A/N - Written for Round Seven of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, where I had to write about the Gaunt's Ring. No prompts, because I'm pretty much useless.
"Mother?" a sleepy voice queried.
"Yes?"
"Why do you always wear that ring?"
"It has been passed through my family for generations. From father to son-"
"But you are no one's son."
"Yes, dear," she answered with a small laugh, "that is very true. But your grandfather – my father – didn't have any son's, you see, and so he instead passed this ring onto his eldest daughter."
"You?"
"Yes. Me."
"Where did it come from?"
"If I tell you, will you promise to go to sleep as soon as I'm finished?"
"Yes, I promise," the child responded through a yawn.
"Are you sure you don't want to go to sleep now and hear the story tomorrow? It's very late, and you must be tired."
"No, I'm not tired! I'm awake, see!" The child pushed herself up onto her elbows, eager to hear the story.
"Well alright then. If you're sure."
"I'm sure!"
"This story takes place a long, long time ago back when Death still walked amongst us."
"Did Death die?"
"No, of course not. Death can't die."
"Then where'd he go?"
"To the Land of the Dead."
"Where's that?"
"It's a different world, separated from this one by a veil. Once a mortal crossed through they cannot return to the world of the living."
"Why'd he go there?"
"Because even Death cannot do everything. He stays on the other side of the Veil now, and other creatures bring the dead to him."
"Like Father?"
"Yes, like- What? No!"
"House Elves?"
"Why don't we begin the story. It's already quite late."
"Alright."
"This story begins with three brothers. They were travelling alone during the twilight hours when they reached a river that was far too deep to wade through, and too dangerous to swim across. Luckily, these three brothers were knowledgeable in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wand and made a bridge appear across the water. They were half way across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure."
"Who?"
"I'm getting to that part."
"Oh. Carry on, then."
"Death – angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims – pretended to congratulate the brothers on their magic, for he was quite cunning. He offered them each a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.
The eldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence, worthy of a man who had conquered Death. The youngest brother, who was a cowardly man, asked for something which would allow him to hide from Death."
"What about the ring?"
"Yes, the ring. The middle brother, who was a loving and loyal man, asked for something with the power to recall others from Death."
"Why?"
"The girl with whom he was to marry had died an untimely death, and he wished for her to live the long and happy life that she deserved."
"Why did she die?"
"I'm not sure. Perhaps that is something which you could find out."
"Now?"
"Now? Don't you want to hear the rest of the story?"
"Alright."
"I can stop, if you would prefer."
"No! I want to hear the rest!"
"Alright. So, Death gave to the second brother a stone from the river bank, and told him that this stone would now have the power to bring back the dead.
The brother took the stone and journeyed to his home, where he took out the stone and turned it three times. Now, you must understand that he had been sceptical of the powers that this stone supposedly possessed – after all, how could something found by the side of a river contain such powers to bring back a person from Death? – but, to his absolute amazement, on the third turn of the stone the girl whom he had once hoped to marry appeared before him."
"And they lived happily ever after?"
"This isn't a Muggle fairytale, dear. People don't just happen upon a happy ending."
"Why not?"
"Because that would be too easy."
"So what happened next?"
"The brother turned the ring three times-"
"You said that part."
"Oh, yes. I did, didn't I? Well, the girl was silent and cold; she didn't seem all together in the mortal world, and she suffered greatly for it. The second brother could not take seeing her in such pain, and so he sent her back from where she came from-"
"He killed her‽"
"No. He didn't kill her. She was never fully brought back to this world, and you can't kill what is already dead."
"What about Inferi?"
"And what would you know about that?"
"Nothing, Mother. What happened next?"
"The brother sought out Death so that he could truly join his love."
"That's it?"
"Yes. That's the story of where this ring came from."
"But what about the picture?"
"Picture?"
"Yes. The triangle and circle. With the line."
"Ah, you mean the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. The line is the first brother's wand, the triangle is the third brother's cloak, and the circle is the second brother's stone."
"But why was it put there? When?"
"I don't know exactly when, but I do know that it was some time after all three brothers had reunited with Death. The symbol was inscribed as a warning to all those who came to possess it, telling them of the power contained in this small stone and warning them to be wary of such power."
"Why?"
"Because no mortal should have such control over Death as this stone allows."
"But you have it now."
"Yes, but I would never use it. The dead should be left to their eternal resting. It is not my place – nor anyone else's – to disturb such a delicate balance."
"So why not just destroy the stone?"
"Because an object containing such magic as this one is not so easy to destroy."
"You could hide it."
"But what if it were to fall into the wrong hands?"
"Whose hands?"
"Someone who recognised what this stone was and used it for their own purposes rather than simply keeping it safe."
"And that would be bad?"
"Yes. Very."
"But-"
"No more questions. It's late. Far past the time that you should be asleep."
"Wait! One more? And then I'll go straight to sleep. I promise."
"One more."
"Why was it turned into a ring?"
"Because it is easier and less suspicious for a person to carry a ring than a stone."
"That's it?"
"Yes."
"But-"
"No more questions now. Sleep."
She tucked in the child and turned out the light with a wave of her wand. Standing in the door way, she watched as the child settled and began to drift off to sleep.
She inspected the ring in the dim light coming from the next room.
Turned it once.
Twice.
And slowly slipped it back onto her finger with a sad smile.
She left the child to sleep peacefully, the bedtime story weighing heavily on her mind.