Lin Yueshi, Esquire, of Yueshi and Fuxiao Conveyancing Services, knocked on the door of the small cottage in Little Hangleton, on the former Riddle Family estate. He heard vague noises inside of someone stirring. Soon enough, the door opened. The old man who appeared looked every one of his seventy-five years, and leaned on a cane for extra support.
Lin studied the face of the man he had spent the last two weeks researching, in person, in London and Little Hangleton. This was far too important to delegate such research to an intern or new-hire.
Frank Bryce had lived in the village of Little Hangleton, England nearly his entire life, except for a brief stint in His Majesty’s Service.
Frank had started working as gardener for the estate of Squire Thomas Riddle almost as soon as he had left primary, at age fourteen. Riddle had been an elderly and snobbish man, who lived with his wife, Mary, and their adult son, Tom, in the luxurious Riddle House. The house was on a hill overlooking the village, and the rest of the valley, with Frank’s cottage right at the edge of the vast estate.
In 1939, the Second World War started, and Frank had been called into military service at the age of twenty-two. He fit well in the military for the first three years of the war, working his way up in rank. But then he had been severely wounded, almost losing his leg. Unfortunately, his leg remained very stiff, even after it healed, so he had been invalided out of Service. Due to his injury, Frank had to use a walking stick, and took it with him wherever he went.
Despite his injury, he had returned to working as gardener for the Riddles. Frank, however, had returned to Little Hangleton with a great dislike of crowds and loud noises. He was not a fan of Guy Fawkes Night. Nor New Years.
It didn’t help that the residents of the nearby town liked to use those nights as a reason to annoy the man and disturb his sleep. Especially the teenagers.
As a child, he had been described as having a “horrible temper.” His time in service had not mellowed him in the slightest, according to the citizens of Little Hangleton. Many insisted that he had returned in worse temper than he had left.
As a result, he was rather unsociable and solitary. Several residents had described him as outright hostile when they had call to talk with him, back then. According to the Riddles’ cook, he “never wanted to mix,” and refused the cook’s offers for a drink.
That had gotten worse, later. Not too surprising given the towns’ reaction to his presence.
Frank preferred the quiet life. He avoided relationships with the residents of Little Hangleton as much as possible, and only came to the village for groceries, and an occasional drink in the pub. Even in the pub he remained solitary, rebuffing all attempts at conversation. No man is an island — but Frank was giving it a run for the money.
In the summer of 1943, not long after he had retaken his former position, the Riddle family had been callously murdered. One morning, a maid found all three Riddles dead in the Riddle House’s drawing room. Naturally, the local bobbies arrested Frank as their main suspect. It primarily had been because, as the cook said, “Who else had a key to the back door, then? There’s been a spare key hanging in the gardener’s cottage far back as I can remember! Nobody forced the door last night! No broken windows!”
There was also the absence of either carbon-monoxide or gas leaks that might have taken the lives of the three. It simply beggared the minds of the bobbies that all three should succumb to heart failure at the exact same time! Especially when there were no signs of heart problems with any of them.
He was questioned in the neighbouring town of Great Hangleton. Just as naturally as the arrest, he vehemently denied the committing the murders. Bryce explained that the last person he had seen near the Riddle House was a dark-haired boy. Unfortunately, nobody else had seen the boy, and everyone thought Frank was lying. However, the report on the Riddles was unable to determine the cause of their deaths — deepening the mystery of what had happened.
Also, like most of the other people in Little Hangleton, Frank rarely locked his door. Anyone could have snuck in and taken the key while Frank was working the gardens elsewhere on the estate, and replaced it after copying it. The complete lack of evidence, and motive, led to his release.
