Douglas Holmes and Dumbledore now turned their attention to the spots where traces of Dark Magic lingered.
After a thorough search, Douglas discovered that the lingering curses weren't particularly formidable. Once he dispelled them, all that remained were a few empty cellars. He let out a disappointed sigh.
"The Gaunt family really has fallen. I was hoping there'd be treasure hidden beneath all this Dark Magic, but there's nothing at all."
Dumbledore glanced toward the last unexplored area—the one with the faintest magical residue. They'd left it for last for precisely that reason.
As he walked over, Dumbledore explained,
"No matter how ancient a family, if they don't know how to manage what they have, decline is inevitable. Centuries ago, the Gaunts survived only by selling off their inheritance. It's no wonder there's nothing valuable left behind."
Suddenly, Dumbledore stopped and motioned for Douglas to stay put.
With a grave expression, Dumbledore began tracing patterns on the ground with his wand, muttering in a strange tongue.
Douglas drew his own wand. He couldn't decipher the incantation, but the syllables suggested it was ancient runic language.
He had a strong suspicion—this must be where Voldemort hid the ring.
Before long, Dumbledore moved to a new position and repeated the ritual, probing the earth.
Douglas didn't interrupt. Instead, he pulled from his pocket a device that looked suspiciously like a magical version of a Dragon Radar—except this one had a slender probe made of pure mithril.
He flicked the switch and rotated the dial a few times. The display flickered to life. Douglas inserted the probe into the spot Dumbledore had just examined. On the display, an irregular gray circle appeared, marked by a single black dot.
The Magic Detection Radar was Douglas's own invention, inspired by magical technology from other worlds. It boasted multiple modes; the one he used now he called "Flaw Detection Mode"—perfect for scanning magical traces in an area.
He compared the display with their surroundings, then pointed to the location of the black dot.
"Professor, the entrance switch is right there."
Dumbledore looked up, startled, his eyes darting from Douglas to the gadget in his hand.
He crossed over, probed the spot with his wand, then glanced back at Douglas, a flicker of confusion in his gaze.
Rising, he approached Douglas and asked,
"Bringing you along was clearly the right decision. You always manage to surprise me. May I take a look at that magical device?"
Douglas shook his head without hesitation and slipped the radar back into his pocket.
"Professor, you still haven't returned my magical recorder. Besides, this isn't really suited for you—it's just a handy tool I cobbled together for people whose magical skills are… less than stellar."
With that, he hurried to the location the radar had identified, crouching to examine the magical structure with his wand.
Dumbledore smiled, then followed and stood just behind him.
"Well? Any discoveries?"
Douglas watched as the soil and plants churned, pulling back to reveal a runic serpent carved in stone.
He mused aloud,
"I can confirm there's some sort of chamber here, but I can't say for sure this is where Voldemort hid anything.
This is the old Gaunt house, after all—using Salazar Slytherin's style of secret chambers would make perfect sense…"
He continued to study the runic serpent carving, brow furrowed.
"The mechanisms here are even more intricate than the ones in Slytherin's Chamber. Each of the serpent's three heads serves a different purpose.
The left head is the planner—it decides where the runic serpent should go and what to do next. The middle head is the dreamer. The right head is the critic, and its fangs are laced with deadly venom.
So the Parseltongue recordings we made earlier probably won't cut it. The language required here is likely far more complex."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.
"The more you say, the more I suspect this is where Tom hid something.
For generations, the Gaunts were hot-tempered and deeply flawed. They favored brute force over elaborate magic—none of them would have bothered with something this refined.
But Tom… he was a contradiction—obsessed with both raw magical power and the deepest arcane mysteries…"
Douglas looked up, asking,
"So what now? Do we just give up and fetch Harry to solve the puzzle?
With all due respect, last time we got lucky. This time, there's no telling what kind of Parseltongue would activate this mechanism. If Voldemort set this up, he'd have made sure even Gaunt family members couldn't get in…"
Dumbledore regarded him with a calm, patient smile.
"Douglas, if it were you, how would you handle it?"
Douglas blinked, then replied seriously,
"Professor, are you sure you want me to try whatever I want?"
Dumbledore shrugged, utterly at ease.
"Of course. You know I've always believed in giving young people a chance. If you can't manage it, I'll try my way…"
Douglas's expression turned solemn.
"A man should never say he can't! Just watch me."
He motioned for Dumbledore to step back to the edge of the woods. Hearing Douglas's familiar bravado, Dumbledore obediently moved to a safe distance.
Douglas also retreated a few paces, then raised his wand skyward and shouted,
"Divine Thunder Strike!"
Like wielding a mighty blade, he slashed his wand downward. Instantly, a bolt of lightning—thick as a tree trunk—crashed down from the sky, striking the exact spot Douglas had indicated.
A shockwave burst outward, sending stones, earth, and weeds flying.
Douglas, standing closest, shielded himself with a quick Protego. The shield deflected the debris, but the force of the blast still sent his hair and robes streaming backward. A true wizard never bows his head to an explosion…
Dumbledore's lips curled in a small, satisfied smile, though it was hard to tell exactly what amused him.
Before the dust could settle, Douglas waved his wand, dispersing the debris. A hole, just wide enough for one person, opened before them.
Dumbledore stepped forward. Seeing the entrance, he remarked with a touch of disdain,
"Tom still lacks originality—always imitating Slytherin's tricks."
As Douglas pulled out the Magic Radar again, he quipped,
"Maybe the guy's a compulsive collector—just like some people who can't resist hoarding antiques…"
Something about Douglas's words seemed to spark a thought in Dumbledore's mind, but it slipped away before he could grasp it. He had the distinct feeling Douglas had just touched on something important.
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