two.
One hovered before Harry.
The second flew toward Hermione.
"Second Echo accepted," the chamber whispered.
🧍 A Not-So-Lone Watcher
As they climbed out of the Hollow Archive, Harry noticed something strange.
Footprints.
Fresh ones.
Hermione bent down. "They're wet."
Ron raised his wand.
They followed the trail to a dark corridor where an enchanted mirror shimmered with magical energy.
And inside it — reflected, but not present — stood Corvin Thorne.
His eyes glowed with the same light as the Raven's feather.
He smiled — and vanished.
Support the magic—50 epic chapters, 1000+ words each, and an unforgettable retelling of Harry Potter. Only on my Patreon.patreon.com/Kun_kunsi12