And a remarkably fast chapter. This one, I've tried to give Hermione a little more screen-time, since I realised that having mostly Vulpine's viewpoint was skewing things a bit. Something I'll point out- this is, as best I can manage, third person limited, so whatever is said in Vulpine segments is his opinion, rather than fact.
Jazziet- you said that there was no reason for Hermione to leave Harry in Seventh Year. It was my opinion that she almost left in canon Deathly Hallows, and here Vulpine used a Bone-Breaker curse against Ron, then murdered Ron, then spent the next six years killing and torturing for money. I'd say it's a miracle Hermione can tolerate him.
As always, Harry Potter is not mine. Anyone reading this and hoping for more Emerald and Argent fear not, I'm working on it now.
Hermione idly wondered if Vulpine was getting paranoid yet. She had recently made a habit of placing multiple tracking charms on him whenever they crossed paths, simply from academic curiosity as to whether he would be able to remove them. As it happened, they rarely lasted more than ten minutes, but Hermione had no actual need of them. No, she had an advantage she suspected Vulpine didn't suspect, one that she was peering at as she sat unnoticed in the corner of the Common Room. The Marauders Map. Not the original, of course, Vulpine had that, but a copy. Really, it showed the genius of the Marauders that they had been able to create such a thing. An advanced variation of the Protean Charm, tied into the school ward system? Hermione couldn't have done such a thing at school, and Vulpine certainly couldn't have, if his rather crude Ministry and Diagon Alley copies were anything to go by. Still, they had given her the hint she needed to create her own, and Vulpine had never been much good at Ancient Runes. She suspected that he was currently in the Chamber of Secrets- only accessible to him, heavily warded, not on any map. Perfect, really. And it gave Hermione peace and quiet to work out a plan to use against him. After all, she might be less opposed to him than before, but she still didn't trust him. That would be stupid. The small dot labelled 'Romulus Vulpine/Harry Potter' moved from the Chamber, under her eye. As she watched it moved towards the seventh floor corridor, towards the Room of Requirement. Hermione frowned, wondering, and then a cold feeling rippled in her chest, accompanied by a flash of amusement and two words.
"The Diadem."
Hermione was on her feet before conscious thought, running for the portrait hole. If Vulpine got his hands on the Diadem…insurance. He would be practically untouchable from the perspective of her and Dumbledore. She flat out sprinted along the corridor, but her mind worked even faster as she realised that she might have to face down Vulpine inside the Room, where Dumbledore wouldn't be able to help her. She would have to play to her strengths this time, not like her duel in the Common Room where she had gotten flustered and so wasted her advantage in obscure spells by trying to match Vulpine in raw force. She would have to take advantage of his weaknesses. Runes. Obscure spells that he'd never bothered to learn. And, possibly, his current condition. Thirteen year old Vulpine was short and slender, to the point where she doubted he weighed any more than she did. He might still be used to being taller and bulkier than her, so she could try and use that. But more than anything, she would have to use his own arrogance against him. Fortunately, the Room opened for her without issue, and she headed in. She caught Vulpine with his back turned, reaching for a silver object that looked much like a tiara.
"Harry." She said quietly. Vulpine stood still, then slowly turned, a smile edging his lips.
"So you caught me. Very, very clever, Hermione. I'll admit, I'm glad. I was worried that travelling back to the past had given you brain damage- it would be a shame to win too easily."
Hermione ignored the sly taunt, and didn't draw her wand.
"I know you're here for the Diadem. I can tell that you want it as insurance." She said instead, twisting the last word in unconscious disgust. For a moment she could have sworn that there was shock in Vulpine's eyes, but it was masked quickly, if it was even there to begin with. He smiled, and it was entirely genuine. Menacing, psychotic, blood thirsty. Genuine.
"As I said. I expected someone might work it out. I'd like to say I'm disappointed in the old man for not getting it already, but that's beating a dead horse. Since you're here, though, how about a little game?"
"Game?" Hermione questioned, slipping her wand from her sleeve and moving it in motions she knew looked like nervous twitches. Vulpine was still smiling.
"Quite. A duel, shall we say? And a gentleman's agreement that whoever is last standing gets the Diadem."
