Chapter 7

"I wish it could be possible to talk to them!" Jon says wistfully.

"It is certainly possible," he replies, his tone carrying a note of determination upon listening to Jon's heartfelt desire.

Jon's eyes widen with a mix of surprise and hope at Harry's suggestion. "How?" he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of skepticism.

Harry offers Jon a reassuring smile, and begins by drawing a parallel between the stories passed down through generations in Winterfell and those from his own world.

"Just as people here grew up listening to stories from Old Nan," he explains, "Wizards and Witches in my world were enchanted by the tales of a man named Beedle the Bard."

He goes on to describe Beedle's collection of stories, each one filled with magic, morality, and a touch of whimsy. "These stories weren't just entertainment," Harry continues, "they were lessons, teaching us about the power of love, the importance of courage, and the consequences of greed."

As Jon listens, Harry's words weave a tapestry of imagination and wonder, transporting him to a world where magic is real and anything is possible. "One of Beedle's most famous tales is that of three brothers,," Harry explains, his voice tinged with reverence. "the Peverell brothers - Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus. It goes something like this."

"In times long past," Harry begins, "there were three brothers who were gifted in the magical arts. Each brother was skilled in his own right, but it was their encounter with Death that would shape their destinies."

He goes on to describe how the brothers, upon reaching a treacherous river, used their magic to conjure a bridge and safely cross to the other side. But Death, resentful of their cleverness, approached them cunningly, offering each brother a reward for outsmarting him.

"The eldest brother, Antioch, seeked power and domination, and so asked for a wand that would make him invincible in battle," Harry continues. "Death fashioned for him the Elder Wand, a powerful and deadly instrument that would bring him victory in any duel."

"The second brother, Cadmus, was driven by the desire to reunite with his lost love, and so asked for a way to bring back the dead," Harry narrates. "Death granted him the Resurrection Stone, a stone that could summon the shades of the departed from the world beyond."

"And the youngest brother, Ignotus, was humble and wise, and asked for something to help him escape Death's clutches," Harry explains. "In response, Death gave him the Invisibility Cloak, a cloak that rendered its wearer invisible to all, including Death himself."

"The Invisibility Cloak was a powerful artifact that allowed him to evade Death's grasp," Harry explains. "But unlike his brothers, Ignotus did not use his gift to seek power or to conquer others. Instead, he lived a life of humility and kindness, using his cloak not for personal gain, but to protect himself and others from harm."

"As he grew older, Ignotus passed on the cloak to his own son, and from generation to generation, it remained a symbol of his family's values of courage, compassion, and wisdom," Harry continues. "And so, the Invisibility Cloak became a cherished heirloom, a reminder of the importance of living a life guided by principles of goodness and integrity."

Jon listens intently to Harry's words, struck by the timeless wisdom embodied in the story of Ignotus. He reflects on the values of humility and selflessness that the youngest brother exemplified, and he finds himself inspired by the notion of living a life free from the fear of death.

Harry continues his narrative, delving deeper into the history of the Invisibility Cloak and its journey through the generations. He reveals that the tradition of passing down the cloak from father to son endured for centuries until it reached a pivotal moment in its history.

"The story takes a remarkable turn when the cloak came into the possession of a woman named Iolanthe Peverell," Harry explains. "She was the last of Ignotus's line, and her marriage to a man named Hardwin Potter marked a significant turning point in the cloak's legacy."

Jon's eyes widen in astonishment as he realizes the implications of Harry's revelation. He recognizes the name "Potter", and began to piece together the connection between Harry and the legendary Peverell brothers.

"Indeed," Harry continues, noting Jon's reaction. "Iolanthe's union with Hardwin Potter marked the beginning of a new chapter in the cloak's history, as it became intertwined with the lineage of the Potters, a family renowned for their bravery and heroism."

Jon is struck by the profound significance of Harry's ancestry, realizing that he is a direct descendant of Ignotus Peverell himself.