Bryce had continued to live a solitary disconnected life in his small cottage on the Riddle estate. He continued to be paid as the gardener, and now caretaker, by the house’s succession of owners. As he aged, he had been plagued by the pain in his leg, and by the local boys
Lin suspected the children were motivated by the belief that he had gotten away with murder, and thus was fair game for their cruel pranks. The boys would usually throw rocks into the Riddle House, trample or ride their bicycles on the flowerbeds that Frank worked hard to keep smooth, or even break into the House for more random vandalism, then flee when Frank tried to pursue them, unsuccessfully due to his injured leg.
“Good morning, sir,” Lin said politely, “Are you Frank Bryce?” He handed him his business card. After a few moments establishing that the old man was, indeed Frank Bryce, and that Lin was, indeed, a solicitor who had something important to discuss with him, the two of them proceeded inside to the small kitchen table.
The Gardener’s cottage was simple, a two-room building. The front room was the sitting area, the kitchen, and the dining area, all open to each other. Behind the sitting room was the bedroom, while behind the kitchen and dining area was the bathroom. All told, the cottage was barely five yards on a side.
Once they were seated, Lin launched right in on his sales pitch. Frank had no family that Lin could find. But that wasn’t a problem.
“Are you aware that you had a cousin on your mother’s side of the family, who lived in the Bahamas?” he asked, to Frank’s surprise.
The story he spun was that of a distant cousin who had recently died, and Frank was his inheritor. Frank now was the owner of a completely-paid-for two-bedroom condominium not far from the beach. In addition, he inherited an extensive portfolio of stocks that paid just under ten-thousand quid a year. “With the current cost of living in the Bahamas at about seven hundred quid a month,” Lin said, “You won’t have to worry about working, should you not want to.” Bryce’s eyes weren’t exactly popping out of his head, but they were close to it. “Plus, if you’re interested, there are several gardens on the grounds that you are free to use, if you like to keep busy.”
Lin didn’t tell him that he had recently purchased the entire condominium complex for Royal Equestrian Properties. Nor that the entire complex had been carefully inspected and any problems fixed. The building looked as if they had just been built, and the grounds landscaped. Lin did give him a folder of photographs showcasing the pool, beach, grounds, and his new home in it.
The Equestrians were going to turn a nice profit on the entire deal in the long term. Especially as they used the “Special Technology” to make the improvements at no real cost to them. Plus, they reduced the condominiums’ reliance on town services, such as providing their own silent, power generation, water supply, and waste disposal.
Everything was ready for the new owner, Frank Bryce, to move in, Lin told him. All he needed to do was give his current employer two-weeks’ notice and he could move in to his new home as soon as he could get there. Lin would arrange all the transportation, both local and airline. All Lin needed was a date for the travel.
To assuage the man’s paranoia, Lin handed him an international phone card with several hundred quid on it. He also included several phone numbers in the Bahamas to verify the information he had. One of them was the local police department.
“Ah!” he said, after standing up to leave, “One more thing.” He told the old man about the new medical treatments available for free to veterans that should allow the man to discard his walking stick. Lin made sure to mention that it might also relieve any lingering pains. “I think you should check it out before you move to your new home,” he concluded.
As Lin was leaving town, he contemplated his next moves. First came acquiring the former Riddle estate, but that would have to wait until Bryce moved out. Only last week had Lin managed to track down the real owner of the property. He had to go through several holding companies.
That new homes and greenhouses had been built, as well as a serious attempt at turning the property into a viable enterprise instead of a rotting tax write-off had been a shock to the Princess. That several new families also had moved in had deepened the surprise. However, Twilight had told him to proceed with the plans for Mr. Bryce.
For some reason, she seemed to feel it necessary to get him out of England.
The other tenants? Well, they would have to see what the landowner’s negotiations were like, if they included the tenants or not. They had the time.
The Equestrians wanted to go over every inch of the estate looking for something that Princess Twilight said she hoped was not there. The Riddle House would be torn down in the process.
