The Serpents Path
Harry stood beside her, staring down the main road, his face unreadable. "It's strange," he murmured. "Being here."
Hermione's heart ached for him. This was his parents' home—the place where everything had changed. Where he'd lost everything. She reached out, squeezing his hand gently.
"We don't have to stay long," she whispered. "Just find what we're looking for and leave."
But Harry shook his head. "No. I want to see it. The house. Where it happened."
"Mate," Ron said quietly, "we can—"
"No," Harry insisted. "I need to. If we're going to be here, I need to see it."
They exchanged uncertain glances, but neither Hermione nor Ron argued. This was something Harry had to do. Something they couldn't deny him.
The three of them walked slowly down the street, wands concealed but close at hand. The village seemed deserted; not a soul stirred in the early morning light. They passed the little church and its graveyard, the iron gates rusted and overgrown. Hermione could see the faint outlines of gravestones just inside, some old and crumbling, others still polished and neat.
And then, up ahead, she saw it: a small, dilapidated cottage, half-hidden behind a low stone wall.
Harry's house.
Or what was left of it.
They stopped in front of the gate, staring at the wreckage. The roof had caved in, and one side of the house was blackened and charred. Ivy crept up the walls, twisting around shattered windows. A faint shimmer of magic hung in the air around the property, a protective charm long since broken.
Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. "This is where it happened," he murmured. "Where Voldemort killed them."
Hermione's throat tightened. She reached out, resting a hand on his arm. "Harry…"
He didn't respond. His gaze was locked on the ruined house, eyes distant and haunted. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, pushing the gate open. It swung inward with a low creak, the sound almost deafening in the stillness.
"We shouldn't," Hermione said softly, but Harry ignored her. He walked up the overgrown path, stopping just in front of the broken doorway.
"Hermione's right," Ron muttered, his eyes darting around. "We should be looking for the Horcrux, not—"
But Harry turned, cutting him off. "What if it's here?" he asked fiercely. "What if that's why they sent the note? To bring me here, because it's been here all along?"
Ron looked doubtful, but Hermione's mind was already racing. It could be possible. Voldemort hiding something here—right under their noses—would be the cruelest irony of all.
She joined Harry by the doorway, raising her wand. "We should at least check," she murmured. "There might be something we're missing."
Harry nodded, his expression tense. "If there's a Horcrux here, we'll find it."
They stepped inside the house together, the floorboards creaking beneath their feet. Dust and cobwebs coated every surface, the air thick with age and decay. Hermione scanned the room, her wand casting a faint glow. There was something off about the place—a lingering darkness that made her skin prickle.
"Do you feel that?" she whispered.
Ron frowned. "Yeah. Like… like we're being watched."
Hermione shivered, glancing around. The shadows seemed to shift and twist, closing in around them. She tightened her grip on her wand, heart racing. They needed to be quick. Whatever was here, they had to find it fast—
And then she heard it.
A faint, hissing whisper, curling through the air like smoke.
"Follow… the snake…"
Hermione froze, her blood turning to ice. The voice was barely audible, almost swallowed by the silence, but it was there—slithering and sinister.
"Harry," she breathed. "Did you hear that?"
He nodded slowly, eyes wide. "Yeah. I did."
"What the bloody hell—" Ron began, but Hermione silenced him with a sharp gesture.
"Follow the snake," she repeated, her voice trembling. "That's what the voice in Harry's dream said. It—it must mean something."
"But what snake?" Ron demanded, glancing around wildly. "I don't see any—"
Then, suddenly, the floor beneath them shifted, the boards groaning. A long, thin crack snaked across the ground, winding its way through the dust and dirt. It twisted and curled, forming a shape—a shape that looked disturbingly like…
"A serpent," Hermione whispered.
Harry's gaze sharpened. "It's a sign," he murmured. "It's leading us somewhere."
They exchanged a look, hearts pounding in unison.
"Then let's follow it," Hermione said, steeling herself.
With a deep breath, they took the first step forward, following the trail of the serpent deeper into the darkness of the ruined house.
And as they descended, the air around them seemed to whisper with a promise of danger.
