Once Upon a Wish

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Reviews make me write faster.

It’s a short one. I was in a writing mood today, so you get two chapters.

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John got the curse-breaker from Gringotts, and it cost him a pretty knut. It was harder than it should have been, because there were only three curse-breakers that could break parseltongue wards. That was okay, he could afford it. Like he said, the bodyguard business paid really well in the muggle world, and Vic didn’t scrimp either.

So, the next weekend each group, including Arthur and his Aurors, did their thing.

Vic, John and Amelia were standing outside Grimmauld Place, staring at the structure like it would fall on them, if they entered. It was tall, five stories, dark, and peeling. The stairs to the front door were only half there. There were broken windows and falling brown siding. The door was askew, and the roof was leaking. The whole place was filthy and patchy. The front lawn was overgrown and unattended. Vines were creeping up the house and overtaking the front of it.

“This is the Black Family Seat?” Amelia questioned her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Yes,” Vic said, looking at the place with barely concealed hate. His entire childhood was bad, and it was in this house. If he closed his eyes, he could hear his cries and feel the curses.

“Not much to look at,” John said, putting his hand on Vic’s back to warn him he was going to give himself away if he wasn’t careful. Perhaps he should have gone to Little Hangleton.

“No, it really isn’t,” Vic agreed, pulling himself together. He squared his shoulders and put on a stiff upper lip. Blanking his face he said, “Well, let’s get to it. We’re burning daylight.”

The three of them trudged up to the house and started disarming the wards. Amelia took the brunt share of them, while John took the rest. Vic could have dismantled them all, but he wasn’t supposed to have known about them, so he let them do their work.

Once they got the decrepit door opened, they were attacked by a rabid house elf.

“Who dares comes into the House of Black?!” the crazy elf shrieked, clawing at Vic’s face.

Vic held him off with his hands and kept him at arm’s length. The nails were digging into his flesh and causing some minor wounds. He would have to get those looked at to make sure they didn’t get infected. Who knew when the last time this elf bathed.

John took the elf by the shoulders and threw him against the wall and cast a Body Binding Curse on him. “Fuck, I’ve never seen an elf attack a human before,” he said, looking at the wild elf.

The elf was a sight to see too. It was dirty beyond dirty. There was so much filth that it was hard to tell if it was male or female. Only by its loincloth, could they tell its sex. He was foaming at the mouth and screaming obscenities at them.

“They aren’t supposed to,” Amelia stated, casting her own spell on the elf, just to be sure. “Elf, what is your name?” she asked, keeping her wand pointed at it.

“I does not answer to you, human,” the elf spit at her. “I’s answers only to my Mistress,” he stated, struggling for all he was worth. He didn’t get far; the Body Binding Curse didn’t allow much movement.

“Leave him here, and let us conduct our search,” Vic suggested, ready to keep Kreacher there forever. He hated that vile being with every bit of his soul.

“Let me tie him up better,” John said, wrapping the elf head to toe in magical dampening ropes. He didn’t want to take any chances the being would attack them again.

First, they met the portrait of Walburga Black on the landing and understood why the house elf, whose name they learned was Kreacher, was crazy. The woman in the portrait was mad. She was screaming at them for all she was worth. Shouting that they were trespassing and that they were the scum of the earth, and other such vulgarities. Her head was rolling along with her eyes, and neither were going in the same direction. Her hair was wild, and her dress was in disarray. She was flailing about like she was a bug pinned to a wall.

Amelia put a curtain over the picture and closed it tight. No one wanted to see that, it was so disconcerting.

“That explains a lot,” she said, looking at the two men. “That portrait must be his Mistress, and she is deranged,” she pointed out.

“I heard she was batshit barmy, but damn,” said Vic, pretending like that was not his mother. She must have gotten worse since he left. She was bad when he was in the house, but this…

“I’d shoot her if she were alive, just to put her out of her misery,” John said, shaking his head in sorrow.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Amelia said, moving towards the kitchen. They might as well start somewhere.

The three went about the house, undoing curses and dodging traps until they came across a curio cabinet. There they found a necklace that exuded evil.

“That’s what we’re looking for,” Vic said with conviction. He remembered the feeling from Harry’s forehead when he got it removed.

“Are you sure?” Amelia asked, peering at the rectangular locket with the diamond S on it. It looked vaguely familiar, like she had seen it in a painting somewhere.

“Yup,” the minister said, backing away from it. “We’ll need something to put it in until we get it to Gringotts,” he said, looking around the room for anything to use. There was a ton of stuff in that room, most of it was cursed, so he didn’t know what they could use. His family was known to curse everything they got their hands on. Mostly to use it for muggle-baiting. Not that they got most of it correct. They never got it to stop moving well enough to get it into the muggle world, but they never stopped trying. Bastards.

