With the news of a potential Horcrux location, Adrian immediately became fully alert.
"When do we leave?" He asked, turning to look directly at the elderly headmaster beside him, searching those blue eyes for any hesitation or doubt.
Just then, as if responding to the unspoken question, Fawkes let out a long, melodious cry from his perch in the corner.
"Now," Dumbledore said simply, already moving toward his phoenix. "And we'd better bring Fawkes's friend along as well—your Ray. We need aerial surveillance to keep watch from above, lest we repeat our previous disastrous mistake at the Crouch house."
Adrian nodded agreement.
What Adrian hadn't anticipated and what proved slightly amusing despite the serious circumstances was that Fawkes could just barely carry Ray's weight during the phoenix's magical transportation.
About two minutes later, after the disorienting sensation of phoenix travel and the accompanying flash of flame, Dumbledore and Adrian appeared on a hillside overlooking Little Hangleton village.
The February cold bit at their exposed skin immediately, and the wind carried the scent of distant rain.
Not far away, perhaps half a mile down the slope, stood the Riddle mansion which had now fallen into disrepair even from this distance.
The manor revealed only a vague, indistinct outline in the thin mist, giving the whole scene a Gothic atmosphere of decay and abandonment.
The two began slowly approaching on foot, while Ray had already taken up his assigned position high in the sky. Its eyes could penetrate any fog or magical concealment, seeing clearly what lay hidden from ground level.
They tramped across the overgrown front yard, pushing through weeds that had grown waist-high in years of neglect. Their boots crushed several piles of dead leaves that released an unsettling, musty smell.
"It's even more dilapidated than I imagined it would be," Adrian spoke softly as he looked up at the mansion.
The front door was completely titled on broken hinges, tilted at an angle that showed it might fall off totally with a strong wind. The window glass was thoroughly shattered.
The wooden boards that should have been nailed across doors and windows to keep out vandals and vagrants had fallen off long ago, lying carelessly thrown aside in the overgrown grass or rotted away to fragments.
The dark window openings gazed like hollow eyes, seeming to watch the intruders.
The main building's central spire had a massive hole punched through it—whether from weather damage or deliberate destruction was impossible to tell. The tower on the east side had completely collapsed into a pile of rubble that spilled across what had once been a lawn.
"The Riddle mansion was built as a Muggle residence," Dumbledore said quietly, his keen eyes scanning for magical signatures. "Tom's father's house. There are no protective spells cast upon it at all—no wards, no charms, nothing to preserve it or keep people away. Pride, perhaps. Or he simply didn't care enough about his father's legacy to bother."
The wide-open door and shattered windows indicated clearly that this place had long been ransacked by thieves and curiosity-seekers, probably even more than once over the decades since the famous murders.
Adrian suspected with growing certainty that even if a Horcrux had originally been hidden here, someone else whether a Death Eater retrieving it on Voldemort's orders or a random thief stumbling on something valuable had already beaten them to it.
The two entered cautiously through the main door while their wands were raised defensively.
The light from Dumbledore's wand suddenly flared up in the darkness, revealing a once-grand entrance hall now covered in thick cobwebs. Spiders scattered at the intrusion of light.
The floorboards creaked disturbingly beneath their feet with each step, the wood was so rotted that it felt like it might collapse completely at any moment, sending them plunging into whatever lay beneath.
Their robes stirred up clouds of dust that had settled over decades, creating choking clouds that danced in the wandlight and forced Adrian to cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve.
He frowned as his gaze swept analytically over the peeling wallpaper and the crooked picture frames still clinging to the walls. Most showed nothing but empty, broken glass, the actual paintings were long ago stolen or rotted away.
This place might once have been genuinely magnificent. But now only decay and oblivion remained.
"A Horcrux wouldn't be hidden in just any random place," Dumbledore's voice echoed through the empty mansion with an eerie tone, bouncing off bare walls. "Tom likes symbolism in his hiding places—he chooses locations connected to his bloodline, his personal history, his past achievements. Each Horcrux placement is meaningful to him."
"So where do we start searching?" Adrian asked, eyeing the multiple doorways leading deeper into the house. "This place must have at least twenty rooms."
"We'll split up to cover more ground efficiently," Dumbledore said, reaching into his robes and producing a transparent bead that glowed faintly.
He tossed it to Adrian, who caught it smoothly. "Take this detection device. If the bead lights up with green glow, it means there are significant remnants of Dark Magic in your vicinity. And Adrian—be extremely careful. Tom may very well have set lethal traps to protect anything valuable, even here."
Adrian nodded seriously, closing his fingers around the bead and focusing his attention on it.
It was a very small object, much like the glass marbles he'd played with as a child in the Muggle world, small enough to fit comfortably in his palm.
Surprisingly, despite its modest appearance, the bead appeared exceptionally pure when examined closely—crystal-clear without any visible impurities or flaws in the glass.
Dumbledore had probably runed some sophisticated detection spell on it.
An hour later, after thorough and increasingly frustrating searching, the two met back in the entrance hall, neither having found anything remotely resembling a Horcrux.
Adrian had walked through almost the entire manor carefully and the small detection bead clutched in his hand had shown absolutely no reaction at all. Not even the faintest flicker.
He was beginning to seriously suspect there was something wrong with Dumbledore's detection bead.
"It seems Tom didn't hide anything of value here after all," Dumbledore said with evident disappointment, stroking his silver beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps he considered his Muggle father's bloodline to be too tainted, to be 'worthy' of safeguarding part of his precious soul..."
