A long time ago, Frank Bryce had been sad, and angry. He had been so every day, and it had just gotten worse since.

That was before the event that made him a pariah, back when he was merely a young man who had given up years of his prime for his country, and been given chronic pains and a mind stretched to the breaking point for his trouble.

He wasn’t capable of living in the city among other young people and potential friends. He knew he was too damaged, in more ways than one, for that, so the gardens of the Riddle estate might very well have been the best for him in many ways.

Oh, the Riddles were not people he was keen on being around of course, but the older pair and their adult son did not scream and shout, they merely left snide remarks about the state of the gardens, and snide remarks was something Frank could, with some difficulty, tolerate. Unlike loud noises, it didn’t remind him, however unwillingly, of smattering of machine guns emptying themselves into the ground around him and his friends, or suddenly noticing the whistling of incoming bombs, and the fear that he or any of the boys next to him would still be in one piece in a few moments.

Here, for all its flaws, was a patch of the world of peace and quiet, and Frank alternated between breathing out in relief and grumbling in frustration that the days blended together and that beyond the horizon the world continued without him.

There was one thing Frank would always remember though. A long time ago, he had limped along the hedges, wincing every now and then, with the hedge trimmer in his hands, when he happened to look up.

There, just beyond the border of the mansion ground, had been a boy, almost a man. He was too far away for Frank to get a good look at, but his pale skin, dark hair, and black clothes stood out on the sunny summer day. In fact, if he had taken a step forward and entered the mansion ground, Frank would have assumed it was a relative of the Riddles coming to visit, but he didn’t. He simply stood there, looking at the mansion, and not as if appreciating its aesthetics, but as if deep in thought, oblivious to the world around him.

Frank didn’t know if it was his mind fending off the boredom of work with a sudden burst of imagination, but there had been something… strange, about that boy. Something… sinister.

Then again, that had been the only unusual thing that had happened the day before that very unusual night; the night that had made Frank’s already bad life even worse. Of course his memories would play tricks on him, of course even the slightest unusual event would be warped into having some sort of meaning.

But still, even so many years later, Frank couldn’t shake the feeling that he had caught a glimpse of something larger and more complex, standing in the shade with those hedge trimmers in his hands and looking at the figure in the distance.

So it was understandable that Frank Bryce had frozen where he stood, again with an old pair of hedge trimmers in his hands, almost on the exact same spot, and noticed a young girl, with black clothes and an eye-catching mane of red and blonde hair, standing on the now-much less cared for grounds, looking up at the now-dilapidated mansion, deep in thought.

—

Sunset stood by the threshold to the mansion grounds, staring at a grand house in the distance.

“Right… here we go again,” she said, and stepped forward.

She reached out with her magical senses, but she couldn’t pick up anything in particular. There might have been a hint of magic, somewhere, but it was hard to tell, and it might not even have been this house.

Unlike the Malfoy’s largely abandoned mansion, this house was actually abandoned, and looked like it. Instead of merely needing a new coat of paint and being covered in vines and moss, this mansion was in disrepair. Roof tiles were missing or shifted around, drainpipes were bent or missing completely, windows were broken and boarded up, and the boards themselves were rotted and warped.

Interestingly, the grounds were in much better condition, if not entirely well-cared for, which made sense if the boy had been telling the truth, that there was a gardener here, if an old and feeble one working alone.

The lawn was fairly well-kept, and while several of the shrubs and trees had apparently grown too large to be properly cared for, it was far from reclaimed by nature as it would’ve been if it had gone fifty years without someone tending it. The oak and maple trees however, had grown tall, fat, and happy, and were covering a lot of the lawn in shade.

The gravel road, which only had a few stray pieces of grass sticking out of it here and there, made crunching sounds underneath Sunset’s boots as she slowly strolled over it.

Scanning left and right, she spotted a lone figure in a flat cap standing on the far side of the large lawn, having stopped his hedge trimming, and was glaring at her.

Sunset started walking in his direction, slowly and calmly, and the man turned to face her. True to what the boy had said earlier, it was clear that this man couldn’t move very well, as was further evident by his slightly crooked posture and the cane leaning against the tall hedge next to him.

Other people were clearly not a welcome sight to the man, and Sunset wondered exactly how angrily she would be greeted.

So it was to her mildly pleasant surprise, when she reached conversation distance, the man simply said, in a firm voice, “this is private property.”

Sunset nodded. “I know, and I apologize for the intrusion. Frank Bryce I presume?”

The man eased up just a bit on his glaring expression. “That’s right.”

“My name is Sunset Shimmer. I’d like to ask you some questions.”

The old man recoiled slightly, eyeing Sunset more with suspicion than anger, but then his expression darkened again. “I’m working,” he scoffed, and turned around to continue trimming the hedge, but groaned when he put his weight on his leg, and reached for his cane.

