firecracker ???

The air outside the Gaunt shack stank of mildew and centuries of rot.

Lyra stood beside Dumbledore, wand already in hand, as the shadows of the broken trees stretched like fingers across the dirt. The house — if it could still be called that — looked no sturdier than a grave marker.

Dumbledore didn't speak at first. He simply stared at the structure as though measuring its breath.

Only after a long moment did he say, "He was born here. Did you know that?"

Lyra glanced sideways. "Tom Riddle?"

Dumbledore nodded once. "The boy who would become Voldemort."

She didn't reply. She didn't need to.

The door creaked open at a whisper of magic, revealing a warped interior of broken beams, torn wallpaper, and decay that clung like magic gone foul.

"Come," Dumbledore said quietly, and stepped inside.

The hearth was buried beneath splintered wood and mold-stained stone. Dust had formed layers so thick they looked like ash. But beneath it all—just where the wall had cracked from years of rain and pressure—sat a box.

A small, wooden casket.

Old. Ornate. Carved with runes barely legible through grime.

Dumbledore hesitated.

And then turned to her. "Before we touch anything... I would like to explain."

Lyra arched a brow. "Now?"

"Yes. Now," he said. "Because you deserve to know how we came to be here together."

She waited.

"You should know," he said gently, "your father and I met not long ago."

Lyra said nothing. Dumbledore's voice was calm, but it carried weight — like something buried beneath it all.

"It was not just him. Regulus was there. So was Severus."

Her eyes flicked to his.

"We spoke of what's coming. Of what already is on its way."

He began to walk slowly toward the hearth, words measured.

"Only a handful of people know the truth — about the Dark Lord's immortality. About the pieces of him that must be undone. Your father is one of them. Regulus, another. Severus, of course."

Lyra's breath was quiet. "And you."

"And you, now," he said.

They had reached the center of the room. Dust rose beneath their feet.

"I told them I was going after the ring," Dumbledore continued. "The next Horcrux."

He looked at her with faint kindness. "They didn't want me to go alone."

Dumbledore's smile deepened. "They suggested you."

She blinked.

"They said you would not flinch," he said. "That you understood how to move quietly. That you knew what this cost."

He paused. "And they wanted you safe."

Lyra stiffened.

"This mission, this summer — it's more than duty," he said. "Your father did not want you in that house. Not with him there. He wanted you to play double agent and move away with my help. This was the price."

He gestured around them. "Helping me destroy the ring."

Lyra's lips pressed together. "A most very Slytherin trade. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain."