Chapter 28: The Gaunt Shack
Early the next morning, laden with a bundle of rare ingredients gifted by a grateful Gilves, Solim and Elrond prepared to depart for Little Hangleton.
Unseen in a shadowed alcove, Deli watched them, having risen early with the specific intention of disrupting Elrond's use of a Portkey. He had planned for every contingency—forcing them to wait out the Portkey's cooldown within the manor or venture outside its protective wards to Apparate. His carefully laid schemes, however, evaporated as Elrond and Solim simply walked out of the main gate without so much as a glance backward.
Aren't they returning directly to Selwyn Castle? Deli fumed from his hiding spot. This ruins everything. I'll have to inform the Ritch family immediately. It seems we've missed our chance this time.
Despite his desperation, Deli would not risk an ambush directly outside the manor; such a brazen move would never escape Gilves's notice.
As they arrived on the outskirts of Little Hangleton, Solim finally voiced his confusion. "The trouble you anticipated never materialized. No one tried to steal the potion's secrets."
"Fool. That was a precaution, not a prediction. It's better to be overly cautious than dead," Elrond retorted impatiently. "And I'm quite sure you failed to notice the little stunt pulled by Gilves's nephew."
Solim was genuinely puzzled. He understood their ill intentions and could guess they wanted to stop Flegg from becoming a wizard—and that they might orchestrate an "accident" to do so. But what did that have to do with him? That was Gilves's concern.
"You seem clever enough most of the time, but at critical moments, your wits abandon you," Elrond said with clear dissatisfaction. "When we left, that boy was watching us like a hawk. He was likely reporting our movements to the Ritch family, preparing an ambush. For you, primarily."
Solim had killed their heir. It was no wonder they sought retaliation. While he was hidden away at Hogwarts under Dumbledore's nose, they had little opportunity. But now, outside the castle's protection and away from Selwyn's wards, he was a vulnerable target. They would not let this chance slip away.
A knot of anxiety tightened in Solim's stomach. However talented he was for an eleven-year-old, he was no match for a seasoned adult wizard. The Ritch family would certainly account for Elrond's presence, meaning any confrontation would be lethal. If they were caught, it would be the end for both of them.
"What do we do, then?" Solim asked, his voice tense.
"Look at you, trembling like a leaf! Don't worry, they won't catch us." Elrond seemed utterly unconcerned, whether from foolhardiness or supreme confidence, Solim couldn't tell.
They left the main road, turning onto a dirt path that was little more than a memory, winding and pitted with stones. The hedges on either side had grown tall and dense, encroaching on the path as if trying to reclaim it. Time seemed to have stood still here for nearly a century. Pushing through a final thicket of overgrown trees, Solim laid eyes on the old Gaunt family home.
It was the most dilapidated structure in sight, not merely broken but on the verge of collapse.
What remained were more ruins than a house. Moss-covered walls stubbornly supported the crumbling structure, choked with climbing plants. The roof tiles were long gone, exposing rotten rafters to the sky. The doors and windows were absent, leaving gaping black holes. The sound of skittering insects echoed from within, and a forest of nettles had claimed the interior.
"Convenient," Elrond remarked, glancing around. "Remote from Muggles. Saves us the trouble of a Disillusionment Charm." His scrutiny confirmed no other magical signatures were present.
Solim followed Elrond into the Gaunt shack. He noticed numerous small, deep holes pockmarking the doorframe, likely the work of a young Morfin Gaunt.
Like all his line, Morfin had inherited the ability to speak Parseltongue from his Slytherin blood. He enjoyed catching snakes, but his amusement was cruel; he often grew bored of them and nailed them to the doorframe as a twisted warning to others.
Inside, Elrond revealed a side of himself Solim had never seen. His wand held aloft cast a bright, unwavering Lumos, piercing the gloom. His expression was one of intense, serious concentration.
"Over there," Elrond directed, pointing his wand. "The only trace of magic in this hovel is coming from that spot."