He stumbled however, and was about to fall forward, when Sunset quickly stepped forward and shot her forearms in under his shoulders, and Frank found himself suddenly safe from falling by the girl’s shocking strength.

He craned his head back to see the fiery-haired girl looking at him patiently, before she eased him towards his cane, which he grabbed and propped himself up with, letting the girl free her arms.

Frank stared at her for a long moment, wondering what to say, before remembering common courtesy. Frank’s mood then fell. He didn’t have the energy for common courtesy anymore, and instead put up a shield.

“Thank you, lass,” he muttered, and started limping towards the toolshed.

“Bad leg?” Sunset asked.

“Hm?” he muttered, and put a finger in his ear to try and dislodge some earwax.

Frank would’ve almost preferred if she had let him fall. Then he could bark and yell at her, telling her to go home. Instead, he just sighed. “Yes.”

“And hearing?”

“Hm?” he muttered again.

“Bad hearing?” Sunset repeated, louder.

“Hm… yes.”

Frank hadn’t spoken a word to someone in a week, and that had been to tell the grocery store clerk that he had been short changed. He had not had a proper conversation with anyone in years.

He knew that it wasn’t good for him, but he also knew that getting his hopes up about… anything, really, was even worse.

So it was to his wry satisfaction that the girl turned around on the spot to walk away, and with confusion that she said, “I’ll be right back.”

Sunset walked out of the mansion grounds again, where she stepped into the backseat of her car and started digging around a bookshelf consisting of two salvaged bookshelf-halves for the bottles she needed.

After a minute, she stepped out of her car again, and walked back, but Frank wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Walking in the direction he had last headed, she saw a little shed, and a rundown cottage a little ways from that, with Frank heading towards it. She followed, and just before she caught up with him, Frank closed the door behind him.

Sunset knocked on the door, and when there was no response for a moment, she tried again.

“Seriously, open up,” she said, with the authority of someone on a mission.

The door slowly clicked, and then cautiously opened what little it would, being hindered by a chain on the inside, with Frank suspiciously looking out through the crack.

Sunset poked two tiny bottles through the opening, almost into Frank’s face, one filled with what looked like liquid brass, and the other clear with what looked like a mostly-dissolved bit of cartilage floating around in it.

“Drink these. You can put it in your tea if you want.”

Frank’s suspicious and incredulous gaze shifted back and forth between Sunset and the bottles.

“Doctor’s orders,” Sunset urged.

Frank continued staring back and forth between Sunset’s gaze for several seconds, but something about Sunset’s demeanor reminded him of his old lieutenant, and he carefully took the bottles before closing the door.

“Good enough. Now, hmm…” Sunset said to herself, before her expressions lightened up, and she walked back towards her car. “Time for video games.”

—

The next morning, Frank Bryce couldn’t decide whether to be happy or suspicious, but as he stood by the door and prepared to go outside, he reached for his cane, and then stopped, before leaving it and simply walking outside.

Outside was a most unusual sight. The girl from yesterday, the one he couldn’t decide whether he was suspicious of or happy with, was leaned back in a lawn chair in a patch of sunlight, with her boots off and her feet resting on a foldable footstool, idly wiggling her toes and wearing a pair of aviators.

She turned her head to look at Frank, and gave him a simple wave.

“Yo.”

Still not able to figure out how he should react, he walked up to the young girl, notably not limping, and having had the best sleep he could remember, and stood over her.

With a neutral expression, he simply asked, “what was in those bottles?”

Sunset lowered her sunglasses, looking mildly surprised. “Oh, you actually drank them? That’s good, I was half-expecting to have to force you.”

Frank’s shoulders tensed. “... Should I have been?”

“Not at all. You’re feeling better, aren’t you? And notice how you’re not asking me what I said,” she said, looking straight up and basking in the sunlight.

“What was in them?”

“Uh, let’s see… peelings from a dried mandrake root, a pellet of fairy dust, water of course, stinging nettle fuzz, boiled bear fat, and a pinch of ginger… for the taste.”

Frank Bryce was facing the girl, but he had stopped actually looking at her.

Three people had dropped dead in the mansion on the same night, and no one could explain how it had happened. Several owners had tried to live there, and barely any had spent more than a night.

If someone could cure a maimed leg with only a tablespoon of mysterious liquid… Could that explain how the Riddles had died? Some undetectable poison? Was the girl in front of Frank not really a girl, but some older creature who had come to finish the job?

But why would she help him first? Maybe she was trying to get on his good side? Some otherworldly monster trying to get him to betray the ones he was loyal to?

“I can see the wheels turning in your head,” Sunset pointed out.

Frank paused. The ones he was loyal to?

His demeanor suddenly relaxed, and he instead looked at the unusual girl.

“Who did you say you were?” he asked.

“Sunset Shimmer,” she said, and stood up, hopping into her boots, and holding out her hand.

“That’s… an unusual name,” he said, carefully taking it.

The girl’s handshake was surprisingly firm. “Oh yeah? Why?”

