Fic - Three Wishes - 1/1

[evandar]

Title: Three Wishes
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Gen/Angst
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no profit from this story.
Warnings: Reference to abuse and torture.
Summary: Three wishes for three brothers. The story of the Deathly Hallows isn't quite what Beedle made it out to be.
AN: An exercise in headcanon, basically, because the Hallows were no where near explored enough in canon. This was written for the 'Three Wishes' prompt on my GenPrompt Bingo table.




“I wish for power.”

A twig was taken from an elder tree by the bank of a river and crafted into a wand. It had no core; it had no innate power. An enchantment was whispered over the wood as small hands wove a temporary spell to increase the power of its wielder.

Its first spell was the Cruciatus – aimed at its maker, who writhed and sobbed “brother!” – and its second the Killing Curse. When it was stolen and Antioch killed, the enchantment broke, but half of all magic is belief.

“I wish for control.”

Small hands took a pebble from the riverbank and bathed it for three nights and three days in tears and moonlight. On a whim he scratched a symbol into its side – every artefact needs some sort of symbol; they always did in the stories – and he gave it as bidden to his second brother who turned it thrice in hand.

“Is this how you see the world?” he asked, staring at the spirit of his lost love.

“No,” he panted. The spirit, he knew, would look whole to his brother, but the dead cannot lie to necromancers, and he still saw the ravages of the Pestilence that had killed her. Cadmus saw her beauty because half of all magic is belief.

“I wish to be free.”

He wove a cloak from the hair of the dead, stolen from the family mausoleum in the night. He’d crafted the items that would fulfil his brothers’ wishes and it was time to fulfil his own while they used his gifts to destroy themselves.

The day after Cadmus was buried, he left the prison their riverside home had been, drew his cloak about his shoulders and escaped into the world he’d been kept from. Necromancers were hunted, reviled in their society, but without his brothers he was free.

He believed it, and so he was.

Comments

[silberstreif.livejournal.com]

Very nice. I love the idea that ignotus was the maker of the hallows - and a necromant. Definitely gives a very real and tragic touch to the whole story.