Hermione knew that he was baiting her, thinking he could win, and it annoyed her almost enough to take the offer. But she held on, sensing that she could get more.
"You're not a gentleman, Vulpine."
"Neither are you, Hermione. But I see I need to sweeten the deal, hmm? How about this. I win, the Diadem is mine. You win, and you get the Diadem and, say, three questions. All of them answered truthfully…within reason, of course."
Hermione suddenly felt her heartbeat speed up and her mouth dry in anticipation. That offer was…well. Not the best she'd ever gotten, but for Vulpine it was unbelievably generous. She could hardly say no.
"Accepted." She bit out. Vulpine's grin grew even wider, if possible.
"Wonderful. When do we start?" he asked, shedding his loose robe and slipping his laburnum wand into his hand. Hermione motioned beside him as she slipped off her own robe, leaving her in trousers and school jumper.
"Now."
Vulpine turned, and saw what Hermione had been doing with her wand- a small Rune, carved into a cabinet beside him with a Gouging Charm, impressive accuracy and remarkable stealth. Hermione saw the shock widen his eyes before the Rune activated. The cabinet exploded, showering Vulpine with splinters and making him stagger. Hermione seized her chance.
"Lux Bombarda!"
The flashbang spell. Light and shock. The tiny white ball hit Vulpine, and he barely had time to cover his eyes before the second blast launched him into a pile of furniture, that collapsed on him. She knew better than to think him down, and began casting more spells. Just in time, because he pushed up from the mess with a powerful Blasting Charm that she barely sent a chair into the way of. Her own Banishing Charm caught him in the chest, and once again Vulpine was sent into a pile of furniture. Likely to have broken bones, some small part of her mind noted, the rest focused on casting a more advanced spell. She finished it, a variant of the charm she had used in Sixth Year to summon a flock of tiny birds. This version, modified by Luna Lovegood, summoned tiny flaming birds. That exploded on impact. A great addition in many ways, especially in these conditions. Vulpine appeared in front of her, wand raised, and paused to take in the sight of her standing with miniature phoenix-looking birds orbiting her.
"Oh. Positively angelic." He commented in a slightly dazed tone, before she smiled and flicked her wand. His eyes widened, returning to sharpness, and he brought up a heavy silver shield with a flick of his wand. The birds did not all crash into it, however, and he was soon kept busy turning and twisting to keep his shield between himself and them. His left arm seemed hurt- he winced every time he used it. Hermione used the time to wave her wand as though conducting an orchestra, sending various odd items from in the Room hurtling at him and forcing him to keep moving, in between creating more miniature birds to surround him. He eventually reacted when they were on all sides, and a command from her sent them rushing in.
"Enough!" Vulpine screamed. He twisted his wand in a circle around him, and a wave of water poured forth, dousing the birds and soaking the floor. Hermione swore inwardly, guessing his next move.
"Serpensortia aquae!"
The Serpensortia spell usually Conjured a short lived, non-venomous snake. Used like this, it created what was more or less a Hydra of water, one that reared up over Hermione. She ignored the hissed Parseltongue commands from Vulpine, too busy casting another spell. A wave of dry heat rolled from her wand as the Hydra lunged, drying it out and continuing towards Vulpine, who met it with a wall of cursed fire. Hermione used the momentary blinding light show to cast the Partis temporus spell, causing a gap to open in the flame, and sent an Incarcerous spell towards Vulpine. He let the flames die, his wand flickering in its own motions, and the ropes that had burst from her wand towards him loosened into a mass that swirled around him, before twisting into barbed wire and forming into a humanoid shape that lunged at her. Hermione would later admit to being extremely impressed even as she barely avoided a lash of the whip-like arms, topped with razor edges. She felt a sharp pain as metal flashed across her cheek, but ignored it, cocooning the wire frame figure in her own flame spell and melting it into a shapeless mass. She sent a fast set of lower level spells at Vulpine, who was starting to look tired from the high level magic he had been using. He bared his teeth, and the stacked furniture around her shifted into grasping, skeletal hands that swooped in to seize and crush. Hermione performed a spell similar to the lesser cursed fire that Vulpine was fond of, surrounding herself with a protective barrier of fire that consumed the wooden hands coming towards her before she directed it in a lance towards Vulpine. Vulpine bared his teeth.