“You’re… not a sunset.”

“I guess not. We’ll see if you’re frank. Hah!”

Frank just stared at Sunset. This was not at all what he expected.

“Fine, be that way,” Sunset said, shrugging. “Anyway, I wanna ask you about the Riddles.”

Frank kept staring at Sunset for a moment, then turned around. “Come in. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Sunset followed Frank into his small house. It was a bit like an alternate version of Hagrid's cabin, next to a deathly still ruin instead of a lively castle, run down instead of rustic, and sad instead of quaint.

“Have a seat,” Frank offered when they stepped into the kitchen, seemingly every surface of which was sunbleached, and Sunset sat down by the cluttered table.

“Haven’t had a visitor for…” Frank muttered, as he clanged the kettle onto the stove and fished around a cabinet for some tea bags. “So… what did you want to ask about?”

“How to put this?” Sunset said. “... Let’s start with this: What were the Riddles like?”

Frank put some biscuits in front of Sunset, who gladly took one, then mumbled to himself for a moment. “Unpopular. Rude, rich, snobbish, looked down on people, they did.”

“Sure, sure,” Sunset said, nodding along. That wasn’t exactly something that hinted they were magical or mundane. “What about… secrets? Did they have any of those?”

Frank heaved out a sigh of relief when he collapsed in a chair opposite Sunset, taking a biscuit of his own.

“Hmm… well, I didn’t really know them that well., and I didn’t really work here for that long before… whatever it was that happened,” he said, and narrowed his eyes slightly. “I assume you know all about that?”

“Only some,” Sunset said, shaking her head. “I know what they say down at the pub.”

“Pah!” Frank scoffed.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Sunset said. “So what did happen?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Frank said, shortly. “I know what everyone else knows. One morning, the maid came in to see the entire family dead in the dining room, dressed for dinner, and not a scratch on them. No poison, police said. No disease, nothing at all.”

The kettle started to whistle, and Sunset stood up before Frank could, pouring the boiling water into the two prepared mugs and handing one to Frank, putting the kettle down on a potholder on the table.

“Mm, thank you,” he said, gruffly.

“And then nothing?” Sunset asked, as she sat down.

“Mhm. That’s all she wrote. The family was dead. Some…” Frank waved his hand, searching for words. “... Second cousin or some such came by a week later, walked around the house with a solicitor or something for a day. Sold the house after a while. New owners came by, and left after a few days, never came back. New owners again a few months after that. Same story. Staff eventually got laid off. Don’t even care who owns it anymore, but they want the grounds taken care of.”

“Why does everyone leave?” Sunset asked.

Frank stared at her, trying to gauge how serious she was, but didn’t notice anything jokingly about her question. “Hrm… probably because three people died under mysterious circumstances. Might be afraid of gas leaks, I don’t know.”

“So… anything unusual about the family?” Sunset asked.

“Aside from how they died?” Frank said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Any… secret rooms that no one else was allowed in?”

Frank shook his head, clearly wondering where this was going.

“Any… other secrets of any kind?”

“Hunh, well, when you put it like that, not exactly a secret, though they would’ve preferred it that way,” Frank said, and leaned back in his chair. “I remember, back before my time you see, Tom, that’s the son in the family–”

“Tom?” Sunset interrupted. “Tom Riddle?”

“That’s right.”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” She pressed.

“No, no Marvolo,” Frank said, shaking his head, and got a strange look on his face, looking out the window as he thought. “... Marvolo… Marvolo…?”

“Sounds familiar?”

“Aye… can’t… place it though… hmm,” Frank muttered, falling silent for a moment and thinking.

“What were you saying though? About Tom?” Sunset asked.

“Right. Tom. Y’see, back when I was a wee lad, younger than you, Tom, the son in the family, had left the darling dear his parents had intended for him, and ran off with some… pauper woman in rags. Went missing for months, he did, married her, even. Then, after a while, he came back. None of us knew why, but we could all see something about him. He was embarrassed, you see. And no wonder. Why he would do such a bloody stupid thing, none of us ever learned. Far as we could tell, neither could his parents. Wished he hadn’t though. It made him mean, even more than he was before. Anyway, never remarried. Must’ve been almost forty when he snuffed it. That whole thing was a secret, you could say, on his part.”

Frank finally focused on his surroundings, and noticed that in front of him, the strange young girl’s eyes were darting rapidly back and forth and she had an almost amazed expression on her face as she processed the story.

“You alright there, lass?”

“Y… yeah,” Sunset slowly said, and raised a finger. “Wh… who was it that he ran off with? Someone local?”

“Aye… sort of. Strange folk. Lived in a hovel a little ways away from here. Angry and… strange, like I said.”

“Right, they were strange though?” Sunset pressed.

Frank nodded. “Very. Very…” Frank searched for words, but seemed to come up empty. “... Odd.”

“What was her name?”

