A Good Elf
"Harry? Theo? Why aren't you at the school? Why is there a phoenix on your head?"
"I was worried about you," Harry said. Fawkes crooned sadly.
Sirius sat down with them at the kitchen table. "Hedwig will be jealous."
"Yeah, well, Hedwig can't take a Killing Curse and survive. Fawkes can."
“Don't let her hear you say that,” Sirius said. “Why don’t we have some tea and you can tell me what’s going on. Kreacher?”
They waited for a moment but Kreacher didn’t respond.
“Ask Winky instead,” Harry said. “Something happened tonight…”
Harry stopped talking, not sure where to start.
“Right,” Sirius said. “I got your patronus and I passed the message along to Remus. Don’t look like that, he’s more involved in the Order than I am. They barely tell me anything. I’ve been putting protection around muggleborns’ homes behind their backs. Finding small magical traces in the muggle world is a nightmare.”
Tea, coffee, and cakes appeared on the table.
“Thank you, Winky," Harry said.
“There were Death Eaters at the castle tonight,” Theo said softly. “Dumbledore is dead.”
“What?” Sirius stood up, rocking the table. “How? You two worked this out months ago!”
“Dumbledore didn’t want to alert Voldemort that he knew Malfoy’s plan,” Harry said. Fawkes shifted on his head. “If you’re going to stay with me, you’re going to hear Dumbledore get criticized.”
“Why is Fawkes with you?” Sirius asked.
“Harry wanted him,” Theo said. “He explained that the fight with Voldemort isn’t over, and that if Fawkes cared about Dumbledore he wouldn’t abandon the school or its students.”
Fawkes trilled.
“He’s immortal, he has plenty of time to fly around and do what he wants,” Harry said. “You can claw Nagini’s eyes out like you did with the basilisk.”
“Okay,” Sirius said. He took a sip of coffee. Black, because he thought it made him look cool. “Okay. Death Eaters in the castle. Dumbledore’s dead. Harry got his phoenix.”
“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Theo said.
Harry explained that Dumbledore had found a horcrux and wanted to take him with. How he alerted his friends about danger in the castle, and had given them his map and his liquid luck. How Dumbledore had taken him to a cave, about the potion, about Kreacher’s strange reaction, the return to Hogsmeade, the Dark Mark, Malfoy, Snape, and lastly flying up to have a conversation with Fawkes, who in a burst of flame brought them to the kitchen in Grimmauld Place.
“We’ll have to go back to the school, if only to get our things,” Theo said.
“I know. Fawkes, you can stay in stablery if you’d like. Hedwig and Ranog are at school, but Penumbra and Buckbeak are probably up there. Let Winky or Kreacher know what kind of food you like.”
Fawkes made some phoenix noises.
“Great.”
“Do you have the fake locket with you?” Sirius asked.
Harry pulled it out. “It’s got a latch on it,” he said, snapping it open.
“Be careful!”
“There’s a note. I already like this person.”
To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this
but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,
you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B
Harry handed the small piece of parchment around. “Kreacher knew what that cave was. He started talking about Regulus immediately. R.A.B. Regulus Arcturus Black.”
Sirius stared at the note, paling. “I thought Voldemort killed him, or ordered someone to. I thought he was killed as punishment. He knew about this before anyone else. My little brother…”
Sirius put his face in his hands. Harry looked at Theo, then quickly moved around the table to comfort his godfather, Fawkes flapping to land on a chair. He dipped his beak into someone’s cup.
“Kreacher probably knows what happened,” Harry said. “He looked…you don’t know what he looked like in that cave.”
“He loved Regulus,” Sirius said. “More than he loved my mother. He would have done anything for him. He still would, even to this day.”
“He may know where the real locket is,” Theo offered, still sitting across from them.
“We can deal with that tomorrow. It’s not like I’ve got a basilisk fang with me at the moment,” Harry said. “We still haven’t figured out how to carry the venom safely. Probably a vial made out of its own bones. We’d have to do it all in the Chamber…”
“Harry,” Theo said.
“Sorry. How long have we been gone?”
Theo took Harry’s hand to look at his watch. “I don’t understand why you don’t just get your own,” Harry said.
Theo smiled slightly. “Less than half an hour. Not long enough to be declared dead or missing.”