"Protego aeternus!"
The eternal shield Charm. Powerful, wide, almost unbreakable, it deflected her flames, but left Vulpine swaying with exhaustion. The Hydra, wire frame construct, Hands of Gaia…all were draining, and the Eternal Shield was practically the last straw. Still running on fast instinct, he lurched out of the way of her next Banishing spell, but his foot landed on a Rune she had subtly carved into the floor, a sticking Rune. It lasted for only a moment, but the distraction was all she needed to hit him with another Banisher that flung him to the ground at the foot of a stack of furniture, next to his discarded robes. His wand had fallen from his hand during the fight, and he slumped back in apparent defeat. Hermione kept her wand on him, panting heavily as she felt the drain from the spells she had cast. Vulpine was a mess; his breath was ragged, left arm cradled across his chest, lower lip cut and left eye already swelling. Hermione walked closer.
"You are beaten." She said grimly. The smallest smile crossed his lips, and she saw his right arm slide out from under the robe, a familiar wand in his fingers.
"Expelliarmus!"
Her wand was ripped from her hand, sailing towards him. Oddly, he didn't catch it as he slowly stood. His face was pale, and his smile faded to a frown at the look of horror on her face. He walked over to the Diadem as she stood stunned, before turning to her.
"I'd consider this a lesson, but I think you can already tell where you went wrong. Anyway…catch."
The silver circle sailed through the air, thumping into her automatic catch. It felt unpleasant, oily to the touch, and she dropped it and looked at him.
"Why?"
Vulpine smiled, wincing as the action stretched his split lip.
"Gentleman's agreement. A Fair duel, more or less. A second wand would be considered cheating, and you'd won anyway. Well done, Hermione."
Hermione blinked. She had known that Vulpine was, in his own way, honourable, but she hadn't expected this. Vulpine levitated an armchair down from a pile and slumped into it with a heartfelt sigh.
"You might want to get up. The room is on fire." She pointed out. Vulpine closed his eyes and shrugged.
"I'm sure you'll deal with it. You always do." He answered tiredly. Hermione shook her head and retrieved her wand, putting out the forlorn fires that still glowed with a simple wave and a few words. She copied Vulpine, levitating a not-too damaged armchair from a pile and sitting in it.
"So, I get the Diadem and three questions?" she asked. Immediately afterwards she realised her mistake, and mentally swore. Vulpine opened an eye, looking honestly weary.
"Four honestly answered questions, since I cheated at the end. And no, that one didn't count. I'll only count them if you ask me to." He said. Grimacing, he sat up and ran the back of his hand under his nose. He frowned at the blood on his skin, then carefully set to repairing his injuries, though he used only the most basic spells.
"I would have thought you'd have known more Healing." Hermione commented, after fixing her own cheek injury. She was tired and thirsty from the heat, but no more. Certainly she was better off than Vulpine, who paused in his study of his wrist.
"I've no talent for it. I can fix up to a sprain, but for things like broken bones I need help. Which makes it lucky that the worst I'm suffering from is a sprained wrist, doesn't it?"
Hermione watched in silence as he concentrated, face twisting in pain as the skin on his wrist glowed. Once it stopped he Summoned his laburnum wand and robes, setting the robes on his lap and leaning back with a sigh.
"Ask away, then. Or I might fall asleep."
Hermione normally tried not to ask the first questions that came to her mind, but in this case she decided that the first question might also be the most relevant.
"Why were you trying to take the Diadem?" she asked. Of course, it was insurance, but some intuition told her that there was more to it than that. Vulpine fixed green eyes on her, and started talking.
"Partly because it would have helped insure my usefulness to Dumbledore and to you. But also because I believed that, given time and access to the resources of Hogwarts, I might be able to study the Horcrux and find any connection between it and Voldemort that could be exploited. I am probably the most suitable for this, as I have a not inconsiderable knowledge of Horcruxes and I can be trusted to at least a degree."
"Not inconsiderable knowledge…so the rumours were true that you made a Horcrux of your own? Wait, don't answer that if it counts as another question."
Vulpine gave her a slight smile.
