HP: The Third Child of Prophecy

Chapter 134: The Legend of the Three Brothers

At 10:50, four young witches and wizards stood at the edge of the cold, windswept Black Lake.

"Oh, this… is this really something a wizard can do?" Hermione asked in astonishment, staring at the swirling, radiant scepter that Ryan held aloft. Having grown up with a Muggle education, she was acutely aware of how impossibly far Bermuda was from Scotland. The idea of traveling to the infamous Bermuda Triangle—by magic—left her speechless.

"Hermione, do you remember what I told you?" Ryan asked gently, leaning on the scepter like a staff.

"Magic is a miracle," she recited softly. "The first step to learning magic is believing that anything is possible. If you can't do it now… it just means you can't do it yet."

Ryan nodded, approvingly patting her on the head. Hermione flushed slightly. Alexander Smith—who stood beside them—pretended not to notice, but Kate, standing on his other side, clearly did. She gave an exaggerated pout and looked away.

"Ryan… what about resurrection?" Alexander suddenly asked, the thought seeming to strike him out of nowhere. His green eyes lit up with curiosity.

"Ah, resurrection," Ryan mused, the corners of his lips curling into a knowing smile. "That reminds me of a particular story. One from The Tales of Beedle the Bard, a collection of stories that every wizarding child knows."

"Wait—Beedle the Bard?" Hermione perked up.

"Yes. Just as Muggle children grow up with tales like Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty, magical children hear bedtime stories like The Fountain of Fair Fortune, The Wizard and the Hopping Pot, and of course… The Tale of the Three Brothers."

He paused, noticing Alexander's growing impatience and Hermione's skeptical expression.

"Well, perhaps I should get to the point," Ryan said with a smirk.

"This story tells of Death—and the three brothers who dared to defy it."

"Death?" Hermione echoed, brows furrowing. "As in… an actual being? That sounds a bit—well, absurd. I mean, maybe it's a metaphor, or even just an ancient wizard pretending to be—"

"Hermione," Ryan cut her off gently but firmly, "you're brilliant, but your thinking is still narrow. Too logical. Too Muggle."

He continued. "Let me ask you this: do you remember the Patronus Charm? Most witches and wizards struggle to produce even a faint silvery mist. But Andros the Invincible, a wizard from ancient Greece, could conjure a Patronus the size of a giant."

"Or consider Nicolas Flamel, the alchemist who crafted the Philosopher's Stone, the most powerful alchemical object in history—capable of producing the Elixir of Life and transmuting any metal into gold. Even now, he and his wife Perenelle are said to be alive, living quietly in France."

He added, "In fact, the legacy of French alchemy is still rooted in those who strive to rediscover the Philosopher's Stone."

"But—what if Nicolas Flamel is just a title passed down through the generations?" Hermione argued weakly. "How can we prove any of this?"

Alexander jumped in. "Dumbledore partnered with Nicolas Flamel in alchemical studies. It says so on the Chocolate Frog card."

Ryan smiled. "Precisely. Flamel is real."

Still unconvinced, Hermione said, "Even so, immortality sounds impossible. Maybe these stories are just—"

"You're forgetting something," Ryan interjected. "Immortality is not just a fantasy. Phoenixes are magical creatures that regenerate endlessly. And in the Muggle world, there's even a species of jellyfish—Turritopsis dohrnii—that can essentially live forever through biological transdifferentiation. It's not magic. It's just… reality."

He paused before continuing. "Now, back to the story. The Tale of the Three Brothers."

"There were once three brothers—each a powerful wizard in his own right. They came to a river too treacherous to cross, so with a bit of clever magic, they built a bridge. But as they crossed, Death appeared. Not pleased with being cheated, but cunning, he offered each of them a gift as a 'reward'."

"The eldest brother, boastful and aggressive, asked for the most powerful wand in existence—one that could never lose a duel. Death crafted the Elder Wand."

"The second brother, proud and scornful of Death, asked for the power to bring back the dead. Death gave him the Resurrection Stone."

"The third brother, wise and wary, asked for something that would let him escape even Death's gaze. Death reluctantly handed over his own Invisibility Cloak."

Ryan's voice lowered as he recounted the end of each brother's tale:

"The eldest was murdered in his sleep, his wand stolen. The second brought back a loved one, but she returned only as a shadow, and in his sorrow, he took his own life. The third lived to old age, passing the cloak to his son before greeting Death as an old friend."

Hermione and Alexander listened in rapt silence. Even Kate, aloof as ever, was quietly amused—internally teasing Ryan for his theatrical delivery.

"So," Alexander said slowly, "the Elder Wand makes you unbeatable, the Resurrection Stone can bring back the dead… and the Invisibility Cloak hides you completely—even from Death itself?"

He looked around. The cold seemed to have lifted, replaced by a gentle warmth. He hadn't noticed it happening—but he was certain it was Ryan's doing.

"Is that it?" Hermione finally asked. "Is there any actual proof?"

Ryan nodded. "The Elder Wand has a bloody history. Egbert the Egregious killed Emeric the Evil to claim it. Godric's descendant Godelot died mysteriously after his son Hereward took it. Loxias the Terrible took it from Barnabas Deverill… The wand's legacy is soaked in blood."

"The Resurrection Stone," Ryan continued, "was last seen in the hands of the Gaunts, descendants of Salazar Slytherin. It vanished after Marvolo Gaunt showed it to the Ministry."

"And the Invisibility Cloak? That one should be most familiar to you, Alexander—it's been in the Potter family for generations."

Alexander blinked. "But… that cloak is with Dumbledore, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Ryan said slyly. "He borrowed it from your father before his death. Officially, to study it."

Hermione gasped. "But if they were under the Fidelius Charm, the cloak wouldn't have mattered!"

"The Fidelius Charm hides secrets in the soul of a Secret Keeper," Hermione explained breathlessly. "So long as the Keeper doesn't reveal the secret, no one else can discover it."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Impressive, Hermione. Most witches and wizards wouldn't even know that."

To him, it was clear—Hermione's intellect was staggering, even without magical heritage.

"In the end," Ryan concluded, "immortality isn't just myth. It's a pursuit—through alchemy, magic, and yes… maybe even defying Death itself."

The four of them stood in silence for a long moment. Somewhere in the distance, the surface of the Black Lake shimmered softly.

A legend, yes. But perhaps… not just a story.

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