Sirius wiped his eyes and sat up. “Okay. This has been a lot to take in. I can’t believe Regulus—” Sirius took a breath. “You two get back to school with Fawkes. I’ll…if Kreacher saw it happen, whatever happened to Regulus, I can talk to him later, after everything’s calmed down.” Sirius took another breath. “I can’t believe Remus—he said he already knew! He was on patrol!”
“We’ll go back,” Theo said, standing up. Harry stood as well, and held out an arm for Fawkes.
“If anything else happens, let me know immediately,” Sirius said. “I’ll be there, whether they like it or not.”
Fawkes left them at castle steps, then went to continue his phoenix lament.
"That is the tragedy of the phoenix," Theo said as they walked back to the hospital wing. "To watch as the world passes you by. His time with Dumbledore was brief, compared to the lifetime of a phoenix."
"Maybe that's why he values it so much," Harry said. "Hopefully he'll see how useful he is and won't resent us for it. Dumbledore had him sending messages."
"This is bigger than the feelings of one phoenix," Theo said. "Than the life of one person."
"I know," Harry said. "I know that better than anyone."
Before they reached the hospital wing doors, Theo tipped Harry's head up to kiss him. "Don't leave me behind again."
Harry struggled for a moment, with his desire to keep Theo safe, for Theo to make his own choices, to be with him. He could have died in that cave, or have been terribly injured, and no one would have known. The prophecy could have interpreted being killed by Voldemort's inferi as being killed by the man himself.
"I won't," Harry promised.
They walked through the hospital wing doors and into a strange scene. Tonks had seized Lupin's robes and was shaking him around.
“But I don’t care either, I don’t care! I've told you a million times…"
"What…" Harry glanced at Theo, who was surveying the room indifferently.
“And I’ve told you a million times,” Lupin said, staring at the floor, “that I am too old for you, too poor…too dangerous…”
"Maybe that's why Lupin's been keeping Sirius out of the loop," Harry whispered.
"...You're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus," Mrs. Weasley said. Mrs. Weasley and Fleur seemed to have bonded over Bill getting scarred up.
"Is this really happening right now?" Harry said to Theo. "Dumbledore's body isn't even cold."
"You speak as though you aren't the very definition of irreverent," Theo said into his ear.
"Stop that," Harry hissed.
“I am not being ridiculous,” Lupin said steadily. “Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.”
"I agree that he doesn't deserve her, if only for treating her like a child incapable of making her own decisions," Harry said to them, stepping closer. "Get over yourselves. Dumbledore is dead on the ground, Snape scarpered, we need to—"
"Potter," McGonagall said, “Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world!"
"Love isn't going to stop Greyback from mauling someone else's child," Harry said bluntly.
The hospital doors opened again and Hagrid came in, face crumpled in devastation.
“I’ve…I’ve done it, Professor,” he choked out. “Moved him. Professor Sprout’s got the kids back in bed. Professor Flitwick’s lying down, but he says he’ll be alright in a jiffy, and Professor Slughorn says the Ministry’s been informed.”
"It seems they aren't entirely useless," Theo muttered.
McGonagall sent for the heads of houses to meet with the Ministry. She asked to speak with Harry first, so he parted ways with Theo and went with her to the headmaster's office. There was already a portrait of Dumbledore, sleeping in his frame.
"Tell my great-great-grandson I wish to speak with him," said a silky voice.
"Your great-great-great-grandnephew will do just that," Harry said drily to Phineas.
McGonagall was behind the desk, looking at Harry with a strained face.
“Harry,” she said, “I would like to know what you and Professor Dumbledore were doing this evening when you left the school.”
Harry looked at Dumbledore's sleeping portrait. "If he wants you to know he'll tell you himself. There is something you should know, which is that Draco Malfoy Imperiused Madam Rosmerta. She's the one who gave Katie the cursed necklace, and Slughorn the poisoned mead, but Malfoy was behind it."
"Rosmerta?"
Sprout, Slughorn, Flitwick, and Hagrid came in, all in states of denial and disbelief. A portrait announced the minister was on his way.
Harry listened to his professors argue whether the school should remain open. It was a place magical children should have been safe at, but they weren't. They also weren't safe in their own homes, particularly muggleborn students. He learned Dumbledore wished to be entombed at Hogwarts, which Harry scoffed at.
