Disclaimer – It has come to my attention recently that I unfortunately do not own Harry Potter. Who knew.
Well I want to start off by saying that while I may have said it before (and I reserve the right to say it again) this collection of days might be my favorite! To everyone planning on celebrating I AM _ Day, I wish you an enjoyable holiday and to my understanding it is a day about positive affirmations which I feel that in general most people could use especially when they are having a bad day. So no matter who you are or what your truth is enjoy I Am _ day. Of course I also might not exactly be understanding the day as it is new so there is that haha. But additionally I hope everyone that had to change the clocks last night managed to survive and don't worry as tomorrow is National Napping Day which has to be in my top 5 of 'national days' that I have discovered so far. And finally to everyone out there who celebrated International Women's Day yesterday I hope however you chose to celebrate or recognize the day you had a memorable time!
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The Great Hall buzzed with the usual evening chatter, plates clinking as students enjoyed their supper. Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, idly pushing a piece of roast potato around on his plate while listening to Ron go on about the upcoming Chudley Cannons Quidditch match. However, Harry was barely paying attention to his food and having trouble focusing on what Ron was saying, his mind occupied with upcoming events. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at the Head Table.
Professor Dumbledore had risen from his seat, his expression calm as he made his way toward the exit. As he passed by the Gryffindor table, his piercing blue eyes briefly met Harry's, nodding slightly before continuing on his way. The gesture was subtle, but Harry understood.
Harry understood immediately.
"I'll see you later," he said quietly, pushing his plate away as he stood.
Ron blinked, swallowing a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "Where are you going?"
"Dumbledore stuff," Harry replied vaguely.
Hermione shot him a look of concern, but she didn't protest. She simply gave a small nod, and with that, Harry turned and left the Great Hall.
As he strode out into the Entrance Hall, he remained oblivious to the eyes that had not left him since he stood up. Unlike any of the others in the Great Hall who had seen Harry stand up, this person didn't just return to their meal after watching him leave. Instead, they set their goblet down carefully, wiped their mouth with precision, and stood up as well. Their departure was quiet, almost unnoticed, before they slipping through the doors after him.
Meanwhile, in the entrance hall, Harry fell into step beside Dumbledore, who didn't slow down. The castle doors loomed ahead, the crisp February air seeping through the cracks.
"Are you ready, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his voice low but kind.
Harry nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. Let's go."
Dumbledore smiled slightly, then gestured forward. "We will head to the edge of Hogwarts' wards before Apparating."
Harry nodded again, following the Headmaster out of the castle's doors and down the stone steps into the darkened grounds. The air was crisp and cool, and the stars shimmered above them, the half-moon casting pale light over the frost-covered grass. Their footsteps crunched softly against the frozen earth as they made their way past Hagrid's hut, toward the unseen boundary where Hogwarts' defenses ended.
Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the Marauder's Map, his thumb brushing over the worn parchment. He tapped it with his wand and muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,", before watching the ink blossomed across the surface, revealing the castle's many winding halls and moving staircases. He quickly scanned the layout, checking for anything suspicious.
Several names had left the Great Hall— including Barty Crouch Jr., though he wasn't moving in their direction—but no one appeared to be following them.
Satisfied, he murmured, "Mischief managed," and tucked the map back into his robes.
Harry exhaled softly, folding the map and slipping it back into his robes. "All clear," he muttered, more to himself than Dumbledore.
Unbeknownst to him, as they approached the last few yards before the wards, a lone figure stood by a second-floor window of the castle. Their silhouette was dark against the dim glow of the torches.
Their wand raised, movement precise.
A single, whispered spell.
A thin wisp of silver light shot toward Harry, moving with such speed and subtlety that even in the open night, it remained unnoticed.
The Tracking Charm hit Harry's robes just moments before he and Dumbledore vanished with a sharp crack.
- HP - SC - HP - SC - HP - SC - HP - SC - HP -
A sharp crack echoed into the night, then faded into silence.
Harry and Dumbledore stood at the edge of a narrow, overgrown path, the air around them thick with an eerie stillness. A low mist curled over the ground, weaving through the gnarled trees and brittle grass. A dilapidated shack loomed some distance ahead, its broken structure even more run down than Harry remembered from the memory he had once seen.
