Dark magic
The Burrow was silent, save for the faint creaks of the old house settling into the stillness of the night. Violet burst through the front door, her chest heaving as she clutched the serpent necklace in her hand. Her hair was windswept, her cheeks flushed from the cold night air. The living room was dimly lit, the dying embers of the fireplace casting flickering shadows on the walls.
Arthur, Molly, Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Eve sat in a small circle around the table, nursing cups of tea and murmuring in low tones. They looked up in alarm as Violet stormed in, her footsteps urgent, her expression hard.
"Vi? What happened?" Eve asked, standing quickly, concern etched across her face.
Without a word, Violet marched to the table and slammed the necklace down in its center. The sound of the metal hitting the wood was sharper than it should have been, reverberating through the room like a curse.
"This," Violet said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "This is what happened."
Moody leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the object with suspicion. "That's no ordinary trinket," he muttered, his tone grave.
"It's from him," Violet said, her voice quieter now but no less intense. She looked at the others, her gaze pleading. "From Tom. Or Voldemort. Whoever he is now."
The room fell deathly silent. Even Eve, who had seen the necklace before, seemed startled by the weight of Violet's words. Molly's hand flew to her mouth, her wide eyes darting from the necklace to Violet.
"What does it do?" Kingsley asked, his deep voice steady but edged with caution.
Violet swallowed hard, forcing herself to remain calm. "He told me to hold onto it whenever I missed him. At first, I thought it was just... sentimental. But tonight—after the wedding—I..." Her voice faltered. She clenched her fists, staring at the necklace as if it might come alive. "I heard him. His voice. Like he was standing right next to me.'"
Molly let out a sharp gasp, her teacup clattering onto its saucer. Arthur reached over to steady her hand.
"It's a connection," Moody said darkly, his face twisting in thought. "A bloody anchor. He's marked you, girl."
"What do you mean?" Violet asked, her voice rising.
Moody jabbed a finger toward the necklace. "Dark magic. He's tied himself to you through that thing. Might be a way to spy on you—or worse, control you."
"We need to destroy it," Arthur said firmly, his jaw tightening. "Whatever it is, we can't risk it."
Kingsley nodded in agreement. "It's too dangerous to keep. If it's a conduit for him, he might already know where we are."
"No!" Eve's voice cut through the discussion, sharp and determined. All eyes turned to her, and she met their gazes with fierce resolve. "We can't just destroy it. Not yet."
"Are you mad?" Moody growled.
"Listen to me," Eve insisted, stepping closer to the table. "If it's a connection to him, then we can use it. Maybe we can figure out where he is. Or what he's planning. If we destroy it, we lose that chance."
"That's too risky!" Molly exclaimed, her face pale. "What if it backfires? What if it hurts Violet?"
Eve turned to Violet, her expression softening. "Vi, I know this is terrifying. But think about it. If there's even a chance we could use this to find him, to stop him—wouldn't it be worth it?"
Violet hesitated, her hand drifting toward the necklace on the table. The cold metal glinted in the firelight, its serpent eyes almost alive. She thought of Tom—his voice, his promises, his threats. A shiver ran through her.
"How would we even use it?" Violet asked quietly.
Moody snorted. "We'd have to figure out what it does first. And good luck with that. Dark magic like this doesn't come with a bloody instruction manual."
Eve's brow furrowed in thought. "What about Borgin and Burkes?"
Arthur stiffened. "That's a cursed place. No."
"Think about it," Eve pressed. "That shop deals in dark artifacts. If anyone can tell us what this thing does, it's someone there."
"No," Arthur said again, more forcefully. "It's too dangerous. And it's crawling with Death Eaters."
"What about someone we trust?" Kingsley suggested. "There are still a few experts out there—people who worked for the Ministry before it fell."
"What about Professor Slughorn?" Violet blurted out.
The room went silent again. Slughorn. He was a known collector of rare magical objects and had ties to Voldemort's past. If anyone could identify the necklace's purpose, it was him.
"He's in hiding," Molly said, her voice uncertain.
"I know where he is," Kingsley said. "I helped him disappear a few months ago. He's in Cokeworth, laying low."
Moody scowled but didn't argue. "Fine. But we keep this quiet. No one else in the Order needs to know. If this goes wrong, it's on us."
Arthur sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "This is a mistake. But if it might give us an edge..." He looked at Violet. "We'll need your help to convince him."
Violet nodded, though her stomach churned with unease. The necklace seemed to pulse faintly under the light, as if it were alive, waiting.
