Chapter 20

31st of August 199
Gringotts

"Honestly, Weasley, did you even watch the last Quidditch match? The Cannons were absolutely abysmal," Amadeus McCarthy drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. They were sitting in the Human Only employee room at Gringotts, a room that managed to be both ostentatious and oppressively drab. The polished mahogany table and leather chairs contrasted sharply with the faint, musty odor of neglected grandeur.

Bill Weasley forced a polite smile, hiding his irritation. He had graduated from Hogwarts two years ago and had spent eighteen grueling months apprenticing with a respected curse-breaking firm before being recruited by Gringotts. Now, in the final stretch of his six-month tryout period, he was under the mentorship of Amadeus, a senior curse-breaker whose arrogance was as grating as nails on a chalkboard.

"They've had better games," Bill replied, his tone carefully neutral.

Amadeus scoffed, swirling his coffee with an air of exaggerated disdain. "Better games? They'd need a miracle to play worse. You youngsters always find a way to romanticize mediocrity."

Bill clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck tightening. Working with Amadeus was like navigating a field of dragon dung while wearing polished shoes. He loved the job, but Amadeus was an insufferable cunt.

Before Bill could respond, the door swung open, and a goblin entered, his sharp eyes glinting with a mixture of annoyance and authority. "Weasley, McCarthy," he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the tension.

"There's a job for you."

Amadeus's demeanor shifted instantly, his condescending smirk replaced by a predatory grin. "What sort of job?" he asked, practically salivating at the prospect.

"A standard retrieval," the goblin replied, his tone professional. "The client wishes to recover an object, something buried under a shack, an artefact he believes is under magical protection and possibly cursed. The legal department has confirmed it—the client purchased the property a few days ago and is the legal owner. No issues on that front."

Amadeus leaned back in his chair, his arrogance returning. "Piece of cake. We'll have it done in no time. Watch and learn, Weasley."

Bill managed a tight-lipped smile, bracing himself for the inevitable mess he'd have to clean up. The goblin's hesitation, however, did not escape his notice.

"There is one thing," the goblin added slowly. "While the job seems straightforward, the client is... well, let's just say you'll see."

Amadeus waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. A job is a job."

The goblin's thin lips curved into a knowing smile. "As you say."

They followed the goblin through a series of winding corridors, each more labyrinthine than the last. The walls of Gringotts were adorned with intricate mosaics of goblin history, their craftsmanship both impressive and intimidating. The torches flickered with an eerie green flame, casting long, shifting shadows that danced across the polished marble floors.

Eventually, they reached a small chamber where a tarnished silver goblet sat on a pedestal. The goblin gestured to it. "Your portkey."

Bill and Amadeus placed their hands on the goblet, and a moment later, they were yanked into the familiar whirlwind of portkey travel. They landed with a jarring thud in front of a dilapidated shack that looked like it had been abandoned for decades. The wooden structure was leaning precariously, its windows shattered and overgrown with ivy. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and decay.

As Bill dusted himself off, he noticed a figure approaching. His eyes widened in surprise. "Remus?"

Remus Lupin looked as though he hadn't slept in days. His cheap suit was tattered, and a crude drawing of a dick adorned his face, evidently done while he was unaware. Despite his haggard appearance, he managed a tired smile. "Hello, Bill. Fancy meeting you here."

Amadeus, however, sneered at Lupin. "And who might you be?" he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

Remus blinked, clearly oblivious to the drawing on his face. "I'm the client. Well, I'm with him"

Amadeus puffed out his chest, not listening to the end of the sentence, his arrogance palpable. "Well, you're in luck. I'm Amadeus McCarthy, the best curse breaker Gringotts has to offer - the best in England, truly. Just stand back and watch a master at work."

Before Remus could respond, a voice from behind them interjected. "Ah, confidence is always a pleasure to witness."

Amadeus turned, ready to bask in more adulation, but his face went from smug to startled in an instant. "Albus... Albus Fucking Dumbledore?"

Standing before them was none other than Albus Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Dressed like a dapper mob boss, his long silver beard flowed elegantly, and his tailored suit gave him an air of charming menace. He looked like he might offer you an unrefusable deal, possibly involving unicorns. Beside him stood Mad-Eye Moody, his magical eye whizzing around like a hyperactive clockwork toy, taking in everything with suspicion and curiosity. His other eye fixed sternly on the group, as if daring anyone to step out of line.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, his tone cordial. "It seems I am the client in need of your services, Mr. McCarthy. And I must say, I am delighted to learn that Gringotts has sent me the best curse breaker in the world, according to your own glowing review."

