The Three Rings
Chapter One

Secret of the Silver Chest
Published 3 September 2010

Harry Potter appeared in front of the small, shabby entrance to the Leaky Cauldron Friday evening just around supper time. Normally, the sudden appearance, seemingly from nowhere, of a young man in a long dark cloak, jeans, T-shirt and trainers would have given the most jaded inhabitant of London pause. But the vast majority of people hurrying along Charing Cross Road never even saw the Leaky Cauldron; their eyes slid from the old bookstore to the record shop, or vice versa, without ever noticing the pub between them. This was because the Leaky Cauldron was a pub for wizards.

Ron and Hermione waved to Harry as he entered the shop, as did several of the other patrons and old Tom, the bald, wizened innkeeper and barman. A butterbeer was waiting for him at the table, and Harry nodded gratefully to both of his friends as he slid into an empty chair, scooped up the bottle and took a long, deep pull of the golden liquid. "Ahh," he said, smiling as he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his T-shirt, just to see Hermione roll her eyes in feigned annoyance and Ron's amused grin. "So, how've you two been?"

"Couldn't be better," Ron replied, and Hermione smiled, rubbing his arm affectionately as he finished off his own bottle. "I was wondering if you'd forgotten about us though, mate." He indicated several empty bottles in front of him. "I've already had a few."

"So I see," Harry smiled. He shrugged. "I've been meeting with Kingsley this afternoon, trying to sort out when he wants us to 'officially' begin work at the Ministry."

"And?" Ron prompted.

"Next week," Harry said, taking another swig of his butterbeer. The new Minister for Magic had wasted no time after taking office before asking both Harry and Ron to become Aurors, even though neither of them had a single N.E.W.T. to their names. During the past month the three of them had all been busy at Hogwarts, helping to repair the damage caused by the battle with Voldemort and his Death Eaters and other minions. Harry had asked around discretely amongst the witches and wizards he'd come across during the past month, trying to get a sense of what they thought about the idea. In the eyes of most of wizarding Britain, he had learned, Harry and Ron, and Hermione as well, had more than proven their worth during the Second War with Voldemort, and Harry especially, during the battle. The idea was enthusiastically supported, and both Harry and Ron had agreed to begin working for the Ministry as soon as the reconstruction of Hogwarts was completed — which it now was. Shacklebolt had asked Harry to report, along with Ron, to the new Head Auror on Monday morning.

Harry turned to Hermione. "He'll probably be owling you before long as well, Hermione — from what he's been saying, Kingsley thinks you're just the person to help him reorganize the Ministry. He wants to clear out all the dead wood there, he says, and I agree with him — there's a lot of people still working at headquarters that have no business being in our wizarding government any more."

"Like Dolores Umbridge," Ron growled, darkly. "I'm surprised she wasn't sacked straightaway."

Hermione had scowled at the mention of Umbridge's name, but said, in a low tone, "Kingsley wants to be fair about things, I suppose — but I can't believe he couldn't find anything on that — that wretched, spiteful old woman!"

"Go on, Hermione," Ron said, patting her on the shoulder in mock encouragement. "Don't hold back — let it all out."

She pushed his hand away, but smiled. "You don't like her any more than I do, Ron!"

"That's the understatement of the year," Ron snickered. He turned back to Harry. "Was Ginny coming to dinner with us, too?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "She was meeting some friends tonight, to have a bite."

"Oh, who's that?" Ron wondered, a teasing smile on his face. "Dean Thomas? Or maybe Michael Corner? Or both?"

"Ron!" Hermione said, punching him lightly on the arm. "Not funny!"

But Harry was chuckling along with Ron. "No, it sounded like a ladies' night out with some of the other Gryffindor girls, and maybe Luna. In fact, I wouldn't have minded joining her, but you two asked me first."

"And speaking of dinner," Ron said, jerking a thumb toward the exit leading to the courtyard out back, where the entrance to Diagon Alley was located. "Why don't we get a move on, then? I'm starving."

Diagon Alley, which had lost much of its business in the years during Voldemort's return and reign of terror, was once again bustling with witches and wizards engaged in buying, selling, or simply visiting. Shop proprietors waved to Harry or shook his hand as they walked down the cobbled street. He was even stopped twice by comely young witches introducing themselves to him, smiling invitingly at him, though he had to beg off having a drink with one insistent young woman, saying he was with his friends.

"We would've understood, Harry," Ron said, grinning mischievously at his friend, "if you'd wanted to skive off dinner with us."

"Right," Harry said, skeptically. He rather doubted Ron would be so understanding if he actually did something like that, since he and Ginny had resumed dating. "So where did you want to eat, then?"

"I hear Florean Fortescue's son reopened his father's ice cream stop as a restaurant," Hermione suggested. "How about eating there?"

That was acceptable to both Ron and Harry, both of whom were rather more hungry now than choosy about where they ate, and they settled into one of the outside tables fronting the new Fortescue's Finest Foods, which served a menu of traditional British fare such as roast beef, lamb, chicken, and the usual accompaniments of potatoes, corn, peas and even salads. Flavian Fortescue, Florean's son, had even included traditional favorites such as bangers and mash or fish and chips on his menu, for quicker meals.

"Ah," Ron sat back in his chair some time later, satiated. "That was pretty good," he said to Harry. "Mind you, not as good as Hogwarts, but good."

