Harry glanced nervously around the final memory Professor Dumbledore had left for him. It was dusk, and he was standing next to Remus Lupin on a dusty overgrown track, lined by unruly hedges on either side. Dumbledore “ the older Dumbledore whom Harry had known “ was striding down the dirt road toward a dark copse of thick trees overrun with nettles and moss. A dilapidated house could barely be seen through the tangled overgrowth. As Harry and Lupin began to walk toward the house, Harry was startled to see the withered skin of a snake nailed to the front door, and with a sudden flash of insight he realized where they were.
It was the Gaunt house in Little Hangleton.
Harry swallowed hard as he and Lupin followed the headmaster down the dirt track to the door. Around him he heard a soft chorus of ghostly moans and eerie laughter. A fell breeze seemed to stir the trees, and Harry thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, only to turn his head and find nothing there. He glanced briefly at the older man and saw that Lupin was frowning, his face clearly puzzled as he gazed around them.
Together they watched as Dumbledore stopped at the threshold of the run-down house and studied it closely, then abruptly turned to leave. He stopped not far from the door and shook himself, and tapped his wand on his forehead before returning to the house. Harry looked curiously at Lupin, hoping for an explanation.
“Distraction Charm,” Lupin answered his unasked question. “It makes someone forget about something, in this case probably going in the house. It’s an easy enough counter-charm, though.”
Dumbledore seemed to have regained his focus and was once again examining the door, waving his wand, occasionally pausing as if expecting a violent reaction. Nothing happened, except that after one such wave, the ghostly sounds and sinister wind stopped. Harry saw Dumbledore shake his head and smile wryly as he entered the tiny hovel where the Gaunt family line had finally come to an end.
The large central room was completely covered in a thick layer of dirt and grime that had clearly not been disturbed for years, possibly decades. The rafters had fallen in and the roof was open to the darkening sky. Broken furniture was scattered about the room and covered in thick dust. It was almost unrecognizable as a house.
“What is this place?” Lupin asked quietly, gazing at the ramshackle remains around him with an expression of disgust and confusion. “What could Dumbledore possibly want here?”
Harry sighed; he hadn’t expected this memory, and hadn’t planned on telling Lupin about the Horcruxes, but he had no choice now. “This is the home of Merope Gaunt, Voldemort’s mother. Dumbledore is looking for something.” Harry paused, and plunged on, ready to trust Lupin with Voldemort’s dark secret. “He’s looking for a Horcrux.”
Lupin’s eyes went wide as he realized what Harry had said. Before he could ask more, Harry moved away toward Dumbledore, who was slowly walking around the room, once again waving his wand almost imperceptibly. He finally stopped in front of a dark oak trunk, bound with iron straps and what appeared to be a sturdy lock. He studied it for a long moment, before bending down to inspect it closer.
He reached out a hand toward the trunk, and Harry held his breath as he expected the headmaster to be launched backward by some sort of violent Dark Magic. He was surprised when there was no curse or hex, and Dumbledore opened the chest without incident. It was, however, completely empty; Dumbledore stood and frowned as he looked around the room. He kneeled once more and tried to move the sturdy trunk; it did not shift an inch. He stepped back, and began firing spells at it instead.
The spells bounced harmlessly off of some mysterious barrier protecting the trunk. Dumbledore paused, and Harry wondered whether the headmaster was trying to move the trunk or destroy it. Finally Dumbledore conjured a bolt of light at the tip of his wand, and with a cry of, “Reducto!” he cast a spell at the floor in front of the chest.
The wooden floor exploded into splinters, and the trunk went flying into the air. Lupin glanced at Harry, his eyebrows raised. “Interesting way to get around a Permanent Sticking Charm,” he commented dryly.
Harry was instantly reminded of the portrait of Mrs. Black at number 12, Grimmauld Place, and wondered why Dumbledore hadn’t removed the painting himself, considering how disruptive Mrs. Black’s rantings had been. Given the large hole in the floor, Harry concluded that Dumbledore hadn’t wanted to bring down the Black house by destroying the entire wall to just to remove a bothersome painting.
Dumbledore ignored the empty trunk and conjured a light as he moved slowly toward the gaping crack in the floorboards. Harry could hear a strange dry hissing sound, and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand as he followed Dumbledore toward the dark opening. When he finally glimpsed the source of the odd sounds, he instinctively jumped back in disgust.
The chasm in the floor was filled with snakes.
The ground was covered in them, hundreds of black serpents, writing and slithering on top of each other and hissing with angry voices. They were furious at being disturbed, and feared the sudden noise and light. Harry felt his mouth curl in disgust, but saw Dumbledore shake his head. “Not very original, Tom,” the headmaster said softly to himself.
Harry knew that Dumbledore was referring to young Tom Riddle, but saw that Lupin continued to look puzzled. He did not care to explain, and turned back to the headmaster, who was staring down at the snakes with a thoughtful look on his face. Finally Dumbledore raised his wand and began firing Stunning spells into the writing mass. After several minutes it did not seem as if the snakes had been significantly subdued, and Dumbledore stopped.
Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore began firing multiple jets of green light into the sinister nest. The snakes hit by the curse were instantly killed, and Harry stared in shock at the headmaster’s use of an Unforgivable Curse, as well as his blatant disregard for life. Yet the snakes seemed to be multiplying, and were now overflowing from the hole.
“Of course,” said Dumbledore, and he lowered his wand. The snakes appeared to back off. “Much more what I expected, Tom.”
“Why did he stop?” Harry asked Lupin, confused by Dumbledore’s mysterious statement.
“Hydra Charm,” answered older man. “Every time he killed one snake, two more appeared to take its place. It’s a very rare, difficult charm to set.”