Amadeus's bravado crumbled. "Well, I... that is... of course, Professor Dumbledore. I did not mean…"

Dumbledore turned his attention to Bill, giving him a warm smile. "Bill, it's good to see you again. I'm glad you're here. We have quite the task ahead of us."

Suddenly, Moody bellowed, "Constant Vigilance!" and transformed into a wooden statue. The real Moody burst out from behind a bush behind Bill and Amadeus, hurling two red spells at them. Bill barely managed to cast a Protego, which shattered under the force. He ducked just in time, while Amadeus crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Bloody useless tosser!" Moody roared, striding over to Amadeus. "Can't even dodge a simple Stunner! Useless as a troll in a tutu! I've seen flobberworms with more spine, you pitiful excuse for a wizard!" He peppered Amadeus with a barrage of diagnostic spells, grumbling all the while. "If you're a Death Eater, then I'm a blasted garden gnome!"

After verifying that Amadeus wasn't an impostor, Moody revived him with a sharp jab of his wand. Amadeus jolted awake, screaming, "Mummy, help!" before realizing what he'd said. His face flushed crimson as he scrambled to his feet, spluttering incoherently.

Meanwhile, Bill turned to Dumbledore, trying to hide his amusement. "Headmaster, what exactly is the job, and why did you need us? With you and Moody here, I mean, you two could probably out-curse-break any team in England."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with chaotic amusement. "Ah, Bill, some questions are best answered with a bit of mystery. Or a song! But I won't sing. Not today. We are here to investigate this place." He gestured grandly to the dilapidated shack. "This is the Gaunt Shack."

Bill's brow furrowed. "Gaunt... an old pureblood family, right?"

"Indeed!" Dumbledore nodded, almost too enthusiastically. "Their lineage is steeped in history and, sadly, dark magic. Follow me! Unless you'd rather lead? No? Very well."

They entered the shack, the air thick with the scent of mildew and decay. The interior was a chaos of broken furniture and peeling wallpaper. Dumbledore led them to a hidden trapdoor, revealing a staircase that descended into darkness.

As they descended, the atmosphere grew cooler and more oppressive. The faint glow of runes etched into the stone walls cast an eerie light. Dumbledore's whimsical demeanor seemed almost out of place in such a setting.

"This," Dumbledore said, his voice echoing softly, "is where the real challenge lies. We need to break the curses protecting what lies beneath. It's a task that requires not just skill, but a certain finesse—something I believe you possess, Bill."

Before Bill could respond, Amadeus, still looking disheveled, interjected. "Obviously. I can handle this in my sleep."

Moody snorted. "You couldn't handle a pixie in your sleep, you blithering idiot. The only thing you're good for is making me wish I'd retired early."

Amadeus grumbled, his face darkening as he glared at Moody. With a huff, he turned to Bill. "Let's get to work," he muttered. Despite his arrogance, Bill had to admit that Amadeus was competent. They began dismantling the hidden wards, each one a complex weave of ancient magic.

Behind them, Dumbledore sat cross-legged on the floor, pulling out an array of absurd snacks from his robes: a live goldfish in a bowl, a single oversized blueberry, a slice of moldy cheese, and even a miniature cauldron of bubbling, bright pink stew. He munched contentedly, offering cheerful and completely irrelevant commentary. "Ah, Bill, that rune reminds me of a puzzle I once solved in 1923 involving a pineapple and a very angry chimera."

Meanwhile, Moody was grilling Remus Lupin like a detective in an old noir film. "So, Lupin, what have you been doing these last few years? Any odd jobs?"

Remus, looking even more haggard under Moody's scrutiny, replied, "A bit of this and that, Alastor. Tutoring, manual labor, and bouncer…"

Moody's magical eye whizzed around manically. "And what do you eat for breakfast? Ever had polio as a child?"

Remus blinked, clearly bewildered. "Porridge, mostly. And no, never had polio."

Hours passed as Bill and Amadeus painstakingly worked through the layers of wards. The room grew colder with each dispelled rune, the air thick with an oppressive, dark energy. Finally, they reached the heart of the enchantments: a golden box, gleaming unnaturally.