"I wasn't going to consider it a separate question. I suppose that the topics are close enough anyway. Yes, I did make a Horcrux. Not like the ones Voldemort made, however, as they required a Dark ritual of human sacrifice and purported to confer immortality. It is true that killing was required to split my soul, but that was my job. My Horcrux was a plain golden pendant that I hid. However, when I travelled in time it appears that the soul fragment had enough of a connection to me to return, which is what a true Horcrux should in fact do when destroyed. On the other hand, I believe that a living Horcrux, if I had made one, may have remained intact if it travelled with me, as a part of the meshing of souls involved. That is just a theory, though."
Hermione stared aimlessly into space, thinking about what he had said. It all made sense, although she made a mental note to be on her guard- Vulpine hadn't explicitly said that he hadn't made a living Horcrux and brought it with him, so he might have one around. The theory part could simply be referring to the 'meshing of souls' phrase. The important thing was that he sounded plausible.
"What will you do now?"
"Hmm. Well…I believe there was a Ring of sorts that Voldemort also possessed…gaining that should be an adventure, yes? I assume you won't be following and out-duelling me again?"
Hermione gave him a hard look, trying to read his intentions. She suspected that Vulpine thought she couldn't tell when he was lying, and she was content to leave it that way for the moment. True, it was hard, but not impossible.
"Will you destroy the Horcrux when the time comes?" she asked. Vulpine put his right hand over his heart.
"You have my word." He said calmly. Hermione studied him for a few moments more, then nodded. Vulpine kept his word, she knew that much. Now she had something else to attend to, she thought, rising and picking up the Diadem with a slight shudder.
"Do I have to ask all the questions now?" she asked. Vulpine thought about it, then shook his head.
"I'll let them save up. It'll be nice to have someone to keep me on my toes even more. Besides, it might get you to trust me a bit more. Have fun with the Headmaster, by the way."
Hermione blinked in surprise.
"How did you…oh. The expression?"
Vulpine's smug look said it all, and she shook her head at him.
"Don't die trying to get the Ring. I might not like to admit it, but school life would be less…interesting."
His laugh followed her out into the corridor.
Hermione strode along the corridors to the Headmasters office, mind working on a theory she had just come up with. It had been born from the realisation that both her and Vulpine seemed considerably different from who they had been before travelling back through time. She was more subservient to authority, more tolerant of Vulpine yet less accepting of his methods. And there were probably other things that she hadn't thought of. Whereas Vulpine…she knew that Vulpine had hated Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape with a passion. Overwhelming hatred, and yet he hadn't taken any of the various chances he must have had to snatch one of them and inflict injury upon them. Magical torture was easy enough to do without leaving marks, and an Obliviate spell would settle the memory, so why not? There was also the fact that Vulpine seemed less coldly indifferent- just yesterday, in Transfiguration, she had seen him sigh and spend the lesson helping Neville to grasp the spell they were using. That was something the old Vulpine never would have done. Maybe the time travel had somehow caused the two different personalities of their Third-Year selves and their twenty-three year old selves to mesh somehow…
"Miss Granger?"
The voice of Headmaster Dumbledore broke her from her thoughts, and she looked up into blue eyes that glimmered with amusement.
"Oh! I'm sorry, Headmaster, I was lost in thought."
"Yes, I assumed as much since you have been standing outside my office for the last ten minutes. Come in, Miss Granger."
Hermione followed the Headmaster up the stairs to his office, gently tapping her fingers upon the Diadem hidden in her cloak. It still felt oily, but somehow she could feel an urge to wear it, to grasp the knowledge stored within, to use it to gain power unlimited and bring down her enemies…Hermione shook her head and pulled her hand away from the silver. Seductive, she thought, and wondered if it was a property of all the Horcruxes Voldemort had made. Certainly the locket had seemed to sing to the darker impulses in her soul. Once in the office Dumbledore seated himself behind his desk. Hermione remained standing, suppressing a sigh as she saw Snape standing in the corner and giving her a suspicious look. She took out the Diadem, and dropped it on the desk, were it landed with a thump that sounded far too ominous for such a small object.
"The Diadem of Ravenclaw. A Horcrux, Headmaster, that you were told about when Vulpine was first unmasked. So why is it that I found myself having to follow Vulpine to the Room of Requirements and duel him for it?"