"You can always go back with me for seventh year, Ron," Hermione said, teasing him. Ron shook his head firmly no.

"Not likely," he said, feelingly. "Especially if the Aurors Department wants me and Harry on board straightaway. "Right, Harry?"

Harry nodded absently, sipping at his butterbeer. He wasn't altogether convinced Shacklebolt's decision to hire them without the required N.E.W.T.s was the best plan, but there had been no dissenting opinions from the current Aurors, and only very sparse (though expected) opposition from the Wizengamot, notably Umbridge and a few of her cronies, all of whom had managed to hold onto their positions at the Ministry despite the changes had been made in the past few years — first Fudge out and Scrimgeour in; then his murder and the takeover by Voldemort's Death Eaters; and finally the defeat of Voldemort and the removal of Death Eaters from the Ministry and the beginning of Kingsley Shacklebolt's Ministry leadership.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter." The soft voice, speaking almost in his ear, surprised Harry and he turned to see a white-haired man with large, moonlike eyes smiling down at him. The old man nodded to Ron and Hermione as well. "And to you, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley. I trust you are enjoying this fine summer evening."

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander," Harry said, smiling at the elderly wizard. He had last spoken with the wandmaker while they were both at Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur's home, after Harry, Ron, and Hermione rescued him, Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas and the goblin Griphook from Malfoy Manor over the Easter holidays. "It's nice to see you again, sir. I hope you are feeling better."

"I am, thank you," Ollivander said. "I was just out getting a bite — I've been putting quite a bit of work into getting my shop ready for reopening."

"That will be wonderful," Hermione nodded. "We missed having a quality wandmaker in Diagon Alley this past year."

"I do what I can, Miss Granger," Ollivander inclined his head toward her in gratitude for the compliment. "I only hope I can find an apprentice suitably qualified to carry on after me when I can no longer make wands."

"Which hopefully won't be for a long time," Harry added. Ollivander inclined his head again, then stood looking at Harry for some time without speaking.

"Er —" Harry was beginning to feel self-conscious. "Is there something else you wanted to talk about, Mr. Ollivander?"

Ollivander nodded slowly. "There is, Harry — may I ask you and your friends to accompany me back to my shop. I have something to show you."

They paid their bill and followed the old wandmaker back to his shop — Ollivander's, Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. The shabby, little shop was nearly at the end of Diagon Alley. Inside, the walls were mostly bare. "It may be a awhile before my inventory is up to snuff once again," Ollivander said, as the three stared in disbelief — at one time, they had been lined from floor to ceiling with thousands of wands.

"What happened to all of them?" Hermione asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

"Stolen," Ollivander replied, heavily. "By Death Eaters, after I was kidnapped. I understand they were used to fund Voldemort's war chest — sold all across Europe, Asia and Africa. Ollivander wands are quite prized in the wizarding black markets — some of them went for as much as 75 or 100 Galleons apiece," he added, with wry pride. "A shame, really, that I myself would never ask so much for one of them."

"So — er, that's not what you wanted us to come here for, is it?" Ron asked, a cautious tone in his voice. Hermione gave him an impatient look, as if to tell him to let Ollivander take his time.

"No, indeed not, Mr. Weasley," Ollivander said, amused. "I have something for the three of you. Just a moment," he said abruptly, walking into the back of his shop.

Harry, Hermione and Ron looked at one another, puzzled. "Mr. Ollivander," Harry called. "Sir? It's not necessary —"

Ollivander reentered the room carrying a metal chest. Harry fell silent and watched the wandmaker as he set it on the countertop before them. "Here it is," he told them, waving a hand toward it. "The Silver Box."

"Why d'you call it that?" Ron asked. Hermione slapped him on the arm. "Ow!" he said, then shrugged at her impatient look and added, "Other than, you know, for the obvious reason that it's a box made of silver?"

Ollivander shook his head. "It has always been called that," he replied. "It has been n my family for generations. No one knows how old it really is. Some stories place it as far back as the Founders — others, to Merlin himself."

"Why are you showing it to us, sir?" Hermione asked him, staring at the box curiously.

"I am giving it to the three of you," Ollivander said, softly.

"But — why?" Harry wanted to know. "We've already told you, we expect nothing from you in return for saving you from the Malfoys."

"I know," Ollivander agreed, placidly. "But this is not a reward for saving me. For a millennia or more my family has kept this chest, waiting for the day when someone would appear who was worthy of it. More than sixty years ago, when Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, I contemplated giving it to him." Ollivander looked into Harry's green eyes. "But I did not see in him what I see in you, Harry, and your friends. I ask that you accept the box and find a way to open it."

"You don't know how to open it?" Ron exclaimed. "How're we supposed to do it, then?"

"I do not know," Ollivander shook his head. "It has resisted all attempts over many years to open it, or discover what is inside. Yet I believe you are the one who can do it, Harry." He held out the box to the young Auror. "Please take it."

Harry looked at Ron, then at Hermione. They both looked at him, nodding encouragingly. Finally, he nodded as well and held out his hands, taking the box from the wandmaker, who smiled one final time at them, then without another word turned and walked into the back of his shop.

"Now what?" Ron asked, after several moments of silence.

"Let's get it back to Grimmauld Place," Harry decided. "We can study it more carefully there."

=ooo=

Once outside the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road, the three quickly Apparated to Grimmauld Square; to any Muggle who might have been watching, they would have seen only three young people who seemed to be standing on the street, looking at the space between houses number 11 and 13. A moment later they were gone again, though most residents of the area would never have noticed them in the first place.