Amadeus's bravado had vanished, replaced with a rare seriousness. He frowned, feeling the raw power of the curse emanating from the box. "This... this is something else," he muttered. "I can feel the curse, Bill. It's powerful."

With cautious determination, Amadeus reached out and slowly opened the lid. Inside lay a beautiful ring, its gemstone catching the light and casting eerie reflections around the room. Bill felt an inexplicable urge to put it on, a compulsion gnawing at his very soul.

He was about to slip the ring onto his finger when a sudden jolt of clarity hit him. "No!" he shouted, shaking himself free of the enchantment's grip. "It's cursed!"

But it was too late. Amadeus, driven by his own curiosity and arrogance, had already slipped the ring onto his finger. His scream was one of pure agony as his hand began to rot and decay before their eyes. The flesh blackened and shriveled, a sickening stench filling the room. The rot spread rapidly, veins turning black and skin sloughing off in gruesome chunks.

In a desperate display of quick thinking, Bill cast a severing charm, amputating Amadeus's arm in one swift motion. The severed limb fell to the floor with a wet thud, but the curse was relentless. The rot continued its merciless march, consuming Amadeus's body. His eyes bulged, his screams turning to gurgles as his throat decomposed. Within moments, he was reduced to a lifeless, rotting corpse, his face frozen in a twisted mask of horror.

Bill stumbled back, his face pale, shock and revulsion etched into his features. Moody, ever the pragmatist, was already examining the remains with a professional detachment. "Damn fool," he muttered. "Should've been more careful."

Moody then added, almost casually, "Quite competent for a low-level Death Eater."

Bill's eyes widened in shock. "What?"

Moody, with a grim look, disintegrated the remnants of Amadeus's shirt with a flick of his staff. There, on the corpse's forearm, was the unmistakable mark: the Dark Mark.

Bill's confusion deepened. "How... How could this be?"

He turned to Dumbledore, desperate for answers. "Is that why you needed the curse-breaking team? To take out a Death Eater?"

Dumbledore, still focused on the ring and waving his wand over it with deep concentration, didn't respond immediately. After a few moments, his expression turned puzzled.

Finally, Dumbledore glanced at Bill, speaking with a hint of distraction. "No, Bill, that was merely an unexpected benefit. What I really wanted was to test you, before offering you a job."

Bill's eyes widened in shock and surprise. A job offer? From Albus Fucking Dumbledore himself? He nearly yelled his acceptance before catching himself. Instead, he managed to say, "I'm very flattered, Professor. What exactly is the job?"

Dumbledore smiled mysteriously. "All in good time, Bill. I'll explain everything to you a bit later. Unfortunately, I need to deal with this ring first. Perhaps we could meet at the Burrow tomorrow morning? The first day of the month seems fitting, doesn't it?"

Bill nodded, excitement and apprehension bubbling inside him. He was about to leave when curiosity gnawed at him. "Professor, what exactly was that ring?"

As soon as he asked, he felt a wave of regret. Moody had drawn his staff again, his magical eye fixed on Bill with intense scrutiny. Bill gulped, feeling the weight of Moody's gaze.

Dumbledore made a pacifying gesture, and Moody scowled but lowered his staff. "It's quite alright, Alastor," Dumbledore said calmly. He turned back to Bill, his expression serious. "The ring was one of the Horcruxes of Lord Voldemort."

Bill felt as though the ground had dropped out from under him. L…Lord Voldemort ?!

"A…Horcrux?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

Dumbledore nodded. "A Horcrux is an object in which a wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of their…soul, let's say for simplicity's sake, making them effectively immortal."

Bill's mind raced, shock and horror intertwining. "So... this means You-Kn... Voldemort is still alive?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Yes, it does. But this particular Horcrux is no longer active. That is what perplexes me."

Bill's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, Professor?"

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with a mix of intrigue and concern. "The ring 'ate' the Horcrux—the soul fragment within it. Almost sentiently, it has disguised itself as one. Truly intriguing…Well, do not worry about it. I'll take care of it. We will discuss your potential role further tomorrow, Bill. For now, rest. You've proven yourself admirably today."

And he disappeared in a flash of fire, letting Bill alone with Alastor fucking Moody and a known werewolf with a dick drawn on his face.