"Why not Godric's Hollow?" Harry asked. "His mother and sister are buried there."
"It was Dumbledore's wish…"
"If the Ministry thinks it's appropriate…"
“No other headmaster or headmistress ever gave more to this school…"
“Hogwarts should be Dumbledore’s final resting place!"
Aragog had been buried on school grounds. Why not Dumbledore? Hagrid could dig him a matching pit.
Harry was shooed out of the headmaster's, or headmistress', office before the minister arrived. He had to give the bad news to the Fat Lady, who burst into tears and opened without the password.
The common room was full, everyone falling silent when Harry entered. He walked past to his dormitory, where he found Ron sitting on his bed.
"What happened tonight?"
Harry went to the window, looking out across the Forbidden Forest. "You know what happened. Malfoy let Death Eaters into the school. Dumbledore was killed."
"Where did he take you?" Ron demanded. "How did you know what Malfoy was going to do?"
"I don't know where he took me," Harry said. "He apparated us. And I knew about Malfoy because I've known about him being a Death Eater since the train ride. I've been keeping an eye on him. Dumbledore knew as well."
Ron made a frustrated noise. "Who was that in the hospital wing with you? Was he with you and Dumbledore?"
Harry turned to face Ron. "Theodore Nott."
"Nott? He's in Potions with us? From Slytherin?"
"Yes, Ron. Theo is in Slytherin. His dad is a Death Eater in Azkaban. He's been my boyfriend for nearly two years. We started talking in third year."
Ron stared at him, mouth working uselessly like a dying fish. Harry turned back to the window. The grounds were suddenly silent. Fawkes had stopped singing.
"Stupid bird better not have run off."
School was effectively over. No classes, no exams, worried parents pulling their children out early. People flooded Hogsmeade for Dumbledore's funeral. Ministry officials were occupying the castle.
Harry spent all of his time attached to Theo and no one dared say anything. Snape was missing, but anyone could guess he was with Voldemort or hiding elsewhere. Harry and Theo tried to predict what his next move would be. Snape had been useful as a spy in Hogwarts, but was also a potions master. They didn't know anything else to recommend him. Sirius mentioned Snape's interest in the dark arts, but that wasn't anything special.
"What will Riddle do with Dumbledore out of the way?" Harry asked. He was sitting with Theo down by the Black Lake, the sun bright overhead in an early summer sky. Theo was looking pensively into the water, his dark eyes reflecting its depths.
"We know he wants immortality, which he believes he has. We know he wants power, and enjoys having power over people. And that he wants you dead as you are the prophesied threat to both of those things."
"He'll seize any advantage he can get," Harry said. "The school is vulnerable, the Ministry is vulnerable. He's proven that."
Theo glanced at him, then looked away. "There's little point in us returning here. Dumbledore is no longer able to feed you bits of information, we agree he would be unlikely to store two horcruxes in the same place. Your other friends…"
"I don't think they have it in them," Harry said, "the kinds of things we will do to get the information we need. They despise the dark arts, not acts that harm others in and of themselves. They believe it's a corruption, a disease to be burned out of society. Blinded by the light, something as equally ill-defined. You heard what Lupin said in the hospital wing. That he wasn't whole. Not a single one of them challenged that. He's a dark creature and therefore impure."
Theo hummed in agreement, then took his hand, looking into Harry's eyes.
"You have beautiful eyes," Theo said. "You always look so alive."
"My mother's eyes," Harry said dismissively.
"No, I believe they are yours."
Harry blushed, then stood. "The funeral is about to start," he said, pulling Theo up with him.
People were streaming out of the castle, towards where hundreds of chairs had been set up further down the lakeshore. A white marble plinth had been set before the audience, sparkling in the sunlight.
"The Black family has a mausoleum," Harry said. He spotted Aberforth and headed towards him.
"My family, the ones who are Nott by blood, have been entombed in barrows on our ancestral lands."
There was an immense turn out for the funeral. The usual suspects like the school and its ghosts, parents of current students, former students, the Order of the Phoenix, residents of Hogsmeade, shop owners in Diagon Alley, Rita Skeeter, Fudge, Umbridge, other Ministry employees, Mrs. Figg. Harry didn't see Professor Bagshot anywhere, nor Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, nor Newt Scamander. Harry wondered at these absences. He wondered if Grindelwald had heard.
