Chapters 181-190

Heavy Fields of Scentless Asphodel

They turned around again and stared at the arc once more. Just like in the Chamber of Death, the archway with the Gate between Life and Death stood on its own, unsupported by any walls.

The twilight-plains around them were cloaked in silence. No murmur of voices, no buzzing of bees, no trilling of birds, no whispering winds disturbed the quiet. The only sound was the noise of their own breathing. Heavy and fast, it betrayed their tension.

There was no path and no discernible landmarks, not even trees. The vegetation consisted solely of knee-high, drab herbs and grasses, interspersed with flowering plants that grew roughly up to their hips. No stars and no sun offered guidance in the ashen sky.

‘What kind of weed is that stuff?’ Harry asked and dragged Severus closer to one of the plants. It was about three feet high and shaped a bit like a sceptre. Its stem and leaves were slate-grey. But the blossoms—clusters of six tapering petals, elegant filaments and proud styles—were white. The flower looked vaguely familiar.

The tug of the cloak around his shoulder made him realise that Severus was shaking his head. ‘How you passed your herbology OWL with “Exceeds Expectations”, I’ll never understand,’ Severus commented. ‘This,’ he paused, apparently unwilling to forego his penchant for dramatic effects even here, ‘is an asphodel, an Asphodelus Ramosus to be exact. And the rest of this…stuff…is mint, and a monocotyledonous green plant from the family of the Gramineae, more commonly known as “grass”.’

‘Ah.’ Harry leant closer to the flower. ‘Strange. It doesn’t have any scent at all.’ He turned back to Snape. ‘Right,’ Harry said. ‘So it’s an asphodel. Does that actually give us a clue as to where we are? I mean, apart from “beyond the Veil”? Or how we’re supposed to find Dumbledore?’

‘I take it you don’t remember any of your lessons in ancient magical history?’

‘I did have a D in history of magic in my OWLs,’ Harry offered helpfully.

‘Thankfully I did not,’ Severus said dryly. ‘I think we are in the area that the wizards of Ancient Greece called the “Meadows of Asphodel”—where the souls of the dead dwell before passing on to their final destiny. The other “stuff” on the ground supports this interpretation: Mint is a herb hallowed to Hades, the Greek God of the Underworld. It is supposed to be the metamorphosed form of the nymph Minthe, one of Hades’ lovers. Though modern scholars maintain that this story is only the mythical explanation of a botched Florimagus attempt.’

‘Yikes.’ Harry shifted uncomfortably. ‘So that means we’re exactly where souls would stay who’d want to remain close to the Veil, right? Like, souls still connected to their portraits and such.’

‘Yes, I think that is a fair assumption.’

‘Great.’ Harry looked around once more. ‘So, um…whereis everybody? Shouldn’t it be sort of busy around here, if that’s the case? You know, with lots of souls passing through and hanging around?’

Snape just sighed at his ignorance. ‘According to Homer only a libation of blood will allow a soul to regain form and the faculty of speech in the Asphodel Meadows. But how it is possible to call upon a specific soul is never mentioned. Even among wizards, this is thestuff of legends and not of learning.’

‘Libation of blood? You mean, like…a sacrifice?’

‘Yes, indeed, a sacrifice. “The Nekya”—the Book of the Dead—asks for the blood of a black ram and a barren heifer, as well as several other substances. Though if memory serves, an earlier author claimed that for a proper libation the blood of a virgin should be used.’

Harry sighed. His back and hand were beginning to hurt. He was instinctively ducking his head in order to remain underneath the protective cover of the Invisibility Cloak. ‘Okay, that’s a bit of a problem. No ram, heifer or virgin available. I guess we’ll just have to make do with what we have—’ He reached for Godric Gryffindor’s sword and pulled a few inches of the blade from the sheath. He awkwardly clasped it between his right thumb and their joined hands. Then he twisted around and sliced his left arm across the blade, just above the back of his hand.

‘Shite!’ Harry jerked back at the sharp sting of pain. The sword slipped from his grasp and slid back into the sheath.

‘Potter, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Severus snapped.

Harry raised his arm. Somehow he’d managed to create a ragged zigzag of a cut, which reminded him uncomfortably of the scar on his forehead. It was also not as shallow as he’d intended. The wound was bleeding profusely. ‘Providing that libation, of course.’

He used their joined hands to hold the cloak a little bit away from their bodies. Then Harry proceeded to shake his left wrist vigorously. Fat drops of blood flew from his arm and sprinkled the nearest asphodel, bright red on its white blossoms. He kept going for a while, until the mint plants and the grass below it, as well as the granite coloured ground were liberally adorned with splotches of red.

We need a guide, he thought desperately. We need someone to take us to Dumbledore…Please, let this work…We need a guide…When he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore, he stopped. Dizzy, he shook his head and staggered.

‘Damn,’ Severus cursed. ‘Don’t you dare and let go.’

‘Won’t,’ Harry murmured. ‘At least not quite yet. Can you heal that?’

A moment later he felt the tip of Severus’ wand on his wrist. Warmth flooded his hand and arm. Feeling returned to his fingers. ‘Cool, at least that wand’s still working,’ Harry breathed. ‘Thanks.’

Suddenly Severus jerked around.

‘What is it?’ Harry asked.

‘Don’t you hear that?’

‘What?’

‘The sound of wings—something is flying towards us, and it’s coming closer quickly.’