“Erm… don’t remember…” Frank said, when suddenly his eyebrows show up. “Oh, wait, her father, his name was Marvolo. That’s right, now I remember. Marvolo Gaunt.”

Frank didn’t know the significance of this, but it looked very interesting to Sunset as she leaned back in her chair. “... Really?”

“Mhm,” Frank nodded.

“... Huh,” was all Sunset could say for almost a full minute, before Frank spoke up.

“So, lass, who are you, really? Why did you come here, asking questions about dead rich folk? And for that matter, what was in those bottles last night?”

“Hm? Oh, uhm,” Sunset said, and shook her head. “Like I said, my name is Sunset Shimmer. In the bottles were cures for your aches, and I’m… investigating.”

“Cures for…? Listen, if you fed me some illegal concoction then–”

“No, no, it was a cure,” Sunset repeated.

Frank eyed her suspiciously. Sunset eyed him back.

“You know, I’ve been itching to tell this to someone for a long time,” she slowly said, partially to herself. “Can you keep a secret?”

After a moment’s silence, Frank scoffed. “There’s no one I talk to anyway.”

Sunset slowly nodded, “Certainly not anyone I’m keeping this a secret from anyway,” she said, and then closed her eyes and concentrated.

She channeled raw magical power through her body, and as she had some practice with now, concentrated it on a place of her body, in a way that would locally suppress the transformation magic from the mirror.

Frank Bryce used his newfound mobility to back away from the girl, knocking over his chair as he did, when the hair of the girl in front of him started glowing, almost looking as if it was on fire, before a single, straight horn grew out of her forehead.

Sunset opened her eyes and saw the man having backed into a corner, eyes wide, and she smiled.

“No need to be scared, Mr Bryce,” she said, and stood up to raise the chair Frank had knocked over again, making Frank notice the fiery-looking tail sticking out from under Sunset’s skirt.

Sunset sat down again, and gestured to the other chair. “Who I am is Sunset Shimmer. What I am is a unicorn.”

Frank stayed glued in his corner, until Sunset smiled at him. “Oh come on, are unicorns really that scary?”

He stayed still for another moment, before carefully sitting down again.

“Now, the bottles I gave you yesterday were magic potions that undid your injuries. One sharpened your hearing again, softened up your cochlear I expect, while the other coaxed some nerve endings and tissues back to how they should be. And the reason I’m asking questions is because I’ve been investigating a wizard. A very bad one.”

Frank opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “... Wizard?” he asked.

“Wizard,” Sunset confirmed. “Magic is real. I, a unicorn, can use magic, and so can some humans. Wizards. And witches too.”

Frank looked down to the side and slowly nodded as pieces came into place. “... And the reason no one could figure out what had killed the Riddles…”

“I suspect so, yes,” Sunset said, also nodding.

“And that’s why… no one figured out that…?”

A sneer started to grow on Frank’s face, and he huffed. “So… some wizard shows up and starts killing and… and that’s it? I’ve had nothing but glares and whispers behind my back for fifty years, because of a wizard?”

Frank hadn’t raised his voice in the slightest, but he was angry as if he had been shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Yes,” Sunset said, and looked at him sympathetically. “He hurt a lot of people. A lot of people vanished without a trace. No one seems to know the extent of the damage he caused.”

“And where is he?” Frank demanded.

“Dead, most people think, but wizards of that kind of power… seems like he has a way of coming back. I’ve seen him try once already.”

“So you… you want to fight him?” Frank said.

Sunset calmly nodded. “That’s right.”

“A… a girl like you?”

Sunset smiled. “I’m no slouch either. Anyway, I thought you might deserve to hear the truth.”

Frank eyed Sunset for another moment, before nodding again. “Hunh… alright. What do you need to know, Sunset Shimmer?”

Sunset took a sip of her tea. She had stopped concentrating, letting transformation spell shape her into a fully human form again.

“Well, Perhaps you’d like to hear my thoughts too. The dark wizard called himself Lord Voldemort, but his real name was Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Sunset said.

Frank opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.

“Exactly. So let’s summarize, from the top. I learned that the Gaunt family were old blue blooded wizards who had fallen on hard times. A strange family called Gaunt lived in these parts. Suddenly, Tom Riddle elopes with a strange pauper woman, and then comes back without her, angry and embarrassed. Years later, a Tom Marvolo Riddle appears among witches and wizards, and at some point after that, the Riddle family dies mysteriously. After that, Tom Marvolo Riddle abandons his name and starts calling himself lord.”

The two looked at each meaningfully.

“I’m sure you can fill in the blanks,” Sunset said.

“... Earlier in the day, before the Riddles died, a strange boy, a teenager, pale and with dark hair, was skulking around outside the mansion grounds,” Frank said. “No one else seems to have seen him, but I remember.”

“That’s him,” Sunset said, nodding.

“... So what happens now?” Frank asked.