Solim could feel nothing but the oppressive atmosphere—the scent of damp rot, mouldering wood, and decay.
The source was a grime-encrusted wooden cabinet, its original colour lost under a thick layer of filth. Elrond pointed his wand, and with a painful, screeching groan, one of the drawers slid open. It had not been moved in nearly half a century.
There, lying innocently in the drawer, was a ring. The moment they saw it, both Solim and Elrond knew their search was over.
The Gaunt family's ring, housing the Resurrection Stone, was infamous. In Marvolo's time, and even before, it had been the family's sole source of income. Wizards who needed to commune with the dead would pay to rent it, which was the only reason the prideful, destitute Gaunts had never quite starved.
Elrond stared intently at the ring. He raised his wand, muttering incantations Solim did not recognise. A thick, black mist began to seep from the ring, coalescing into the shape of a contorted human face that let out a silent, furious roar before dissipating.
Seemingly satisfied, Elrond produced a small, lead-lined box from his robes. With a swift transfiguration, he conjured a stick, used it to carefully lift the ring, and deposited it into the container.
"That's it! Let's go back. I can't wait to begin!" Elrond said, his voice vibrating with excitement.
"That's it?" Solim couldn't believe it. "We just... take it?"
"Of course not! It's protected by a powerful curse, keyed to the soul. I dare say even a powerful wizard would be dead within days, if not on the spot. But countering a single-use curse is simple enough."
"Find someone else to trigger it?" Solim ventured.
Elrond shot him a glance. "Precisely. Let someone else bear the brunt; the curse is disposable. Riddle's enchantment work is sophisticated, I'll give him that, but it's nothing insurmountable."
With that, Elrond raised his wand and swept it through the air in a broad, complex gesture. Solim felt a subtle shift in the magic around them, a slight tremor in the very atmosphere.
"Alright, I've obscured our traces. Now, let's hurry back." Elrond shook his sleeve, revealing a small, grey key on a chain fastened to his wrist. "Hold on to me!"
Their return via Portkey was swift and, to Solim's relief, entirely uneventful. No ambush awaited them. The moment they materialised in the familiar surroundings of Selwyn Castle, Elrond, without a single word to Solim, hurried straight towards the basement laboratory, his steps fuelled by an eager energy that belied his age.
As Solim stood outside his grandfather's door, he saw his sister Sylna peering cautiously from her own room.
"What's wrong with Grandfather?" she whispered, puzzled. "He just rushed past, muttering to himself."
"Uh..." Solim had no intention of telling her about the Resurrection Stone. "He's just... excited. I'm going to check on him. You stay here; his study is a mess right now."
Inside, Elrond was already lost to the world, muttering incantations at the ring and scribbling frantic notes on a piece of parchment. He didn't even notice Solim enter. Solim sat down quietly, resolved not to disturb this fervent state of study. His primary reason for being there was a nagging fear that his grandfather might be tempted to put the ring on. He didn't understand why Elrond wouldn't dismantle the curse first. But he knew better than to interrupt; he would simply watch, ready to intervene if Elrond showed any dangerous inclination.
He had no idea how long he sat there. It was only when Sylna crept in later with a plate of food that he realised it was mealtime. The two siblings ate in silence, watching their grandfather's obsessive work. It was much later, prompted by his own growling stomach, that Elrond finally surfaced from his concentration.
"Have you two eaten already?" he asked, noticing the empty plates, a hint of reproach in his tone. "Why didn't you call me?"
Solim and Sylna exchanged a look. Sylna's eyes clearly communicated that handling this was her brother's responsibility.
"You were so engrossed, we didn't dare disturb you," Solim said quickly, steering the subject away. "So, what have you discovered?"
The ploy worked. Immediately distracted, Elrond launched into an animated explanation of his findings, his earlier irritation forgotten. He was so excited he even failed to notice that Sylna was still in the room, hearing everything.
Solim didn't remind him. He reasoned that his sister would need to know these things sooner or later. Sylna was discreet and intelligent; she could be trusted with the secret.