Chapter 200 – The Truth About the Deathly Hallows (Part 3)
"Then I went to that place," Phineas said.
"Where?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if deep in thought or recalling something distant.
"I don't know," Phineas replied honestly. "When the Resurrection Stone took effect, I saw souls... my mother's, father's, my brother's, and even some older family members. But they weren't the only ones I saw."
At this, Dumbledore's expression changed. Souls were a mysterious realm—one few dared to tread.
Phineas noticed the shift in Dumbledore's demeanor but continued,
"I saw James Potter. I saw members of the Gaunt family. Their crazed expressions—I could never mistake them."
He paused, his eyes distant.
"They acted like guides, clearing a path in front of me. At the end of that path, I saw a river… and across it, a towering figure, shrouded in shadow. I couldn't see its face."
Dumbledore's face had become grave. His blue eyes stared at Phineas through his half-moon glasses. His slender fingers trembled slightly—not with fear, but apprehension. It seemed he wasn't entirely certain that the boy before him was still the same Phineas.
Phineas gave a small smile and shook his head.
"I don't know why you look so nervous, Professor. Don't worry. I wasn't foolish enough to walk any further."
Dumbledore leaned forward. "How did you come back?"
"There was a voice," Phineas said, "telling me I could return if I removed the Invisibility Cloak."
At those words, Dumbledore stood abruptly.
"But I had a feeling... an intuition. If I really removed the cloak, I might never return—or perhaps the one who returned wouldn't be me at all. And those souls... they gave me the same feeling as Dementors. Cold. Suffocating. So, I did the only thing I could think of: I cast the Patronus Charm."
"You used the Patronus Charm?" Dumbledore asked urgently. "Can you still cast it now?"
Phineas understood the doubt in the Headmaster's voice. Without hesitation, he raised the Elder Wand and said clearly:
"Expecto Patronum!"
Whether due to residual effects from that strange realm or something else, the magic flowed from him with unprecedented ease. There was no gradual forming of mist—his Patronus, a luminous cat, burst into being immediately.
Its moonlight-white glow filled the office.
Dumbledore relaxed visibly. He let out a breath and sank back into his chair, the tension draining from his shoulders.
He didn't know exactly where Phineas had gone. But between the boy's words and the Deathly Hallows themselves, he suspected it had something to do with the end of all things—perhaps even Death itself. That was why he'd feared. What if something else had returned in Phineas's place?
Only one thing put that fear to rest: the Patronus Charm.
Dumbledore knew a truth that few did—Dementors were shadows of Death, fragments of its essence. The Patronus, their counterforce, could not exist in Death's domain. If Phineas could still summon it, he had not crossed into Death's world.
He looked at the glowing Patronus, then back at the boy. Phineas was only in his third year, yet had already mastered the Patronus Charm—and had achieved Animagus transformation.
Astonishing.
After a moment, Dumbledore spoke.
"Phineas, though I cannot be certain where you were, I have my suspicions. I believe you've come to the same conclusions."
Phineas nodded slowly. "The Grim Reaper."
Dumbledore nodded gravely.
"Indeed. Grindelwald and I—yes, we were close, once—we speculated that the Deathly Hallows might be more than legend. Later, we encountered a group called the Saints—devout believers in Death's existence. Of course, I refer not to Grindelwald's followers, but to an older, more secretive sect."
Phineas said, "I knew of them. I thought they were fanatics obsessed with myths. But now I wonder… especially about their ties to the elder council …"
Dumbledore nodded again.
"You know I've long been eligible to join the elder council, but I never did. I had... troubling suspicions. Grindelwald and I once traveled far, chasing whispers and lore, hoping to prove Death was real. Eventually, we reached a disturbing conclusion: the underworld is not the end—it is the beginning."
Phineas stared at him. "So the place I visited… was it the underworld?"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"I believe you were at its threshold. The river you saw might separate life from the underworld. The place you stood—where souls gathered and led you forward—could be a realm between the living and the dead. A borderland."
Phineas said quietly, "No one has ever returned from the underworld… which is why there are no accounts of it."
Dumbledore nodded solemnly.
"Perhaps the Deathly Hallows are the exception. But I cannot be sure. That's why I must warn you: until your affairs in this world are settled, do not wield all three Hallows together again."
Phineas nodded.
"I understand now. I thought the Hallows were just powerful magical objects—tools I could study to understand the divine. But now I see... they're not just artifacts. They're keys. Keys to Death's realm."
A flicker of regret crossed his face. If he had known this truth earlier, he might not have bargained with Dumbledore to study them.