Inside the front hallway, Harry and his guests were greeted by the residence's house-elf, Kreacher, who took their cloaks and bowed them into the living room, chattering all the while about how pleased he was to have Harry home again and would he and his guests like anything to eat or drink. Harry, impatient to discuss the Silver Box with Ron and Hermione, dismissed Kreacher back to his chores and asked not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening. Bowing low, Kreacher backed out of the room and disappeared down the hallway, while Hermione gave Harry a reproachful look.

"You were a bit short with him, weren't you, Harry?" she complained.

"Maybe," Harry admitted, with a shrug. "But Kreacher wouldn't give us a moment's peace if I didn't ask him to leave — he's been afraid something's going to happen to me ever since I returned from Hogwarts."

"But what could happen to you now, with You-Know-Who dead?" Ron wanted to know.

"Dunno," Harry said. "He didn't want me joining the Aurors, though — practically threw a fit when I told him about Kingsley's offer. He said, 'But the bad mens, Master Harry, the bad mens will be after you!'" He gave both of his friends a wry smile. "I told him I'm used to it."

"At least now you've some someone backing you up when you need it," Ron pointed out, feelingly. "The entire Auror Department is behind you all the way, and with all the Death Eaters cleared out of the Ministry, you shouldn't have any trouble getting support when you need it."

"Almost all the Death Eaters gone," Hermione added, darkly. "I still think there's a few left in the woodwork."

"Like Umbridge, for example?" Ron suggested, smirking at her, and she folded her arms across her chest, staring evenly back at him, refusing to be baited. "Actually, I wouldn't disagree with you," he continued, when she remained silent. "She doesn't have the Mark, you know, but she's about the slimiest piece of work left over from the old administration — I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she ended up in Azkaban in the next year or so."

"Why don't we get to the issue at hand?" Hermione nodded toward the silver chest, which Harry had placed on a low table around which they were now standing. Harry leaned closer to the box, examining it carefully. Its entire surface, tarnished with indefinable age, was covered intricately curling, looping patterns. There were two hinges along one side, though the join between lid and box was so tightly fitted that not even the sharpest blade edge would slide between them. On the front was a small, gold plate where a keyhole should be, but instead was a intricately engraved monogram that resembled a stylized "M."

"Maybe we should try Specialis Revelio on it," Ron suggested, looking at Hermione.

"Didn't you hear Mr. Ollivander?" Hermione reminded him. "Detection spells don't work on it." Nevertheless, she had taken out her wand and was gazing steadily at the box. "There must be some way to determine what's inside…"

"I think I have a way," Harry said. He reached over and picked up the chest, hefting it slowly to get an idea how heavy it was. He began to jiggle it.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, baffled.

"When I lived with the Dursleys," Harry said, holding the chest close to his ear while giving it a couple of short shakes, "they usually hid his birthday and Christmas presents in the cupboard I slept in." Seeing Hermione's shocked expression, Harry added, "They knew Dudley would never think of looking in there — he couldn't believe I wouldn't want all the toys and rubbish he got from his mum and dad over the years."

"But you didn't want them?" Hermione looked even more surprised.

"Course I did," Harry said, a bit indignantly. "But I knew I'd be in loads of trouble if so much as a ribbon looked out of place. That didn't keep me from shaking the boxes carefully, to see if I could sort out what each one had inside. I got to be quite good at figuring out what was in the boxes, too."

Hermione hid a grin behind one hand. "I used to do that, too!" she giggled. "I'd sneak downstairs early Christmas morning, after my parents went to sleep, and try to figure out what they'd gotten me."

Ron was looking at both his friends like they were barmy. "Where's the fun in knowing what you're going to get?" he asked, looking incredulous. "Mind you, we always knew what Mum had wrapped up for us —a sweater or a scarf, and almost always red or gold, or both, after you started Hogwarts." But, seeing Harry continue to rattle the chest softly, he added. "What do you think?"

"Something big inside," Harry muttered distractedly, giving the chest a few more shakes. "And I think I hear a few smaller objects as well — maybe three or four."

Ron folded his arms across his chest. "So now all we have to do is open it."

"'Aye, there's the rub,'" Hermione quoted.

"What?" Ron looked confused.

"Never mind," Hermione shook her head at him, then looked away and rolled her eyes.

But Harry was nodding. "Maybe that's it," he suggested. "It might be like a magic lamp, you know — let's give it a rub and see what happens." He set the chest down on the table between them; then, bracing it with his left hand, he began rubbing one side of the box. Harry rubbed and rubbed for several seconds, but nothing happened. He finally stopped, looking frustrated.

"Was it good for you?" Ron asked, with a mischievous grin. Hermione gave him a stern look, which he ignored.

Harry shook his head. "We may have to go back to Mr. Ollivander and see what else he can tell us about this chest."

"Harry, if this has been in his family for generations and no one managed to open it in all that time, they've probably already tried every bit of magic imaginable on it," Hermione pointed out. "It might be better to take it to the Ministry and let the Unspeakables try to open it. After all, we don't know what might be sealed inside that chest."

Harry shook his head once again, this time emphatically. "No. Ollivander and his family had centuries to turn it over to the Ministry. Instead, he gave it to us, and I want to have a real go at it before we give up. We've got to find some way to think outside the box."

