Dana was falling.
The sensation was endless, terrifying in its silence. His body plummeted through an ocean of grey mist, and beneath him yawned a darkness that had no bottom, no horizon—only an abyss that seemed eager to swallow not just his body, but his very soul.
He tried to fight it. Instinctively, he raised his wand and whispered the words of a Slowing Charm. The spell fizzled uselessly, sparks vanishing into the fog as though swallowed whole. He repeated the incantation, then followed with the Levitation Charm, layering them in desperation. But it was hopeless. The abyss did not obey the laws of magic. Its pull was absolute.
A cold, unfamiliar panic tightened his chest. Dana was no stranger to danger. He had stared death in the eye, defeated powerful dark wizards, and relied time and again on his golden finger—the mysterious boon that made him invincible when others would falter. Yet here, surrounded by mist and shadow, that confidence wavered. For the first time in a long while, unease crept into his heart.
If magic won't work… perhaps my Animagus form will.
His body shifted. Bones bent and feathers sprouted, wings unfurling with a sharp rustle. A raven burst from the void, wings cutting against the suffocating air. He flapped hard, straining every muscle, desperate to gain lift. But his heart sank. The wings caught nothing. Gravity mocked him, dragging him ever deeper.
A flare of defiance rose in him—then suddenly, the pressure eased.
The mist thinned. His descent slowed, the suffocating pull loosening as though he had passed through an invisible barrier. His keen avian eyes caught the faintest gleam of light below, and in the next heartbeat, he burst through the last veil of fog.
What lay beneath was not solid ground, but an endless expanse of water—an ocean stretching beyond sight. The surface shimmered in an eerie blue glow, calm and infinite.
Yet this was no ordinary sea.
Floating above the water were countless shapes, pale and shifting. They drifted like leaves on a still pond, yet every one of them bore a face, a form—souls. A dense sea of them, stretching as far as his raven's eyes could see.
A chill prickled through him. The Sea of Death.
Dana instinctively pulled higher, keeping clear of the surface. He had no idea what that water was made of, but he knew instinctively that to touch it would be dangerous. This was no place for the living.
As he hovered, a strange tug stirred within his chest. It was not external but internal, rising from the depths of his blood itself. A pull, a summons.
Dana's heart raced. He hesitated only briefly before obeying. He banked his wings and followed the call.
The Sea of Death was far from empty. As he flew, faces rose from the crowd of drifting souls, faces he recognized.
The first was a sneering dark wizard he had struck down in Knockturn Alley. The man's soul drifted, blank-eyed, forever trapped.
Dana's thoughts flickered. So Avada Kedavra does not annihilate the soul after all… it banishes it here. He remembered the spell's description: it left behind no wounds, no lingering spirit. But that did not mean destruction. No—the curse forced the soul out, sending it straight to the realm of the dead.
It explained so much. Even Lord Voldemort, when struck by his own rebounding Killing Curse, had not been destroyed. His soul had been banished, yes, but with Horcruxes binding him, it could not remain here. Instead, it had been dragged endlessly between the world of the living and this sea—a torment beyond comprehension. Voldemort himself had described it: "Worse than the humblest wraith. Sleepless days and nights, pain unending."
Yes. It made sense now.
But Dana did not linger. More faces appeared—Quirrell, Sally Avery, Dunat Avery, John Flint. Acquaintances, enemies, all floating in the vast ocean. Their blank expressions were haunting.
He clenched his teeth, recalling a forbidden method. With a flick of his will, two of the drifting souls—Sally Avery and John Flint—shivered, then solidified into glowing crystals. Dana caught them in his hand and tucked them into the necklace at his chest.
Later, he told himself. I'll deal with them later. Today's goal is far more important.
His golden finger had spoken of Avalon. Of his mother.
He followed the bloodline's pull, wings beating with renewed determination. The sea stretched endlessly, time losing all meaning. Then, finally, a dark speck appeared on the horizon.
An island.
Dana's heart leapt. He shifted back into human form midair, thrust his hand into the void, and tore open the Spandim Gate. The portal yawned wide above the sea, and with a final breath, he dove through.
