Read my story:
Game of Thrones White Dragon Rising
Game of Thrones The Sun Dragon Descends
Nighttime.
On the hillside of Little Hangleton, deep within a tangled thicket of woods.
Two figures dressed in black robes appeared abruptly.
Oh, wait, make that three. One of the figures was just so short that in the dense weeds, you wouldn't even notice him unless you looked closely.
He looked even smaller than a gnome, easily conjuring up rumors about dwarves or goblins.
"We're almost there, Mr. Green."
Quirrell said cautiously.
He was constantly scanning their surroundings, not letting the slightest rustle of grass or leaves escape his notice.
That phrase "extremely high probability of danger" kept echoing in his mind. Since Mr. Green hadn't told him where the danger was, then everything could be dangerous.
"Professor, have you heard the story of the Three Brothers?"
Sean's voice rang out in the dense, dark woods. Before them, only the light of their wands illuminated a small patch of scrub.
"Ah... yes, Mr. Green..."
Quirrell didn't relax his vigilance one bit. They were hurrying along a secluded, winding path, and the sky was as dim as the story he was now recalling.
"Legend has it they used magic to build a bridge across a treacherous river, cheating Death. Death was angry because he felt he had been cheated out of three new victims. But he pretended to congratulate the three brothers and offered them each a gift as a reward: the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Invisibility Cloak.
"Two of the brothers, hoping to further conquer death, foolishly chose the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone, and ultimately met early deaths. The youngest brother was wiser than the older two; he chose the Invisibility Cloak, and only when he could accept death did he greet Death as an old friend and depart this world."
Quirrell naturally remembered this well-known wizarding tale vividly.
"Do you believe the story is true?"
There was still some distance to their destination, so Sean asked.
"I'd rather believe they were three incredibly powerful wizards who created three incredibly powerful magical objects."
Quirrell was seriously searching the bushes.
To him, the moral of The Tale of the Three Brothers was obvious:
Human efforts to evade or conquer Death are destined to fail.
Yes, always.
Only the youngest brother in the story—"the humblest and also the wisest"—understood that after escaping Death once by luck, he could at best hope to delay their next meeting as long as possible.
The youngest brother understood that taunting Death—like the eldest brother using force, or the second brother using mysterious necromancy—meant contending with a cunning, invincible rival.
"A long time ago, when I was as young as you are, I also fantasized about possessing these three items."
Professor Quirrell sensed something and said with a faint smile.
"I'd like to ask you, what about now?"
Sean asked.
This question was important to him.
To retrieve the Gaunt ring, they had to face two obstacles.
One was obvious—Voldemort wouldn't let them take the ring easily.
Based on past experience, he would at the very least have filled the old shack with curses.
And as everyone knew, Voldemort's mastery of curses was ahead of everyone else.
Like the potion in the cave that weakened wizards, the curse on the Gaunt ring, or the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position...
But Sean didn't think this was the biggest obstacle.
The second obstacle, and the biggest one... was a certain...
Sean looked around at the silent darkness. Occasionally, birds flew out of the bushes, startling up a chaotic chatter.
"Now, may you know, Mr. Green, I have abandoned those fantasies. I didn't understand before that the reason we live in hell is simply because we want to turn the world into heaven."
Quirrell murmured,
"A small portion of the wizarding world still firmly believes that Beedle passed on a hidden message to them, a message exactly opposite to what was written in black and white, which only they possess enough wisdom to decipher.
"They believe: If a person legitimately possesses all three items, he will become the 'Master of Death.' This phrase is usually taken to mean that he is invincible, or even immortal.
"I want you to know, I used to fantasize about that too. Whether wizard or Muggle, hearts are filled with a desire for power. How many can refuse the 'Wand of Destiny'? And what person, grieving a lost love, can resist the temptation of the Resurrection Stone?
"But I have met Death, Mr. Green, and it told me that only one thing matters most..."
By now, they had arrived in front of a filthy, dilapidated shack.
Its walls were covered in slimy moss, and many slates had fallen off the roof, exposing the rafters underneath.
The windows were small and grimy, barely letting any light through.
The most prominent feature was a dead snake nailed to the door, forming a gruesome knocker.
Looking through the small, broken windows, one could tell the interior was equally wretched, with only a main room that was dim and filthy.
Getting closer, one could smell the scent of decay.
"Professor... if we find something special, I hope you can destroy it as quickly as possible."
Sean said softly.
Quirrell nodded without hesitation, but suddenly froze when he saw the snake shape.
He knew that Cadmus Peverell, the second of the three brothers, was the ancestor of the Gaunt family, and this horrifying knocker was their family crest.
This also meant...
"The Resurrection Stone..."
Quirrell couldn't help muttering aloud. Then, he bowed his head,
"That matter is... I shall always obey your will."
"Will."
Sean was silent for a moment, then called out.
"Yes!"
Will lowered his bow and arrow, chest held high.
In the pitch-black silence, they effortlessly broke through some inconsequential curses.
Just as Sean had anticipated, Voldemort hadn't spent much effort on the curses outside the ring itself.
Ten minutes later.
Sean stood at a not-so-obvious spot in the filthy room.
A Sneakoscope was glowing and spinning constantly in his hand.
Sean had bought this in Diagon Alley.
Although it just looked like a cracked glass spinning top, it could predict dangerous objects and people nearby.
It was a practical Dark Detector.
Now it was warning Sean that this inconspicuous spot was the most dangerous.
"Will."
Sean called out again.
Upon hearing this, Will immediately snapped his fingers, and a special small box was quickly conjured out of thin air.
This was exactly what was buried in the hole beneath that inconspicuous spot.
—The Resurrection Stone.
"He wouldn't understand, and he wouldn't care..."
Quirrell smiled abruptly. His voice was low as he looked at Pukwudgie the butler and realized they were the same kind of existence.
In Voldemort's eyes, perhaps there was no difference between wizards and goblins.
He could sense many Dark Arts and protective spells down there, but not a single one was targeted at goblins.
Voldemort would definitely be defeated by things he didn't know—Quirrell had understood this since that night.