"Oh, ha-ha," Ron said.

=ooo=

Over the next few of days they found the silver chest to be quite impenetrable. Detection spells were, as Ollivander had told them, quite useless. Neither could the chest be Vanished, made transparent, or transfigured in any way.

The locking mechanism remained a mystery as well. The lack of a keyhole was perplexing, though Hermione insisted that it made sense that, if there wasn't a physical key then it couldn't be lost; the method for opening it must therefore be magical rather than material. Alohomora, the obvious unlocking spell to try, had no effect (nor did Harry expect it to — the idea that such a spell had never been attempted in over a millennium was ridiculous). Hermione looked up several other unlocking spells in several other spell book, but none of them had any effect either.

Finally, and a bit unwillingly, Hermione took out one final book from the beaded purse where she kept all her books now, with the Undetectable Extension Charm that expanded the internal dimension of the purse without making it appear any larger. The book was Secrets of the Darkest Art, the book that held, among other things, the instructions for making a Horcrux.

"I thought you got rid of that," Ron said, eyeing the book suspiciously. "You said you loathe the bloody thing."

"I don't like even looking at it," Hermione agreed, cautiously thumbing through the book. "But I don't like throwing away knowledge, either. Even knowledge as foul as this." But nothing in the book proved to be of any use, either.

Harry was tempted at one point to return to Hogwarts and attempt to find his old copy of Advanced Potion-Making in the Room of Lost Things — there had been many spells written in the margins of its pages, and Harry thought they might stumble upon a way to open the chest. But it was unlikely that the book had even survived the Fiendfyre that Vincent Crabbe had unleashed the last time they were in there, a storm of cursed magical fire that had cost the Slytherin his life, and would have killed Draco Malfoy as well, had Harry not saved him. Reluctantly, he had to abandon the idea.

They tried a few unlikely ideas as well — the three of them pressed each of their thumb- and fingerprints against the small golden plate on the front of the chest, on the off-chance that it would open upon recognizing one of them — though the idea of fingerprint recognition would have been a novel technique a thousand or more years ago. However, there was no reaction to any of them. By the evening of their third day trying to open the chest, a Sunday, it was beginning to take a toll on their nerves.

"I'm beginning to think Ollivander made a mistake," Ron said morosely, staring at the still-unopened chest. "Maybe none of us are supposed to open this thing."

"I'm not giving up," Harry shook his head stubbornly. "He wouldn't have given it to us after all this time if he wasn't sure we were meant to open it."

"Perhaps not, Harry," Hermione sighed. She sounded tired — after three days of trying to figure out the secret of the box, they all were. "But we're out of ideas."

"We've only been at this for three days," Harry retorted, hotly. "I mean, we worked months to figure out how to get inside the golden egg, back during the Triwizard Tournament, didn't we?"

"I don't know who you're referring to," Hermione said, managing to look both amused and offended by what Harry had just said, "but you hardly had a go at the thing until a few days before the second task, and then only because Cedric Diggory gave you a big hint on what to do!"

"That's beside the point!" Harry argued. "I'd been thinking about it all that time!"

"Oh, I see," Hermione's eyes grew large, in mock surprise. "So you think that's what did it, do you — all that 'thinking' you said you did? What complete rubbish!"

Ron looked on in surprise at this unexpectedly heated exchange between his two best friends. Normally it was he and Hermione who were at loggerheads — it was unsettling to see Harry and Hermione upset with one another. "Just hold it, you two," he interjected, trying to calm things down. "It's not that big a deal — we'll figure it out — I hope," he added, in a mutter.

Harry threw up his hands in frustration. "No, you were probably right, Ron," he said, turning away from both of them. "Somebody else ought to have a go at this."

"So what are you saying, Harry?" Hermione said, to the back of his head. "That we should give it back to Mr. Ollivander?"

"Or to the Ministry?" Ron added, now looking unhappy at the idea. "Kingsley will probably set up some committee to study it for the next ten bloody years, you know." In the past month, since his confirmation as Minister of Magic, Shacklebolt had set up numerous committees, studying various impacts to his proposals for reforms in the Wizarding government. A few of them had led to any changes in how their government worked, though they had at least purged most of the Death Eaters and dead wood from the bureaucracy.

Harry waved a hand in dismissal, without turning around. "In another day or so it won't matter anyway," he said, tiredly. "We'll have to report to the Auror Department for duty — that'll leave only Hermione to work on the chest, and she doesn't have that much time before school starts again. I don't know what else we can do, other than keep working on it during the evening and on weekend."

"We can do that," Ron offered, and Hermione nodded. "I mean — we've got to keep trying, Harry! It's not going to be as simple as looking at the box and saying something like, oh —" he hissed at the box "— and have anything… happen… uhh —"

Ron suddenly went silent, and after a moment Harry turned around, looking at him inquiringly. Both he and Hermione were staring at the box, eyes wide.

"What happened?" Harry asked, looking at them, then followed their gaze to the silver chest.

"It jiggled," Hermione whispered, looking at Ron. "The box moved! Ron, what did you do?"

Ron looked astonished. "I — I just…" he looked at Harry with some trepidation. "I was just messing around, Harry — honest! I — I — tried saying "Open" in Parseltongue. Like — like you did when we went into the Chamber of Secrets."

"And like you did, when you went back down to get more basilisk fangs," Harry added, flatly. Ron and Hermione both nodded slowly, remembering. They had never really told Harry what had gone on down there, that time.