When he emerged, he stood upon solid earth.
The contrast stunned him. Gone was the bleakness of the Sea of Death. Here, life thrived.
The island was lush, overflowing with magic. Rare plants grew in abundance, leaves shimmering with power. The air was crisp, fragrant with blossoms that had no names. At the center spread a vast, glittering lake, its waters shining brighter than any gemstone. Dana had seen many wonders in his life, but never a lake like this—it seemed almost alive, pulsing with magic.
Ruins dotted the island, remnants of ancient stonework half-buried in grass. A narrow path wound between the flagstones, nearly hidden beneath overgrowth.
Dana's steps fell naturally into rhythm with the path. He didn't need to question where it led—the bloodline's summons was direct, pulling him forward.
He entered a hollow between the mountains.
Laughter drifted on the breeze. Not eerie, but joyful—voices raised in song and cheer. He quickened his pace, rounded a ridge, and froze.
Before him stretched a meadow, bright and alive. And upon it danced thousands of souls.
Unlike the blank, drifting shades on the Sea of Death, these were vibrant. They shone with color, their forms solid and radiant, indistinguishable from living beings save for their faint glow. Compared even to Hogwarts' ghosts, who were pale and translucent, these spirits looked alive.
The summons tugged harder. Dana knew—this meadow was what had called him.
He stepped forward. Instantly, every soul turned, their gazes converging on him.
"Aha! Another of our descendants has arrived!"
"How many years has it been since Anna came in? Six? Seven?"
"Too few! And her child not yet grown… are we Emrys truly nearing extinction?"
"Hah! Extinction may be a blessing! If our line dies, that madwoman Morgan le Fay will never obtain the eternal heart!"
"Good point! For that, I say we hold a feast! A banquet to celebrate the end of Emrys and to welcome our youngest kin!"
The voices overlapped in a chorus of excitement and jest. But one sharp cry cut through them:
"Wait! Look! He has a shadow! He is alive! An Emrys who has entered Avalon alive!"
Murmurs rippled through the meadow.
Dana scarcely heard them. His eyes had locked onto a single figure ahead.
A woman.
She stared at him with the same dazed astonishment he felt. Slowly, her arms opened wide.
"Dana," she whispered. "My child."
His breath caught. Tears burst unbidden, blurring his vision. For three long years, this moment had lived only in his dreams.
The boy who had schemed against the Wizarding World, who had manipulated allies and crushed enemies with unshakable will, now found himself trembling. His legs moved without command, carrying him forward like a puppet. His arms reached blindly.
He fell into her embrace. Cold, insubstantial—but real. Real enough.
The dam broke. "Mom!" he cried, voice raw.
The meadow erupted in cheers. Ancestors of the Emrys line whooped and clapped, their voices rising in celebration of the reunion.
Anna drew back slightly, hands lingering on his shoulders. Her gaze swept over him, motherly concern shining in her eyes.
"Dana… your hair. It is white. Who did this to you? Did someone hurt you?"
A booming laugh rang from nearby. An elderly soul shook his head.
"Anna, it is not sorrow or cruelty that bleached his hair. Look closer! The boy carries the eternal heart!"
Dana ignored the laughter. His eyes never left his mother's face. "Mom," he said urgently, "come with me. I can take you back. I've found Merlin's secret treasure—I can bring you back to life!"
Anna's expression softened with love, but she shook her head.
"No, Dana. You are the first of our bloodline to step onto Avalon while still alive. That means something. It means Merlin has chosen you. You carry a mission far greater than you realize."
"Mission?" His heart pounded. He had crossed death itself for this reunion, and now…
Anna smiled gently, reaching to brush phantom fingers against his cheek. "Do not rush, my son. Complete what has been set before you. When the time is right, we will have all the time in the world."
Dana's throat tightened. Around them, the Emrys ancestors laughed, cheered, and sang, but he heard only her voice. The abyss, the Sea of Death, the endless loneliness—all of it had led to this moment.
And yet it was only the beginning.
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