Harry sat down next to Aberforth, with Theo on his other side.
"Should I say I'm sorry for your loss?"
Aberforth made an amused grunt. "Don't bother, Potter. My brother and I never got on."
"I never liked him much either," Harry admitted. "He used people like pieces on a chessboard."
Aberforth gave him a canny look. "I reckon the question is, which piece are you, boy?"
"The entire board is filled with pawns," Theo said from his side.
"So he's playing checkers?"
"Don't be so literal."
"Gobstones? He sort of looked like one at the end…"
Theo sighed, while Aberforth laughed harshly, drawing attention. Then a contingent of merpeople came to the surface to sing a discordant, mournful tune.
"Hagrid's coming with the body," Harry said, looking over his shoulder. "Did he stuff Grawp in a suit? They've got Dumbledore wrapped in purple velvet. He wore that when he met Tom Riddle for the first time."
"Maybe it's a deterrent to graverobbing," Theo said, watching Hagrid's slow progress down the aisle.
"You two…" Aberforth said, shaking his head.
"We knew he was going to die," Harry said. "It's not a surprise at all. Anyone who saw that hand should have known. At least it was quick."
"Merciful, one might say," Theo added in a whisper.
Aberforth gave them a weird look, but turned to watch Hagrid lay Dumbledore's body on the marble table. Hagrid blew his nose loudly. Harry checked his watch. Theo put his arm over Harry's shoulders and started playing with his hair.
Fawkes circled overhead, blazing a trail in the sky.
Hagrid went to sit next to his brother, who gave him a gentle head pat that drove Hagrid's chair into the ground.
Someone was saying something up front, Harry couldn't hear a thing, so he discreetly cast a sonorous on the officiant. Harry looked to the forest, and saw the centaurs were in attendance too. The man stopped talking, and nobody else got up to say anything.
Then Dumbledore's body was surrounded by white flames and people started screaming. Harry wheezed a laugh. "What the fuck?"
Aberforth shook his head. "Just watch."
After the flames died out, they saw a white marble tomb had encased Dumbledore.
"How very pure," Theo mumbled. "Very symbolic."
Arrows arced through the sky, a tribute from the centaurs. The merpeople sank out of view.
"Come on," Harry said to Theo. "I want a closer look."
Harry had not returned Dumbledore's wand. He had no idea how a funeral would work for a wizard. He thought there might be a casket that people paid their respects to. Open, presuming the body had been fixed up. He would have slipped the wand in during the viewing. But now there were flames and tombs involved, and it was hard to find the right time to tell someone he'd nicked the headmaster's wand right after he'd kicked it. It wasn't clear who he would even tell.
The tomb was a solid block of marble.
Harry looked at it, frowning.
"What's wrong?" Theo asked.
"There was just a question I had…"
"Harry!"
He turned to see the Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, limping quickly towards him.
"Good morning, Minister," Harry said. "Happy funeral."
"Yes, yes, happy funeral," the man said distractedly. "I was hoping to have a word…"
"Are witches and wizards buried with their wands?" Harry asked.
The minister looked confused, but replied, "They are, yes. Took a bit to find Dumbledore's, must have lost it in the fall. I heard the phoenix dropped it on his desk."
Harry smoothed his expression. "I wonder what kind of wand he had?"
"Ebony, I think, I caught a glimpse of it when…" Scrimgeour coughed. "As I said, I wished to speak with you."
"You want me to put a face on the Ministry?" Harry asked blandly. "The answer is still no. I don't support the Ministry. I just saw a Ministry official who used the Cruciatus Curse on me in the audience, and yet it's Stan Shunpike locked up in Azkaban."
Scrimgeour's color rose. “I see you remain Dumbledore’s man through and through.”
"I'm my own person," Harry said. He peered over Scrimgeour's shoulder and saw a group of agitated Ministry officials headed by the stupid Weasley. "I think Percy's waiting for you. Probably looking for another pair of boots to lick."
Scrimgeour stormed away, cane stabbing into the ground. Harry saw Hermione and Ron hurrying towards him. Theo tightened his arm, resting his head on top of Harry's.
"What did Scrimgeour want?" Hermione asked, looking anxiously at the retreating minister.
"Same thing he wanted at the…Weasleys."