"So, do you have the cloak?" Jon asks.

Jon's eyes widen in astonishment as Harry produces the legendary Invisibility Cloak from the small leather pouch hanging around his neck. The sight of the cloak, leaves Jon speechless for a moment as he takes in its ethereal beauty.

Harry, with a small smile playing on his lips as he carefully unfolds the cloak and holds it out for Jon to see. The fabric shimmers faintly in the dim light, hinting at the powerful enchantments woven into its very fibers.

"It's been passed down through generations of my family," Harry explains, his tone tinged with reverence. "And now, it's mine to safeguard."

Jon reaches out tentatively, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the cloak. He can feel the faint thrum of magic coursing through it, a tangible reminder of the cloak's extraordinary properties.

"It's beautiful," Jon murmurs, his voice filled with wonder. "I can hardly believe I'm holding the Invisibility Cloak gifted by Death in my hands."

Harry smiles, a sense of pride evident in his eyes as he watches Jon marvel at the cloak. For Harry, the cloak is more than just a magical artifact – it's a tangible link to his family's past and a symbol of the legacy he carries with him.

Harry nods in agreement, his smile widening at Jon's words. "It's a remarkable piece of craftsmanship, that's for sure," he replies, his tone thoughtful. "But I've always thought that the tale of Death gifting the brothers with the wand, the stone, and the cloak - which collectively are called The Deathly Hallows - was more of a metaphorical interpretation than literal truth."

He pauses, his gaze turning introspective as he considers his words. "The Peverell brothers were undoubtedly talented wizards, and they crafted the Hallows with their own skill and ingenuity. But whether Death truly played a hand in their creation... well, I suppose that's open to interpretation."

Jon listens intently, nodding in understanding as Harry speaks. "Perhaps you're right," he agrees, his expression thoughtful. "Regardless of their origins, the Hallows hold great power and significance. And to possess one of them is a rare and precious gift indeed. So do you have the other two as well?"

Jon's voice was brimming with barely contained excitement, remembering that Harry had stated that he could let Jon meet his parents.

As Harry reaches into his vambrace, he carefully withdraws the Elder Wand, holding it reverently in his hand. The wand gleams in the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves of the ancient trees, its intricate carvings and smooth surface speaking of centuries of power and magic.

Jon's eyes widen in astonishment as he beholds the legendary wand, his gaze drawn to its elegant design and undeniable presence. "Is that...?" he begins, his voice trailing off in awe.

Harry nods solemnly, his gaze fixed on the wand. "Yes," he replies, his tone tinged with respect. "This is the Elder Wand, one of the most powerful and fabled wands in existence."

Jon reaches out tentatively, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the wand. "It's incredible," he breathes, his voice filled with wonder.

Harry nods, a sense of pride and responsibility swelling within him as he holds the wand. "It's a symbol of power, but also of responsibility," he explains, his tone serious. "With great power comes great responsibility, as they say."

Jon nods in understanding, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs Harry's words. "I understand," he replies, his voice steady. "And I'm sure you wield it with the utmost care and respect."

Harry meets Jon's gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. With the Elder Wand in his possession, Harry knows that he holds a formidable source of magic and authority. But he also understands the weight of responsibility that comes with such power, and he is determined to wield it wisely.

Harry's impish smile reflects his playful curiosity as he turns to Jon, his eyes alight with anticipation. "But I guess what interests you the most of the three Hallows would be the Resurrection Stone, wouldn't it?" he asks, his tone light yet intrigued.

Jon's expression shifts, a flicker of interest crossing his features as he considers Harry's question. "The Resurrection Stone," he muses, his voice tinged with curiosity. "To be able to bring back the ones we've lost... It's a powerful notion."

Harry nods in agreement, his expression serious as he reinforces Jon's understanding of the Resurrection Stone. "Exactly," he affirms, his tone grave yet measured. "As the story states, the Resurrection Stone doesn't bring back the dead themselves, but rather an imprint of them – a shadow of who they once were."