“I am going to look into the Gaunts’ residence,” Sunset said, and stood up.

—

The dirt path leading to the house through the trees had been reclaimed by grass and undergrowth a long time ago, and the patch of woods around the house was thick, damp, and absolutely lethargic. Sunset tried greeting it, but it barely even acknowledged her presence.

Still, the house was there. It was little more than a shack, built on top of thick oak roots sticking out of the ground, which weren’t very happy with the arrangement. The structure had been unoccupied for half a century, but it was still standing, if barely. The trees had no interest in getting any closer to it than they were already.

“Not a mansion this time,” Sunset noted to herself, as she floated herself over some shrubs, and approached the building.

The door looked like it had been a sturdy construction at one point, but now its strength was rotted away. All the glass windows were broken and only some of them still had hatches, hanging sadly on rusty hinges. A good number of the roof tiles were missing or had slid away from their original position, and it seemed as if moss was what kept the remaining ones on the rafters.

Sunset very carefully walked up to the door, which was ajar, and peeked inside.

Between the thick foliage and the cobwebs, it was nearly impossible to discern anything inside the cabin.

Carefully putting her boot through the opening, Sunset opened the door by pulling at it with her foot.

The door opened with a stage-worthy creak, letting a bit more light spill in.

The floor had been warped by decades of moisture coming in from the open windows, and covered in remains of broken pottery, mold, and fungus.

There was a simple and old-looking cooking area, as well as some chairs and a table, some of which had completely broken down, and an armchair where the upholstery had almost completely rotted away. A cast iron pot had rolled onto the floor and was nearly rusted through.

Along the walls stood a few cabinets, half of which had fallen over, shattering the simple mugs and similar things they had contained, and two doors next to each other led to two other rooms, and Sunset could tell from where she stood that they were completely destroyed by a long-since fallen tree. Everything made out of wood was warped from years and years of moisture, and everything was covered in dust and grime.

Grabbing a twig from the forest floor, Sunset poked a path through the cobwebs, and very carefully stepped in.

One of the upright cabinets contained textiles. Curtains, bedsheets, or clothes, it was impossible to tell. Like the armchair, they had almost completely rotted away. Nowhere did it seem like the cabin contained anything useful.

The last known, or rather semi-known, heirs of Slytherin had been the Gaunts, and if they lived here, they would have been dying a slow, ignominious death. But, decades ago, the daughter of the family had married the son of the people over in the mansion which was just across the valley, and that union had created Voldemort.

Fascinating, and draining, as Sunset’s hunt had been, her heart was now sinking quickly.

From just a name, to searching through an abandoned grand mansion, to journeying across Britain and finding possibly the last person who could share any insight on his origins, to the home of the immediate family of the notorious dark lord, it now seemed to Sunset that it had all been in vain: This was just a decrepit old shack. A dead end.

Standing in the middle of the one room that remained of the building, Sunset took a deep breath, and kind of regretted it considering the amount of dust in the air, and let out a disappointed sigh.

She turned around, and considered maybe having some leisure time before having another look tomorrow, futile as it seemed. She took a step towards the door, when the floorboard she put her boot on bent under her weight.

Sunset paused, and looked down. If the universe was playing a prank on her and it was nothing, she’d be very upset, but still, she bent down, and pried up the floorboard.

Underneath, lying in the dirt, was a small, nondescript wooden box, which stood out from the surroundings from being polished and in good condition.

“Now that’s more like it,” Sunset said, smirking.

This needed consideration, but Sunset refused to sit on the filthy chairs that were in the house. Instead, she snapped her finger, and summoned up a temporary chair.

For several minutes, Sunset sat in silence and, to the outside onlooker, simply stared at the wooden box.

It was so thick with curses, magical traps, and cloaking spells that Sunset thought it was excessive.

Eventually, Sunset realized that it was excessive, and she smiled again.

Waving her fingers, she started magically digging in the dirt around the box, and right underneath it was another, identical box. The one on top had been a distraction; a ringer.

“I’m so great,” Sunset said, smirking, and carefully floated the second box into her hand.

She got up, the chair vanishing behind her, and carefully stepped outside.

“Now…” she said, and sat the box down on the ground, before stepping back and waving her hands in continuous circles.

The leaves and twigs on the ground around her were magically being gathered up as if by a miniature tornado, before forming into a humanoid shape.

Sunset took another step back, before marionetting the construct of forest debris to step up to the little box, bend over, and open it.

The moment the lid opened, what looked like liquid shadows shot out of the box and engulfed the construct's forearm, lower leg, and head, which all quickly disintegrated into dust, and the figure stumbled onto the remains of its leg.

Sunset raised her eyebrows. That was powerful, but not very clever. She supposed the cleverness had been the bit with the decoy.

With a wave from Sunset’s finger, the twig construct reformed itself, and once again tried to open the box. This time it let out a puff of green smoke, which flew up and surrounded the construct’s head, trying to force itself down its throat.

