Chapter 2: Snatching the Ring
Disclaimer and Explanations please see chapter 1.
~oOo~
Last time in Shattered Illusions of Safety, A Close Call:
Just as he was about to tap the box to open it, his head jerked up and around in the direction of the door: the second protection charm shrilled in his mind. It had seemed so improbable, yet there was no doubt:
Dumbledore himself was approaching the shack.
~.~
Anger, confusion, fear and dread flooded over the Dark Lord. How in Salazar´s name had Dumbledore found out about Voldemort´s relations to the long dead Gaunt family? There was no doubt the headmaster had walked straight from the lane towards the Gaunt cottage, with no hesitation whatsoever. He must have already known where it was located. How was that possible?
Voldemort was utterly shocked, filled with fury and relieved at the same time. Well, that was close, too close. Had Harry not told him today about the prophesy, the chamber of secrets and the diary, had he not left Malfoy Manor shortly after hearing the distressing news, who knows what might have happened.
Perhaps his protections would have been sufficient, perhaps not. Some of Harry´s incredible luck seemed to have transferred to him for a change. Thanks to Hecate, the Morrighan, Salazar, or whoever had watched over him today!
He forced his raging emotions behind his Occlumency shields and focused back on the small box, hissing {Open} and tapping it with his wand. The lock clicked and the lid sprang open.
There the ancient heirloom lay on a bed of green silk, untarnished and all right. He felt profound relief wash over him and resisted the urge to pick up the ring at once. Quickly he breathed {Close}, the lid snapped down, the lock clicked shut again. Voldemort conjured a large, black silk handkerchief and carefully wrapped the box inside, without touching the wood with his bare fingers, because he remembered that he had prepared the box so that poisoned needles would jump out as soon as a human hand touched the wood. On top of that, the ring itself was well protected, with a deadly dark curse that activated instantly if anybody besides Voldemort himself tried to wear it on his hand.
Stuffing the now safe box in a deep pocket of his black robes, he waved his wand over the wall so that the stone slid back into its normal position with a low grinding noise. After taking a few steps back, he cast the protection curses again. Should anyone gain entry, he or she would be welcome to snoop around until they triggered the curses and paid with their lives. Nobody had any business to enter here save Voldemort.
Quickly walking over to the side of the narrow window besides the front door, he peered outside. There he was, the greatest meddler of the age, sporting garish purple brocade robes with a curly neon pink pattern. Was the old man completely daft, wearing clothes like that so close to a muggle village? Dumbledore was staring straight at the Gaunt cottage, swishing his wand around, murmuring incantation after incantation of diagnostic charms. He was trying to figure out the wards.
Voldemort felt conflicted. Should he attack Dumbledore? He was still under the disillusionment charm, and it looked like Dumbledore could not see or sense him. Well this was a significant advantage. The old wizard might suspect another wizard to be inside the house or nearby or that he had already left, if he had felt that searching spell, but the way the old man was casting increasingly advanced detection and unlocking spells upon the bushes and brambles before him... he seemed very preoccupied.
Of course, there was always the possibility that the cunning, manipulative Phoenix leader wished to create just this impression, that he was so vulnerable, easy prey for an attacker... to provoke the other wizard into an attack and then to spring some trap.
Before the disaster at the Ministry last month and his talk with Harry today about the prophesy and the diary, Voldemort would not have considered to hold back at all. He would have been so sure of his powers. He would have reacted impulsively, let his rage and fear about the possible discovery and destruction of his precious Horcrux lead him into an all out fight, like his fury over the loss of the prophesy had at the Ministry last month.
However, acting like that had led to his downfall fifteen years back.
It might be better to avoid this confrontation for now, instead to Apparate at once to the cave and check upon the locket. After all, that was much more important than fighting with Dumbledore today. Besides, Harry and the Lestrangers would be so disappointed if they never got their chance on revenge, if he killed the headmaster now... and he looked forward to see them playing with the puppet master.
The dark wizard could not get the smirk of his face, as he cast a silencing spell on his feet and the creaky door hinges. He slipped out the door in complete silence and locked the door again. He stood only some twenty feet from the Leader of the Light, who seemed completely unaware that any second a curse could hit him right in the face.
