"O starless night! Thy loveliness my soul inhales. Without those starry rays which speak a language known. For I desire the dark, the naked and the lone."

Obsession. Les Fleurs du mal. Charles Baudelaire.

I

As Hermione descended the stone steps, she experienced a mix of awe and fear. Her gaze was fixated on the ancient stone archway below, where a torn black veil hung, gently fluttering despite the absence of any wind in the room. Regina Rowle, the Head Unspeakable, approached her with a serious tone. "Miss Granger, your academic achievements have been exceptional. The Death Chamber will be your primary focus."

The ethereal portal seemed to possess a strange vitality. It emitted sounds and seemed to beckon the young witch closer. It exuded a dark and intriguing aura, as if it desired to draw her in. Unable to resist her curiosity, Hermione inquired, "Is the Veil akin to a gateway between the realm of the living and the world of the dead?"

Regina nodded gravely, fully aware of the significance of this task. "Indeed. Your role will involve unraveling the magic that sustains the Veil and discovering its purpose. It appears to function as a barrier, preventing passage between the two realms."

As Hermione absorbed Regina's words, a shiver ran down her spine. The Death Chamber possessed immense power, but it was also perilous. Throughout the wizarding world, magicians harbored fear of the chamber, having heard tales of whispers emanating from within, tempting those who lingered too long by the Veil.

"Exercise caution," Rowle warned, her expression filled with concern. "The Death Chamber is treacherous. The voices of the deceased grow louder when living beings attempt to communicate with them. Prolonged gazing at the portal may even ignite a desire to step through it."

Taking a deep breath, the young witch felt a surge of determination. "I understand, Unspeakable Rowle. I will remain vigilant and cautious within the Death Chamber."

Regina offered an encouraging smile and placed a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I have faith in you, Miss Granger. Your intelligence and bravery will guide us towards the answers we seek."

As the weeks passed, Hermione's fascination with the mysteries of the Veil deepened. She eagerly anticipated continuing her research. However, one morning, she received an urgent message from Ahmed Shafiq, the recently appointed Chief Warlock.

Entering Shafiq's opulent office, the witch couldn't help but feel nervous. The room was adorned with lavish decorations and furniture. Ahmed himself exuded power from behind his imposing desk, his gaze unwavering and serious.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself, Hermione reminded herself not to be swayed by Shafiq's prejudices, especially considering his family's disdain for Muggles and Muggle-borns. She refused to let his bias undermine her confidence.

Ahmed reclined in his chair, scrutinizing her closely. "Granger, do you comprehend the gravity of this situation?"

She nodded firmly. "Yes, your Honor. I am aware that a Muggle has been murdered, and there are indications of dark magic involvement."

Shafiq sneered with disdain. "Correct. The incident exhibits clear traces of dark magic, and we cannot ignore it. We require someone to investigate and neutralize this threat, and that someone is you, Granger."

Panic surged through Hermione as she desperately searched for a way to convince the Chief Warlock otherwise. "Sir, with all due respect, my expertise lies more in Charms and Curses. Shouldn't the Department of Magical Law Enforcement handle this matter?"

Anger flashed in Shafiq's eyes, and he spoke with a condescending tone. "Do not question my authority, girl. I am the one who makes the decisions. You will comply, or bid farewell to your internship."

Undeterred, Hermione maintained her composure and clenched her jaw. She understood that she needed to prove herself to retain her internship. With unwavering resolve, she responded, "Very well, sir. I will undertake this assignment and exert my utmost effort to solve it."

Hermione detected a glimmer of begrudging respect in Ahmed's eyes. "Ensure that you do, Granger. The reputation of the Department of Mysteries and the Ministry itself is at stake."

With that, the witch left Shafiq's office, filled with determination and frustration. She knew that this assignment would push her to her limits and test her skills.

The following day, Hermione set off on a tiring and lengthy trip to Little Hangleton. She began by boarding a train in London that would take her to Little Whinging. After that, she endured a two-hour carriage ride. Eventually, the carriage came to a halt, and the witch breathed in the crisp country air. She couldn't help but be amazed by the charming cottages and narrow streets of the village, which appeared to be frozen in a different era.

One particular pub named "The Hanged Man" caught Hermione's attention. It appeared inviting, making her believe it would be a suitable place to begin her investigation. Upon opening the aged wooden door, she was greeted by the aroma of ale and the lively buzz of conversations.

At the bar, she ordered fish and chips and struck up a conversation with Agatha Sanders, the pub's proprietor. "Agatha," she began, "I'm conducting an investigation into the death of Frank Bryce. Do you have any information?"

Agatha glanced around cautiously before leaning in and whispering, "I've heard some things, dear. They say they discovered a body in the Riddle House. It has been vacant since the entire family perished."

Intrigued, the witch inquired if anyone had witnessed or heard anything peculiar surrounding Frank's demise. Agatha pondered for a moment, attentively cleaning a glass with a cloth. "You know how people love to gossip? Well, they've been saying some pretty wild things about the manor. Apparently, they've heard all sorts of spooky sounds like screams and footsteps, but no one can actually prove it. And there are even stories about creepy figures hanging around the graveyard after dark. But who can say for sure if any of it's real or just their wild imagination?"

Hermione absorbed the information, nodding thoughtfully. It became evident that this case was more complex than she initially anticipated. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Harry Potter entered, his cloak billowing behind him.

"Hey, 'Mione, it's been too long! We should spend more time together," Harry said, his tone tinged with nostalgia.

The witch sighed, feeling a mixture of awe and frustration. "I know, Harry. It's just... life has become complicated," she replied, her voice laced with sadness.

Harry looked puzzled. "Complicated? In what way?"

