Summer arrived, but the wizarding world had hardly become calmer.
The Daily Prophet had already begun publishing articles questioning Harry Potter's account of the Third Task.
Harry insisted that Voldemort had returned, while the Ministry of Magic dismissed the claim.
With Cornelius Fudge refusing to accept Dumbledore's warnings, the Prophet had increasingly begun treating Harry's story as either exaggeration or outright lies.
Victor finished reading the article and folded the newspaper before slipping it inside his coat. "Those fools don't know anything except how to protect their positions."
His own life hadn't exactly been peaceful since leaving Hogwarts either.
Being the boy who had apparently died and come back had attracted far more attention than Victor wanted — but that was nothing compared to Narcissa.
His mother had given him an earful over the graveyard situation, a lecture so relentless it had practically made his ears bleed.
Getting himself involved with Voldemort was bad enough. Nearly dying while doing it had made things considerably worse.
"Mom can be scary," Victor muttered.
At the moment, though, Narcissa was nowhere near him. Victor was outside Little Hangleton, and he'd come for one particular reason: Marvolo Gaunt's ring.
After searching the surrounding countryside, he eventually found the Gaunt family's old shack hidden among the trees.
The place looked even worse than he'd expected — weeds had swallowed most of the ground around it, branches crowded against the walls, and the building itself looked like it might collapse if someone slammed the door too hard.
Victor stopped near the entrance and studied it. So this is the place. Somewhere inside was the ring Voldemort had taken from Morfin Gaunt and later turned into a Horcrux.
He started toward the shack.
Crack!
The unmistakable sound of Apparition came from behind him.
Victor turned immediately.
Dumbledore stood several yards away, dressed in travelling robes, wand already in hand, eyes moving briefly from Victor to the abandoned shack behind him.
"It surprises me to find you here, Victor."
"Professor Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore walked closer, attention still on the house. "I had expected this particular place to have very few visitors."
Victor glanced at the shack. "Apparently it has two today."
"Indeed."
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Victor slipped his hands into his coat pockets.
What the hell is he doing here already?
As far as he knew, Dumbledore's investigation into Voldemort's past would eventually lead him to the Gaunts and the ring — he just hadn't expected the old man to show up here at exactly the same time.
Dumbledore looked toward the ruined doorway. "Perhaps," he said quietly, "you would care to explain what brings a fifteen-year-old wizard to the abandoned home of the Gaunt family."
"I was about to ask what brings the Headmaster of Hogwarts here."
A faint smile appeared beneath his beard. "Then it seems we are both rather curious." He gave a small nod toward the overgrown path. "I have a rather unpleasant story to tell you. Would you take a walk with me?"
Victor looked at the weeds and tangled trees surrounding the property. "Here? This doesn't exactly look like a place for a pleasant walk."
"Nor is the story particularly pleasant."
Victor sighed and followed.
They walked slowly through the overgrown land. Dumbledore stayed quiet for a while, seemingly deciding where to begin.
"You know that Voldemort was born Tom Riddle," he said at last.
"Yes."
"His mother was Merope Gaunt, a witch from an old and very unpleasant family. His father was a Muggle named Tom Riddle senior."
Dumbledore laid out what he'd learned of Riddle's childhood — how Merope had died giving birth to him, how the boy had grown up in a Muggle orphanage before Hogwarts.
"He was an unusual child," Dumbledore said.
"Even before he came to Hogwarts, he had discovered that he could frighten other children into doing what he wanted. He could speak Parseltongue, and he took trophies from those he frightened."
Victor frowned. "So he was already a problem."
"I would say he was already deeply troubled. But Hogwarts gave him the opportunity to learn about the part of himself he had never understood."
"His family."
"Precisely."
Dumbledore explained how Riddle had eventually discovered his connection to Salazar Slytherin and gone looking for the Gaunts — how he'd found his uncle Morfin and learned the truth about his father.
He described how Tom Riddle had come to Little Hangleton and murdered his father and grandparents, leaving Morfin to take the blame.
"So that's why you're here," Victor said.
Dumbledore looked toward the old shack. "I came here because I wanted to understand more about the family Voldemort came from. There are still many unanswered questions about his past."
"And you think something important might still be inside."
"I think it is worth looking."
Victor gave him a sideways glance. "That's a very Dumbledore way of saying you don't know."
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Perhaps."
They walked on a little longer, the old Gaunt house disappearing behind the trees. Dumbledore stayed quiet, but Victor could tell from his expression the conversation wasn't over.
"I am curious about you, Victor," he said eventually.
"You remind me of someone, in certain respects. You are ambitious, you keep much of your thoughts to yourself, and there is something about you your fellow students find difficult to understand." He paused.
"But there is an important difference. You have shown compassion. You have repeatedly been willing to put yourself in danger for people you care about, even when there was very little to gain from doing so."
Victor looked away.
Dumbledore watched him carefully. "And I suspect you know something about Voldemort that the rest of the wizarding world does not. Would you satisfy an old man's curiosity?"
Victor sighed. It seems this old man really isn't going to let me leave this time.
"Professor, do you know there is a thing called a Horcrux?"
Dumbledore stopped walking. For the first time since they'd left the shack, he looked genuinely startled.
"A Horcrux?"
Victor nodded. "It is a piece of dark magic. A wizard can use it to conceal a fragment of his soul inside an object."
"If his body is destroyed, that fragment can remain behind, making the wizard immortal until the object itself is destroyed."
Dumbledore stared at him in silence, the colour draining slightly from his face as his mind worked through what he'd just heard.
*****
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