Chapter 415: Fairy Tales

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20 May 1995, The Forest of Dean

"I had to enchant that diary my husband planned to leave for you." That seemed to take Harry off-guard, "You mean?"

"Ah, yes. I suppose you would better know me as Perenelle Flamel, wife of Nicholas Flamel." What the actual fuck?

Harry knew that something was off the moment they arrived at the fortress. He had expected Nicholas Flamel to make retrieving his stone somewhat simple, given the fact that he and his wife had obviously planned for that eventuality. One of the biggest issues with something as powerful as the Philosopher's Stone was the fact that the energy could easily be traced back. Harry had expected Flamel to hide it in another dimension, but using the forest of Dean's natural ambient magic to mask it, was a clever way to do it as well.

Finding what was essentially another realm, was weird because theoretically, the forest should have been enough. It was also obviously not something Flamel made. The magic was old, ancient even, and the portal was so seamless and established that this place had to have existed for thousands of years. But the young wizard still thought that it might have been an extra layer of security that Flamel used, to make sure that the stone wouldn't be found by someone capable of piercing through the veil.

The palace was also obviously in disarray, and the realm looked uninhabited for a long time. But he should have seen it coming. The strange runes, the way the magic felt so alien to him – hell, now that he took a proper look, he could see the pointed ears of the people in the faded paintings and murals – the fae had obviously made this place.

To be honest, the moment he heard that the fae existed, Harry knew that he wanted nothing to do with them. It wasn't anything personal, but they tended to be tricky, to try to find workarounds and loopholes in any deal they made, and they were extremely greedy.

Sure, this was probably biased, but he very much had no plans on testing that out and ending up as some slave because he said something or broke an interpretation of a deal by accident. And to make things worse, he brought Daphne into it. The blonde knew his aversion to fae artefacts, especially after what he went through in the Gardens of Avalon.

Of course, all his attempts to avoid the fae were all for nought, and he ended up staring at the so-called Perenelle Flamel – or was it Nimue – giving him an amused look, relishing at his shock.

Still, he steeled himself and spoke up, "I thought you were dead."

"Oh, I am dead," the fae responded with a sly grin, "Very much so."

"You look pretty alive to me," he replied.

"And yet, Peverell, you cannot hear my song. But let me put you at ease."

As she finished his sentence, as if it was some illusion being lifted, the flesh and blood fae, started to dissipate, leaving a transparent wraith. Her features became sharper, more alien, her eyes became completely black, and her teeth more pointed.

He tensed and he could feel Daphne doing the same beside him. In a fraction of a second, she returned back to normal. It took him a few moments to realize that he was gaping at her, "How? Death is absolute!"

"I am not surprised that a Peverell says that, and you are correct. Death is absolute. It cannot be cheated. In the end, everybody dies, even the gods themselves. However, not everyone dies at the same rate. My kind is very old. We do not age, and should one of us die, it takes a very long time for our ego to disappear until we are ready for what comes next. Before the Great Cataclysm, when we were forced out of our realm, it was relatively simple. Our dead stayed with us until they were ready to move on. But here, in this material world, souls cannot remain untethered without some serious complications, including unbearable pain and even madness. And so, we created this place, an afterlife of our own, as a way for our dead to resolve any unfinished business, to say goodbye, before they fade away into Death's embrace."

Daphne interjected, "You created your own afterlife?"

"Calling it an afterlife is a bit of a stretch. It's more like a pitstop. A way for us to put our affairs in order, a way for children to speak with their parents, a way for the dead and the living to meet once every year. We call it the Otherworld, quite fitting, don't you think?"

"Once every year?" Harry asked, focusing on that last part.

"Yes. The portal that brought you here from the Enchanted Forest. It was something we decided to do a very long time ago. After all, it wouldn't do for someone to stay here and forget to live."

"As brilliant as the magic is, I don't think this is a pleasant place for the dead to linger in."

Nimue's eyes became sharper, enraged for a fraction of a second, before she took a defeated and sad sigh, "It didn't use to be like this. It used to be a land of eternal youth and beauty. It was supposed to be a paradise before Morgan Le Fey happened, at least."

Harry didn't want to touch that with a ten-foot pole. He could feel the sheer hostility as Nimue spat out the Dark Witch's name, "And did Flamel know about your nature?"

"Of course he did. He found me, cursed, dying. It was slow and painful, but I refused to give in. I was holding on for centuries after the battle of Camlann, and I knew that my death would be near. He found me and took care of me. I had been alone for so long; how could I not have cared for the man? I was dying and yet it was at Death's door that I fell in love for the first time. I suppose a part of me wanted to be mourned, even if it was by a single human, and be remembered in any way. I never expected him to create one of the greatest artefacts in existence just to save me. The elixir didn't heal me, not truly. As much as I hate to admit it, the Dark Witch knew what she was doing when she cursed me. But it bought me time, bought us time."

"As nice as this story is, I have to ask why did you bring us here?" Harry answered after a brief pause.

"Oh, that's where it gets good. Imagine my surprise after being healed by Nicholas, when I found a letter addressed to me in my own native language. It told me of what Nicholas invertedly did when he performed his ritual, of his future servitude to the Light, for my sake. He promised me revenge on the Light and Dark, their complete and utter annihilation even, in exchange for moving things along according to his vision. I was sceptical, of course, but it didn't take long for a Champion of the Light to hunt my husband down, just as he predicted, thousands of years ago. I spoke to Nicholas about what I had discovered and we chose to accept the offer."