Dumbledore and Snape started. It was Dumbledore that spoke first.
"Mr Potter was not seriously injured, was he? If the Prophecy is-"
"Calm down, Headmaster. Vulpine is fine. So am I, by the way, thank you for asking." Hermione interjected, her returned instinct to treat authority figures with reverence momentarily overcome by the somewhat caustic attitude years of fighting with the Resistance had given her. Dumbledore blinked briefly, then smiled magnanimously.
"I trust that the duel was not so serious, then?"
Hermione remembered the rip of the wire through skin and the roaring heat of flames, and categorised the duel as 'serious'. She elected to say nothing, though. Snape spoke, his voice slightly sneering.
"They probably threw a few First year jinxes at one another before Potter couldn't keep up. Arrogant brat-"
Something gave in Hermione, and she turned on her heel. Her wand flicked, spells cast silently, and Snape was thrown back against the wall, spread-eagled and held there by magic. Hermione sensed Dumbledore shift slightly, but the Headmaster seemed amused and interested rather than worried.
"What are you doing you Gryffindor-"
Hermione Silenced Snape, in no mood to have to shout over him.
"I'm doing you a favour, Professor. Let me tell you something. I was, for a good six years, a key part of the Resistance against firstly Voldemort and then the Pureblood Government. During that time I was faced with many, many Death Eaters, Aurors, Enforcers…whatever they called themselves, who had orders to kill. So, after maybe a year, the Resistance responded in kind. And do you know something? Of everyone I know, only two people had higher kill counts than me. One was Neville Longbottom, our leader. And the other was Romulus Vulpine. Do you know that I didn't have a 'dead or alive' bounty on my head? Mine just read 'dead'. And Vulpine was worse. Think about that, before you go running your mouth off at him. Because he is far less forgiving than I am."
Her piece said but righteous anger still boiling in her veins, Hermione stalked from the room, leaving the two men with the Diadem and something to think about.
Vulpine still wore his smile, but he was limping as he walked into the Chamber of Secrets. Sirius, reclining on a stolen bed, sat up and looked at him.
"Why do you look like you've been trampled by a herd of Hippogryphs?"
Vulpine limped over to an armchair and slumped into it. Only then did he allow himself to chuckle at the comment, and it bloody hurt. Cracked rib. Maybe two.
"Hermione followed me to the Room somehow. We had a little, ah, agreement."
"Looks like it was more a disagreement."
"If you'll let me finish…a gentlemen's agreement. A duel, winner gets the Diadem."
Sirius gave him a considering look.
"So…you beat her bloody and took it, right? You didn't get all chivalric and give it to her out of pity or something?"
"Ah…not quite. She was the one walking away triumphant."
Sirius almost choked.
"But…you let her win, right? It was part of your cunning plan?"
"Uh…no. That's the thing with gambling, sometimes you lose. And given that you're staring at me in shock, I'll remind you that Hermione Granger is unusually powerful and very talented. Once she let go of those strange restrictions on her duelling she adopted upon coming back here she was a lot more dangerous. Of course, on most days I would have won."
Vulpine wasn't sure if that was his hubris talking or not. The Rune traps had been unexpected and clever, and he had gone too far with his magic. He had forgotten that he was more limited now, and had sacrificed skill in favour of raw strength. That had allowed Hermione to beat him in a battle of attrition. Carefully, Vulpine pressed the tip of his wand to the centre of his ribcage and began to softly incant the best healing spell he knew. He hadn't been entirely honest with Hermione, he was capable of healing bones if they weren't too badly damaged, but it happened to be…oh. There it was. Vulpine stiffened in place as liquid fire seemed to lap through his ribs, the agonising feeling making his eyes widen and his jaw clench. It lasted only thirty seconds or so, but seemed like an eternity. He withdrew his wand and took a deep and happily pain-free breath. Sirius was, unsurprisingly, looking worried.
"What was that?" he demanded. Vulpine shrugged.
"Healing my cracked ribs."
"With that- Madam Pomfrey can do that with a tap of her wand!"
"I'm not a trained Healer. Now, aren't you going to ask more about what happened in the Room?"
Sirius looked like he wanted to argue about the spell Vulpine had used on his ribs, but he subsided and asked the question Vulpine had suggested.