Harry did not have time to reply, for Dumbledore had conjured some sort of defensive shield around himself and was kneeling at the foot of the deep hole. Ignoring the hideous snakes slithering over the shield, he reached a hand into the ground and groped around. His face tensed with the effort; he was obviously looking for something within the nest itself. The snakes flowed over him like murky water, until Harry could barely see the headmaster through the serpents trying to penetrate his magical shield.
Abruptly Dumbledore stood, dropping snakes onto the floor where they hissed and spit at him venomously. Harry heard Dumbledore mutter a soft incantation and saw the air around him briefly glow blue, shocking the snakes away. He moved away from the hellish pit and retreated to the far end of the room, and Harry finally noticed that the headmaster was holding a small box in his hands. Harry and Lupin crossed to the other side of the room as well, leaving the terrible nest of snakes behind them.
Dumbledore placed the box on a table that was barely standing upright. He absently conjured himself a chair and examined the object with meticulous attention to details that Harry could not perceive. Harry saw a roughly carved wooden box, littered with evil-looking runes and sealed tight with a tiny lock; he could only imagine the protections that Riddle had placed on the box, and the remnants of Dark Magic that Dumbledore undoubtedly sensed.
After a long while Dumbledore nodded to himself. With a small incantation he conjured a thin fiery serpent from the tip of his wand. The glowing snake slithered its way toward the box and crawled into the lock; with an audible click, the lid sprung slowly open.
“That’s remarkable,” Lupin whispered, his eyes wide. “I’ve never seen that spell before.”
“What is it?” asked Harry, curious in spite of the rising tension he felt as the memory pushed toward its destructive conclusion. He knew the final outcome of Dumbledore’s attempt to destroy the Horcrux hidden in the Gaunt house, and he dreaded having to witness it personally, in spite of the number of times he had asked Dumbledore about the ring.
“Serpens Signum,” replied Lupin, frowning again. “It’s the Serpent’s Seal spell. It was believed to be a legend, it’s been lost for centuries.”
Harry stared at him, then turned back to the table where Dumbledore was lifting a familiar ring from the crude box with his right hand. The heavy gold ring was set with a black stone, and Harry recognized the coat of arms engraved on its dark surface. His heart began to beat faster as he watched the dreadful scene unfold before him.
Dumbledore held the ring up to the fading light, but almost immediately dropped it as an ugly black substance began creeping from the tips of his fingers toward his palm and forearm. Harry saw the headmaster’s face contort with pain as he clutched at his arm with his good hand. The evil slime continued to advance, and Dumbledore fell to the ground, his face contorted with pain.
Lupin looked shocked. “It’s Black Fire,” he whispered, his eyes horrified. “Mauros Fotia. It can kill a man in minutes.” Harry felt sick as he watched Dumbledore thrashing on the dirty floor, the Black Fire now covering his entire hand. With an almost inhuman effort Dumbledore grabbed his wand from the table and conjured what appeared to be a magical tourniquet just above his wrist; gasping in agony, he lifted himself up, leaning against the table for support.
“Is that the Horcrux, Harry?” asked Lupin quietly, and Harry nodded, unable to take his eyes off the sight before him. Dumbledore was breathing heavily, his eyes closed. When he opened them, they were bright with the pain the Dark Magic was spreading through his arm. He aimed his wand at the cursed ring.
“Annullo horcruxa et libero anima,” Dumbledore whispered, and his voice was frighteningly weak. The ring began to glow, a dark evil green at first, growing into a blinding lurid yellow. Harry saw Dumbledore conjure his defensive shield once more; the threatening glow from the ring continued to grow until at last there was a deafening explosion of light and sound. Harry instinctively covered his head and ducked as the small room was blasted apart. Dumbledore was thrown violently backward into a wall, and slumped to the floor, unconscious.
As the dust began to settle, Harry saw that the headmaster’s magical tourniquet had come undone, and the Black Fire was beginning to advance past his wrist once more. Apparently the pain roused him, for with a strangled yell, Dumbledore jerked awake and clutched at his blackened hand. He called for his wand and replaced the magical tourniquet. Then he crawled through the rubble back toward the ruined table. He clawed through the debris with his good hand until he found the ring, then stood and stumbled outside.
Harry and Lupin followed, and watched as Dumbledore fell to the ground, his breathing ragged. He finally stood and looked back at the house. Even with his face twisted in agony, he had the presence of mind to wave his wand at the tiny hovel, and the damage righted itself. The building once more appeared as if no one had been there for years. Cradling his injured arm, Dumbledore swayed in his place, then with a final deep breath, he stepped around and Apparated away.
Harry was left standing in the dark with Lupin, stunned at the destruction of the Gaunt Horcrux. The enormity of the task he now faced in the wake of the headmaster’s unexpected death suddenly seemed both unspeakable and unbearable. Dumbledore had been the most powerful wizard of the century, and had still been mortally injured finding and destroying one of Voldemort’s earliest Horcruxes. How was he, Harry, supposed to find and destroy four more with only the knowledge and skills of a sixteen-year-old wizard?
Harry felt his heart sink in his chest as he fully understood what he had to do, and the risks he would have to take in order to fulfill his grim task. Yet he did not have long to dwell upon his predicament, for the dark memory soon swirled into a new surrounding, and Harry found himself standing with Lupin in front of Severus Snape.
* * *
A/N: This is not the penultimate chapter I anticipated; in fact, I had never planned on including this scene in the story at all! Yet if my goal has been to answer some of the unanswered questions from Book Six, then certainly the story of Dumbledore’s destruction of the Gaunt ring would seem appropriate. So here it is, and I hope you enjoyed it. I believe that Chapter Fourteen will be the penultimate chapter, but again one never knows what odd inspiration might strike. Look for it in the new year after the queue reopens - Happy Holidays!