A Dance Through Thyme [Harry Potter]

There are no strangers here; only friends you haven't met. An unknown man sends Hermione back to the Marauder's Era as revenge, however, the consequences are far more disastrous than what even he imagines when Hermione loses her memory of the past. Why did that man do this to her, and what secrets will be spilled? Who is the guilty party?

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39. Chapter 35: Die Mission Part 4

Part 4: Dumbledore

Surprisingly, the shack was still standing when Dumbledore arrived. The bottom of his robes skimmed across the floor, sweeping the dust that was left there by years of abandonment. It was clear that no witch or wizard had wanted to put a toe near the place once Morfin Gaunt had died. Not that anyone ever had gone near the place anyway. Morfin Gaunt and his father Marvolo were not the most social of beings; and their tendency towards violence and abuse turned people away at an alarming rate.

Dumbledore’s boot kicked at an empty glass bottle. It rolled away, removed from his path.

It would not take long to search for the place where it was hidden for there was not much furniture left. The room hummed of magic.

Marvolo and Morfinn may have had minds so dull that they were barely passable as human, but they did know dark magic when they needed it. If this was a horcrux, then Voldemort himself would have only added to the enchantments.

With his wand in one hand, the other was outstretched, feeling the various surfaces. His fingertips hardly made any contact at all with the surfaces, but his face was set with concentration.

Hermione had warned him of the possibilities that lay ahead, and he trusted her word. Mostly.

She had told him not to be tempted by the resurrection stone.

‘There is no spell to reawaken the dead, Albus,’ she had repeated, staring straight into his eyes. It had become annoying and monotonous.

Surely there would be some way to overpower the magic already placed on it. Magic always left signs. There was always a counter-curse.

‘Not if you’re dead,’ said a small voice inside Dumbledore’s head. He put away the voice of reason. One of the benefits of having a spacious and insatiable mind was that there were many pockets to place information, including that which you chose to ignore.

Holding his hand up to the open air, he felt it for any changes; if there were any twinges that might make the ring more obvious.

From what seemed to be his heart, he felt an incredible, indescribable pull towards an old wooden dresser. Dust lay thickly on it, and any china that happened to be left had been smashed into tiny pieces.

Mice droppings lay in small piles, and Dumbledore seemed to amuse himself by likening the dark lumps to raisins. What would Ariana and his mother think if they were summoned to a place that looked like this?

Mother would want to clean it immediately. She wasn’t the kind of person who could stand any kind of squalor or filth.

Ariana, on the other hand, would take great pleasure out of trying to find the mice that left the droppings in the first place. She would hold them gently in her hand, stroking their soft ears, quietly scolding them as they tried to run away.

But first he must find the ring. The ring would solve all their problems.

Hermione could have the horcrux, and he could have the stone.  It must have been what Hermione was planning all along. Surely, she could not expect him to pass up this kind of opportunity.

The dresser was still in its place, untouched as it had been for many years. Dumbledore was magnetised towards it. Unable to turn away, he reached for one of the drawers. Pulling it open, he was disappointed to find that it was empty. Perhaps it was the next drawer.

This one required a bit more effort. Years of damp weather alternating with blistering heat and swelled and retracted the wood, warping it and making it difficult to remove from its allocated slot.

By rattling the brass handle, and pulling at its sides, Dumbledore finally managed to prise it open. Yet again, this one was empty.

There was only one drawer left in the dresser. It would have to be in this one.

Not bothering to fight with the furniture any longer, Dumbledore used his wand to remove the drawer from its place. Even standing several feet away, he could see a faint green glow emanating from it in the darkness of the room.

The heels of his boots echoed across the shack as he stepped towards the ring.

After years of searching, it would finally be his. He could apologise to Mother and to Ariana. It would bring him closer to Aberforth, and all would finally be right in the world.

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