Unfortunately, it appeared that the new owners of the Riddle estate might be a bit reluctant to sell it off. They were also very difficult to contact. Lin didn’t think that would be a problem, though. From what the Princess had said, it wasn’t a rush. Waiting six months or a year would not impede their plans. Whatever the new owners had paid for the property, whatever the improvements, the Princess was willing to pay double that or more. For that sort of profit, very few would turn down his offer — and it would be very suspicious if they did. What was there that they wanted on the estate enough to refuse a one-hundred-percent profit?
Failure to sell would be of the utmost interest to the Princess, he could tell.
While he was trying to negotiate with the Riddle Estate owners, he could begin researching the Gaunt estate. It was slated for similar treatment.
After that came the Little Hangleton church and graveyard.
The graveyard and church were just outside the village. Like the village, both the graveyard and the church were clearly visible from the Riddle House. The graveyard was bordered by a stone wall and sat next to the grounds of the vast Riddle estate. Frank Bryce’s cottage was right next to the graveyard and was separated from it by a stone wall. One set of the cottage’s kitchen windows faced the graveyard.
Lin thought the location rather unfortunate, but Frank appeared unfazed by his proximity to the spirits.
The graveyard was in an uneven area, which resulted in there being high and low burial segments. They ranged from wide-open to narrow and cramped. A small wooded area contained yew and other currently bare trees.
As well as having normal graves, the graveyard also had above ground mausoleums, and a series of below ground vaults and catacombs. While most of those buried had simple head stones to mark their graves, there were others that were grander — several were marked by stone obelisks and angels.
Near the mausoleum and vaults were a number of stone sarcophaguses. Several of these were placed on top of each other. The most opulent of the graves belonged to the Riddle family. The Riddle grave was marked by a large marble headstone that bore the names of Thomas Riddle, Mary Riddle, and Tom Riddle, Senior. The most striking feature of the grave was the large stone statue of the Angel of Death. The angel bore a raised scythe in its right hand and featured a skull face and skeletal hands.
Except for the newer graves, the graveyard had been neglected for many decades. Numerous graves were covered with ivy and moss, and dozens of the gravestones had names that could barely be seen. Several grave stones had tilted and sunken into the ground. A number of stone steps had also sunken into the ground, and were partly hidden.
Lin thought the Vicar would be delighted to hear that an anonymous, philanthropic relative of one of the villagers wanted to restore both the graveyard and the church to their former glory. He would be sending workers to right everything in the neglected graveyard.
Among the workers would be disguised Equestrian Earth ponies, Lin knew. Their jobs, masked by the others, would be to inspect every grave for its contents. They would also ensure that the bodies and their coffins were thoroughly decomposed and magically inert. The Princess wanted everything in graves useless for any sort of magical ritual that anyone might contemplate.
The Princess had been quite emphatic that this was very important. Moreso than acquiring the Riddle and Gaunt properties. She didn’t explain why. He knew it had something to do with magic, all of this did, so it was better to remain in the dark.
Plausible deniability, and all that.
^·_·^
Elly was surprised when the Gringotts Owl flew in at breakfast. She was even more surprised when she read the scroll the owl had brought. Someone wanted to buy the de Rippe estate!?
A muggle solicitor had approached the muggle agent Gringotts had used to purchase the estate, originally. It seemed, another party wanted the estate, and they were willing to pay quite handsomely for it.
The agent for the buyers had looked up the transfer papers and tax documents, which disclosed the final purchase price she had paid, then offered ten-percent over that amount.
The goblins had turned down that first offer, out-of-hand. The goblins had refurbished the run-down manor house to make it habitable, as well as modernize it, not to mention the new homes they had built and the greenhouses they had erected. They had told the agent that they had spent quite a bit more than a mere ten-percent on the manor. The amount they said they quoted the agent was, she knew, greatly exaggerated.
She was sure that whomever the buyer was, he knew that, too.
To their surprise, he had immediately counter-offered with a quote that over doubled the original purchase amount. It not only covered what the goblins had claimed to have spent, but left a small profit.
Looking at the total, the goblins recommended selling the property if the agent was willing to go to three times the original purchase price — they sensed that he wanted that estate. That would cover all the expenses so far, plus give Elly nearly a ninety percent profit, after the goblins took their “small fee” for the transaction.