"The Fidelius broke when the headmaster died," Hermione said. "Too many people knew—became Secret-Keepers. It strained the magic."
Harry nodded. "It defeated the nature of the secret."
"You two don't look sad," Ron said, giving Theo a hard look.
"I'm not," Theo said, glancing at Ron then dismissing him. He kissed Harry's hair.
"We aren't as surprised as everyone else is," Harry said calmly. "We've had a long time to come to terms with Dumbledore dying."
"Why?" Hermione asked.
"His hand never got better. We looked into what kind of curse it could be."
"It could be slowed," Theo said, "but it was fatal. He must have been in a great deal of pain."
Ron narrowed his eyes. "You know a lot about curses, do you?"
"That would be me," Harry said, drawing his attention. "Theo is better at runic magic."
"He made your journal!" Hermione said. "But he didn't take the class…"
"I didn't need to," Theo said.
"Oh, well," Hermione said, searching for something to say. "Are you worried about Hogwarts closing? I can't imagine not coming back."
Harry cast a muffliato.
"I'm not coming back anyway," Harry said to them. "I'll be honest, Dumbledore left me a task to complete. I can't do it while going to school. Not only that, I'm the one who has to kill Voldemort."
"But where will you go?" Hermione asked.
"The home you won't tell us about?" Ron asked.
"Yes, that one."
"I bet he knows," Ron said, glaring at Theo.
"Yes, he does," Theo said. "My father would kill me himself, or at least do what Crouch did to his own son to keep me under his control. You haven't seen what Voldemort will do to his own followers and their families."
"You said his name!" Hermione said, stunned.
"Why do you think Malfoy was told to kill Dumbledore?” Harry asked. “He was being punished for Lucius Malfoy failing at the Ministry." He looked at Hermione and Ron. "Not everyone has a nice family."
"Can we help?" Hermione asked. "With whatever you're doing? My parents…they're in danger too. It isn't safe to have a muggleborn witch for a daughter."
Harry looked up at Theo, who watched him impassively. "We'll talk about it. Maybe set up another safehouse…"
"You're invited to Bill and Fleur's wedding," Ron interjected, glancing at Theo. "They're sending invitations out soon."
"I'm sure Theo can come too," Hermione added hastily.
Ron looked disgruntled, but didn't object.
Fawkes cried out from above. Harry looked up to see the path he took.
"We should go," he said, frowning. "We'll talk more later."
Hermione dragged Ron off, Ron muttering, "How can we trust him?"
"Harry trusts him."
"Yeah, but…"
"He told me Dumbledore knew."
"Really?"
Harry watched them walk away, rejoining the group of Weasleys, with Fleur, Lupin, and Tonks. Tonks looked over to him with a weak smile, then focused once again on Lupin. Shaking his head, Harry turned back to Theo.
“They’ll have to take some sort of vow,” Theo said, eyes following Hermione and Ron. “Granger has no sense of discretion, and Weasley always looks like he’s going to start shouting.”
“I don’t know if they actually want to help, or just want to be involved somehow. I told you about what Ron saw in the Mirror of Erised?”
“No.”
“He was standing alone, wearing both the Head Boy and quidditch captain badges, holding the house cup and the quidditch cup. He was eleven, but what would he see now?”
“Minister, Orders of Merlin, headmaster, head auror,” Theo listed. “He wants prestige, and helping you defeat Voldemort will give him that.”
“They probably do genuinely want to help,” Harry said after a moment. “But I really don’t see how they could. They don’t have any special insight, knowledge, or skills. Hermione is smart, but so are you.”
“So are we,” Theo corrected. “Weasley is a mediocre wizard, based on what I’ve seen in class. Granger is skilled, but recites the books verbatim.”
“Unless we use the fact Ron is a pureblood and make him a high ranking Death Eater—” Harry broke off with a laugh. “We do need to set up another location. I’m not bringing anyone into the house.”
Fawkes cried again. Harry watched Hedwig and Ranog flying out to meet him, circling above them then heading south.
“Back to the Chamber, then.”
“It’s a family meeting,” Sirius explained as he led them into the drawing room. “Normally we’d have it in the dining room, but this is more convenient.”
“Did you talk to Phineas yet?” Harry asked.
“We’re still working out a spot to hang him,” Sirius replied. “Maybe the potions lab. He won’t hear much in there.”