Fascinating, utterly remarkable; Voldemort felt very proud of his wards and smirked, again. This proved the superiority of the Dark Arts in another way. Dumbledore was such a fool!
Dumbledore had not made much progress according to his mutterings. The old man walked slowly to the side, turned, then walked a few feet back and moved forwards slowly, while holding out his left hand. He carefully moved it from left to right, as if attempting to touch the image of the bushes, while the right hand firmly held the wand. Aha, he had finally found the right spot, the smoky nothingness. He must now feel the overwhelming need to turn around and leave by now, so close to the cottage. What would the old wizard try now?
Dumbledore sighted and spoke under his breath in a disdainful tone, "Surely not. Oh Tom. Maybe you require some payment for entrance?"
Suddenly he pulled out a short knife and slashed his left forearm open. Scarlet drops dripped upon the nettles and brambles; he flicked his hand to fling some blood at the bushes in front of the shack. The old wizard stood there, poised, waiting. However, nothing happened, no gateway opened up as Dumbledore obviously had expected. He pocketed the knife again.
This greatly amused Voldemort on the one hand, on the other hand, it distressed and enraged him, because this was exactly the way to open up the entrance protecting his cave. There a sacrifice of fresh blood to the stonewall was required indeed.
Had the old man already discovered the cave and the locket? What a dreadful possibility!
Voldemort slunk a few steps to the left into the deep shadow at the outer edge of the wards beside a tall, dark tree that stood very close to the shack.
Still no visible reaction from Dumbledore, who was busy healing his forearm with his wand at this very moment. Then Voldemort concentrated on his Parseltongue passwords. Whispering them as low as possible, he stepped through the triple layers of concealment wards.
He was well hidden from Dumbledore in the tree´s shadow, still under the Disillusionment Charm. Swiftly he stepped around the tree, voice-less casting a dark spell on the weeds in front of the shack, transfiguring them into a kind of Devils Snare, urging them to grow rapidly, to pull down and strangle the magical person closest to them. For good measure, he added 'Serpensortia'. This attack would of course not kill a wizard of Dumbledore´s abilities; but it would suffice to distract and annoy him for a moment.
Dumbledore detected a movement out of the corner of his right eye combined with a faint whisper and whipped around at once, wand raised ready for battle. He conjured a shield around himself, just in case a Death Eater, who was here on watch duty, should fling a dark curse at him from behind the tree.
Suddenly Dumbledore noticed the rapidly blackening brambles and nettles around him, changing into Devils Snares, which actually attempted to trip and overwhelm him! One of the stinging nettles tried to wrestle his wand out of his hand, what impertinence!
Something else moved rapidly on the ground, shooting towards him under the twisting, changing foliage, some animal, some – large snake, a Cobra! Dumbledore jumped back with astonishing agility for such an ancient wizard.
"You`re too late, old man!" Voldemort mocked in that moment, before he spun around and Disapparated.
Dumbledore let out an angry cry of downright frustration. Then he swished his wand around him, conjuring a fiery whip to burn the aggressive undergrowth that tore his fine purple brocade robe to shreds. He quickly got rid of the Cobra that had sunk its fangs into his dragon hide boot, (lucky for him that he had chosen to wear these extra high boots today) before he Disapparated back to Hogwarts; nursing his wounded pride and contemplating the day's events in the comfort of his office.
How had Tom known he would search the old Gaunt cottage today? Had there been some ward to warn Tom, that Dumbledore had involuntary triggered, when he had approached the place Bob Ogden had described? Alternatively, was this encounter simply an unfortunate coincidence? Dumbledore had taken great care to keep his research of Tom´s past and the Horcruxes a secret; he had not spoken with Severus about this on purpose, lest Tom learn anything from the spy.
What kind of dark wards had Tom erected around the Gaunt shack that he, the greatest wizard of this age, could not penetrate?
Why had Tom not attacked in earnest, instead chosen to only taunt him and then Disapparated away?
The bowl of Sherbet lemons on the headmaster's desk held no answers at all to his questions.
~ TBC ~