The cracked floorboards groaned underfoot as Harry, Hermione, and Ron moved cautiously through the ruins of the Potter house. Every step sent small clouds of dust swirling into the stagnant air. The twisting trail of the snake wound deeper into the remnants of the home, leading them through what had once been a cozy living room and into a narrow, half-collapsed hallway. It was hard to believe this place had once been filled with life and laughter, that Harry had taken his first steps here. Now it felt like a mausoleum—a graveyard of broken dreams.
"Stay close," Harry murmured, his eyes fixed on the serpent-shaped crack in the floorboards. It glistened faintly, almost as if the wood itself was weeping.
Ron swallowed audibly, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting Death Eaters to burst through the shattered windows at any moment. "I'm not liking this," he muttered. "That voice—did it sound like—?"
"Parseltongue," Hermione finished grimly. "Yes. It's a message meant for Harry. Only he can hear it."
Harry's grip on his wand tightened. "It wants us to go down," he said quietly, pointing at the end of the hallway. The crack disappeared beneath a heavy wooden trapdoor, its edges worn and splintered. He could feel something tugging at him from below—a faint, malevolent pulse, like a heartbeat echoing in the earth.
"We shouldn't," Ron said, shaking his head. "This is mad. It's practically begging us to walk into a trap."
"Maybe," Harry admitted. "But if there's even a chance that a Horcrux is down there…"
Hermione didn't say anything. She just looked at him, her expression torn between fear and resolve. They had no way of knowing what lay beneath that trapdoor, but there was no turning back now. Not when they were this close.
"Lumos," she whispered, and her wand tip flared with a soft, silvery glow.
The light spilled over the edges of the trapdoor, revealing a rusted iron ring embedded in the wood. Harry reached out and grasped it, wincing as splinters bit into his fingers. He glanced back at his friends, took a deep breath, and heaved.
With a low, mournful creak, the trapdoor swung open.
A dark, yawning hole gaped beneath them, exhaling a gust of cold, stale air that smelled of damp earth and decay. The walls of the passage were lined with rough stone, slick with moss and something darker. A narrow, winding staircase spiraled down into the blackness, disappearing into the gloom.
"Brilliant," Ron muttered, peering into the abyss. "Down we go into the creepy, cursed basement. Because that'salwaysa good idea."
Hermione shot him a sharp look. "No one's forcing you to come."
"Yes, well, leaving you two to handle this alone would be bloody stupid, wouldn't it?" he grumbled, but his tone was more resigned than annoyed.
Harry gave them both a small, grateful smile. "Thanks," he said softly. Then, gripping his wand tightly, he stepped onto the first step.
The staircase creaked ominously, but it held. Harry descended slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. Hermione and Ron followed close behind, their wands casting twin beams of light that cut through the suffocating darkness.
As they went deeper, the air grew colder, sharper. The oppressive weight of magic pressed down on them, thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe. Harry could feel it vibrating through the stone, whispering just beyond the edge of hearing. There was something down here—something ancient and angry.
The staircase ended in a narrow passageway, the walls lined with roots that twisted and coiled like serpents. The floor was packed with dirt, uneven and slick with moisture. Harry held his wand aloft, straining to see what lay ahead.
And then he saw it.
At the end of the passageway, half-buried in the earth, stood a small, crumbling altar.
It was carved from black stone, worn smooth by time and neglect. Symbols and runes were etched into its surface, their meanings obscured by centuries of grime. And resting atop the altar, nestled in a bed of twisted roots, was a small, delicate cup.
Hermione gasped softly. "Is that—?"
"The locket," Harry whispered, his throat tight.. The locket gleamed faintly in the light of their wands, its golden surface unmarred by the filth around it.
A Horcrux.
"We found it," Ron breathed, staring at the necklace with wide eyes. "Bloody hell, we actually found it."
Harry stepped forward, his heart hammering in his chest. He could feel the cup's power, radiating like a malevolent star. The air around it seemed to shimmer and warp, distorting the space between them. He had to fight the urge to reach out, to touch it—
"No!" Hermione snapped, grabbing his arm. "Don't—don't touch it. We don't know what kind of protections it has."
Harry nodded shakily, forcing himself to step back. "You're right. We need to be out of here before anyone traces us."
But before they could do anything else, a low laugh filled the air.
"Too late for that," a voice whispered, echoing through the chamber.