Sunset scowled, and started rolling her other hand, hastily forming a new construct, this time not bothering with giving it arms, but giving it an orifice where a human’s mouth would be, leading into a cavity in the torso.

It rushed forward to join its compatriot, shoving its head into the small cloud of smoke, which sensed the opening, and rushed down into the cavity in the torso.

The construct with the arms immediately put its hands on the other one’s mouth, trapping the malevolent gas inside, before they lay down on ground and rolled a body length away.

Sunset waved her hands again, encasing the two figures in a great block of ice, so massive it would not fully melt until about a week later.

“That’s it, right?” she asked no one in particular, before magicing up a stick next to the box, and flipping the lid open.

This time, it opened without a hitch, and Sunset walked up to inspect the contents.

Inside was a golden ring with a fairly simple design, and a black stone set into it, into which was scratched a marking; a straight line inside a circle, which in turn was inside a triangle.

Sunset looked around. She was running out of twigs, but still waved her fingers to make the remaining ones form into another humanoid construct.

The twig shape walked up to Sunset, who stepped back, before it bent down

Sunset hesitated, making the twig figure fall down onto the dirt, and then bent down to inspect the ring again.

It was magic, that much was obvious, but what kind of magic she couldn’t tell. The traps on the first box, which was still inside the cabin, had been obvious, or at least some had been. Sunset suspected that there were more devious ones on it as well. The traps on the second box had been more subtle.

This ring, however, Sunset barely knew where to start.

There was old magic here, that much was obvious. Aside from that, she mostly had to go on the boxes, and what type of person had put the traps on them.

There was a possibility that, this being the prize, something actually valuable, whoever had put the traps on the boxes had not put anything on the ring, not wanting to risk the magic on it.

Eventually, Sunset braced herself, stood up again, and animated the twig figure again.

It knelt down, picked up the ring, and put it on its finger.

It wasn’t immediately obvious, but the construct’s hand had started to shrivel and contract, as if it was a corpse that was left out in some warm climate, but in fast forward.

Sunset narrowed her eyes, and willed the construct to pull the ring off again, which, of course, did not work.

“Hmm,” Sunset said, deep in thought, as the construct was being slowly overtaken by the effect, until several minutes later, it was a desiccated husk. Sunset could only imagine how grizzly the sight would be if an actual person had worn the ring.

She looked around. The area had now been thoroughly cleared from twigs and fallen branches, but she grabbed a limb from a still living bramble bush, and poked it through the ring.

Nothing happened.

“Okay then,” Sunset said to herself, and bent down to pick up the ring.

The so-called “dark lord” was still alive to some extent, still a factor, and with a lack of alicorn princesses in this world to stop him, it fell to Sunset Shimmer to step up to the plate… or so she felt would be something an aspiring alicorn should do.

This ring was something that Tom Riddle, the wizard that is, guarded, and obviously valued. Taking it seemed like a good way to interrupt his plans.

Her fingers closed around the ring, and she slowly straightened up again.

It lay in the palm of her hand, doing nothing. It seemed, at the very least, spent.

“Alrighty.”

Suddenly, the ring moved, as if with a purpose, and quickly rolled out across Sunset’s hand, and before Sunset could react, it had slid itself onto her finger.

She grabbed it with her other hand, but she knew it was no use before she started tugging.

Magic started pouring out from the ring, and a painful chill went out into her hand, and started travelling up her wrist.

“Shit!”

She grabbed her wrist, as if to try and stop the effect, before concentrating.

Her own magic started pouring down her arm, and met the magic effect, but it didn’t seem to do much.

The curse from the ring wasn’t overpowering her magic, it was slipping through it, like a snake through a net. Throwing more magic at it only barely slowed it down.

Sunset didn’t need to have seen the effect the traps had on her puppets to realize that this curse was deadly.

A chill ran down Sunset’s spine which was so intense it was almost painful, and she started pouring cold sweat and breathing heavily.

Keeping her head enough to realize that power alone would not save her, she turned around and ran, through the bushes and out onto the dirt road, trying to reshape the magic she launched at the ring in as many ways she could.

Out on the dirt road, her car was waiting for her, and it immediately threw up its doors when she approached.

Sunset dove into the rear door, into the small residence inside the DeSoto, and looked around.

She kicked her bag onto the floor, making it spill out its contents. There was the book, and Sunset threw herself onto the ground, still holding her arm, which felt as if it was locked in a painful cramp which was only growing worse.

She nudged the book open, and bit down on the pencil which had also spilled out on the ground. She hadn’t written with her mouth in two years, but she still knew how. The stress of the situation made the words look more than a little messy though.

emergency

need help now.

please answer

The words started forming immediately underneath hers. Sunset could tell the princess used magic to write as fast as possible, straight to the point.

I am here. What is happening?

Sunset took a quick moment to breathe a sigh of relief, and blinked away the tears forming in her eyes from the pain and worry.