Jon listens intently, absorbing Harry's words with a sense of solemn understanding. "So, it's not truly them," he muses, his voice tinged with realization. "Just a fleeting echo of their presence."

Harry nods, a sense of gravity settling over their conversation. "Indeed," he agrees, his tone reflective. "It's a bittersweet reminder of what once was, but ultimately, it can't replace the real thing."

Jon nods in understanding, his gaze meeting Harry's with a newfound sense of clarity. "I see," he acknowledges, his voice tinged with a mixture of acceptance and melancholy. "It's a powerful magic, but one that comes with its own limitations and consequences."

Harry smiles faintly, a sense of camaraderie passing between them as they contemplate the complexities of the Resurrection Stone. "Indeed," he replies, his tone laced with empathy. "But sometimes, it's the memories we hold dear that keep us going, rather than the hope of bringing back the past."

Jon upon hearing the wistfulness in his voice, remembers that Harry too is an orphan, having lost his parents at a young age.

"Have you ever used the Stone to call your parents?" Jon asks Harry.

Harry's breath catches in his throat at Jon's question, the weight of unspoken longing and sorrow settling heavily upon him. He meets Jon's gaze, his expression somber as he considers his response.

"I haven't," Harry admits quietly, his voice tinged with a mixture of wistfulness and regret. "Have I mentioned Dumbledore before?"

"I have heard the name 'Dumbledore' in the same sentence with the words 'twinkly eyed git' and 'manipulative old coot' before once or twice from you." Jon quips

Harry chuckles at that, a hint of amusement softening the tension that had settled between them.

"Dumbledore once told me that my parents would be ashamed of my actions, and I... I suppose I haven't had the strength to find out if he's right."

His words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. Harry's heart aches with the absence of his parents, the longing for their presence a constant ache in his soul. But the thought of facing their spectral imprints, of confronting the ghosts of his past and the mistakes he's made, fills him with a deep sense of apprehension.

"I've always feared what I might see if I were to use the stone," Harry continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "Whether it would offer solace or only deepen the wounds of loss that still haunt me."

Jon listens in silence, his expression reflecting a mixture of empathy and understanding. He reaches out a hand to rest reassuringly on Harry's shoulder, offering a silent gesture of support and solidarity.

"You're not alone, Harry," Jon says softly, his voice filled with quiet reassurance. "We all carry our burdens and our regrets, but we also carry the strength to face them together. Tell you what, I'll only talk to my parents, if you talk to yours."

Jon's offer weighed heavy in the stillness of the Training grounds, his words echoing with sincerity and loyalty. Harry felt a surge of gratitude towards his friend, knowing the depth of trust and camaraderie that existed between them.

"Thank you, Jon," Harry began, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. "Your offer means the world to me. It's... it's not an easy thing to face, but knowing that you'll be there, that we'll face it together... it gives me hope."

He paused, meeting Jon's gaze with a sense of resolve in his eyes. "I'll do it, Jon. I'll talk to my parents. And I'm glad I'll have you there with me when I do, just like you'll have me when you speak to yours."

Jon nodded in understanding, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. In that moment, they shared more than just words – they shared a bond forged in the crucible of friendship and trust.

"Let's do this in the Godswood!" Jon suggests.

Harry nods in agreement, feeling a sense of peace settle over him at the thought of confronting his past in the sacred tranquility of the Godswood. "The Godswood," he murmurs, his voice tinged with reverence. "It feels like the right place for it, doesn't it?"

With a shared understanding, Jon and Harry make their way deep into the heart of the Godswood, the ancient trees towering overhead like silent sentinels. As they reach a secluded clearing, dappled with the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the leaves, they come to a stop, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the faint chirping of crickets.

Here, amidst the serene beauty of nature, they will confront the ghosts of their pasts and find solace in the bonds of friendship that unite them. With a silent nod to each other, they prepare to face the memories that await them, knowing that together, they are stronger than any darkness that may come their way.

