The sky above Gaunt Manor was covered with gray clouds, like the memory of a fading dream. In the library, the silence was absolute, broken only by the faint scratching of a quill on parchment.
Aurelian was not writing, nor was he reading. He was simply thinking, his eyes fixed on the symbol he had seen before.
A triangle. A circle. A straight line.
The Deathly Hallows.
The words resonated with a different weight now.
"The Elder Wand... is with Dumbledore. He must have claimed it when he defeated Grindelwald. According to the canon, that's how it should be. Besides, no one has been able to match him in a duel since then."
His gaze drifted toward a bookshelf, as if he could see beyond the stone walls.
"The Cloak of Invisibility must also be in Dumbledore's possession, after obtaining it from James Potter. He will surely return it to Harry in his first year..."
He closed his eyes and sighed.
But it wasn't the wand or the cloak that mattered to him.
It was the third one.
"The Resurrection Stone."
There was no doubt in his mind. He knew exactly where to look for it.
The Gaunt family ring. The one his father stole from his uncle Morfin. The one he also turned into a Horcrux.
Now, if his calculations were correct, it was there. Waiting among the dust and history of a broken family.
Aurelian clenched his fists.
"I don't want to resurrect the dead. I'm not that foolish."
His voice was barely a whisper, but it was firm.
"But if there's a chance to see her... even if it's just once. To hear her voice. To know what she was like beyond the few memories I have... I can't ignore it."
The idea of seeing Elaine Harper, his mother, even if it was an illusion, a fleeting projection of magic.
"What would you say to her? That her son remembers her, even though he never knew her? That he grew up alone? That he thinks about her from time to time?"
He stood up.
That summer would no longer be just for rest or training.
There was a path he had to follow. A truth he wanted to know and see with his own eyes.
He was going to find that ring and talk to his mother.
Aurelian walked through the silent corridors of Gaunt Manor. His mind was working overtime, organizing every step, every variable. Observe. Anticipate. Control.
He knew the ring would not be unprotected. Not if his father had turned it into a Horcrux.
"I remember the effects... Dumbledore was cursed when he touched it. A dark, ancient, and swift magic. Activated on contact. If my memories serve me right, the curse is still active, waiting for its next victim."
Aurelian stopped in front of a window. Outside, the wind gently rustled the treetops of the nearby forest. The ring was in the cabin, and he was going to retrieve it. But he would not be reckless.
He was not the one who would touch the ring.
He summoned Stinky with a snap of his fingers. The elf appeared immediately, bowing his head.
"Did you call me master?"
Aurelian watched him for a few seconds before speaking, his tone neutral, as if requesting a routine report.
"I need you to find a vagrant. Just one. Someone no one will miss, someone no one will look for if they disappear. Bring them here."
Stinky looked up for a moment, confused.
"A... vagrant, master? For what purpose?"
"That's not important to you," Aurelian said calmly. "But he must have no family, no history. A piece of trash. There are enough of those in the world, aren't there?"
The elf swallowed, his ears twitching slightly, but he did not argue.
"As you wish, Master Aurelian."
He disappeared with a slight pop.
Alone again, Aurelian crossed his arms. He felt no remorse. He couldn't afford that luxury.
"The magical world despises the weak. The Muggle world ignores them. I won't do anything worse than what life has already done to them."
He looked at his reflection in the windowpane. What he saw reminded him of his father. Not in his face, but in his determination.
"This isn't cruelty," he murmured. "It's just doing what's necessary to achieve my goals," he reminded himself.
If he wanted to survive what was coming... then he couldn't back down from difficult decisions.
"Let someone else suffer the curse. I'll just watch. I'll analyze, and then... the ring will be mine."
And finally, he would be able to see his mother.
Under the thick canopy of trees, Aurelian waited at the edge of the path leading to Gaunt's Cabin. The forest seemed to hold its breath. The air was damp, even the sounds of the forest seemed muffled, as if something older and darker claimed this place.
Then, with a slight pop, Stinky appeared beside him.
"I brought him, master," the elf announced in a low voice, pointing with a trembling bow to the man behind him.
He was a human wreck: dirty, hunched over, his clothes barely holding together. The vagrant's eyes were red from alcohol or some drug; he was like a dog without a will. Aurelian knew instantly that he would serve.
"Well done, Stinky," he said coldly. "You may leave now. Do not intervene, no matter what happens."
The elf hesitated, but nodded and disappeared.
Aurelian turned to the vagrant. He took out his wand.
"I don't want any mistakes."
He pointed at the man.