"Did Hermione interrupt all of what you wanted to do?"
Vulpine gave a genuine smile as he reached again into a hidden pocket in his robes and pulled out a tiny piece of furniture, fit for a doll house. A single wave of his wand caused it to grow into a full sized cabinet, and his smile turned to a grin.
"The Vanishing Cabinet. Formerly kept near Filch's office, damaged by Peeves, placed in the Room of Requirement for repairs. Should have been damaged again in my Fifth Year by the Weasley Twins forcing a Slytherin into it, but we'll not mention that, hmm? Part of a twin set, connected to another in Borgin and Burkes shop. I'll start the bidding at, say, three thousand Galleons?"
"Oh, magnificent." Sirius said, a grin starting to settle on his gaunt features. Vulpine matched his smirk as he tossed the former prisoner his old Holly wand."
"Does it work?"
Sirius swept the wand through the air, producing a burst of flowers. His grin stayed in place, making him look outright terrifying.
"Good enough. So…I'll go pay Borgin a visit, eh? Having both of these cabinets will make getting out of Hogwarts much, much easier."
Vulpine inclined his head towards his godfather.
"Your plan, Padfoot. Try not to get caught again- I'd prefer not to have to break you out of an execution. I'm going after the Ring Horcrux- I'll see you here again."
Sirius stepped into the cabinet, closing the door behind him to activate it. The last Vulpine saw of him was the menacing smirk the dog Animagus still wore.
"Hope he has fun. " Vulpine mused, as he began walking towards the section of the chamber that lay under the Forbidden Forest. Once there he could climb up the ladder and then, in the Forest, would be outside the Hogwarts wards enough to Apparate. At least his magic had more or less gotten back to a reasonable level, although he was still a little tired. Potions were a wonderful thing, especially restorative ones. He eyed the ladder that he had Transfigured to get up to the trapdoor with distaste, but sighed and started climbing. Once he was into the Forest and sure the trapdoor closed behind him he twisted on the spot and vanished with a quiet pop.
The graveyard at Little Hangleton was a particularly mournful place, Vulpine decided. It wasn't eerie, or impressive, but simply…sorrowful. As though the earth itself knew what would occur here in a year and a half. Vulpine paused at the gravestone of Thomas Riddle Sr., not to pay his respects, but to think. If he had wanted to stop Voldemort from returning he could have altered the grave, changed the bones, but he was restricted. He wanted Voldemort to return so that he could get rid of the fragment of soul that was stuck in his skull, and so he simply looked at the stone. Wondering.
"If you had been a better man, if Merope had not been so obsessed, who would Voldemort be? Who would I be?" mused the time-traveller, his breath smoking in the cold air. Would his parents still live? Would Thomas Marvolo Riddle have used his incredible intelligence and power for the betterment of wizards rather than to gain power? Or would they have still walked the dark path they were on now? It didn't matter, Vulpine decided. In another world, maybe, but he was in this world, and would do what he could with the hand he had been dealt. He walked off, drawing on old memories to guide him to his destination. Memories both his own and leeched from Voldemort.
"Ah. The Gaunt Family Manor." Vulpine eventually commented, almost an hour later. The sarcasm in his tone would have been obvious to anyone around, he knew, but he didn't much care. Talking to himself was a habit he had picked up over years of being regularly alone. The shack was a ruin, but he knew better than to try to enter. The place was warded with the nastiest traps and spells Tom Riddle had known at sixteen. While not as formidable as other places he had protected, his prodigious abilities ensured that most normal wizards or witches would have been facing a deadly challenge. For Vulpine, who had stolen the passphrase that Voldemort had installed, it was easy. He walked up to the lopsided door, still with a desiccated snake hanging from it.
"~ Speak to me, Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four~" he hissed. Voldemort was many things, but especially he had a complex about being of Slytherin blood ,and he wasn't particularly imaginative. The second pause in that phrase made all the difference. Vulpine shifted slightly, wanting to be able to get away quickly in case the spell was keyed to blood or voice or some such cleverness. However, all that happened was the snake slowly, painfully twisting its head to look at him. Vulpine shivered inwardly. The creature seemed to have been afflicted by a variation on the Inferius spell, more of a guardian type, and to someone who had studied the darker side of magic there was a frigid feeling about it. The Parseltongue response from it seemed rasping, somehow pained.