Dumbledore adjusted his cloak and peered around, his wand subtly raised, scanning for any threats. "It is always wise to Apparate at a distance when dealing with places connected to Lord Voldemort. He is quite fond of protective measures, after all."
Harry nodded, glancing around as well. Though his scar wasn't burning, an uneasy feeling settled in his chest.
As they started down the path, Dumbledore continued in a conversational tone.
"I must say, Harry, I am not surprised that Tom would have chose to leave something here," he mused. "He was deeply connected to his past, even if he despised it. Despite his efforts to separate himself from his heritage, he could never truly let go of the places or things that made him … well, him."
Harry listened with half an ear, his attention suddenly caught by something further down the road.
Through the misty darkness, looming above the rest of the village, stood an enormous house. Its high windows were like black. The Riddle Manor.
A shiver ran down Harry's spine. He knew, with a sickening certainty, that Voldemort was there right now. The Dark Lord was likely plotting, if not his return then no doubt planning the very war Harry was trying to prevent.
The sight of it—knowing how close he was—filled Harry with an unsettling feeling anger.
He forced himself to look away, returning his focus to the path ahead.
Dumbledore, unaware of Harry's distraction, finished his thought.
"You see, an old acquaintance of mine once told me a rather fascinating story regarding the Gaunt family," he said, chuckling softly. "But I suppose I will have to save that tale for another time."
He turned to Harry with a small, knowing smile. "We should get this done before our absences are noticed."
Harry gave a quick nod, shaking off his unease. He focused on what mattered—the Horcrux.
They moved toward the shack, its warped wooden door hanging from one rusted hinge. As they neared, Dumbledore placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder, his expression serious.
"Despite my decision to allow you to accompany me, I must be clear about something," he said. "You are to stay out of the way and not put yourself in unnecessary danger. Am I understood?"
Harry hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He had no intention of rushing into trouble tonight—not when he knew firsthand just how dangerous Voldemort's traps could be.
Dumbledore studied him for a moment before nodding in satisfaction. Then, his expression lightened slightly. "Well in that case … what is that Muggle phrase? Ah, yes—I believe it is, 'Let's get this show on the road.'"
Harry smirked despite himself.
They turned to the shack, stepping closer.
Harry took a cautious step forward, intending to cross the threshold, but Dumbledore's arm shot out, stopping him.
"I don't think we should enter just yet," Dumbledore murmured. His sharp blue eyes scanned the doorway, and with a flick of his wand, he began weaving intricate patterns in the air. Soft golden light shimmered briefly before fading into the darkness.
Harry watched in silence as Dumbledore performed a second set of diagnostic spells, each one leaving behind a faint magical residue before disappearing. After a few moments, the old wizard exhaled and shook his head.
"Curious," he said, mostly to himself. Then he turned to Harry. "I cannot be entirely certain, but I believe there is a rather powerful blood-draining curse tied to this doorway—one that activates if someone without Gaunt blood attempts to enter without permission."
Harry frowned, glancing at the weathered door. "That sounds … unpleasant."
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, waving his wand again while muttering softly in Latin. Another shimmer of light rippled across the entrance. Finally, after a moment, he nodded. "Yes, I do believe that is correct and I believe this curse predates Tom by several years."
Harry's mind raced. Blood curses weren't common, but from what he could remember they were extremely dangerous. The Gaunts had been obsessed with their bloodline, so it made sense that they would ward their home against outsiders.
"Can we just remove it?" Harry asked. "Or do we need to find another way in?"
Dumbledore paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Then he smiled. "Ah, if only it were that simple. Removing the curse would take some time, and unfortunately, it seems to have been more recently paired with an alarm spell that would trigger if an attempt is made to remove the curse."
Harry stiffened. "An alarm spell?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. And while I am not certain who or what it would alert, I have a distinct feeling that I would prefer not to find out."
Harry felt his stomach twist. If Voldemort had set up an alert, then tampering with the spell could very well summon Death Eaters. Or worse.
"Unfortunately," Dumbledore continued, "these types of alarms are notoriously tricky to remove or modify. More often than not, an attempt to dispel them results in them being triggered instead."