He turned toward the door, gesturing for Adrian to follow. "Let's go. Before noon arrives, we have another location we need to check."
The Gaunt shack was located in the larger village of Great Hangleton, roughly four or five miles from Little Hangleton. It was the ancestral home of Tom Riddle's mother, Merope Gaunt.
That was where Dumbledore was heading next, and the symbolism was much stronger. This was Tom's magical heritage, his connection to Salazar Slytherin himself.
Leaving the disappointing Riddle manor behind, the two continued along an overgrown path that had once been a proper road but was now barely distinguishable from the surrounding wilderness.
Under Dumbledore's confident guidance, he'd clearly been here before, probably during his original investigation of Tom Riddle's background, they soon reached their destination.
A small, extremely dilapidated wooden hut stood in a clearing, surrounded by a dense grove of twisted trees that seemed to lean menacingly.
This house was actually structurally better preserved than the Riddle mansion, probably due to magical reinforcement at some point in its history. But the relentless erosion of time and neglect still left it visibly teetering on the brink of final collapse.
The wooden boards forming the walls had turned completely black with age and rot, covered with deep cracks that leaked cold air. The roof tiles were incomplete, leaving gaps that would let in rain and snow.
It still didn't look remotely fit for habitation by any reasonable standard, even desperate squatters would probably choose somewhere else.
Worth particular mention was that there existed a very faint but definitely present magical aura surrounding the property, it was probably a Muggle-Repelling Charm that made non-magical people unconsciously avoid this area.
As soon as Adrian approached within ten feet of the hut's door, the transparent detection bead clutched in his hand suddenly trembled. A barely perceptible pale green light flickered briefly within its depths.
"There's a reaction," He said in a low, tense voice, holding the bead up before Dumbledore so he could see the glow. "Something with Dark Magic is definitely here."
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened with focus. "It seems our luck isn't too bad after all."
To avoid repeating what had happened at Barty Crouch's house, Ray was already circling in the sky above, scanning the surrounding area for any approaching threats or magical disturbances.
Dumbledore approached the door and pushed it gently, testing for traps or resistance. It opened very easily, almost too easily, which immediately put both of them on guard.
"Creak—"
The sound of old hinges was unnaturally loud in the silence.
A smell powerfully mixed with mildew, decades of accumulated dust, and some kind of rotting organic matter, possibly dead animals that had crawled inside to die, rushed at them through the opening.
The stench was so overwhelming that Adrian held his breath, fighting the urge to vomit.
Inside was even darker than they'd imagined, more like a cave than a dwelling. Only a few narrow rays of weak winter sunlight leaked in through cracks in the boarded windows and gaps between wall planks.
Naturally, one couldn't expect such an ancient, abandoned house to have working oil lamps or even candles, anything useful had been taken or rotted away decades ago.
Adrian waved his wand in a smooth arc, and a point of light shot up to hover near the ceiling, illuminating the entire room interior with brightness.
He looked around carefully.
Broken furniture was piled messily in the corner: a three-legged table lying on its side, an overturned chair with one arm missing, and a rust-covered iron pot that had probably been used for cooking before the family's final fall into complete poverty.
The small fireplace was filled with ancient ash that might not have been disturbed in fifty years. On the crumbling mantelpiece sat several bundles of dried herbs that had long since lost any magical properties they might once have possessed.
"Someone's been here," Adrian said softly, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Recently, relatively speaking."
On the dust-covered floor at his feet, a blurred footprint outline was faintly visible near the entrance. Its edges were already quite faded by new dust settling, but it was definitely there.
"At least half a year ago, possibly longer," Adrian judged. "Adult male based on size, but smaller than yours, Professor. Maybe a size eight or nine by Muggle standards."
Dumbledore bent down to examine the print more closely, his expression became increasingly thoughtful. "Very likely one of Tom's followers visiting on his orders.... I think we've come to the right place, Adrian—"
Just then, cutting off whatever else he might have said, the detection bead in Adrian's hand began to vibrate violently. The green light suddenly intensified, glowing bright enough to be almost blinding, nearly piercing through his fingers where he gripped it.
Both of them looked up simultaneously, following the direction the light indicated: in the narrow gaps between the old bricks above the fireplace, there was a faint but definitely unnatural glint. Something reflective was hidden there.
"Stay where you are," Dumbledore said softly.
He gripped the Elder Wand firmly in his hand and began slowly approaching the fireplace.
Adrian also drew his wand fully, holding it ready in a defensive grip, every sense alert to prevent any special circumstances or sudden attacks.
There were no special circumstances.
No curses activated, no traps sprung, no deadly spells erupted from the hidden object.
Dumbledore very easily retrieved the object from between the bricks with a simple Summoning Charm, encountering no obstruction or Dark Magic resistance at all. It came to his hand as docilely as a pet bird.
Which was deeply suspicious in itself. Voldemort always protected his Horcruxes.
Dumbledore stood completely still in place, his eyes staring absently at the item now resting in his palm.
Adrian moved closer to observe and discovered that lying quietly in Dumbledore's hand was an ancient golden ring with a crude, primitive design.
Set prominently in the ring's face was a large black gemstone that gleamed with an ominous, oily light.
[Name: Marvolo Gaunt's Ring]
[Status: An evil soul is attached to it. Immediate distance is strongly advised.]
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