Son Of Riddle

Chapter five - Home...or what previously was

'It looks empty.' Was the first thought that came to James as he approached the doors. He remembered people and house elves always rushing in and out of the house. The doors were almost never closed for more than an hour at a time. This was annoying, especially in winter. He grabbed the ominous looking doorknob and gave it a try.
Locked.
He could have guessed this. He whispered the unlocking spell, his hand still on the doorknob. It glowed a bright blue for a second, then James heard the satisfying click of the lock and turned the knob.
And was almost immediately shot.
James cursed himself for not remembering the traps firsthand. As part of his training, James set up and dismantled traps daily. Only someone with his training level and naturally fast reflexes could survive the massive amount of traps he had set up in the house shortly before being shoved in the Library of Time. He guessed the house had been abandoned after that, as the first trap was still fully loaded, save the one bullet that had just been fired, and operational. James winced at the memory of his trap training as he dodged another bullet shot from a distant corner. James had a strange fascination with muggle artifacts, much like Arthur Weasley, only James was mostly fascinated by muggle weaponry. Guns were his personal favorites. He had several other types, guns was just what he had a plethora of, due to his obsession. James could talk nonstop about different types of guns and how to use them and what they look like and in different circumstances, which ones to use. Let's just say, it drove his mentors insane.
After nearly dying about ten more times, he was able to disable most of the traps after about five minutes. He walked away from the main part of the living room on the first floor and headed to the staircase leading to the second floor...where he promptly barely evaded being hit by a crossbow bolt. It now stuck out of the wall on a painting of an old wizard in the Riddle family, right where the wizard's nose should have been. James dismissed this and kept walking, despite the painting's clear show of discomfort. (The paintings in this mansion, much like the ones at Hogwarts, moved and seemed alive).
His memories of the house were still a little hazy so he had to explore the second and third floors a little bit until he found his bedroom. Or at least what he hoped was still his bedroom, as he had been gone for 20 years. He opened the door to his room and a flood of memories came back to him. More of the same memories, but other memories too. Memories of kindness. Friendship. These memories came in a flash and faded just as quickly, but they were still there. James shook his head dismissively, remembering that his father and all his death eaters were cold, cruel, torturous even. They had no kindness. He doubted if they even knew what kindness was. His mother wasn't much better. There was someone else though. A hazy but not unfamiliar face. Someone kind. Trusting. Traits unfamiliar to James. However, considering the mansion was abandoned and looked like it had been for some time, he doubted he would ever see this alleged person again, were they even real in the first place. He allowed his mind to once again, enter reality, and he entered his room.

It didn't look like you would expect it to. You'd probably think "oh, son of Lord Voldemort. Proudest pure-blood slytherin that ever lived, it would probably be decorated with slytherin related decor" but nope. Remember James' fascination with muggle weapons. His room was filled to the brim with guns and swords. Ordinary ones and enchanted ones. Not to mention hybrid weapons. I'm not talking toys either. James Riddle, pure blood wizard, son of Lord Voldemort, who despised all muggles, collected muggle weapons and in fact preferred using them over wands, as long as they were his weapons. James was sort of like Arthur Weasley in the way that he collected muggle artifacts and enchanted them so that they had magical properties as well as normal functions. He walked over to one wall with a shelf hanging on it that held his most prized possession. He picked it up and admired it in his hands. At first glance, it looked like a normal muggle revolver, but If you looked closely, you could see that it was engraved with tiny silver snakes. The revolver fired like a normal one, unless you said an incantation, then the bullet you fired would, in addition to functioning normally like a normal muggle bullet, it would also do what the spell was supposed to do. This was the first weapon he ever enchanted. He gingerly put the revolver back on the shelf. He turned around and looked around his room. It looked just like he had left it, aside from it being a tad cleaner.
'The house elves' he suspected.
Suddenly, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
He wasn't alone anymore.
He took a glock from his nightstand and carefully aimed it at the door. (He didn't need to check if it was loaded, he always kept his weapons loaded.) He whispered an enchantment under his breath. A rattle at the doorknob and a flash of light confirmed his suspicions. As the door flew open, James fired instantly and Minerva McGonnagle fell to the ground.