They spun around, wands raised—but there was no one there. Only shadows, shifting and coiling like smoke. The laughter grew louder, sharper, and then—
A figure emerged from the darkness.
Tall and thin, draped in black robes, his face obscured by a silver mask.
"A Death Eater," Ron breathed, his grip on his wand tightening.
The figure tilted its head, the mask gleaming in the dim light. "Very good, Weasley," it murmured. The voice was even, smooth, and strangely familiar..
Harry glared in the direction of the voice, his eyes blazing with fury. But Hermione knew exactly who it was. She, Ron and harry all had their wands up.
"Theo Nott?" she questioned
The figure chuckled softly. "You always were perceptive, granger," Theo said, stepping forward. The mask vanished, melting away to reveal his pale, angular face his dark brown curls framing his face. His eyes were dark and unreadable, glinting with humor. The trio lifted their wands even higher at the sight of him.
"Surprised to see me," Theo asked simply. "Don't worry granger, I haven't switched sides, I am still trying my best to stay out of it. Bloody hell potter, put your wand down! I just wanted to check on you all, make sure you were on the right track. I overheard some things about this place, that the snake was there to guide Voldemort back to the places of the "sacred objects. Apparently only someone bound to this place by blood or is the Dark lord himself can remove the Horcrux without triggering the curses that protect it. I just wanted to make sure Weasel didn't set the jinxes and protective wards"
"Hey!" responded Ron, his face turning a bright red.
Harry froze, his breath catching in his throat. "Bound by—"
"Your mother sacrifice preserved and generated a very special type of blood magic." Theo explained
"Her magic supersedes you-know-who, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "Her blood still sanctifies this ground. Only you—her son—can take the locket without being destroyed by her or Voldemort's protections"
"Ten points to Gryffindor" Theo responded "Now, take the locket and leave. Before it's too late."
But as Harry reached out, trembling fingers inches from the golden surface, a horrible, familiar voice filled the chamber—a voice that sent ice shooting through their veins.
"Too late, indeed, Mr. Nott."
And from the shadows, a figure stepped forward—a figure with red eyes gleaming like molten rubies, his pale face twisted into a triumphant smile.
Lord Voldemort had arrived.
"Run!" Harry shouted, his voice echoing in the cramped chamber.
But there was no time. Before they could react, a blinding flash of green light exploded in front of them, and the air filled with the acrid smell of dark magic. Ron grabbed Harry, yanking him back as the altar burst into flames, a dark, oily fire that surged and twisted like a living thing. The Horcrux—the locket with RAB etched into it—began to pulse violently, radiating waves of malevolent energy that sent shudders through the earth beneath their feet. Harry reached for the locket, not willing to sacrifice it when they had gotten so far.
"Go, go, go!" Ron bellowed, pushing Harry toward the staircase.
But Hermione was frozen, her eyes wide with horror as the figure of Voldemort moved closer. His gaze swept over her with a cruel, serpentine smile.
"And what have we here?" he murmured softly. "A Mudblood, daring to desecrate my sanctuary." His voice was almost gentle, but it was laced with poison. He raised his wand lazily, pointing it directly at her chest.
"Hermione, no!" Harry screamed, but his voice was drowned out by a high-pitched crack. A thin, silvery rope of magic shot from Voldemort's wand, winding around Hermione like a snake. She gasped, struggling desperately, but the ropes only tightened, binding her arms to her sides and forcing her to her knees.
"Crucio," Voldemort whispered.
The effect was instantaneous. Hermione screamed—a raw, agonizing sound that tore through the chamber. Her body convulsed, eyes squeezed shut in pain, as the curse twisted and burned through her veins. Harry lunged forward, but Theo's hand clamped down on his shoulder, holding him back.
"You can't help her!" Theo hissed, his face pale and drawn. "If you go after him now, he'll kill you both—"
"Getoffme!" Harry roared, wrenching himself free.
But before he could take another step, a deafeningcrackechoed through the room. Hermione's body was jerked upright, yanked into the air as if by an invisible hook. Voldemort's lips curled into a triumphant smile.
"Let's see how brave you are when I take away the only one who believes in you, Potter," he said softly. And then, with a flick of his wand, both he and Hermione vanished in a swirl of black smoke.
They had the locket but they had lost her.