Celestia was with her. Everything was going to be alright.

Good thing too, because Sunset was sweating so much that it would soon start dripping on the book.

been hit with magic effect

powerful
fatal

cursed ring

trying to keep it at bay

not going great

Are you actively trying to stop it?

yes

casting all counterspells I know

it is fast and aggressive

If it can keep barraging a unicorn of your skill and power like this, that means that there is some sort of intelligence in it. I cannot be certain, but I would say that wearing it gives it some insight into your magical knowledge, and is using that to adapt its assault.

This adaptable intelligence is unlikely to exist in a simple autonomous spell. It will be anchored in the ring.

Destroy it.

Sunset breathed heavily around the pen in her mouth, as her mind raced to produce an idea.

how?

magical ring

hidden and protected by a powerful wizard.

The book was still for a moment, before Celestia responded.

Where is the basilisk you mentioned?

not near

why?

Basilisk venom is potent enough to destroy powerful magical artefacts.

Hope welled up inside Sunset, and she managed to gain some control over her racing heart.

kept a fang

have it here

will pour it on ring

Sunset! Shield yourself from the venom!

Basilisk venom is magical, but boiling water with silver in it is enough to neutralize it.

With determination and purpose, she got on her knees.

yes

write soon

Sunset used her curse-affected hand, which was now turning grey and going numb with the pain transferring to her wrist, to turn her bag upside down.

Books, quills, and boxes of potion supplies pooled out alongside a few Equestrian coins, when Sunset spotted it.

She had placed the fang inside a glass jar she had swiped from Snape’s dungeon, wrapped inside a piece of cloth.

Sunset grabbed it under her arm, along with the standard silver knife from her potions supplies kit, and threw herself over the backrest into the driver’s seat.

“DeSoto, get us out of here!”

Her car, which had been rumbling with concern, roared into action. The doors closed, and it spun its tires on the dirt road to turn on the spot, before thundering down the valley.

It barely took a minute for the car to reach the old Riddle house, and opened the door to the driver’s seat.

Sunset threw herself out of the car and sprinted across the lawn.

“Frank! I need help!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

She looked around urgently, soon spotting the old man jogging towards her from around the corner of the mansion.

“What happened!?”

“Come here!” Sunset yelled, and set off in the direction of Frank’s cabin.

When reaching it, Frank opened the door, eyeing Sunset, who was still gripping her hand.

“What’s happening?” he said, as they entered the cabin.

“A powerful curse,” Sunset said. “Think of it like a poison which needs to be neutralized.”

“C- curse?” Frank said, then shook his head. “What do I do?”

Sunset stood by the table, and dropped the things she had been holding under her arm.

“First, boil water. I need enough boiling water to dunk my hand into.”

“Y- your hand in boiling–”

“Just do it! I’ll be fine! It’s to stop this,” Sunset said, and held up her hand.

Frank recoiled when he saw the hand, and nodded.

He poured water into a pot and turned the electric stove on to the highest effect. He then collected a few smaller pots and pans and did the same on the other slots.

“Toss the silver knife into the pot,” Sunset said, who was concentrating on keeping the curse at bay.

Frank did so, with shaking hands.

“Now, I have to concentrate,” Sunset said, and sat down in silence, gripping her arm hard and absolutely barraging the curse with more magic.

No specific spell would work if the ring could read her mind, but simply pouring as much magic as possible in its proverbial way did buy her some time.

Frank stared at the girl in his kitchen with wide eyes. Her fiery hair and teal eyes were glowing, her tail had come back, and her ears had moved further up on her head, become larger, pointier, covered in a short orange coat, and were twitching agitatedly.

The smaller pots had started boiling much faster, which Frank emptied into the larger pot, and before long, the water was bubbling violently.

Sunset stood up, and without hesitation, shoved her entire forearm into the pot.

Frank’s eyes widened.

“Sunset! Lass, you’re–”

“It’s fine,” Sunset insisted. “I’m fireproof, which includes boiling proof. Now, the glass jar.”

“Yes?”

“Listen carefully, there’s a basilisk fang inside of it, wrapped inside that cloth. I want you to hurry up and unwrap it, and then squeeze the venom out of it onto the ring on my finger.”

Frank took a second to take this all in, before nodding. “Right.”

“Listen, basilisk venom is dangerous. Be careful.”

Frank nodded again, and undid the lid of the jaw, before retrieving the fang, covered in a rag, and unfolding it.

“Gently,” Sunset reminded him.

After a moment, Frank held the giant fang in his hand, and Sunset brought her slowly blackening hand up to the surface of the boiling water.

“Squeeze some venom onto this ring.”

Frank carefully positioned the fang, and Sunset carefully brought her hand up so that it was only just above the boiling surface.

A single drop of venom hit the ring where the stone was attached, and it started hissing loudly.

The effect was immediate. The curse, which had spread almost up to Sunset’s elbow, retreated back to her wrist.

