A Third Path to Immortality

"If you must absolutely know the reason for my absence on the first week of classes," said Professor Babbling, "it's because of those three."

Professor Babbling gestured in the direction of Oleandra, Daphne and Tracey, who looked at each other in surprise. Well, all three of them but Daphne, since she was still mad at her twin sister for keeping secrets and at Tracey for not taking her side.

"Well, it used to be four; Mr. Malfoy used to be included in that list," Professor Babbling added, "but he's no longer taking my class. Shame, that is."

'Go on, explain yourself!' Oleandra internally screamed at the teacher. 'Umbridge's going to think I'm a Dumbledore agent again!'

Umbridge narrowed her eyes and looked suspiciously between Professor Babbling and the Slytherin Trio, no doubt coming up with more imaginary conspiracies. Oleandra felt a tug, as her Fairy magic's hold on Umbridge solidified a bit more.

"Is that so?" said Umbridge, finally tearing her gaze away from them. "Care to elaborate?"

"Miss Oleandra Greengrass, Miss Daphne Greengrass and Miss Davis have an incomprehensibly advanced mastery over runic magic," Professor Babbling explained. "The kind only a grandmaster of runesmithing would have; runeless spellcasting is leagues beyond N.E.W.T. level."

"I'm afraid I still don't understand," Umbridge said sweetly.

"Runic magic is different from other disciplines of magic," Professor Babbling explained. "When casting most spells, the magic comes from within; but with runic magic, one must instil magic from without into the runes by making one's own magic resonate with them, which is an incredibly difficult thing to do. It takes years of effort, which does not include the time it takes to master drawing and colouring runes perfectly."

By engraving the twenty-four runes of the stars into their souls, Oleandra and company had effectively taken a shortcut; they were synchronized with the magic of the stars at all times (as long as they weren't too far underground), so they had no trouble getting their magic to resonate with even the most misshapen of runes. Hence, why their hand signs and stances worked.

"I fail to understand what any of this has to do with your missing the first week of classes," said Umbridge tersely, who was clearly losing her patience.

"There's a reason my class is called Study of Ancient Runes and not Runic Magic," Professor Babbling said. "I don't teach runic magic until N.E.W.T. level, when I can be sure that my students have learned to properly draw runes. But as an educator, it pained and saddened me to have nothing to teach those three, so I decided to spend my vacations abroad to collect as much knowledge as I could find for them."

Hermione's hand immediately shot up upon hearing of the possibility of learning runic magic; she had lost count of the number of times she had attempted to cast runic spells and miserably failed— Parvati and Lavender, whom she shared her dormitory room with, always looked at her like she was touched in the head when she imitated Oleandra's stances on her bed…

"Abroad, you say?" said Umbridge, taking note of the fact on her clipboard. "Where to, exactly?"

"Well, it's no great secret," Professor Babbling said with a shrug. "Durmstrang, then Mahoutokoro."

The Durmstrang Institute's location was unknown to the general magical population, as all knowledge regarding its location was erased upon leaving its premises, but it was believed to be located in the far north of Europe. On the other hand, the Mahoutokoro school of magic was said to be located on the island of Minami Iwo in the Pacific Ocean, far away from both the mainland and the island of Japan, but it was no less mysterious.

Oleandra's interest was instantly piqued upon hearing that her teacher had gone to Mahoutokoro, though maybe for the wrong reasons. After all, wasn't there a Philosopher's Stone in that place?

For some reason, Mahoutokoro was the only school of magic in the entire Asian magical world, but in Oleandra's humble opinion, there had to be more kept secret from the western world. The Magi of the Middle East, the Mystics and Fakirs of India, the Daoists, Shamans and Sorcerers of East Asia, the Witches and Warlocks of Russia… Their legacies couldn't possibly all fit inside one Japanese school, could they?

Take Alchemy, for instance. It wasn't a monolithic branch of magic; there were different variations in different areas of the world. It would be impossible to give a class that incorporated all of the versions.

For a long time, Ancient Egyptian Wizards remained the only Alchemists knowledgeable enough to produce the pinnacle of Alchemical achievement: the Philosopher's Stone. That is, until the secret behind the Stone's production was lost in a single night; some say a Shadow Game went wrong, and others say it was an experiment went awry. Thousands of years later, Nicholas Flamel would rediscover those secrets in an ancient tomb; Frenchmen just loved to explore Egypt when they had too much free time on their hands.

At any rate, the Mystics of the Orient ran unfathomably deep, especially in Alchemy. Indian Alchemists would eventually succeed where the Chinese had failed with the creation of the Cintāmaṇi Stone, by making use of the fifth element of Akasha, as opposed to the four classical elements of Western Alchemy.

In any case, the Cintāmaṇi Stone was the only remaining Philosopher's Stone in existence. Its current holder was Mahoutokoro's headmaster, making him the only officially known immortal in existence since Oleandra had destroyed Nicholas Flamel's and Perenelle Flamel's Philosopher's Stone.

'Hang on,' Oleandra thought to herself. 'There's another way to reach immortality other than the Philosopher's Stone or a purified long-lived species' bloodline, isn't there?'

After murdering Viviane, Morgan le Fay had survived to old age, but when Oleandra had seen her body in her tomb of diamond, she had appeared just as youthful as Viviane.

"Avalon," she murmured. "Excalibur's scabbard, the Fairies of Avalon enchanted it to heal all of its user's wounds— including the wounds inflicted by time itself. Mordred stole it from King Arthur before they killed each other at the battle of Salisbury; he must have given it to his mother, Morgan, because she had it in her possession in my vision of the past! Then, why did she allow herself to die…? And what did she do with the scabbard after her death?"

As Oleandra was pondering this mystery, Professor Babbling was finishing giving Umbridge the entire itinerary of her vacations.

"If you're almost done asking questions," she said crossly, "I'd really appreciate it if I could get back to my class. We've wasted too much time already."

"Of course, of course," said Umbridge sweetly. "Just go about your class as usual, pretend I'm not there."