Harry turned back, staring at the silver chest. "If Parseltongue can open the chest, I wonder what's inside that made it move?"

Ron's eyes grew wide once again. "You think it's another — a Horcrux?"

"It can't be," Hermione declared. "We found all of them!"

"Did we?" Harry said, still staring at the box. "What if Voldemort made seven Horcruxes, not six as Dumbledore thought? This could be the seventh one."

"Harry, you're letting your imagination run away with you," Hermione argued. "This chest has been in Mr. Ollivander's family for something like a thousand years. Voldemort wouldn't even have known about it!"

"But Ollivander was a prisoner of Voldemort's for nearly two years at Malfoy Manor," Harry reminded her. Hermione's face fell as she realized the implications of that.

"You — you think he might have told them about it?" she asked, her voice faltering.

"If he was being tortured by Voldemort, he might have told them anything he thought would keep him alive," Harry replied. "I think he was quite lucky to have escaped — Voldemort must have really wanted to keep him alive making wands for them as long as possible."

Ron jerked his head toward the silver chest. "So what do we do about that?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I think we open it and see what happens."

"Do you think you can, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I guess we'll find out," Harry said. He looked closely at the chest, trying to find a pattern that resembled the form of a snake. It had been some time since he'd spoken Parseltongue — the last time he'd heard it spoken was in the Shrieking Shack, as Voldemort ordered his snake Nagini to kill Snape — but as long as he could imagine he was talking to a snake it should work. He found a swirling pattern on the chest that looked about right, and he spoke: "Open."

Nothing happened.

Harry looked up enquiringly at Ron and Hermione. Ron shook his head as Hermione said, "English."

Harry gritted his teeth in frustration, staring intently at the chest once again. "Open," he said again. "Open. Open! OPEN! Op—" he finally stopped, remembering what he'd learned in Snape's memories — his ability to speak Parseltongue had come from the fragment of Voldemort's soul that had stuck to his as the Killing Curse rebounded on him from Harry, the first time they met. Now that the fragment was gone, he could no longer speak or understand the language of snakes. "It's no use," Harry said aloud. "It's gone."

"Let me have a go," Ron said, suddenly. "I think I can remember what it sounded like." Harry stepped aside and Ron took his place in front of the chest. "Alright, then —" he cleared his throat and swallowed, then made several hissing noises at the box. Each time he did so it shuddered or jiggled a bit. On his fifth attempt, the box shook violently and the top popped open. All three of them jumped back in alarm. They all looked at one another, then Harry and Hermione began pounding Ron on the back.

"You did it, Ron!" both of them shouted. "You DID IT!" Ron grinned, secretly pleased that he'd once again been able to accomplish something that Harry hadn't. But a moment later that was forgotten as the three of them turned to the now-open chest.

"Now what?" Ron asked, voicing the question in all their minds. Slowly the trio leaned forward, trying to see inside the chest, but the only thing immediately visible was a few folded pieces of old, discolored parchment. Reaching carefully inside the chest, Harry removed the parchment and handed it to Hermione, who carefully unfolded it and scanned the writing on it.

"What's it say?" Ron finally asked, impatiently.

"I don't know," Hermione said, shaking her head. "It's written in runes, but what I'm reading doesn't make any sense. It must be written in some ancient language using the runic alphabet. What else is in the box, Harry?"

"Look," Harry said, taking the other objects from the chest and setting them in front of it. He had placed three rings on the table. The first ring, they saw, was thick and golden, with a large, round setting surrounding a symbol that resembled a stylized "H." The second ring was glowing faintly green; its setting was a green circle with flat caps above and below it, also green. The final ring was the simplest looking one — instead of a setting it had only a raised ziggurat — a lightning bolt symbol — along its top.

They also stared at the final object as Harry took it from the chest. The largest item in the box, it was s small lantern, as green as the green ring, and as Harry reached out and pulled up its cover a green brilliance shone from it, bathing the room with scintillating patterns of emerald light.

"Is that it?" Ron asked, sounding disappointed. "That's all that was in there?"

"Ron!" Hermione's tone was severe. "We don't even know what all this is! Why anyone would put three rings, a lamp and few sheets of parchment in a box and keep it hidden for centuries is…is…. well, I don't know what to call it!"

"But we're going to have to find out," Harry spoke up. "I think we need to show these things to Mr. Ollivander — especially the parchment. I hope he'll have some way to read it."

"I hope you're not going to put them back in that chest," Ron said, rubbing his throat. "I feel like I hurt myself, what with all that hissing."

Harry shrugged. "Well — three rings, and three of us — it seems like we could each wear one."

Hermione gave him a disbelieving look. "Don't you think we should check them for curses first, Harry?"

"Oh, right — of course," Harry agreed, remembering how Dumbledore's hand looked after he'd tried on the Gaunt ring, the one that turned out to be also a Horcrux cursed by Voldemort as well as one of the Deathly Hallows. Now that ring was gone, lost somewhere in the Forbidden Forest when it slipped from his finger as he went to meet Voldemort there, for what Harry thought was his final duel with the Dark Lord, the one where he sacrificed himself to ensure that all the Horcruxes were gone, including the tiny fragment of Voldemort's soul in Harry himself.