***
The next morning, the plan was set. Under the cover of darkness, Kingsley, Violet, and Eve would make their way to Cokeworth, the necklace hidden in a protective pouch. Slughorn would be their best hope of unlocking its secrets—and perhaps, their only chance of using it against Voldemort.
As Violet packed her bag, she caught herself staring at the necklace one last time. A part of her wanted to throw it into the fire and be done with it. But another part—the part that still remembered Tom's smile, his voice—couldn't let it go.
She slipped it into the pouch and tightened the drawstring. Whatever came next, there was no turning back now.
***
The trio arrived in Cokeworth under the cover of darkness, the town eerily quiet save for the distant hum of factory machinery. Fog clung to the cobblestone streets, muffling their footsteps as they approached a modest, nondescript house near the river. Violet tightened her grip on the protective pouch containing the necklace. Its weight seemed heavier with every step, as if it sensed the journey they were taking it on.
Kingsley rapped on the door twice, his knock firm but not loud enough to draw attention. For a moment, there was no response, and Violet wondered if Slughorn had fled again. Then, the sound of locks clicking echoed from inside.
The door opened just a crack, revealing a cautious, watery blue eye peering out. When Slughorn recognized Kingsley, he sighed with relief and swung the door open.
"My dear boy! You gave me quite the fright!" Slughorn exclaimed, stepping aside to let them in. His large frame filled the doorway, his familiar walrus mustache twitching nervously as he looked around the street before shutting the door behind them.
"Horace," Kingsley greeted him with a respectful nod. "We need your help."
Slughorn frowned, his jovial tone faltering as he noticed Violet and Eve. "Ah, introductions first, I think. I don't do well with surprises these days. Can't be too careful, you know."
"This is Violet, and that's Eve," Kingsley said quickly. "They're part of the Order. Trustworthy."
Slughorn's eyes lingered on Violet, narrowing slightly. "You've got that look about you, young lady. A mix of bravery and recklessness. Dangerous combination. Now, what brings you here at this hour?"
Violet wasted no time, stepping forward and placing the pouch on the table in the center of the room. The house was cluttered but cozy, books and potion bottles scattered on every surface.
"This," she said, her voice steady despite the unease twisting in her chest. "It's a necklace. Voldemort gave it to me."
Slughorn froze, his face paling at the name. "You-Know-Who gave it to you?"
"Yes," Violet said firmly, untying the pouch and letting the necklace slide onto the table. The serpent pendant glimmered faintly in the dim light, its ruby eyes glinting like embers.
Slughorn took a step back, visibly unsettled. "That's dark magic," he muttered, wringing his hands. "Very dark. What's it doing here?"
"He told me to keep it, to hold onto it if I missed him," Violet explained. "But last night... I heard his voice. Like he was right there with me. We think it's some kind of connection, but we don't know exactly what it does."
Kingsley folded his arms. "We need to know if it can be used against him. Can it be tracked? Can it reveal anything about his plans or his location?"
Slughorn hesitated, his face a mask of fear and indecision. "This isn't just any dark magic. If it's connected to Voldemort... well, it's beyond dangerous. Tampering with something like this could have... unintended consequences."
Eve stepped forward, her tone sharp. "Professor, we don't have time for caution. If there's a way to use this against him, we have to try. People are dying out there every day while we sit and debate."
Slughorn's gaze flicked between them, finally landing on Violet. "You said you heard his voice?"
"Yes," Violet confirmed. "We talked, It wasn't just in my head—it was real."
Slughorn exhaled deeply, reaching for the necklace with trembling hands. He didn't touch it directly, instead using the tip of his wand to lift it from the table. The ruby eyes seemed to follow him as he examined it closely.
"This is no ordinary connection," he said, his voice low. "It's a binding object. A fragment of his will and power embedded into the metal. He can reach out through it, influence the thoughts of the wearer—or worse."
"Worse?" Violet asked, her throat tightening.
Slughorn looked at her gravely. "If he chooses, he could possess you, even briefly. Not fully, not like a Horcrux, but enough to see through your eyes. Enough to control you."
Eve swore under her breath, pacing the room. "Then we need to destroy it."
"Not so fast," Slughorn said, raising a hand. "Destroying an object like this isn't simple. And if we're not careful, it could backfire—release a curse or even alert him to your location."
"Can we track it?" Kingsley pressed.
Slughorn shook his head. "It's shielded. Cleverly. The enchantments are layered and interwoven with his magic. Tracking it directly is impossible."
"There must be another way," Eve said, her tone frustrated.
Slughorn hesitated, then sighed. "Perhaps there is. The magic is connected to him, yes, but also to you," he said, gesturing to Violet. "He gave it to you willingly, meaning it recognizes you as its owner. If you could learn to manipulate it—to send something back through the connection—"
"You're suggesting she communicate with him?" Kingsley interrupted, his voice hard.