“There’s a lead box over there,” John stated, pointing to one that had some other do-dad in it. “Let me grab it,” he said, going over and dumping the thing it held out and bringing it over.

“How are we going to get it in there? I don’t want to touch it,” Vic said, still not going near it. Not that he was a coward, but he had a healthy fear of horcruxes after the scream he heard from Harry’s head.

“I’ll get it,” said Amelia, going and grabbing a silk handkerchief from one of the chairs. It was just draped there like it was a doily. She then reached in and put it in the kerchief and wrapped it up and dropped it in the box. “There, one down,” she said, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Can we get out of this creepy house now?” John asked, looking at Vic to see how he was faring.

“Please,” Vic said, shifting his eyes around like his parents would come out of the woodwork and start abusing him any moment. He really hated this house.

“This place really creeps you out, doesn’t it?” Amelia said, putting her hand on Vic’s arm. She had no idea why it did, but the minister was spooked.

“It really does,” he said, shivering at the very suggestion.

“Let’s grab that house elf and get out of here,” she said, moving towards the stairs.

“What are you going to do with him?” the Minister wanted to know. He knew what he wanted to do with him, but it was not up to him. He was not Kreacher’s master.

“I’m going to lock him up for a while and see if he’s really rabid. If he is, I’m going to put him down,” she said with a mournful tone. She didn’t want to do that, but she couldn’t have a house elf attacking humans. Hopefully, some time away from that portrait would help the elf calm down. Perhaps even time out of this madhouse would do the same.

“Maybe if you tell him why we were here, that might help,” Vic suggested, not knowing where that suggestion came from, or why he wanted to help Kreacher. He despised that elf.

“I don’t see how,” Amelia said, tapping her chin in thought.

“The nearness of the horcrux might be what was making him barmy,” was the weak conclusion.

“Perhaps,” she said slowly as if not quite believing it. “At any rate, it can’t hurt. I’ll give anything a go, to keep from killing him.”

So, that’s what they did, they grabbed Kreacher and left the house. Amelia took Kreacher to lock up and John and Vic went to Gringotts to get the horcrux cleansed.

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After getting Kreacher into lock up in a magical null cell, Amelia was met by Arthur in her office.

“I got that book from Malfoy Manor. And let me tell you, he was not happy about it,” the portly man stated, handing over the diary. It was brown leather with the words T. M. Riddle written on it in gold leaf. He shivered as he took his hands off it as if he was handling something unclean.

She dropped it on her desk immediately. She felt the need to write in it, and she had only touched it for a moment. She opened her desk drawer, got out an evidence bag and shoved the book in it. It only dampened the feeling, but it was better.

“Thank you, Arthur, I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” she said, wiping her hands on her legs.

“What is it, Amelia? It feels evil,” Mr. Weasley asked, reaching for it, like he wanted to take it back. He caught himself and put his hands back on his lap.

“Something of You-Know-Who’s. We’re going to destroy it, so don’t you worry about it anymore,” she said, waving it away like it was nothing, even though they both knew it was something.

“Very well,” he said, letting her keep her secrets. She was his boss.

She put the evidence bag in her purse, called her secretary, told her she was leaving again, and left the office. It was her turn to go to Gringotts.

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The team in Little Hangleton wasn’t having such luck. They were having a hell of a time finding where they needed to go. The town folk were wary of strangers asking about the Riddles, and even worse, the Gaunts. They had no problem gossiping about the sorted details of the strange happenings, the weird love affair, the murders, and witches, but giving up the addresses, that was a whole different kettle of fish.

First, they were sent to Riddle Manor, and that took a bit of magic to get.  They looked all over the place being shadowed by the groundskeeper, Frank Bryce. Who had no problem telling them they weren’t wanted there. They found nothing.

Then they were sent to the graveyard, where all the Riddles were buried, which was also futile.

No one wanted to tell them where the Gaunts resided. They said the place was haunted and bewitched. Finally, after many reassurances, and a few Confundus Charms, they got directions. So, Marcus, Alastor and Duncan, the curse-breaker, walked up the long pathway to the Gaunt Shack.

“This place looks like it should have blown down years ago,” Duncan stated, peering at it with magical sight. “It’s got wards on it six ways to Sunday,” he stated using muggle terminology. He was muggleborn. “It’s going to take all day to get through those. Good thing one of you is magical,” he grumbled. He wasn’t sure why they sent a squib to help. That didn’t make a lick of sense to him.

Marcus just growled at him. He knew there were very few things he could do today, but he had his gun, and he could shoot at anything that popped up.

“Let’s just get started,” Moody said, clapping Marcus on the back and starting forward. He too used his magical eye and saw the many wards on the joint. It was going to take all day. Good thing he and Duncan knew what they were doing. He couldn’t see in the house with his magic eye. He could see the wards, and that there was a horcrux there, but not where it was. It was as if there was a spell there just for his eye, or mage sight.