Harry sighed. "So we can't get rid of this curse?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he suddenly smiled. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. You see, rather than remove the spell, we could simply … adjust it."
Harry blinked. "Adjust it?"
Dumbledore raised his wand and pointed it at the doorframe, his expression one of concentration. His lips moved as he muttered an intricate Latin incantation under his breath, the words flowing together in a near-musical cadence.
A faint ripple of magic pulsed outward from the door, like a heartbeat.
Harry watched as the wood of the door darkened for a moment, then returned to normal.
Dumbledore lowered his wand and turned to Harry with a pleased smile.
"And that," he said, "should do it."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "What exactly did you just do?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement. "I have inverted the spell."
Harry blinked. "You … what?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "Rather than trigger the curse when someone without Gaunt blood enters, it will now trigger only if someone with Gaunt blood enters."
Harry's eyes widened as realization hit him.
"Wait—does that mean …?"
Dumbledore's smile widened. "Precisely, my dear boy. If Lord Voldemort ever sets foot in this house again, the curse will be activated against him."
Harry let out a low whistle. "That's… brilliant."
Dumbledore's smile became more subdued. "Brilliant, yes, but not foolproof. While I have no doubt that him entering would trigger the curse, I do not doubt that if he ever does come here, he will likely recognize what has happened immediately and know the counter-curse to undo it."
Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "So, at best, we can surprise him?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. And in war, my boy, even the smallest surprises can change the course of fate."
The thought of Voldemort unknowingly walking into his own blood-draining curse made Harry smirk despite himself.
Dumbledore's expression turned serious once more. "Now, let us see if my enchantment worked as intended. I will go in first to ensure the spell was reversed properly."
Harry nodded, stepping back.
Dumbledore took a slow breath, then crossed the threshold.
The air seemed to hum for a moment as he stepped inside. Harry held his breath, watching carefully.
Dumbledore paused, glanced down at himself, then turned and smiled. "No worries," he said lightly. "Other than a brief tingle, it seems I still have all my blood."
Harry snorted, shaking his head.
Dumbledore gestured him inside. "Come along, Harry. We have work to do."
Harry took one last glance at the darkened landscape behind him before stepping over the threshold into the building.
The shack creaked ominously as he entered. Dust floated in the air, illuminated by the soft glow given off from Dumbledore's wand. The room smelled of decay and something far darker.
Despite himself, Harry felt a chill creep up his spine.
Dumbledore scanned the room with a critical eye. "Be on guard, Harry. If Voldemort left a Horcrux here, he would not have done so without adequate protection."
Harry swallowed and nodded.
"We need to start searching," Dumbledore said, his wand illuminating the decrepit interior. "Who knows where the ring is hidden?"
Harry nodded, glancing around. Voldemort was meticulous—he wouldn't have left the Horcrux out in the open. It was likely buried, hidden with layers of enchantments, despite the fact that Harry knew it was cursed.
With that thought in mind, the two began their search.
The next hour was slow, methodical. They combed through the shack, checking every rotting floorboard, every cracked stone. Dumbledore's wandwork was precise, scanning for wards and enchantments as he carefully prodded at potential hiding spots. Harry worked alongside him, occasionally stopping to wipe the sweat from his brow as frustration built.
Then, at last, Dumbledore came to a stop in front of a room at the very back of the shack.
"It's in here," he said.
Harry turned, stepping toward him. "Are you sure?"
Dumbledore nodded, his wand raised. "There is … something about this space. I can feel the dark magic."
He waved his wand, running another diagnostic spell. Nothing immediately revealed itself.
"No visible traps on the door," Dumbledore muttered. "Let's proceed, but cautiously."
Harry followed as the headmaster stepped inside. The room was small, its corners thick with cobwebs, the floor covered in dirt and debris. At first, there was nothing unusual—just another abandoned space in a forgotten home.
Then, without warning, the ground rippled.
Harry tensed as three rings suddenly burst out of the floor, floating midair at chest level, their polished surfaces gleaming faintly in the dim light.
His heart pounded.
His eyes flicked to Dumbledore, who looked just as surprised.
"That's … unexpected," the headmaster murmured.
Harry turned back to the rings. Each one was different, adorned with gemstones and intricate engravings, but most importantly none of them looked familiar.