Elly discussed the matter with Essie, Emmie, and Earl for the rest of the day. For the lings, there was the additional problem that she couldn’t admit that she had done some major tunnelling under the estate. She had constructed an escape tunnel in one direction and another to the small cluster of houses at the edge of her estate, as well as several chambers that were the bare outline of a tiny hive. To anyone who looked, it was clear evidence that lings had been living there.
However, she also knew she couldn’t unreasonably refuse to sell the property. She couldn’t claim it was an old ancestral home that she was reluctant to let go, now could she? Plus, unlike the ponies, people here would wonder why she had turned down what looked like a quick and easy profit. What was she trying to hide?
Especially because such a nice profit that would allow her to purchase a larger estate elsewhere, if she wanted. Or one the same size with a healthy balance in her vault for future projects — such as her restaurant.
Which meant she needed time to fill in those tunnels and erase any signs that lings had been around. That sort of work always took three or four times as long as the original digging!
She went to Professor Sprout to ask her advice, who referred her to Professor Aurora Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, as having bought a home, and then sold it not too long ago. She had discovered it was cheaper to rent an apartment during the summers when the school was closed.
Elly used the excuse that although her “relative” had recently purchased a small, income-producing estate, someone had just made a generous offer for it. Elly wanted to be sure the situation would be fair to everyone — what was reasonable or unreasonable to expect or demand.
Between them, they crafted a letter that instructed the goblins to accept the offer, but with conditions.
First, the de Rippes would be allowed to stay there until September Thirtieth — that meant they didn’t have to make special arrangements just for the coming summer holidays. Sinistra didn’t know that that also would give the lings the time they needed to erase the evidence of their “hive.” It would also give the goblins time to remove all the furnishing to either a vault or her new home.
Second, the new owners had to allow the residents of the tenant houses on the estate to remain, rent free, until the goblins had purchased a suitable replacement estate and refurbished or built adequate housing for them. Sinistra thought this would build a reputation of goodwill in the wizarding community. Elly thought that if she treated her tenants right, they would be more inclined to loyalty to her. Plus, it would be an advantage to have the reputation of a “good” landlord if she needed additional tenants in the future. That might even hold over to employees at her restaurant.
Third, the goblins would be allowed to remove the greenhouses to the new estate at the end of September. That would allow them to finish two growing seasons without disturbing the plants. Moving them with magic could be done overnight, of course, but they didn’t want buildings disappearing into thin air in the middle of the night to attract the notice of their muggle neighbours. They would make a show of disassembling everything.
Fourth, the new owners would pay for all those moving costs — those “small fees” tended to mount up!
If those conditions were met, then the goblin-suggested price would be acceptable to Elly — as a minimum.
^·_·^
A second owl, two days later, informed them that the buyer had agreed to all conditions, and placed funds in escrow to cover the future moving expenses. Elly could expect the funds from the sale in her vault by the weekend next, at the latest.
The goblin in charge anticipated that they would get at least two crops in from the greenhouses before they needed to be moved. If he could squeeze in a third, then the greenhouses would have paid for themselves, already.
^·_·^
On Saturday, Elly received a third owl from Gringotts. It seemed, the buyer for their property hadn’t known they also owned the former Gaunt property. He was a bit miffed that they hadn’t told him this. To which they had snarkily replied that he hadn’t asked.
In any event, he was offering double the original purchase price that Elly had paid. It was a much smaller piece of property, so the goblins suggested countering with a demand for three times the original purchase price. They would remind the buyer that this time he was saving funds by not having to deal with escrow for future expenses, nor any reimbursements for improvements. In fact, they had knocked down the rundown shack that originally been there, and the buyer was lucky they weren’t charging him for it! They would have suggested charging him for the demolition, but they didn’t think he was that gullible. Unfortunately.
Elly quickly replied to sell the property.