Harry and Ron watched as Hermione cast several spells over each ring. She paused after each spell, scrutinizing each ring carefully. Finally she turned back to her two best friends, looking vaguely dissatisfied as she said, "They all seem to be okay, but…"

"But — what?" Ron snapped impatiently. "Are they cursed or not, Hermione?"

"Not as far as I can tell," she replied. "But I might have missed something —"

"You? Miss something?" Ron snorted laughter. "Not bloody likely! I'm convinced —" he reached down and snatched one of the rings off the table, slipping it onto his right ring finger before Hermione could stop him.

"Ron! Give that back!" Hermione grabbed at his hand, and Ron jerked it away from her, holding it high above his head so she couldn't reach his hand.

"I told you," he said, grinning as she reached up futilely, trying to pull his arm down. "There's nothing going to —"

Ron's whole body suddenly jerked as a bright flash and a loud BOOM like thunder shook the room. "Whoa," he breathed, looking up at the ceiling. "Did you see that —" he blinked in surprise, seeing Hermione sprawling on the floor, supported by Harry. Both of them were looking toward Ron in wonder.

Hermione was blinking dazedly, seemingly unable to focus her eyes, but Harry was staring directly at him. "Ron," he said quietly. "Do you realize you were just hit by a bolt of lightning?"

"Really?" Ron looked at his hands. "I saw a flash and that loud boom, but I didn't feel anything. Well, something feels different, though." He looked around the room. "Looks different, too! What happened to your furniture, Harry?" Several chairs were now laying on their sides or backs. "This is bloody weird —" Ron leaned over and put a hand beneath the back of a chair, to tip it upright. A moment later the chair was flying through the air. It crashed into the opposite wall, breaking into several pieces, then fell to the floor.

"I take it back," Ron muttered, looking at the broken chair. "This is bloody weird! What the hell's happened to me?"

"It must be the ring," Hermione said, her eyes finally clearing, as she looked from Ron back to Harry. That lightning bolt appeared just as he raised the ring in the air." They all turned to look at the other two rings — surprisingly, the table they were on had not tipped over as well. "For whatever reason these rings were hidden away in this box, they must give whoever wears them special powers."

"It looks that way," Harry agreed, glancing at Ron. "So what do we do with them now?"

"We still go talk to Ollivander, like you said, Harry," Hermione decided. "And we take the rings with us. The only question is, who wears what ring?"

"I like this one," Ron said, holding up his hand with the golden H-ring on it. "Too bad it didn't have an 'R' on it, though. 'R' for Ron, you know."

Hermione sighed, then looked at Harry. "Which one do you want to wear, Harry?" Harry looked at the two rings left on the table. He had an idea which one Hermione would choose.

"Which one do you want?" he asked her.

Hermione turned and appeared to think for several seconds. "Well," she said at last, "I sort of like the green one."

"Okay, then," Harry nodded, and reached for the lightning bolt ring. He and she both slid their respective rings on their fingers at the same time. Harry raised his fist head high, then waited for Hermione to do the same. "Here goes," he said, raising his ring above his head.

Nothing happened.

After a few moments Hermione repeated Harry's gesture, but again nothing happened. Looking somewhat chagrinned, they both lowered their hands and looked at Ron. "Well don't look at me," he said defensively. "I didn't know which ring was magic!"

"Oh hush, Ron," Hermione said, irritably. "We're not blaming you for anything. It's just…" she stared pensively at the lantern still sitting on the table. "I think this ring must have something to do with this lamp…" She moved toward the lantern, and as her ring hand drew near it the cover of the lamp suddenly slid up, bathing the room in green light from a glowing green sphere inside it. Impulsively, Hermione touched the ring to the glowing sphere, and the room darkened suddenly as the green light was seemingly absorbed into the ring. After several seconds Hermione drew her hand away. "It — it was like a magnet was holding the ring against it," she told Ron and Harry. "Then suddenly it let go." She looked at them, green light from the ring illuminating their faces as she held it up for them to see. "I can feel magic in this — a lot of magic, more magic than I've ever felt before. It's like it's… flowing through me as well. I — I feel like I could do anything I wanted to with this ring!"

Harry checked his watch. "We'd better get over to see Ollivander — his shop might already be closed." It was late on a weekend, and Harry had no idea what hours the wandmaker might keep now. "Come on." Harry started to leave, but Hermione shook her head.

"I can get us there faster, Harry," she said. "The ring told me how."

Harry blinked, nonplussed. "The…ring…told you that?"

"Of course," she smiled brightly. "It's really very simple. Just stand next to me — Ron, you stand here," she pointed to a spot on her right side. "Harry, you stand here." She indicated her left side.

Ron looked at Harry, who shrugged and stood next to Hermione. A moment later Ron did the same. "Now what?" Harry asked, thinking that he'd heard that phrase more in the past few days than during his entire time at Hogwarts.

Hermione smiled. "Now, we just — go." The ring flashed green and there was a sudden whooshing sound, like they were moving really, really fast through the air, though the only thing Harry could see was the green light surrounding them. Their feet suddenly thumped against the floor and the green light disappeared, revealing — the interior of Ollivander's shop.

"Merlin's pants," Ron breathed, looking around in surprise. "Hermione, you did it!"

"Of course," Hermione said in an even tone. "It was simple."

"It looks like he's closed," Harry observed. The shop was indeed dark. Glancing through the dusty windows, Harry saw that most of this end of Diagon Alley was similarly darkened — only a few late-night cafés were still open for business, though Harry could not make out how many people were inside the shops he could see.

