The whisper slithered through the chamber like a living thing, ancient and insidious. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as the temperature in the room dropped further. Ivan tensed beside him, his hand inching toward his wand.
"To awaken the Forgotten, one must first become part of the lost."
The words repeated themselves in Harry's mind, but now they felt heavier, as though layered with deeper meaning.
"What was that?" Ivan hissed, his eyes scanning the dimly lit chamber.
Harry didn't answer immediately. Instead, he focused on the pedestal where the book still rested, its pages trembling as if something unseen was trying to turn them. Taking a steadying breath, he reached out, letting his fingers brush over the runes engraved into the stone.
The moment he made contact, the chamber shifted.
The walls seemed to stretch, the flickering blue runes now resembling ghostly figures moving through time. A sudden rush of knowledge flooded Harry's mind—glimpses of forgotten spells, lost magic that had been sealed away, hidden from the world.
Pain shot through his skull, but he forced himself to endure it.
Ivan grabbed his arm. "Harry, stop! Something's wrong—"
Before Ivan could pull him away, the whisper returned, louder this time.
"Who seeks the knowledge of the lost?"
Harry's vision blurred, the chamber dissolving into a swirling abyss of silver and blue. He could barely make out Ivan's panicked expression before everything vanished.
Darkness enveloped him.
Then, a voice echoed from the void.
"You have stepped beyond the threshold. Now, you must prove yourself worthy."
Harry's feet found solid ground again, but the world around him was unrecognizable. The chamber was gone, replaced by a vast, shifting landscape of swirling mist and flickering lights. Shadows twisted at the edges of his vision, forming and reforming into distorted shapes.
He tried to move, but something weighed him down—his own magic. It pulsed inside him, reacting to the presence of this strange place.
"Prove yourself."
The voice from the void resonated again, neither male nor female, old yet timeless. A flicker of silver light appeared ahead, coalescing into a figure cloaked in shadows. Its face was obscured, but Harry could feel the weight of its gaze.
"You seek the knowledge of the Forgotten, yet knowledge is power. Power demands sacrifice."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "What kind of sacrifice?"
The shadow raised a hand, and suddenly, images flooded his mind—moments of his past, choices he had made, battles fought and won. But then the vision shifted, showing him paths not taken, decisions that could have led to different outcomes.
One image stood out—a version of himself standing alone, power radiating from his form, but at the cost of those who stood beside him. Hermione,Ron,Fred, George… even those who had yet to enter his life. All gone, consumed by his ambition.
"Would you forsake them for knowledge?" the shadow asked.
Harry clenched his fists. "No."
The shadows around him twisted violently. "Then you are not worthy."
Pain shot through his body as the mist closed in. His magic fought back, lashing out, but it felt as if something was trying to strip it away, unraveling the very core of his being.
"No," he growled, forcing himself to move forward. "I will not be tested like a mere pawn. If knowledge is power, then I will claim it on my own terms!"
The world trembled at his defiance. The shadow figure hesitated, then the mist began to recede. A new voice, softer yet commanding, echoed from the depths.
"Then prove your strength, Hadrian Peverll."
A brilliant light erupted, and the trial truly began.
—