^-~-^
The day they were to head back to Hogwarts, at breakfast, his mum said, “I’m sorry to say, son, that we’ve been unable to make any real progress based on those books and movies we saw at Hearth’s Warming. Despite the confirmation that we appear to have recovered all the other . . . soul pieces . . . I haven’t been able to find the diary — if there is one. If the diary’s at Hogwarts, it’s extremely well-hidden. Plus, while the books seem to have mirrored events in your world, I don’t know if they truly reflect every detail. The first book was certainly wrong about how Professor Quirrell and Voldmort managed to reach the mirror. The second book claimed Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley got into fisticuffs inside Flourish & Blotts, but they didn’t. Plus, Ginny never saw the diary in among her books. There are other discrepancies as well.”
She sighed, as everyone at the table listened in, “Most of the Death Eaters that are mentioned were trialled twelve years ago, and can’t be re-trialled. The others?” She sighed in frustration. “Well, a suspicion raised by a book from another world is insufficient to get the Ministry to do anything. It’s basically hearsay evidence of the flimsiest sort, and the Aurors, even if they wanted to, can’t begin surveilling or bring someone in for questioning with no real evidence — in essence, just because they feel like it.” She sighed. “You can just imagine how much the Guard, here, would laugh at you if you insisted they arrest somepony based on a fictional story in book from another universe!”
She looked at him. “Just . . . try to be careful and pay attention to your surroundings, honey, okay?” she implored.
He nodded, as did Luna, Hermione, Myrtle, and the Weasley children.
^·_·^
Elly surprised Harry and his friends when she joined them on the way from Potions to Herbology class, April nineteenth, the Monday after returning to Hogwarts. Usually, she stayed with the Hufflepuffs.
They had managed to escape Potions without any obvious signs that Sweetie Belle’s potion had done anything different from what it had been supposed to do. They were all positive, however, that they hadn’t escaped, unharmed. It was merely a case of when it would show up. The suspense had them all on tenterhooks — metaphorically speaking, of course.
She casually drifted up beside them as they left the castle for the greenhouses. It was only when she spoke up that they realized she had joined them on purpose.
“I wasn’t sure I should mention this,” she said quietly, moving up beside him. “But I think I should warn you.”
Harry frowned at her. “Warn?”
The others glanced over, concerned.
“Yes,” she said with a pensive look. “It’s about the Dark Trio, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.” She glanced around and slowed slightly.
Harry slowed, too, letting the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs get a bit ahead of them. Naturally, his herd-mates, and Ron and Neville, kept pace with him, giving the Hufflepuff girl wary looks.
She didn’t indicate that she wanted even more privacy, so Harry thought whatever she had to say wasn’t that urgent or dangerous.
Once she judged they were far enough back, she said, “They are planning something that involves you.”
Harry arched his eyebrows.
“When aren’t the Slytherins planning something?” Ron said darkly, looking back towards the castle.
She shook her head. “No, this is different. I noticed last term that they were giving you an inordinate amount of attention when you weren’t looking, but lately it’s gotten worse. I’m getting the same feeling that I did last year during testing. Something is up, and it isn’t good.”
Harry exchanged alarmed looks with his friends.
“Malfoy,” Ron said nastily. “He’s always up to something vile.”
She shook her head again. “No, not so much him,” she said frowning slightly, “I’m getting the feeling that it’s Goyle, with Crabbe being dragged into it. Malfoy seems oblivious to what those two are doing.”
That got a few incredulous looks. Malfoy wasn’t only not in charge of the plot, but wasn’t even in the loop? Had the world turned upside-down?
“What are they doing?” said Hermione.
“It’s nothing too obvious,” she cautioned, “nothing I can mention to a professor.” She paused and took a breath, as if building up her courage to say something, and gave another look around the grounds. “Whenever Harry is in sight, or arrive where they are, they keep looking at him as if he had personally offended or hurt them, and they were plotting revenge.”