Walburga was present in her frame, which had improved since the last time Harry had seen it. It looked more like her old room had, her sitting room, from a time before Harry had seen its neglected state. Kreacher and Winky were there, as well as Fawkes, on a perch the phoenix had taken from the headmaster’s office himself.
“I know the basics,” Sirius said as they sat down. “But Kreacher wanted us all to be here for the full story.”
Kreacher stood up straight, hands behind his back. “Kreacher will tell you of his greatest shame. Kreacher will tell you how he failed the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”
Harry listened to the death of Regulus Arcturus Black.
Before becoming a Death Eater at sixteen, Regulus has talked for years about the Dark Lord, about wizards ruling over muggles. To Harry it sounded like Regulus was fascinated by the man, as many of his other Death Eaters were. When he was marked, he was proud and happy to serve. One day he approached Kreacher, who he had volunteered to help Voldemort with something. Regulus told him to assist Voldemort, then to come home.
Voldemort did not tell Kreacher what he was going to do. He took him into the cave, across the lake, and forced Kreacher to drink the potion. He placed the locket in the basin, refilled it, then left on the boat, leaving Kreacher behind.
But Regulus had told Kreacher to come back, so he did.
“The house-elf’s highest law is his Master’s bidding,” Kreacher said. “Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came.”
Harry had called for Kreacher in that cavern, so he came.
Regulus was concerned about the state Kreacher was in and kept him hidden, likely inferring that Voldemort had intended for the elf to die. Something happened to Regulus, or Regulus learned something that disturbed him. Kreacher didn't know. But he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, drank the potion himself, told Kreacher to switch the lockets, ordered him to tell no one, and to destroy the original locket. Regulus was killed by the inferi, dragged into the water.
Kreacher was trapped in a cycle of failing to destroy the locket, punishing himself, forbidden to tell Walburga what happened, punishing himself, and undoubtedly the lingering effects of the potion.
Harry sat back, stunned. Kreacher was alone and suffering for years, until Harry happened to find Grimmauld Place. Regulus had given his life after learning something…
"What year did Regulus die?" he asked suddenly.
"The tapestry says 1979," Sirius said dully. Harry knew his entire world had shifted with the knowledge of his brother's death. Regulus died taking the most significant step in defeating Voldemort, and no one had ever known except for a lonely house-elf.
"I know what changed," Harry said. "I know what he learned."
"Explain," Walburga said in a broken voice. "My son…my Regulus…"
Harry got up to get parchment and pen from the desk, but shook his head and used his wand instead. He spread the parchment on the rug, bending over to write.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
Harry sat back. The part of the prophecy Voldemort had heard. The words Regulus had left in the locket.
"He must have heard part of the prophecy," Harry concluded. "Voldemort must have given himself away, bragged about being unkillable, immortal. The locket must have been hidden there soon after…Voldemort learned the prophecy. It wouldn't be a stretch to connect the two events."
Harry hadn't told Sirius or Theo that it was Snape who had told Voldemort the prophecy. He didn't want to upset Sirius more than he already was. Lily and James wouldn't have needed a Secret-Keeper, wouldn't have been targets, Sirius would never have gone to Azkaban, Regulus would be alive…
"There is no way of knowing this," Theo said, picking up the paper. "Though I agree it would explain how Regulus discovered his means of immortality before a wizard such as Dumbledore."
"Slughorn knew too," Harry pointed out. "The coward kept it to himself for decades. He should have known that if Voldemort thought he was important he would have been killed ages ago."
Harry looked up at Kreacher. “Kreacher, do you still have the locket?”
Kreacher nodded. “Kreacher hid it in the attic with the other cursed treasures. It was too dangerous for young Master to be around. The locket whispers…it whispers horrible things to Kreacher. It tells Kreacher he is a bad elf, so bad he doesn’t even deserve punishment, that Kreacher should get clothes, that Kreacher failed!” The elf began to shriek “Kreacher failed Master Regulus! Kreacher failed Mistress! Kreacher—”
“Kreacher!” Harry shouted. “You didn’t fail! You protected the locket for Regulus! We will finish what Regulus started. You have my word. Now please, bring me the locket, and you can complete the last task given to you by Regulus.”
“I’ve been working on this room for a while,” Sirius said as they walked down to the basement. “You have no idea how hard it is to convince a house this old, this steeped in magic, to add another room.”