The mage's identity was relatively obvious, but he needed to ask, "Who was he?"

"You know who he is. You wield his magic, even if you do so poorly. The mage's name was Solomon. He rose to heights greater than I ever thought possible for a mortal, almost rivalling gods. He instructed me to do many things over the years, and I pride myself on being a good seer, but only I could barely see a glimpse of his plans, up until a couple of decades ago, even. With my curse slowly killing me, even with the Elixir, I knew that it was time. Nicholas' death, my death, everything was planned to the last infinitesimal detail. Nicholas walked to his death at his student's hand knowing that it would be his last, putting our trust, our hopes and dreams into Solomon's plan. You."

"You didn't answer my question. Why did you bring us here?"

"Why else, Peverell? It's time for you to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone," she replied with a sly grin on her face, "But not before understanding the weight of your decision."

 "I don't understand," he answered, confused.

"Before Le Fey cursed this place, this palace was the size of a small city, the space surrounding it was infinite. It wasn't nearly this corrupt. For centuries, I spent every single drop of my magic, of my life force, just to upkeep this place, to give the dead as much comfort as I could afford. I was their leader once. I failed them, but I would not fail them in this. As I grew weaker, as my life force ran out, the Otherworld shrank and grew dimmer. Nicholas and I were able to repurpose the stone to act as a power source. It is what it is maintaining this entire place. There is no living fae, not on the material plane, at least, no one that could take my place, now that I am dead."

"Taking out the stone would destabilize this entire place, subject you to the endless pain and madness you talked about before. Why would you be willing to give me the stone then?"

The previously serene features on Nimue's face turned into snarls. She looked more like her ghost self; her teeth became pointy, her eyes became darker, and the shadows around the room shifted, "Because it's worth it. Because the Light and Dark deserve to suffer for what they did. It wasn't enough that they invaded our home during the Great Cataclysm and corrupted our kind into Light and Dark elves for their endless wars. They took our realm from us and then followed us back into the material world where we hid. Look at them!" she yelled, waving at the souls floating blankly about, "They're supposed to be singing, dancing, feasting, enjoying their time, not this apathy. They could not even leave us alone even in death. So, yes, as much as it sickens me to subject my people and me to the pain, of the madness, this decision will bring, it will be worth it just to know that our sacrifice would help pay them back for what they did to my people."

Harry honestly didn't know what to say to that. There had to be a lot of missing contexts, but that kind of grief, that kind of all-consuming anger was true. He could feel it with the resurrection stone, almost radiating out of her, ready to burn the world itself asking to be satiated. She was really willing to subject her own kind to an endless form of torture, just for a chance to kill the Light and Dark once and for all.

He respected that decision, even if he didn't know if he would do the same should he ever be in the same situation, "Alright. So, where's the stone?"

Nimue's face returned to normal, but her smile became even sharper despite the lack of fangs, "Did you think I was just going to give it to you?"

"Kind of, yeah," he answered, slowly feeling trepidation as her grin widened, "Isn't that the whole point of you bringing us here."

"My dear boy, did you really think that I would have revealed myself to you, explain this entire story, just to give you a stone and send you on your way? No, there is a lesson you must learn before leaving this place, a lesson that you will need in the coming fight."

"And what's that?"

"Now, where would be the fun in that? That's something that you must discover by yourself, after all. I suspect you will do so when you fight the stone's guardian," she answered.

He looked confused, "Guardian?"

"He's been wanting to see you for years. After all, you did kill his brother."

The air seemed to shift around them as Nimue raised her hand, a fae rune flaring to life beneath their feet. A low hum of magic resonated through the chamber as the world around them began to ripple and distort. The magic felt strangely familiar. He could feel it in his gut. Harry opened up his Arcane Hearing and could feel the realm itself shifting to Nimue's will.

Harry tried to negate it by releasing a pulse of magic that was the complete opposite of what Nimue was doing, only for his magic to fizzle the moment he tried to cast it. Nimue snickered in amusement, "This place is a fragment of our realm, bound to our rules, under my authority as its Queen for thousands of years while also empowered by the Philosopher's Stone. You will have to do a lot more than that feeble attempt to force me to do anything."

Daphne's hand found his just as the two of them were thrown away into a swirling vortex of shadows, before landing on a smooth, cold surface. The room they found themselves in was vast and cavernous, illuminated by an eerie, shifting light.

He didn't have time to look around too much; a gigantic hound, almost the size of a building leapt from the shadows, and ran towards them, denting the floor with every step it took. Harry immediately pushed Daphne behind him, as he prepared for the coming fight.

He gasped as Nimue's words sank in and he realized who he was facing, "Fenrir."

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AN: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, even if it was very lore-heavy. I've had this in the back of my mind for a while. It's sort of how I planned on incorporating the fae, with the Light and Dark Elves in Norse mythology. I know that some of you will probably not like the fact that Harry was 'tricked' so easily and why Nimue did it in the first place, but I can tell you that there is a concrete reason for it. I won't go into details since it's in the next chapter and I don't want to spoil anything. That said, as usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.

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If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr

I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.