Sunset had to remind herself to dunk her arm into the boiling water to avoid the venom coming into contact with her skin for too long.

“It’s working!” Sunset said, eagerly, as feeling returned to her arm, and she redoubled her magical counterattack. “Again!”

Frank squeezed another drop onto the ring, and she could practically hear the ring screaming in rage inside her head, before the hand went under the water again.

Feeling good enough to let go with her other hand, she held it out to Frank.

“Let me,” she said.

He carefully placed the fang in Sunset’s hand, and she aimed one final drop at the ring.

The presence screamed again, but only for a second before the ring cracked, the voice died away, and the gold band slid off her finger into the boiling water.

Sunset backed away, and collapsed into a chair, breathing heavy sighs of relief as she slowly raised her hand.

Color gradually came back to it, as did her sense of touch. In moments, it looked like new again, though it felt a little sore and battered, and she flexed it to make sure it worked.

“Hah,” she said, before gradually starting to laugh. “Hah, hahaaa!”

Frank sat down next to Sunset and carefully looked her over. He noticed that her ears moved, first drooping as if exhausted, and were now slowly rising up again, twitching a little as if sensitive.

“Is it over?” he said, over the sound of the still boiling water.

Sunset casually waved her hand to turn the stove off. “Yes,” she said, and gave Frank a look of deep gratitude, still panting in relief. “Thank you.”

“I… don’t mention it, lass.”

“Hooo… that took a lot out of me,” Sunset eventually said, and noticed that she was starting to shake.

“But… what was that?” Frank asked, sitting down on the other side of the table.

“Hah… I don’t know,” Sunset said, shaking her head. “But… I’m guessing it was Tom Riddle’s, and valuable, and so this would presumably ruin some of his plans. That’s probably, hah, a good thing.”

“So what happens now?”

“Now, I should… probably move on.”

Frank looked at her skeptically. “I don’t know, lass. This thing with fighting wizards seems dangerous. Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry, there are nice wizards too. Speaking of which,” Sunset said, and started digging around her pockets. “Aha, here it is. Take this piece of paper, and if you write a message on it, I’ll be able to see it. If you see anything suspicious, anything that seems magical, let me know.”

Frank took the thick, old style of paper from Sunset’s outstretched hand. “Don’t like the thought of anything like that happening, but I’ll do it if it comes to it, lassie.”

“It’s just a precaution. And now I kinda need to lie down,” Sunset said, and stood.

“Lassie,” Frank said, standing up as well.

“Yeah?” Sunset said, looking back.

Frank held out his hand. “Thank you,” he said, and demonstratively stomped lightly with his foot.

“No problem, and thank you,” Sunset said, and shook his hand.

Sunset retrieved the things she had come in with; Her knife, the fang, and the remains of the ring, as well as the black stone that had fallen loose from it. She then walked tiredly across the mansion ground, and to her car, which opened a rear door for her, and she stumbled inside, collapsed on her side on the seat, took her book from the floor, and flipped it toward the current page, where Celestia had last written..

Good luck, Sunset. I will be ready to help as much as I can.

Despite not feeling very sad, Sunset still felt tears building in her eyes, and she waved at her pen, making it fly into her hand.

Did it. The ring is destroyed, and alive and feel…

I might feel fine. It hurts a little.

Really tired though, and I think I’m in shock or something.

Thank Harmony.

Thank you for letting me know, Sunset.

You must rest then. Why do you think you are in shock?

Sunset was still breathing out in relief.

I have tears in my eyes and I’m shaking.

You have been in a life or death situation, Sunset.

I am sorry I cannot be there.

Rest, recover, and stay safe, for me, please.

The time when the portal opens again is drawing nearer. I wish to reconcile in person.

I am sorry, I am being terse. I was scared, Sunset. You had me worried.

Something stung inside Sunset’s chest.

I’m sorry.

Do not be. If I could, I would hold you for as long as it takes. In time, I will be able to. Rest. And know that I love you, Sunset.

Sunset drew an absolutely ragged breath as it dawned on her what she had almost lost.

I love you too.

I will be here if you need me.

Sunset let the book remain open, as she turned over and grabbed a blanket that was draped over the backrest and pulled it over herself.

“Ow,” she winced from her sore arm protesting.

“DeSoto… drive somewhere, calmly,” Sunset asked her car, which happily did just that, and started rolling away with a low rumble, the movement helping Sunset relax.

She brought up the black stone that had been in the ring, with the markings on it, and looked at it.

It was another magical artefact, strangely not having any magical traps on it. The stone was what had such strange magic on it that Sunset couldn’t make heads or tail on it

She hoped that what she had just done caused as much grief for Voldemort as his trap had caused her.

Deciding to inspect the stone closer some other time, Sunset put it in her pocket, and gradually fell asleep.

Author's Note

Pre-read by ssokolow, Dreadnought, and Snuffy