“What room?” Harry asked as they walked past the cells. Sirius was leading the procession. Him and Harry, followed by Theo, Kreacher carrying the locket, and Winky carrying Walburga’s portrait.
“I made it for you, since you kept talking about Theo all the time,” Sirius said, grinning over his shoulder.
“I do not,” Harry said, blushing furiously.
“Young Master does,” Kreacher said.
“Master Harry does speak of Master Theo often,” Winky added.
“Theo! Stop laughing!”
“I didn’t say anything…”
“It’s adorable,” Sirius said happily. “Secret meetings in the library, studying arithmancy together, committing petty acts of burglary, performing made up rituals in the dungeons…”
“I hate all of you,” Harry announced.
“His patronus,” Theo added.
“What about my patronus?” Harry asked.
“Nothing,” Theo said while Sirius laughed.
“Here we are,” Sirius said, taking out a small knife. They had stopped at a point in the training hall of no particular note, but as Harry focused, he felt the magic native to the room had a different…resonance.
Sirius sliced his finger and drew a rune on the floor in blood. It looked like two butterfly wings made of triangles.
“Dagaz,” Harry said. “Day?”
“Or dawn,” Theo replied. “Another kind of opening, an awakening of the day. Not an obvious choice.”
“A compliment from Theo,” Sirius said, standing up again. “I’m shocked.”
“It’s not that rare,” Harry said.
“Maybe not if your name’s Harry Potter,” Sirius quipped. The blood of the rune spread out, coating a square shape. This square shimmered for a moment and the piece of floor vanished, revealing a staircase spiraling down.
“I know that rituals may involve where you perform them. Sometimes that’s a major component of the ritual,” Sirius said as they walked down. “This room has been built close to the foundations of the property.”
“Secret,” Theo said. “Protected.”
“Among other meanings you can attribute to the location,” Sirius said. The stairs let out into a plain stone room, dark but for the light of their wands. It was completely empty.
Theo looked around, and Harry could tell he was impressed.
“Thank you,” Harry said to Sirius. “You put a lot of effort into this.”
Theo was already on the floor, writing something in chalk, making a small circle with runes.
“For containment?” Sirius asked, crouching down.
Theo nodded absently.
“When we destroyed the diadem, there was a reaction,” Harry said. “We think the horcruxes possess a sort of compulsion. The diary wanted to be written in. The ring wanted to be worn. Same with the diadem. We think the locket may as well. The diadem started moving on its own when it was obvious I was destroying it.”
Theo stood back up. “Kreacher should use his own magic to activate this,” he said. “Place the locket in the middle, please.”
Kreacher hurried forward and set the locket down. Harry hated how familiar it felt to him, how it stretched its oily influence towards him. He could hear it too. The whispers, at the back of his mind. It didn’t promise him knowledge like the diadem, but told him…
Harry shook his head. He wasn’t responsible for things that had happened when he was a baby. He wasn't going to die.
Kreacher touched one of the runes with a finger and the circled flared with a shifting, prismatic light.
“House-elf magic,” he said, watching as it interacted with the runes. “We don’t understand it at all, do we?”
“No,” Sirius said, silver eyes flashing with the light. “No one cares to ask.”
“Kreacher is ready,” Kreacher said.
Harry nodded, then pulled out a vial of basilisk bone and handed it to Kreacher. He and Theo had spent their last days at Hogwarts in the Chamber of Secrets, carving out pieces of the basilisk's spine to store the venom siphoned from its venom sacs. They had suspended several fangs in special boxes that bound them in levitation, a tricky piece of charm work.
“Kreacher believes the locket must be opened to be destroyed. Kreacher was unable to open it.”
“It’s Slytherin’s locket, so you probably needed parseltongue.” Harry said. “Another failsafe.”
“Another oversight,” Theo said. “I have a fang ready.”
Harry stepped closer, to the edge of the small circle, next to Kreacher.
“Higher!” Walburga said. “I want to see the thing that killed my son destroyed!” Winky tottered over.
“Okay,” Harry said. “I’m going to open it.” He stared at the snake on the locket and hissed, “Open.”
The locket clicked open. The windows in the two halves showed eyes. Tom Riddle’s eyes, from when he was young and handsome.