Confused, he opened his mouth to tell Dumbledore that none of these were the item that they were looking for, but before he could say anything, he caught sight of Dumbledore shaking his head and smiling slightly.
Harry frowned. "What?"
Instead of answering, Dumbledore raised his wand and cast a spell. A glamor charm dissolved before Harry's eyes.
The beautiful rings shimmered, their elegance vanishing.
In their place, three sickly black rings hovered ominously, their surfaces pulsating with a dark aura.
Harry felt his stomach drop.
Dumbledore glanced at him, his expression grave. "Had we put on any of these rings, I believe it would have resulted in an unfortunately very slow and painful death."
Harry shivered. "Were they—?"
"Cursed, of course," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly. With a flick of his wand, he banished them across the room, sending them clattering into the far corner, away from their path.
"Decoys," Dumbledore continued. "Not unexpected, but still a rather devious trap. Voldemort has always been fond of ensuring unnecessary suffering."
Harry swallowed hard. "So the real one …"
Dumbledore had already turned, his gaze fixed on a far wall. He flicked his wand once more, and a pile of debris lifted and scattered as if swept away by an invisible force.
From beneath the ruined mess, something began to rise.
Harry tensed as a single ring slowly floated up, hovering just like the cursed decoys. But this one was different.
And Harry recognized it immediately.
His breath caught in his throat. "That's the one."
Dumbledore looked at him, his eyes narrowing slightly. He studied Harry for a moment, then nodded.
"Yes," he murmured. "That is indeed the Horcrux."
The headmaster reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, ornate box, preparing to seal the cursed ring inside.
However, as he took a step forward—
His hand slowly dropped to his side.
The box hung limply from his fingers, forgotten.
His other hand started reaching forward, fingers twitching toward the ring, drawn to it as if by an unseen force.
Harry's heart skipped a beat.
"Stop!" Harry shouted.
The sharpness in his voice seemed to break the spell.
Dumbledore flinched and snapped back to reality, his eyes darting to Harry in momentary confusion.
Harry stared at him, his pulse pounding. "You were going to touch it. I'm guessing there was a compulsion charm on it."
Dumbledore hesitated, then exhaled deeply as he looked back to the ring. "Ah," he said, his voice softer. "Yes … I see now. That was … rather unsettling." He turned fully back to Harry, his expression grateful. "Thank you, my boy. That could have been disastrous."
He shook his head, seeming to steady himself.
Then he turned back toward the ring.
This time, he was more cautious. He raised the box again—but as he got within a few paces of the ring, he suddenly froze once more.
His eyes widened. His breath caught.
He whispered, "The Resurrection Stone."
Harry's stomach twisted in dread.
Dumbledore was staring at the ring as if he had seen a ghost.
And then—his hand fell limp again.
However, this time the box slipped from his grasp, landing on the floor with a soft thud.
Harry's panic spiked.
Dumbledore's lips moved, his voice barely above a whisper.
"… Ariana …"
His fingers stretched toward the ring, trembling.
"Professor!" Harry called urgently.
But this time, his voice had no effect.
Dumbledore kept reaching, lost in something unseen, trapped in the spell's relentless pull.
Harry's mind raced. He had no time—no other choice.
His wand flicked up in a split second.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
A bright blue light erupted from Harry's wand, striking Dumbledore in the side.
The headmaster's entire body locked up, his limbs snapping rigid as he froze in place.
Then, with nothing to catch himself—
Dumbledore toppled sideways, landing face-first onto the wooden floor with a solid thud.
A sharp pang of guilt hit Harry, but he ignored it.
He cautiously stepped forward, wand still raised, eyes darting between the ring and the now-frozen Dumbledore.
The headmaster's face was locked in a look of shock, his hand still reaching out towards the cursed object.
Harry exhaled shakily.
That had been too close.
He took a deep breath, calming himself.
Then, carefully, he bent down and retrieved the fallen box.
He turned to the ring, its blackened surface practically pulsating with temptation.
Swallowing hard, Harry took a slow step forward.
Now, it was his turn to finish what they had started.
And make sure Dumbledore didn't suffer Voldemort's curse.
Harry exhaled, his breath unsteady as he took a step forward. His heart still pounded from the sight of Dumbledore frozen on the floor, but he pushed his emotions aside. He needed to finish this.