Harry retrieves the Resurrection Stone from the pouch, holding it gently in his palm before passing it to Jon with a solemn expression. "Take it," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Turn the stone thrice, while thinking of your parents – Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark."

Jon accepts the stone with a mixture of reverence and apprehension, feeling its weight in his hand as he turns it over, his thoughts turning to the parents he never knew. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes and focuses his mind on the memory of Rhaegar and Lyanna, summoning forth their images from the depths of his heart.

As he turns the stone thrice in his hand, Jon feels a subtle shift in the air around him, a ripple of energy that seems to emanate from the ancient artifact. With each rotation, the Resurrection Stone glows with a soft, ethereal light, casting a gentle glow upon Jon's face as he channels his intentions into the magic of the stone.

As the glow of the Resurrection Stone fades, two ethereal figures materialize before Jon, their forms radiant with a soft, otherworldly light. Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark stand before him, their faces filled with warmth and love as they gaze upon their son with pride and affection.

As the ethereal forms of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen materialize before him, Jon is overcome with a flood of emotions, his heart pounding with a mixture of joy, disbelief, and sorrow. Tears well up in his eyes as he beholds the spectral figures of his long-lost parents, their presence filling him with a sense of longing and longing.

"Mother... Father..." Jon breathes, his voice trembling with emotion as he gazes upon them. "I... I can't believe you're here."

Lyanna and Rhaegar, their ghostly forms shimmering with an otherworldly glow, smile tenderly at their son, their eyes alight with love and pride. They step forward, reaching out to Jon with outstretched hands, their presence a comforting embrace in the midst of the haunting stillness of the Godswood.

"Our dear son," Lyanna murmurs, her voice a gentle whisper on the night breeze. "It brings us great joy to see you again, to stand before you in this moment."

Rhaegar, his features softened by a paternal warmth, nods in agreement. "Indeed, Aegon," he says, his voice resonating with a regal yet gentle tone. "We have watched over you from afar, guiding you in spirit as best we can."

Jon's heart swells with a bittersweet mixture of love and longing as he takes in the sight of his parents. For so long, he had yearned for the chance to know of his mother, to hear her voices and feel her presence. And now, here she stands before him, a vision of ethereal beauty and parental affection. Along with the man that he just today found out was his father.

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, Jon steps forward, enveloping his parents in a tight embrace. He holds them close, his tears mingling with the shimmering glow of their ghostly forms, as he revels in the warmth of their love.

"I've missed you both so much," Jon whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "Every day, I've wished for the chance to be with you again."

Lyanna and Rhaegar return Jon's embrace with tender affection, their ghostly forms radiating warmth and comfort. They hold him close, their presence a soothing balm to his wounded soul, as they stand together beneath the ancient trees of the Godswood.

As Jon stands in the embrace of his ethereal parents, the air around them seems to hum with the weight of unspoken words and long-held emotions. With tears streaming down his cheeks, Jon finds himself pouring out his heart to the ghostly figures of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, sharing with them the joys, sorrows, and struggles that have defined his life.

He speaks of his childhood at Winterfell, of the warmth and love he received from his adoptive family, yet also of the lingering sense of longing and isolation that has always haunted him as the supposed bastard of Eddard Stark. He tells them of his dreams of knighthood and honor, of his desire to prove himself worthy of the Stark name, even as he grapples with the uncertainty of his true parentage.

As Jon's words spill forth, Lyanna and Rhaegar listen with rapt attention, their spectral forms radiating a quiet understanding and empathy. They offer words of comfort and encouragement, their voices a soothing melody in the stillness of the night, as they reassure Jon of their unwavering love and support.

Together, they reminisce about happier times, sharing fond memories of Lyanna's spirited nature and Rhaegar's noble aspirations. They speak of the love that had blossomed between them despite the tumultuous circumstances of their time, and of the hope that their union had brought to a realm torn apart by war and strife.