Hermione paused, gathering her thoughts. She decided to confide in him about her tumultuous personal life. "You remember how close we were, right? You, Ron, and me. We were inseparable."

Harry nodded, reminiscing about their past adventures. "Of course, I remember. We were like family."

Pain flickered in her eyes as she continued. "Yes, we were. But things changed. After Ron and I got engaged, everything fell apart. I caught him in our apartment with Lavender Brown, in our bed. It was a betrayal I couldn't forgive."

Harry gasped, taken aback by the revelation. "Oh my, 'Mione, I had no idea. That's... terrible."

Feeling a mix of anguish and determination, Hermione nodded. "It truly was. Ron was always so jealous and controlling, and this was the final straw. His family, especially Molly, tried to blame me, saying I didn't give him enough attention because of my studies. But I couldn't remain in such a toxic relationship."

With sympathy and compassion, the wizard stared at her. "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve any of that. You deserve to be happy."

A faint smile appeared on Hermione's face as she met his gaze. "Thank you, Harry. Your words mean a lot. After learning Alchemy from Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel, I pursued further studies in Salem. Since then, my internship with the Department of Mysteries has consumed most of my time, making it challenging to catch up."

He gently touched her hand. "I understand, 'Mione. Sometimes life takes us on different paths. But remember, I'm here for you. I've missed you."

Leaving the pub behind, Harry began sharing the grim details of Frank Bryce's death. As they walked through the dimly lit streets, his voice conveyed concern.

"Frank Bryce served in the First World War," he said in a hushed tone. "Upon returning to Little Hangleton, he worked as the gardener for the ill-fated Riddle family."

Hermione's curiosity intensified with each passing word. She had heard rumors regarding the mysterious deaths of the Riddles. "But wasn't Frank Bryce considered a suspect in their murders?" she asked softly.

Harry nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "Yes, he was a suspect. The authorities questioned him, but he was never charged. He resided in a small cottage near the Little Hangleton graveyard."

As they turned a corner, the moonlight cast an eerie glow on the cobblestones. The wizard continued, his tone filled with both horror and fascination. "A week ago, Bryce was found dead in the Riddle House. The muggle authorities couldn't ascertain the cause of his death, just as they couldn't with the Riddles. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is currently investigating, suspecting it might be another attack by Grindelwald's followers."

Hermione shuddered, feeling the cold night air send a chill down her spine. "Grindelwald's followers? But wasn't he imprisoned in Nurmengard?"

The witch listened attentively as Harry affirmed her question. "Yes, he is incarcerated, but many of his followers are still at large, hiding in various parts of Europe. The concern is that they continue to carry out his malevolent acts."

As they approached the crime scene, Harry's tone turned serious. "Frank's body was truly horrifying. He appeared shriveled like a mummy, and his face was twisted in terror. It was as if dark magic had drained the life out of him."

Hermione, trying to make sense of the situation, inquired, "Were there any clues found?" Harry whispered back, "They discovered a broken ring and a blood-stained book near him. Nothing else." Intrigued and concerned, she declared, "I must see it for myself. Take me there." The wizard expressed his gratitude with a smile, saying, "I knew you'd say that. Come on, 'Mione. The Riddle House awaits."

Leaving the village, Riddle House stood atop a hill, exhibiting boarded-up windows and a deteriorating roof. The passage of time was evident as ivy covered its crumbling walls. Hermione's spine tingled at the sight of the manor.

"The manor... it's so eerie." Harry solemnly nodded, "It used to belong to the affluent Riddle family, who were muggles. Now, it's just a damp, crumbling ruin." The witch's thoughts drifted to the dark past of the building. "Tom... the heir of the Riddle fortune, was enchanted by Merope Gaunt, who bore his child. But when the spell wore off, he abandoned her and their child."

Harry sighed sadly. "Merope died during childbirth, and no one knows what happened to the baby. The Gaunts, the last descendants of Salazar Slytherin, resided near Little Hangleton. They were a violent, impoverished family." A pang of sympathy for those affected by the troubles of the Riddle Manor struck Hermione.

"And Morfin Gaunt, Merope's brother, cursed Tom Riddle for his sister's love. That led to his imprisonment in Azkaban." The dreadful history and tragedy within the house weighed heavily on her. "This place is so disturbing, Harry." He concurred, his gaze scanning the mansion. "I agree. Whatever occurred here, it still haunts this place."

The manor loomed before them, its eerie presence magnified by the moonlight. Neglect had taken its toll on the old walls and broken windows, leaving the building in a dilapidated state. The shadows surrounding it seemed to whisper of the terrible events that had transpired within.

Hermione felt a chill run down her spine as they approached the foreboding structure. She glanced at Harry, who displayed determination rather than fear. "This is the place," she murmured softly, careful not to disturb the silence. The wizard nodded, peering into the dark interior.

As they traversed the narrow hallway, their footsteps echoed through the empty house. The air was thick with dust and cobwebs, carrying a scent of decay. Upon entering the drawing room, Hermione was shocked by the sight that greeted her. Frank Bryce's lifeless body lay near the fireplace, a stark contrast to the room's previous elegance.

His eyes stared into nothingness, wide open, bearing witness to the horrendous crime that had taken place there. The witch swiftly employed spells to search for any traces of dark magic. "There's nothing truly amiss here, except for this book and this ring" she remarked, pointing to a torn tome and a peculiar band on a table.

"They emit a dark and malevolent energy." Hermione sighed, retrieving her ward box and carefully placing the cursed objects inside. "Poor Frank Bryce," she said sorrowfully. "There's nothing more we can do for him now." She looked at Harry and added, "We must secure this place as soon as possible to prevent further harm."