Her words lingered in the air long after she had spoken them, echoing softly through the stone chamber.
The way she said that boy—as if Salazar were some distant memory rather than her own blood—made the silence that followed feel heavier than any curse I'd faced so far.
I stepped cautiously closer, glancing between her ethereal form and the relics glimmering faintly in the dim torchlight.
"So…" I began, my voice low, uncertain. "It's… not considered theft then? If I were to, say, claim the contents of this vault?"
Lady Draconis's expression shifted, first into something unreadable—then softened.
"My dear heir," she said with a sigh that sounded almost human. "You rid this place of the corruption my son left festering for centuries. The treasure, the relics, even the knowledge buried here—they are yours to claim. Consider them your due reward for cleansing this blight from my House."
She turned, her eyes drifting toward the shattered remnants of Salazar's phylactery-frame on the floor.
The silver-blue glow of her aura dimmed briefly, flickering with melancholy.
"Once, he sought immortality," she murmured. "Converted his beautifully human body until it had become that of a monsters. I had hoped his ambition would temper with time. Instead, it curdled. He forged a mockery of life—a tether between soul and vessel. Like the horcruxes made possible by Herpo... *sigh* it seems my son saw himself as the Old fools successor instead of trying to become mine."
Her gaze lowered, faintly shaking her head, the faintest whisper of sorrow threading through her words.
"An abomination born of desperation. To cling to existence by fragmenting the very soul meant to ascend… is the greatest act of cowardice. He was brilliant, my Salazar, but brilliance without restraint is poison."
Her eyes drifted back toward me, the ghost of a smile returning to her lips.
"You, at least, seem to understand restraint. That is why you continue to live—and he does not."
I wasn't entirely sure about that.
I hadn't destroyed Salazar because of restraint—I'd done it because I'd known I couldn't control him.
But I wasn't about to correct the spectral matriarch in the middle of her posthumous eulogy.
Nor did i want to delve deeper into her meaning as if she could see through my multiple lives
So instead, I turned back toward the vault, letting my eyes sweep across the treasures once more.
A dozen tomes—bound in blackened leather and trimmed in silver runes.
Shelves of potions sealed under stasis spells.
Ancient armor gleaming dully under the green-tinted light.
Drawing open the mouth of my storage satchel, before once more proceeding to feed the insatiable bags hunger as the entires rooms contents were absorbed to be sorted and used later on.
"Best not let this go to waste," I muttered, half to myself.
Lady Draconis's laughter was soft and almost fond.
"Truly my heir. Pragmatic to the last."
I worked methodically—stacking tomes, gathering vials, sliding the lesser weapons into the bag's depth.
It took a few minutes before the chamber began to look bare, stripped of the centuries it had guarded.
Only one thing remained untouched.
The staff.
It still stood exactly as before—its serpents gleaming faintly, golden gem pulsating in a rhythm that seemed uncomfortably close to a heartbeat.
I approached again, stopping just shy of it.
"Before I take it," I said, glancing toward her ghostly form, "I'd like to know what I'm taking. Power's one thing. Curses are another."
She smiled at that, a glint of respect in her gaze.
"Wise. You are correct to ask."
Her form drifted closer to the staff, the gem's glow intensifying as though it responded to her presence.
"This," she began, voice echoing faintly now, "is the Staff of Caduceus. A relic from an age that had fallen into myth, as i understand it you would call the period of time Ancient Greece? It was once wielded by a being called Hermes—a god to normal men, but merely a wizard to us, one so attuned to the currents of life and death that the boundary between them bent to his will."
I stared at the staff, brow furrowing slightly.
"You're saying that was his?"
Seriously a quite literal divine object just left laying around under a school for children!
What the hell are you lot thinking!
She nodded.
"Indeed. The true Caduceus. Across centuries, its name has been borrowed, its likeness imitated, but this is no mere symbol. Its power lies in its command over souls."
Her hand passed through the twin serpents, and the gem pulsed brighter, casting golden reflections against her translucent face.
As if reacting to her spectral form even though ghosts should not be able to interact physically with the mortal plane
"It can guide souls to and from the Veil," she continued softly. "It can draw them into slumber—or awaken them from it. With mastery, it may grant a swift, painless death… or even restore what once was lost."
I blinked slowly, the implications sinking in.
"Resurrection," I said flatly.
She inclined her head. "In a manner of speaking. It grants passage. But remember dear Cassius the dead who have already passed on beyond the veil do not belong in the realm of the living anymore, already in deaths grasp."
I gave a low whistle.
"So it's like the Resurrection Stone, then."
That got an immediate laugh—light, amused, but threaded with something knowing.
"Oh, my dear heir," she said, shaking her head. "The Resurrection Stone? A trinket. A mere bauble in comparison. Do you not see? That was a child's attempt at imitating the Caduceus. I recall when Godric's grandchildren began that little project—they so desperately wished to craft tools worthy of their lineage, wishing to recreate the glory and splendour of the tales spoken to them of the old days."
Her laughter deepened, though it wasn't cruel—merely… nostalgic.
"Helga's line forged their cup. Rowena's sought wisdom eternal in her diadem. Godric's heirs? They longed to conquer death itself. I told them then: mortality is not a curse, but a gift. They of course did not listen."
I smirked faintly.
"Typical Gryffindor move, that. Courage to the point of arrogance"
Her eyes gleamed in quiet amusement.
"Indeed. He had courage enough to face dragons, yet none to face the cold hard truth."
The conversation between us faded away into nothingness.
The staff still lay before me but with the news about what it was both intrigued and shocked me.
But rather than wielding the divine scepter i simply tucked it away for safe keeping.
The deathly hallows may have been mere imitations of the 'gods' own tools but even still its not like i was a demi god capable of wielding such power at this stage of my development.
I looked around—the vault now empty before turning to leave, Lady Draconis calmly floating behind me as she followed.
"So my hatchling what do you plan for the beast? I assume that was the reasoning behind your recent intense study of parseltongue?"