I Tricked the Goblet of Fire

Chapter 17

Night of October 31- Riddle Mansion, Little Hangleton 

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It was night, peaceful it was, no sound except for the soft trill of the crickets on the grass. No lights were on, except of the small bedroom window, where a faint glimmer could be sighted though no one dared enter, fearing the reported ghouls or some kind of poltergeist in the old and abandoned Riddle Mansion. 

The storied ate was unkind the the mansion, unforgiving and abusive, some would say. Long before it was a beauty, home of the rich and successful Riddle family, who made their fortunes in the a the field of banking and production. They owned much of the land around Little Hangleton, what some would call modern feudalist Lords. They were a once respected family, caring and kind to the inhabitants of the town and providing to their needs during storms. However, the modern Riddles were quite unliked, the townspeople saw them as snobbish gits, who  showed off their wealth in lavish and loud parties that lasted to the late hours of the evening. Little did they know of their impending doom, death would strike late and deadly. 

Not much is known of the great Riddle massacre, the affair was filled with intrigue and mystery that still tingled the spine of many of the town inhabitants. 

It seemed to have started in the late 1930's or so, with a small scandal concerning a Riddle member named Thomas Riddle who had seemed to have relations with a poor and dim woman who lived nearby, a certain Merope Gaunt. He had left her after a few years after she had produced a child out of wedlock (a bastard) and the woman seemed to have disappeared, along with news of the family and the Riddle family tried to keep it under the carpet, not wanting to cause a major town scandal and taint of their already unpopular reputation amongst the townsfolk. 

The massacre took place on the year of 1943, bomb raids had just paused and soldiers were still being sent out to fight the German's on the European sphere. It seemed the Riddle's had bought their way out of the war, paying the army to keep their children out of conscription. It was late and dinner had just been served at around 7 PM, then a man named Morfin Gaunt  entered the house and had killed them using the deadly killing curse. 

No one was linked to the murder, only Frank Bryce, its caretaker but was subsequently freed after no evidence was found. Since then, many owners it had passed before the house stood abandoned, a bloody stain on it history, only being taken care off by its old caretaker but it seemed he had gone off too, not having been seen since late summer. 

The light dimmed darkly, lit only by a few candles. Reflecting on the light was a small, quite atrocious being on a small sofa chair. It was wrapped in dark cloth, laid down on a snake, hissing softly. It was the homunculus of the very alive Lord Voldemort who had supposedly died on the Samhain night of 1981.

"So... Nagini," hissed Voldemort to the snake. "Has our plan succeeded?" 

"That I am not sure, my dearest Lord," she hissed back. "I am sure the worm knows but he is not here... Where is he?" 

"To check if there is any message from Barty, our most responsible asset as of now." 

"The sickly teen boy?" asked Nagini. "Yes, I liked him, he reminded me of another man I knew before I transformed permanently. He was a nice boy, transformed by someone he thought was a friend." 

"Who was he, Nagini?" 

"That is a personal secret, my dearest, for another time for me to tell."  

It seemed so, that the dark lord's face formed into a frown, or perhaps a pout that was supposed to empathize him but made him look like an old deformed cow with tons of wrinkles. "Please Nagini, what is his name? Do tell."