Chapter 199: The Truth of the Deathly Hallows (Part 2 )
If his theory was correct, Phineas might uncover the true nature of the Deathly Hallows—and perhaps even the path that many legendary wizards had searched for in vain.
And he knew that if his suspicions were right, revealing them to the magical world could trigger a catastrophe no less severe than the witch hunts of a thousand years ago.
Still, Phineas hesitated. He understood that if he followed the path the spirits laid out for him, he might uncover the truth—about the Hallows, about the ancient order, about magic itself. Yet he couldn't bring himself to take that first step forward. Something held him back.
It wasn't a spell or a barrier. It was himself.
He was afraid of the unknown—of what lay ahead, of what it would cost him. Would he be able to return once he crossed that threshold? Or would the path ahead consume him, forever severing his ties to the world he knew?
Some instinct told him that if he removed the Cloak now, he could still return to Dumbledore's office. The real danger was in moving forward. And if he did… he might never return.
That thought alone filled him with dread.
Yet to walk away—to abandon the answers he had come so close to—felt unbearable.
The frustration only deepened when he remembered his system. It had been silent for ages. Once in a while, a task would appear, giving him direction. But now, not even that. It was as though the system had gone dormant. Or worse, had broken entirely.
He tried calling to it, questioning it—but no response came. It was like speaking to the void. The system had no guiding intelligence, no companion AI. Just static silence.
In the past, he might have convinced himself this place wasn't important—too trivial to register on the system's radar. But now, after everything he'd experienced, he knew better. The system wasn't just ignoring this. It was gone, or very nearly so.
Still, even in the face of that silence, Phineas had a choice to make. He thought of the magical world—the work left undone, the regrets from his previous life still unresolved. Perhaps, someday, another chance would come to explore this path. But if he stepped forward now and couldn't return, he would never forgive himself.
So he made his decision: he would turn back.
Yet the weight of walking away gnawed at him. He lifted the Elder Wand, hesitated a moment, then whispered,
"Expecto Patronum."
White light burst from the tip of his wand—not the grey mist of the spirits, but something brighter, purer. His Patronus formed: a sleek cat leaping into existence.
It danced around him, casting away the dark and dispelling the oppressive gloom. Even here, where magic felt heavier, more costly, the Patronus burned bright.
The cat Patronus brushed against him, filling him with a warmth and comfort that gradually eased the ache of his decision. Slowly, the spirits began to fade, their presence retreating, the road ahead vanishing along with the river and the shadowy figure beyond.
And then the darkness lifted.
He was back.
Bookshelves. Candlelight. Arcane instruments. And across the room, a white-bearded figure watching him intently.
Phineas realized he had never taken off the Cloak.
Professor Dumbledore's brows were furrowed, his gaze fixed on the spot where Phineas now stood.
Phineas pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and met the Headmaster's eyes. He opened his mouth to explain, but Dumbledore spoke first.
"Where did you go?"
Phineas shook his head. "I don't know."
Dumbledore's expression darkened.
"When you first donned the Cloak, I could still sense you. I thought you'd slipped out to explore the castle. But then… you vanished. No trace. No breath. No magic. Nothing."
He paused, then added, "I checked the magical model upstairs. It showed no sign of you. You had vanished from Hogwarts altogether. Oh, and I've dispelled the Confundus Charm on it—you'll want to fix that later."
Phineas nodded, sinking into a nearby chair, breathing hard. His robes were soaked with sweat. It felt like hours had passed in that strange place.
"I didn't move," he said finally. "I stayed right here. But when I touched the Resurrection Stone, I could feel the Cloak's magic intensify. It hid everything—my presence, my magic, even my aura."
He glanced down at the Elder Wand in his hand.
"For research, I turned the Stone three times. And I swear… the Wand responded too, in ways I don't understand."