Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

“Remember, I told you before, at the very back of the Department of Mysteries, there’s a huge door, half the size of a Quidditch pitch…” Harry tried his best to describe it, gesturing with his hands.

The great stone archway in the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries?!

Evan knew which door he was referring to: the Door of Death, a treasured artifact from ancient times in the Ministry’s collection.

It led to death, and beyond it lay the land of the dead.

Only those who had witnessed death could hear voices whispering from behind the veil. They were the voices of the departed, though no living person could ever truly make out what was being said — only a vague sense that the voices belonged to their lost loved ones.

The voices behind the veil evoked a sense of nostalgia and familiarity, an urge to approach and see. But this was nothing more than illusion. The voices were actually wielded by Death itself, deliberately luring the listener closer.

Therefore, only those who had truly witnessed death could hear the voices before the door.

If you yielded to the temptation and passed through the veil, you would not find your loved ones waiting for you. What awaited you was death alone.

That door was a bit like the Resurrection Stone, a magical artifact left by Death in the mortal realm to lure people towards it.

Perhaps, in the land of the dead, those who crossed the veil would finally be reunited with their deceased loved ones and friends, under the gaze of Death, just as they wished.

But by then, they too would be dead, so what meaning was there in such a reunion?

In short, the door was unimaginably dangerous.

For centuries, the Ministry of Magic had devoted extensive research to this door, seeking to understand the mysteries of death.

The full extent of their research remained unknown. Evan speculated that the Ministry had neither discovered the secrets of the Door of Death nor opened it. The only certainty was that it led to death.

The method was simple: if someone stepped through the veil, they would die.

This was a death even more absolute than the Avada Kedavra curse, annihilating both the soul and the body from this world. Perhaps, like Dumbledore, they journeyed on to another world and embarked on a great adventure.

Regardless, Evan wasn’t interested. He had always kept well away from such perilous relics of the ancient world.

After narrowly preventing Sirius from meeting his fate at that door, Evan had stopped studying it altogether. But now Voldemort and the Dark witch sought to open it, proving the door held more than just death. It was connected to the evil god.

Voldemort possessed the statue of that god, allowing him to commune with it and to know secrets Evan and the others did not. If he intended to pass through the door into the land of the dead, then he was surely after something there.

Evan had no idea what Voldemort and the Dark Witch were up to, but it was undoubtedly not a good thing, and he had a bad feeling.

Since he couldn’t stop them head-on, the only thing left was to seize the opportunity and strengthen himself as quickly as possible.

The faster the better, they had to unlock the secret treasure left behind by the Four Founders of Hogwarts before Voldemort became an evil god.

“What should we do now?” Harry finally asked, feeling a splitting headache. It seemed like there were so many questions he needed to think about. He then remembered that he hadn’t confirmed with Sirius what Auntie Muriel had said at the wedding. Evan had said he would tell him, but Harry doubted he had the energy to listen.

The mysteries kept piling up, and the searing pain in his scar nearly made him faint.

“Harry, what you saw means that there must be something the Dark Lord wants behind that door in the Ministry, and there’s a dangerous Dark witch helping him,” Hermione analyzed seriously. “It’s terrible. We don’t know what she looks like, how powerful she is, what exactly they plan to do after opening that door, or even how they plan to open it. Maybe we should —”

“— tell the Order of the Phoenix about this news and let them send someone to investigate what the Dark Lord plans to do. We should still go to Gringotts to find Hufflepuff’s Cup as planned, but we have to hurry. It’s best to go now,” Evan paused, glancing at Harry’s pale face. “Harry, are you really okay? Maybe we should wait until tomorrow morning.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me, I’m ready to go,” said Harry weakly. “If it has to be now —”

“What you need now is rest, Harry! Evan, do we really have to rush to Gringotts this badly? Didn’t we agree to stay here for a while, study what Dumbledore left us, and wait until things became clearer before acting? Honestly, I haven’t even read that book yet. Sirius asked us to stay here, and besides, we still haven’t found Ron…” Hermione frowned, turning to Evan. Her voice grew quieter. “Alright… is this really so important, Evan? The Dark Lord wanting to open that door? Do you know something you’re not telling us?”

“I’m not sure, I just have a bad feeling,” said Evan. “The plan has to change, Hermione. There’s no time to stay here waiting for Ron. He’ll be fine. If Sirius and the others find him, they’ll bring him here. As for the things Dumbledore left us, we can study them later. Tonight we stay here and rest. At first light we set out for Gringotts. Come on, Hermione, Elaine, you can take the bedroom upstairs. Harry and I will use the one on the first floor. If anything happens, call me straightaway.”

Hermione still looked uneasy, as though she wanted to protest further, but when she glanced between Evan and the unwell Harry, she said nothing more. Elaine, on the other hand, seemed utterly unconcerned, yawning again and again, clearly exhausted.

After hurriedly saying good night, Evan helped Harry upstairs to bed.

………………………………………………………………………

Evan woke early the next morning. His head felt heavy and muddled; when he shook it, the pain only worsened. He was in even worse shape than the day before. It seemed as though he had suffered a terrible nightmare, yet he couldn’t remember a single detail. Evan even began to wonder if he, like Harry, had somehow connected with Voldemort’s mind — otherwise, why did he feel so drained?.

A chink of sky was visible between the heavy curtains: It was the cool, clear blue of watered ink, somewhere between night and dawn. Everything was so quiet. In the bed next to him, Harry was still sleeping.

Evan didn’t wake him up. He stared at the dark ceiling for a while, then climbed out of bed.

He felt he couldn’t bear to lie there any longer. He couldn’t recall the horrible nightmare from last night, nor could he understand what Voldemort and the Dark witch were plotting. At present, only one path lay open before him: to obtain Hufflepuff’s Cup. That was the only lead, the only thing he could take the initiative to pursue. Everything else seemed to be reduced to nothing but waiting. …

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