But amidst the bittersweet reminiscence, Jon's thoughts inevitably turn to the unanswered questions that have plagued him for so long – the mysteries of his parentage, the truth behind Lyanna's death, and the significance of his own existence in the grand tapestry of fate.

With a heavy heart, Jon broaches the subject, his voice trembling with emotion as he seeks the answers that have eluded him for so long. He asks of the events that had led to his birth, of the circumstances surrounding Lyanna's fateful encounter with Rhaegar, and of the secrets that had been buried beneath the weight of history and legend.

Lyanna and Rhaegar share with Jon the truth of their love, of the forbidden passion that had bound them together in defiance of fate and convention. They speak of the tumultuous events that had led to Lyanna's abduction by Rhaegar, of the war that had engulfed the realm in its wake, and of the tragic end that had befallen them both in the shadow of the Tower of Joy.

But amidst the sorrow and regret, there is also a sense of peace and resolution, as Jon comes to understand the sacrifices that his parents had made for the greater good, and the enduring legacy of love and hope that they had left behind.

As the night wears on and the conversation draws to a close, Jon finds himself filled with a sense of closure and acceptance, knowing that even in death, his parents will always be with him, guiding him on his journey and watching over him with love and pride.

As the spectral forms of Rhaegar and Lyanna turn to depart, their words linger in the stillness of the night, their gratitude echoing in the air like a gentle breeze. Jon watches them go, his heart heavy with a mix of emotions, yet also filled with a newfound sense of peace and closure.

Turning to face Harry, Jon's eyes are filled with a depth of gratitude that words alone cannot express. "Thank you, Harry," he says, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth. "For everything."

Harry meets Jon's gaze with a nod of understanding, his own eyes reflecting the solemnity of the moment. "You're welcome, Jon," he replies, his voice steady despite the weight of emotion that hangs in the air. "I'm glad I could help."

But before Harry can say more, Lyanna's voice cuts through the silence once more, her ethereal form turning back to face him with a soft smile. "And thank you, Harry," she says, her voice tinged with warmth and affection. "For what you said to Ned. It means more than you know."

Harry returns Lyanna's smile with a nod of acknowledgment, a sense of humility washing over him at her words. "You're welcome, Lyanna," he replies, his voice quiet yet sincere. "I only spoke the truth."

As the ghostly presence of Lyanna lingers for a moment longer, she imparts her final words to Jon with a sense of urgency and importance. "Jon, there's something I need you to do," she says, her voice soft yet filled with purpose.

Jon listens intently, his heart pounding with anticipation as he waits for her instruction.

"I need you to visit the crypt of Cregan Stark," Lyanna continues, her voice carrying a weight of solemnity. "Behind his tomb, there's something I left there the last time I was in Winterfell. Something that belongs to you."

Jon's eyes widen with surprise and curiosity at her words, his mind racing with questions. "What is it?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lyanna smiles gently, her form shimmering with ethereal light as she meets Jon's gaze. "You'll know it when you find it," she replies cryptically. "But trust me, Jon, it's something that will help you on your journey."

With those final words, Lyanna's spectral figure begins to fade, her presence dissipating into the cool night air. Jon watches her go, a sense of determination burning in his heart.

With tears glistening in his eyes, Jon turns to Harry, his heart heavy yet filled with gratitude. "Thank you," he says, his voice trembling with emotion.

Harry meets Jon's gaze, his own eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and understanding. "You're welcome," he replies softly, placing a comforting hand on Jon's shoulder. "I'm glad I could help."

In that moment, the weight of their shared experience hangs heavy in the air, binding them together in a bond forged by loss, longing, and the unbreakable ties of family. And as they stand together in the quiet solitude of the Godswood, Jon knows that he will forever be grateful to Harry for giving him the chance to connect with the parents he never knew.

With a nod of appreciation, Jon offers Harry a small yet heartfelt smile, a silent acknowledgement of the profound impact their encounter has had on him.

---

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