"Yes" Slughorn clarified quickly. "Perhaps you could use it to gather information. Drop false leads. Or..." He hesitated again, then muttered, "Draw him out."
***
Slughorn's study was dimly lit, the glow of candles casting flickering shadows across the cluttered room. Violet sat stiffly in a high-backed chair, the necklace resting on a velvet cloth before her. The oppressive weight of the room's silence was broken only by the occasional scrape of parchment or the clink of potion bottles as Slughorn prepared various enchantments to analyze the artifact.
Kingsley had left hours ago, needing to report back to the Order, and Eve had fallen into a restless doze on a nearby couch. Violet, however, hadn't moved, her eyes fixed on the pendant as if it might leap up and strike her.
"You're sure you're ready for this?" Slughorn asked, his voice low but tinged with concern.
Violet nodded, though her heart thundered in her chest. "If this is the only way to understand it, I have to try."
Slughorn looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it. Instead, he tapped his wand against the edge of the cloth, murmuring a spell that sent faint ripples of golden light over the necklace. "I've muted its more... active properties," he explained. "But the connection should remain intact. Speak to it. Focus your thoughts. And whatever you do, don't let him into your mind."
Violet swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she reached for the necklace. It was cold to the touch, its weight unfamiliar despite how often she'd carried it. She closed her eyes, clutching it tightly, and thought of Tom—or Voldemort.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, like a thread being pulled taut, she felt the connection snap into place. Her heart lurched as a familiar, silky voice echoed in her mind.
"Ah, my love. Missing me already?"
Her breath caught in her throat, and she forced herself to stay calm. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered, her voice shaking.
A low chuckle resonated through her thoughts. "Doing what, darling? You kept my gift, didn't you? I knew you would. It suits you, bound so tightly to me."
"I'm not bound to you," Violet said sharply, though the necklace in her hand felt like it was burning now. "You're trying to control me."
"Control you?" he repeated, amusement lacing his tone. "No, no, my sweet. I merely wish to remind you of your place in this world—by my side. You're the one who left. But you'll return. They always do."
Violet's mind swam, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She thought of her friends, of the Burrow, of everything they were fighting for.
"I'll never come back to you," she said firmly.
The air around her seemed to grow colder. "Never is a dangerous word, my darling. I'll give you time to reconsider. But rest assured, I'm closer than you think. I always am."
The connection snapped like a breaking string, and Violet gasped, dropping the necklace onto the table as if it had bitten her. Her hands trembled, and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.
"Violet?" Eve's voice cut through the haze as she rushed to her side. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"I—" Violet began, her voice breaking. "I spoke to him. He's—he's watching, somehow. He knows too much."
Slughorn hovered nearby, his face pale but determined. "Did he reveal anything? A location, a weakness, anything we can use?"
Violet shook her head. "No. Just... threats. He said he's closer than I think."
Slughorn muttered a curse under his breath, grabbing his wand. "We'll try the tracking spells again. There must be something we're missing."
The next few hours passed in a blur of incantations and experiments. Slughorn cast spell after spell, from basic tracing charms to complex runic scripts, but the pendant resisted them all. It was as if the object existed outside the normal boundaries of magic, its enchantments woven with a complexity that even Slughorn struggled to untangle.
"It's shielded," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "Far beyond anything I've encountered. Whatever magic he's used, it's ancient—and insidious."
Eve, pacing the room, threw her hands up in frustration. "So what now? We just give up? Let him keep his little spy in her pocket?"
"No," Violet said, her voice steady despite her exhaustion. "There has to be another way. If we can't track it, maybe we can find out how he's using it. There must be someone who knows more about this kind of magic."
Slughorn hesitated, his expression conflicted. "There's one person," he admitted reluctantly. "But it's a risk."
"Who?" Eve demanded.
Slughorn glanced between them before sighing heavily. "Borgin. Of Borgin and Burkes. If anyone knows about this kind of dark magic, it's him. But going to Knockturn Alley is... dangerous, especially now."
"We'll go," Eve said firmly. "We'll be careful."
"No," Slughorn said quickly. "I'll make contact. Borgin owes me a favor—or two. I can arrange a meeting, somewhere safe."
Violet nodded, though a sense of unease crept over her. The night had already taken so much out of her, and now they were delving deeper into Voldemort's world. But if there was a chance to use the necklace against him, to turn his own weapon into their advantage, she couldn't back down.
"Do it," she said, her fingers brushing the edge of the necklace. "We have to know what this thing is capable of."