"Imperius"
The magic flowed smoothly, steadily, without resistance. The man's eyes relaxed even more, his will abandoning him completely. Aurelian smiled.
"Walk," he ordered. "I will guide you."
Under the spell of the forbidden spell, they crossed the threshold of the forest.
The vegetation grew thicker as they advanced, the trees taller, more twisted. Here and there, gnarled roots protruded from the ground like deformed fingers. Aurelian walked behind, attentive to every step, guiding the enchanted man with precision.
The Gaunt Cottage finally emerged from among the trees: a miserable structure, almost swallowed up by the undergrowth, with walls that creaked at the slightest breath of wind. But even in its ruin, it radiated something... rotten.
The air was denser here. Heavier. Almost sticky. The mark of a Horcrux.
"Go in," Aurelian ordered.
Aurelian did not enter. He remained at the door, watching.
The vagrant obeyed, pushing the door open with a sharp squeak.
The interior was covered in dust, cobwebs, and the stench of decay. The vagabond moved forward slowly. His movements were mechanical, empty. His dull eyes scanned the cabin, the remains of a fireplace, the rotten furniture. Then Aurelian guided him:
"The drawer of the table, open it."
Inside, like a jewel buried in the dust of oblivion, lay the ring. The Gaunt seal still glowed faintly beneath the grime, as if patiently awaiting its rediscovery.
The vagabond reached out his hand, and hell broke loose.
Aurelian felt the magical wave instantly. A burst of darkness swept through the room, hissing. A magical screech emerged from the ring, a dissonant note made of hatred and malice.
The vagrant screamed.
It was an inhuman scream. His body shook violently, as if each of his bones were being broken one by one by invisible hands. His eyes rolled back, his veins darkened and swelled beneath his skin. He began to bleed from his nose, ears, mouth, and fingernails.
His flesh began to tear from within, as if he were being punished for all his sins at once. He fell to his knees, convulsing, as the curse slowly devoured him.
Aurelian did not look away. He felt no pleasure, but neither did he feel guilt.
He had been born into a cruel world, and equally cruel decisions were necessary if you wanted to survive.
Finally, the vagrant fell to the ground, dead. His face was still frozen in a grimace of pure pain. The ring lay beside him. The punishment had been meted out. The curse had been lifted.
Aurelian stepped inside.
He approached carefully, avoiding the corpse. He took out an enchanted handkerchief and wrapped the ring precisely. Then he stored it in a small, magically armored box, with a final protection sealed with his blood.
"It wasn't beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself, "but it was what was required."
He left the cabin silently, leaving the body behind as yet another echo of the evil that inhabited that place. The Stone of Resurrection was now in his possession. And with it, the possibility of looking into the eyes of the one he most wanted to see again.
Back at Gaunt Manor, Aurelian found himself alone in the room, surrounded by silence. The ring, still wrapped in the handkerchief, rested on the table reinforced with magical containment runes. He had brought it there to study it calmly.
He was in no hurry. He had already confirmed that the ring's curse had been broken with the death of the vagabond. Now all that remained was to face the most important thing: the relic... and above all, the soul fragment.
Aurelian carefully untied the knot in the handkerchief, exposing the ring to the dim candlelight. The black stone, engraved with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, remained embedded in the ancient gold band. It glowed faintly.
He took the ring between his fingers with great care.
Then he felt it.
A presence.
It was not an invasion, nor a direct attack. It was not like hostile Legilimency or an active curse. It was something more subtle. As if... something recognized him. Something that had been waiting for him.
The fragment of soul enclosed in the ring did not attack him. It did not try to dominate his mind or corrupt his thoughts. Instead, Aurelian felt an echo... a deep sadness. Like a distant reflection of what he had perceived months ago when he had magically connected with the remnants of his father's soul.
It was as if that fragment knew who he was and, rather than defending itself, was observing him.
"You're not in the stone," Aurelian whispered, looking closely. "You're in the ring."
He was right. Extending his magical perception, he felt that the stone itself was clean, inert... but the gold band, the ring itself, was the container of Voldemort's fragment.
With steady hands, he took a small magical tool and carefully removed the stone from the ring. He didn't need to risk the relic by leaving it next to the Horcrux.
Once separated, the stone was stored in a small box with protective runes.
The ring, on the other hand, he placed inside a more secure box, sealed with multiple spells of containment, alarm, and isolation. His father's soul would have to wait.
"Someday... I'll decide what to do with you. But not today," he murmured, closing the box with a snap of magical energy.
He remained silent for a moment, looking at the two boxes: one containing the past he wished to revive, and the other containing a legacy he could not ignore.