She sighed. “I know it’s not much, but . . . I just have this feeling that someone is plotting something that’s going to end with someone really hurt.” She took a look around the area, cautiously. “So, better safe than sorry, right? Just keep a sharp eye on them whenever you see them.” She glanced at his wand pocket. “Keeping a shield charm in mind would not be . . . unwarranted.”
She paused and looked over at Hermione. “Oh, on an unrelated topic, Professor Lockhart isn’t all on the up-and-up. He’s been paying an inordinate amount of attention to Harry during mealtimes, this term.” She gave Hermione a look with narrowed eyes.
Ginny and Hermione gave her dark looks. “Yes,” said Hermione, “We discovered after Christmas that his books . . . are bunk.”
She gave them an evaluating look. She shook her head slightly. “No, it’s more than that,” she said softly. Before any of them could say more, she broke into a run to catch up with her housemates, and left them behind.
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were exchanging calculating looks.
“Well,” Neville said philosophically, “That was interesting.”
“I don’t think we should ignore her warning,” Apple Bloom said worriedly. “She was right last year when she told the Guards that the Head Boy, Twycross, was acting oddly.”
Hermione nodded thoughtfully.
Scootaloo gasped. “Do you think he’s possessed and controlling a student?”
They all looked alarmed at the prospect.
Hermione frowned deeply. “Well,” she said slowly, “the only new Professor this year is Professor Lockhart.” She did not say the Headmaster would not hire an untrustworthy Professor, or that the castle was the safest place in England. Last year’s experiences had disabused her of that conviction. Especially after Twilight had told them some of the things she had done in the castle last year — like the basilisk.
“And he has been picking Harry as his demonstration partner an awful lot,” Ginny said, eyes wide.
“I wouldn’t put the ponce past it,” Ron said disparagingly.
Neville nodded worriedly.
“I’m not sure,” Hermione said slowly. “While De Ripp did say he’s not what he pretends, she didn’t seem to think he was involved. She did say her comment was on an unrelated note.” She sighed. “But that doesn’t explain why he’s paying attention to Harry — besides the obvious, of course.”
The year had been going so well, too, he thought, distractedly. In everything except the DADA, they were closing in on finishing third-year’s curriculum by the end of this term. He sighed. He wondered, if they did a hard push, could the take the Fifth Year tests at the end of fourth Year and maybe get out of Hogwarts a full year early?
He was tense during Herbology, constantly looking around. He was watching not only the area around himself, but his herd-mates and friends as well. Suddenly, everything around him seemed to be a potential threat until he had checked it out. Several times.
It wasn’t paranoia if they really were out to get you!
^-~-^
Tom was . . . unsettled.
His instincts said that something was coming. The feeling of being watched had been getting worse, but now that everyone had returned from Easter hols, the number of suspects became impossible to narrow down. He was sure the three Hufflepuffs were involved, but he couldn’t catch them out. The other choice meant a professor was watching him.
But none of the professors seemed to be paying him the slightest interest. At least, no more than what they normally did regarding any random student. Potter, and the Equestrians, naturally seemed to get more of their attention than most. Not even the Weasley twins were watched as closely.
Except Professor Snape. Tom found it extremely amusing to watch how the wizard constantly, and futilely, accused the two of being the source of the pranks that were his constant bane. There were no doubts that the wizard was a genius at potions . . . and an absolute failure as a Professor. Even Slughorn, brown-noser though he was, did a better job of teaching the craft.
The incompetent Lockhart, too, had his favourites, but only in how those could bring attention to himself. He appeared to think that any attention was better than no attention, subtlety was not his forte. From what Tom saw in the Great Hall to the rumours of Lockharts classes, he gravitated to those that drew the eye, for any reason.
His clear favourite was, of course, the famous Boy-Who-Lived. He was worse than the witches, in that respect. Maybe Tom could start a rumour that the professor had an “unhealthy” interest in the boy? If nothing else, it would be entertaining.
^-_-^