"~ What do you wish, Speaker? ~"
"~I command that you grant me entrance to the place within, that I may retrieve my treasure~" Vulpine hissed, using the phrase Tom Riddle had put in place. Arrogant git. Still, if it worked, Vulpine wouldn't complain. The snake paused long enough to make Vulpine worry, then spoke again.
"~Granted~" it hissed, before settling back into the still silence of death. The door swung open, but Vulpine didn't step through. Rather, he Transfigured a rock into a small rodent and sent it through first, to check that there were not more devious wards. Taking deserving risks was one thing. Getting burnt to a crisp because of a lack of caution was quite another. When nothing happened to the rat- Vulpine was perversely disappointed, it looked a lot like Wormtail- he stepped into the shack, wrinkling his nose at the squalor. He knew that it had been empty ever since Morfin Gaunt had been sent to Azkaban, years ago, but it was still in a vile state. At least there didn't seem to be many traps on the building itself. The door and the box contain the Horcrux, Vulpine thought as he picked his way across the floor. Luckily his self- made wand wouldn't register as underage magic, so he was free to do whatever he wanted. As such, he simply used the cursed fire he was fond of to carefully burn away the floor around the box before levitating the box itself out of the hole and studying it with a critical eye.
"Hmm. Not much…a Charm to reduce willpower and resistance to compulsions…very clever, Tom. Masked by the burning trap, eh? And then the poor sod who was affected by the first charm see the ring, gets overcome by the compulsion and dies a slow and agonising death from decaying curse. I take back what I said about imagination. Simple, no redundancy, but imaginative."
Carefully, Vulpine used a powerful cutting curse to slice the lid off the box, and levitated out the Ring. It seemed to call to him, sing to him, but his will was not compromised and he ignored it. Vulpine rubbed his chin while he thought on how best to remove the curses, idly wondering if he should grow a goatee when he was old enough. It would certainly add to any villain persona he decided to take on. Eventually, Vulpine decided that he didn't really have a choice. The curses on the Ring had a glaring weakness that showed Riddles relative lack of experience when creating them; they were one use only. Vulpine set the Ring down on the ground, freeing his wand, and Transfigured a bit of rubble into a rat. He watched silently as the rodent sniffed around the Ring, caught by its unmistakeable power, until it slipped its head through the Ring. Much to Vulpine's surprise nothing happened, and he guessed that the rotting curse had been cast to only affect truly living flesh- Transfigured didn't count.
"Damn." Vulpine commented. Most people, he knew, thought he was good at breaking spells and wards. The truth was, he wasn't. He was an assassin, not an assault team. If someone wanted to fort up behind wards and spells, good. They would have to come out eventually. The main way he got through defences was brute force, and he doubted that at this age he could pull that against something created by Voldemort. So it would have to be careful, intricate, fiddly disassembling of the spells. It was a good thing he had natural talent in spell manipulation.
"Three. Hours." Vulpine groaned, leaning back in his armchair while Sirius snickered. The spells on the Ring had been advanced, carefully placed and well anchored. At least Runes hadn't been involved, but the result was that he had returned to the Chamber to find Sirius lazing around, taking stock of all the items he had stolen from Borgin and Burkes. The Hand of Glory lay discarded next to the cursed opal necklace that Vulpine remembered, carefully sealed in a glassy bubble. Ignoring Sirius for the moment, Vulpine had walked in and immediately collapsed in the chair.
"You got the Ring, then?" Sirius asked. Vulpine threw it at him, watching with mild amusement as the Marauder automatically caught it and then panicked.
"All the curses are gone, Padfoot. I see you had a good time in Knockturn Alley?"
Sirius grinned.
"Everyone was out, so I thought I'd take as much as possible. Grabbed it all, Apparated back to the Forest, took the ladder back into here. Easy. I wonder how much we'll be able to get on the black- hah- market for this little lot?"
"It'll probably all end up back in Borgin and Burkes." Vulpine commented. Sirius grinned even wider.
"Harry, if I had a drink, I'd make a toast to that thought."
Chapter done. Reviews always appreciated.