"Who's there?" Ollivander's voice came querulously from the back room, and the old wandmaker emerged a moment later, his wand out and glowing with the Lumos spell. His moonlike eyes blinked, then he nodded in relief as he saw the three of them. "Ah — Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger! To what do I owe the honor of this late visit?"

"We opened the chest, sir," Harry said, skipping any preamble to the business at hand.

"Splendid! Bravo!" Ollivander cheered them. "I knew you three could do it! What did you discover inside?"

"That's what we came to talk to you about, sir," Harry said. The three of them held their hands forward, showing the rings on their fingers. "We found these rings — and so far a couple of them have displayed some rather unique abilities."

"Indeed?" Ollivander nodded, staring with interest at the glowing green ring on Hermione's finger. "What type of abilities?"

"Ron put on one and it made him very strong — stronger than Hagrid, I'd reckon," Harry explained. "And Hermione put on that green one, then told us it felt very magical to her — she was able to bring us here from Grimmauld Place in just a few moments."

Ollivander was nodding slowly. "And what of the ring on your finger, Harry?' he asked, looking at the lightning bolt ring.

"Nothing's happened yet," Harry replied, with a shrug of feigned indifference.

"We found this with the rings," Hermione said, holding out the parchment they'd found in the box toward Ollivander. "They're in runes, but I don't understand the language it's written in. We thought that you might…"

Ollivander accepted the parchment sheets from Hermione and began reading them. Watching his expression, Harry noted a look of surprise followed by intense interest come over the wandmaker's face. After nearly a minute of silence, during which Ollivander seemed to scan the entire document more than once, Harry finally asked, "Can you tell us what it says, sir?"

Ollivander looked up, startled. "Oh! My apologies, Harry — I was quite taken aback by what is written here." He looked at the three of them quite gravely. "I fear I may have done the three of you a terrible wrong by giving you that chest, after all."

"Are you joking?" Ron sounded quite skeptical. "Look at this!" He walked over to a large wooden table set against a wall of the shop. The table was solid wood and looked quite heavy. Grasping one end of the table in both hands, Ron lifted it effortlessly into the air, until the opposite end nearly touched the shop's ceiling. "It's light as a feather!" he grinned, letting go so he was now balancing it with one hand. He lowered it back onto the floor. "I'd hardly call that a curse!"

Hermione held up the ring on her own hand. "And this ring enabled me to bring the three of us here in seconds, straight through the wards at both Grimmauld place and in Diagon Alley. I checked the rings for curses, Mr. Ollivander — there was nothing on any of them that could harm us."

But Ollivanders's serious expression hadn't wavered. "Let me read to you what is written on the parchment. It is written in an ancient language passed down through wandmaking families." He began reading from the parchment sheets, translating the runes to English.

Beware, all who discover this chest of silver, and these three rings within. They are cursed and the bane of all men who would use them, for weal or woe. First gathered together by Merlin of old, they came into the possession of the Founders Three. Bold Gryffindor claimed the Herculean Ring, while wise Ravenclaw chose the Ring of Green Magic. Gentle Hufflepuff, mildest of the three, held the most powerful ring of all, the Ring of Lightning, created by the Ancient Wizard Sha-Za-Mo.

But the last Founder, wily Slytherin, who had left the other Three, plotted to steal the rings for himself, to increase his power beyond that of any living man. So the Three sealed away their precious rings, creating a powerful spell of eternal friendship to hide it from all but one, who would hold its secret with him and his family, the first headmaster of the school of Hogwarts, Oellivus.

I, Oellivus, make this pledge and solemn vow — I and mine shall hold these rings safe from any and all attempts by Slytherin or his minions to obtain them. It has been whispered in dark corners that foul Slytherin has laid a curse upon the rings, wherever they may be, that any who attempt to use them shall come to a foul end. We defy this curse! Someday, when the time is ripe for their use, my progeny shall bestow these rings on ones deserving of their power.

Ollivander looked at Harry, his expression still serious. "I am afraid I have brought this upon you and your friends, Harry Potter. That was not my intention, believe me. You have done too much for me to repay your generosity so poorly—"

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, to reassure the wandmaker. "Is that all that was on the parchment?" It seemed like there was more that Ollivander hadn't read.

The old man nodded. "There is more written about each of the rings." He held up the second piece of parchment, reading from it.

These are the legends of the three Rings. The first, chosen by Godric Gryffindor, is a golden ring with a round head set with a golden "H" for the legendary hero Hercules. It is rumored that this ring was given to Hercules by Zeus himself. By wearing it and raising the ring toward the heavens, a magic bolt from Zeus will endow the wearer with the strength of Hercules for as long as he needs it.

The second ring, held by Rowena Ravenclaw, is a ring of green metal, of unknown origin. Its setting is a representation of the Green Lantern, the source of its power. The Green Lantern holds the orb of Green Magic, a powerful magical substance made of the same material as the ring. To keep the ring charged with magic, it must be touched to the lantern's green orb to the count of ten, once per day. The lantern will glow bright green during this time, then dim when the ring is charged. It is rumored that the ring and lantern were both fashioned by Merlin himself from a rock that fell from the sky during an eclipse of the sun.