"I'm sorry, Professor," he murmured under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped over the headmaster.
And that's when it started.
At first, it was just a faint murmur, like the rustling of leaves in the wind.
Then the whispers grew louder.
Harry froze, his breath catching as his ears picked up indistinct voices, soft and insidious, speaking so quietly that he couldn't quite understand.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block them out.
Ignore it. It's just part of a curse.
But the whispers didn't stop.
They changed.
They became familiar.
"Harry ..."
His eyes snapped open.
The voice was his mother's.
A chill ran down his spine. He took an unconscious step forward.
"Harry, we need to talk to you," his father's voice echoed softly, filled with warmth. "We've missed you."
His breath hitched. He could feel his body trembling, but not from fear.
They sounded so real.
"We never got to know you, love," his mother whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Just reach out … just for a second …"
His fingers twitched.
Somewhere in his mind, logic screamed at him to stop, to step away, to remember that this was exactly what the Voldemort wanted.
But another part of him—the desperate, lonely part—ached to listen.
Before he realized it, his fingers holding the box slackened and it slipped from his grasp.
He heard the dull clink as it hit the ground, but it sounded far away, as if coming from a different world.
His hand reached forward towards the ring.
His parents' voices grew stronger.
"That's it, Harry … just a little closer ..."
A warm sensation flooded through him, like he was being pulled into a gentle embrace. His vision tunneled. The room, the shack, the mission—all of it faded into insignificance.
"Come to us, son."
His fingertips were inches from the ring.
Then—
A sharp, clear voice sliced through the haze.
"Don't touch the ring!"
Harry flinched.
The warmth vanished instantly, replaced by a cold dread.
He blinked, his vision sharpening for just a second.
Who had spoken?
His body trembled as he tried to turn his head, tried to look away from the ring.
But the voices—his parents—grew more desperate.
"Don't listen to them, sweetheart—just take the ring! Just for a second, we promise!"
His fingers stretched out again, ignoring the voice that had warned him.
And then—
"Depulso!"
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bright streak of magic fly past his outstretched hand.
It slammed into the ring.
But instead of the ring being flung away—
The spell reflected.
The magic rebounded off the ring's surface, twisting midair—
And shot straight at Harry.
His eyes widened.
He barely had time to realize what had happened before the spell slammed into his chest.
Pain exploded through his ribs as he was flung backward like a ragdoll. His body hit the far wall hard, and he felt the breath rip from his lungs.
The impact made the whole shack shudder, dust and debris raining down around him.
His vision blurred. His head swam with pain.
He barely registered the sensation of collapsing onto the floor, his limbs numb.
Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard hurried footsteps, the sound of someone rushing toward him.
His eyelids fluttered. His body felt too heavy to move.
But as his vision darkened, he managed to lift his head just enough to see—
Someone dropping to the ground beside him.
Someone he recognized.
His sluggish mind struggled to process what he was seeing.
"What … are you doing here …?" he slurred, his voice weak.
The figure leaned closer, worry evident in their expression.
And then—
Everything went black.
Kind Regards,
FavoriteAuthor
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Story Note 1 –Well we can probably rule out BCJ but who was that?! Hermione, Fleur, Ron, … Kreacher? Talk about a last minute save! Whew!
Story Note 2 – Other than what was a pretty dramatic save from a person that will be revealed next chapter
Author Note 1 - I might have exciting new to reveal next week. Still trying to finalize some details but looking forward to sharing!
Thanks to those of you out to those of you who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you enjoy them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or reach out to me directly.
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BioHazard82, DarkRavie, Guest x 4, HudyLeak613, - Thanks so much for the feedback and I really hope you continue to enjoy the story as it progresses!
Hands Off MY Wolfie - Which I guess would be a pretty acceptable consolation prize. And I really agree Flitwick is such an enjoyable character to read (and write).
KYKid942 - That is such welcome feedback. Thanks! Glad you are enjoying them!
Abstract01 - Well hopefully everything continues to proceed well. Everyone knows that when things are going well for too long ... that's when you need to worry ...
cmfisher - Glad you are enjoying the National Days it makes me smile to come up with that part!