“Tom Riddle was handsome,” Harry said, looking at the eyes. “I guess the horcruxes took that from him too."
The eyes swiveled around, looking for a victim, finding Kreacher, the one it knew best.
“I have seen your heart, Kreacher, and it’s mine.”
“You haven’t seen shit!” Harry shouted at it. “Use the venom, Kreacher! Do it for Regulus!”
“I have seen your drea—”
Kreacher bared his teeth in a crazed smile, unstoppered the vial, and dumped it onto the locket.
“Kreacher is a good elf,” Kreacher snarled as the locket shrieked and bubbled. A thick red liquid, so dark it was almost black, oozed out from it, pooling against the runes Theo had drawn, Kreacher’s own magic flashing as the horcrux made contact. It surged up, straining towards them as the locket emitted agonized screams, shaking violently, the chain thrashing desperately for a neck to strangle. It lifted from the ground, still pouring out the shattered soul it contained, then with a final shudder it fell.
"Is it over?" Sirius asked, walking over to look down at the melted locket.
"Another thousand year old artifact," Theo said distantly.
"It's over," Harry said.
Kreacher was crying, Winky was hiding behind Walburga's portrait, Walburga was shouting for someone to carry her closer to see.
Sirius sighed. "It's going to be a pain in the arse to clean that up."
Harry sat on his bed, staring at the two objects. An invisibility cloak that has been his father's, his grandfather's, his great-grandfather's, likely a few grandmothers' as well. Passed down for generations, for centuries, still functional despite the short lives of other cloaks of demiguise fur, or charmed unnoticeable, which lost their magic with time.
The other was the strangest wand he had even seen. It looked like any other wand, a smooth stick that did magic. True, the first wand Harry had seen was a pink umbrella, so perhaps Harry’s measure of what made a wand normal was off. But this wand, what he thought of as Dumbledore’s wand, looked old. It felt old. The wood was silvered in the way of very old wood, exposed to the elements for years and years.
Scrimgeour had confirmed witches and wizards were buried with their wands, when possible. Sirius had told him the Blacks had been entombed with their wands for centuries. Theo had said the same for the Notts. It stood to reason that if Dumbledore was buried without his wand that would have been known. And Scrimgeour said the wand Dumbledore had was made of ebony, or perhaps another dark wood, delivered by Fawkes to the headmaster’s office.
Harry also knew that he had two wands, a holly one he got for himself from Ollivander, and an alder one that was his ancestor’s, Cassiopeia Aurelia Black. Had this gray wand been one passed down to Dumbledores throughout the years?
“Accio Dumbledore’s wand.”
The wand didn’t move.
Harry turned his wand on the cloak. “Accio cloak.”
The cloak rippled, as if in acknowledgement of his request, but didn’t move.
Harry further knew that Dumbledore was friends with Grindelwald, a man obsessed with the Deathly Hallows, the relics of the Peverell family, and that Dumbledore had at times been in possession of two of the Hallows, Harry’s own cloak and the Resurrection Stone.
Why not a third?
Harry narrowed his eyes at the wand. “I don’t want any trouble. I’ve heard about wands like you.”
The wand had nothing to say for itself, just innocently laid on his quilt.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in!”
“Theo and I are going to Nott Manor,” Sirius said. “He’s not sure how the family spells will react to me or you, so we’re going to examine it and see if we can make some adjustments.”
Harry nodded absently, still watching the wand. “I was thinking of visiting Nurmengard.”
Silence.
“Could you please repeat that?”
“I want to meet Gellert Grindelwald,” Harry said. “I have questions that demand answers.”
“Demand answers, do they…” Sirius leaned against his doorframe.
“Yes,” Harry said, turning to Sirius. “I also don’t think he knows Dumbledore is dead. They were friends, you know.”
“Harry, the man is one of the worst wizards, one of the worst people, in known history.”
“He’s also the only person alive who can answer this question for me. The other one fell off a roof last week.”
Sirius sighed and stood straight. “Is it that important?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said honestly. “I don’t know what it means. Maybe nothing at all.” Harry smiled up at him. “Dumbledore advised against me meeting Gellert.”
“Who can argue with you doing it because Dumbledore told you not to.”
“It worked with the third floor corridor in first year.”
Sirius pinched his nose. “Take Fawkes and Kreacher with you, and be back in time for dinner.”