The third ring, possessed by Helga Hufflepuff, is the most powerful ring of all, and is called the Ring of Lightning; it was greatly desired by Salazar Slytherin for its power. The ring was created three thousand years ago by the ancient Egyptian wizard Sha-Za-Mo, to bring together the powers of seven great heroes and mythic beings, so as to create a Champion for the Egyptian people, to enable them to rule over all other races.

But Sha-Za-Mo regretted creating the ring, for the Egyptian rulers were arrogant and cruel. He instead used it against them, halting their conquests and bringing peace to Egypt and the surrounding lands. The ring was passed down through the ages until it came to Britain and the hand of Merlin, and thence to Helga Hufflepuff, who never invoked its power for herself save once.

The power of the ring is the power of the seven legendary beings it holds. The seven powers are:

S for the wisdom of Solomon,
H for the strength of Heracles,
A for the stamina of Atlas,
Z for the power of Zeus,
A for the invulnerability of Achilles,
M for the speed of Mercury,
O for the courage of Odysseus

The ring is invoked by holding it toward the heavens and speaking the name of the wizard, "Sha-Za-Mo." Saying the name again releases the powers until needed again.

"So that's what I needed," Harry muttered, looking at the ring on his hand. The magic word." He held the ring in the air.

"Be careful, Harry," Hermione said quickly. "You don't know what the ring will do —"

"Nothing happened to you or Ron," Harry cut over her. "I want to see what this ring will do when I say— Sha-Za-Mo!"

There was a thunderous BOOM as a magical lightning bolt suddenly crashed through the ceiling of the shop, blinding Hermione, Ron and Ollivander. Blinking through sudden tears, the three stared in amazement at the change that had come over Harry.

No longer was he a scrawny teenager. Instead, a man well over six feet tall stood facing them, a handsome, dark-haired man with bulging muscles in a red suit with a golden lightning bolt upon his chest, with a white and gold-lined cloak upon his shoulders tied by a golden cord.

"Whoa," Ron said, squinting to see his friend with his dazzled eyes. "Nice suit, Harry — reminds me some pajamas I had when I was a kid."

"Funny," Harry said flatly. His voice was now deeper, and resonated with power. He looked at his two friends. "Now that we've got these rings sorted out, what do we do with them?"

"We should find some way to help Kingsley and the Ministry," Hermione piped up. "Harry, you and Ron should be quite effective as Aurors with the powers you possess now. And I —" she stared at the green ring glowing on her hand. "I should be able to come up with some way to help those the Ministry's been ignoring all these years…"

"Before we do that, though," Harry said, then turned to the wandmaker. "Mr. Ollivander, I hope you will keep this secret for us until we figure out what we're going to do."

"Of course, Harry," Ollivander nodded agreeably. "I will tell no one what I have seen this evening."

"Good," Harry said. He turned to Hermione. "Can you get us back to Grimmauld Place without anyone seeing us?"

"Of course," she said, and a moment later the three of them vanished in a flash of green. Smiling to himself, Ollivander walked into the back of his shop, where he kept his small bed. He was glad he'd given the box to Harry — he just hoped his instincts hadn't misled him.

Moments later, a figure in a black cloak slipped away from the window of Ollivander's shop, moving into the shadows of Diagon Alley. A few doors down a flame flared briefly from a wand tip, and a plume of greenish smoke trailed away from the man as he made his way to the street's exit and into the Leaky Cauldron. The Ministry would surely want to know about this, he thought. Chosen One or not, Harry Potter and his friends were messing with powers that were well beyond their ken — the Ministry would know what was best for them. And for himself, Mundungus Fletcher smiled, thinking of how many Galleons he could get for this information. Surely someone at the Ministry would find it quite useful!

=ooo=

Author's Notes: Literary References for the Three Rings:

Ron's "H" Ring (The Ring of Hercules). "The Mighty Hercules" was a cartoon TV show from 1963 to 1966 that featured Hercules, his centaur friend Newt, his girlfriend Helena, and several other characters including his father, Zeus, who lived on Mt. Olympus. Hercules originally lived on Olympus but would aid the people of the kingdom of Caledon when they were threatened. Because he became mortal when he left Olympus, whenever he was in real danger, he would put on the ring his father gave him, raising his fist in the air where it is struck by lightning (sometimes called the Thunder of Zeus), giving him super strength for as long as he needed it.

Hermione's Ring (The Green Ring and Green Lantern). These are based on the original Green Lantern and ring used by the original Green Lantern, Alan Scott. Scott used his ring to fly, to walk through solid objects, to paralyze or blind people temporarily, to create rays of energy, to melt metal as with a blowtorch, and to cause dangerous objects to glow, among other things. Occasionally, he uses it to create solid objects and force fields, and to read minds. His ring could protect him against any object made of metal, but would not protect him against any wood or plant based objects.

Harry's Ring (The Lightning Ring of Sha-Zo-Mo). This is based loosely on the Captain Marvel legend, though Billy Batson had only to say the name "SHAZAM" to become Capt. Marvel. The wizard's name was originally Shazamo (which I altered to Sha-Za-Mo in a bit of literary license); the O came to stand for the courage of Odysseus (Ulysses). Solomon, Heracles, Atlas, Zeus, Achilles and Mercury also lend their abilities to the ring bearer who says the name of the ancient wizard. Magic lightning strikes the ring, transforming the bearer into an adult with the abilities of the seven legendary figures. The rumor about Helga Hufflepuff is that she only use the ring once, though we do not know the details of that adventure (at least, not yet).