Harry, Madam Villanelle, and Theodore Whitethorn looked at Darcie, dumbstruck.
It was especially so for Harry, who had even forgotten to blink, as if a Basilisk had petrified him.
Normally, Darcie's words should have gone over his head.
What was the use of mentioning that they were Parselmouths when they were here to invite Ilvermorny for a Tournament?
And what did it have to do with the legacy of Salazar Slytherin?
Also, what even was this legacy?!
These questions would have haunted Harry's mind if it weren't for the girls.
Professor Dumbledore had casually mentioned to him and Darcie that they should have an understanding of Ilvermorny's history before going to the American school.
Harry had taken the advice as he had taken all the Professor's recommendations on revising past lectures for an upcoming class the next day.
He had ignored it.
With Sirius leaving Hogwarts only hours before he and Darcie were to leave for Ilvermorny, Harry had wanted to spend all his time with him.
Harry knew that, to some extent, Sirius blamed himself for Professor Lupin's death.
At such a time, and given his Azkaban past, Sirius needed him as much as he needed Sirius.
Who had the time to scour books on a foreign school, then?
Surprisingly, knowing that he wouldn't be doing his homework, Daphne and Hermione had dropped by, giving him a brief lecture.
And, as that had happened only half an hour ago, Harry remembered all the content very well.
…
"I am gonna rip his head off one day!" Hermione hissed, kicking Black out of the Common Room. "Sigh… where were we?"
"Isolt Sayre…" Harry gulped.
"Yeah… Okay," Hermione nodded. "So, it all started with this Irish witch, Isolt Sayre, centuries ago. Her parents were murdered by her crazy aunt, Gormlaith Gaunt. Now, this Gormlaith was obsessed with pure-blood supremacy. Imagine Draco's father, but much worse."
Harry wanted to interrupt.
It was one thing for him, Black, and Ron to make fun of Draco.
It was another thing entirely for a Slytherin to take a jibe at a Gryffindor.
Still, finding some sense in Hermione's words, he kept his mouth shut, briefly glancing at Daphne, who looked away.
"After killing her parents," Hermione continued, "Gormlaith locked Isolt away in a valley. She wanted to raise her as her own, teaching her the arts of Dark Magic. She also refused to let her attend Hogwarts."
Something stirred in Harry, finally connecting to the story a touch.
Little by little, he could imagine himself living in Isolt's shoes.
In a way, Isolt's fate would have been his if nothing wrong had happened to Voldemort the night he had killed his parents.
Harry imagined Voldemort taking a younger version of himself away and raising him as a Death Eater… or worse… as a son, amusing himself in the disgusting irony.
Harry felt sickened.
Suddenly, despite being centuries apart, he knew exactly what kind of emotions Isolt must have gone through under Gormlaith's imprisonment.
"But Isolt managed to escape when she became seventeen years old," Hermione said, her voice gaining a high pitch like Professor McGonagall's when she taught her favorite topics. "Meanwhile, she also stole her aunt's wand, running to America with it. There she befriended a magical creature—a Pukwudgie—adopted two orphan boys, married a Muggle, and laid the foundation of Ilvermorny School at their little stone house."
"… Sounds like a happy ending," Harry involuntarily remarked.
And, often, that meant that the story had yet to end.
Harry didn't want to say those words, though.
So, as Hermione and Daphne shared mournful glances among themselves, he waited patiently, taking a deep breath.
"Gormlaith tracked down Isolt and decided to kill everyone," Hermione said, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "Instead of barging into the house, though, she waited till the middle of the night to approach it and… said a word."
"… in Parseltongue," Daphne added.
Harry's brows rose. "She was a Parselmouth?!"
Hermione nodded. "You see, the wand Isolt had stolen from her aunt was no ordinary wand," she said with a grave tone. "It was an ancient heirloom passed down through the Gaunt family. The wand wood belonged to a Snakewood tree and had a Basilisk horn for a core. The wand had been taught by its creator to sleep when so instructed, and this secret had been handed down through the centuries to each member of the family who possessed it."
"If it hadn't been for that Pukwudgie she befriended earlier," Daphne chimed in, "Gormlaith would have killed everyone. It was the magical creature who killed the dark witch that night."
"Ilvermorny kept growing, admitting more and more students," Hermione said. "However, Isolt was not a Parselmouth like her aunt. So, the wand remained in a sleep state, as instructed by Gormlaith before dying. As Isolt didn't want to use the wand because it was a testament to her unhappy childhood, she and her husband decided to bury it outside their house.
"Within a year, a species of Snakewood tree grew out of the earth on the spot where the wand was buried. No matter what Isolt did, she couldn't prune it or kill it. After a few years, they found its leaves to have potent medicinal properties. So… they left it there."
"That tree is now on the grounds of Ilvermorny School of Wizardry and Witchcraft," Daphne said.
Harry had a weird feeling.
In the beginning, he had felt that the story was about Ilvermorny and its founders.
Now that the story was finished, Harry couldn't help but feel that it was just as much about Isolt's sleeping wand, too.
Sure enough, Hermione leaned forward, her face gaining the most serious look.
"The Gaunt family members are descendants of one of the four founders of Hogwarts," Hermione said. "And the wand passed down from generation to generation in their family belongs to that founder."
Harry's eyes widened, the green on Hermione and Daphne's uniforms becoming greener in his vision.
Neither of the two girls named that founder.
But Harry already knew who it was.
Salazar Slytherin!
The wand buried on Ilvermorny's grounds belonged to Salazar Slytherin!