Marcus stood back and kept his gun at the ready. There might be some creature that could come at them and surprise them. One never knew.

It took the better part of two hours just to get to the front door, and the two wizards were exhausted. They took a break and had something to eat. They called one of Vic’s house elves to bring them some lunch, which was roast beef sandwiches with apples and butterbeers. They made sure to eat plenty since they still had much more to do and were burning calories with their use of magic.

“It’s a good thing you have an in with the Minister,” Duncan said, looking at Moody. He still didn’t understand why Marcus was there and kind of resented him for being useless.

“No, it’s a good thing we both have an in with him,” Alastor stated, not letting the slight go. “Marcus here is his cousin, in a roundabout way. You’d do well to remember that,” he warned, glaring at him with his good eye.

Duncan swallowed and nodded once. He didn’t want to be on the bad side of the Minister. So, he picked a topic that Marcus could talk about. “Are you any good with that gun?” he asked, pointing at the Ruger lying next to the man’s knee.

“Very,” was all Marcus said, giving him the hairy eyeball.

“Good, good,” was the nervous answer.

The rest of lunch was eaten in silence. Then they got back to taking down the wards. The door proved to be problematic. Duncan wasn’t a parselmouth, just versed in breaking parseltongue magic. This, however, was challenging even for him. The dead snake on the door wasn’t letting them in.

Finally, they just cut the wood around the door completely off and levitated the section away from the building. They dismantled more wards and traps, and that was when Marcus’s gun came in handy. A large snake, the size of a motorbike, came out of nowhere and attacked Duncan. Marcus double-tapped the thing in the head and it dropped like a brick. One foot from the wizard’s nose.

Duncan almost passed out it was so close.

“Thank you, Marcus,” he stuttered out.

“Keep your wits about you,” Moody barked as he banished the snake, looking around the room in case there were more. There weren’t.

They scoured the whole house but couldn’t find what they were looking for. Moody still couldn’t penetrate the walls with his eye. However, they could feel it. They started taking the walls apart. Nothing. They took the roof down. Nothing. They started with the floor. Finally, something.

They found the box with the ring in it, and the compulsion to put it on was strong. The only one who didn’t feel it was Marcus. Duncan was the weakest to it, and the squib had to shoot his foot to get him to stop. He wasn’t happy about that.

The man started jumping around the room on one foot, cussing up a storm. “Merlin, dammit, why shoot me?”

“It’s got a Withering Curse on it,” Marcus said, not apologizing in the least. “Better a bullet than dead,” he stated, pulling Moody back, which was easier, since the man had a wooden leg.

“Dear Merlin, get that thing in the box,” Mad-Eye said, shivering all over. He was fighting the compulsion as hard as he could. He walked back until he hit the wall and stood there shaking.

Marcus, never turning his back on the other two, got the box out and walked to the ring and squatted down. He picked it up with a stick and dropped it in the lead box and closed it. Suddenly the compulsion stopped, and the two wizards were free and stopped struggling.

“Fuck,” said Duncan. “I’m going to ask for extra hazard pay,” he declared looking at the scrape on his foot. He did a quick healing charm and got the bleeding to stop and then took out a potion and drank it. That would heal up the rest. It was a goblin made potion for their curse-breakers. It healed up minor wounds and Marcus only grazed his foot. He was going to need new shoes though.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Moody said, thinking he should ask someone for hazard pay. Maybe Potter.

“I agree,” Black said, looking at the destroyed house. He hoped the locals didn’t care they had demolished this eyesore.

“I’d better fix this first,” Duncan said, turning around and looking at the destruction. “We don’t want You-Know-Who to know we’ve been here,” he said in a knowing fashion.

“Unless you plan on putting all those wards back up, laddie, he’s going to know,” Moody stated, shaking his head. There was no way they could copy those wards. Take them down, yes, put them back up, no.

“You’ve got a point,” the curse-breaker said, sighing. He could probably do half of them, but he wasn’t versed enough in the Dark Arts to do them all.

“Let’s go,” Alastor said again, and the three of them went to Gringotts to drop off the third horcrux that day.

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“Well, that’s three,” Vic told Arcturus later that night after he got a report from everyone. “It wasn’t easy, or cheap, but we got three,” he stated, drinking his first firewhiskey that night.

John was doing a perimeter check and Marcus was in bed. The horcrux hunt had worn him out.

“I’m just happy we got that many,” Harry said, glad he wasn’t the one who had to hunt them down. “When will I get the ring?” he asked, not really wanting it, but maybe Death would leave him alone for a while if he had one of those things in his possession.

“I’ll get it to you after we get your invisibility cloak back from Dumbledore,” Vic said, knowing the ring was in Harry’s vault along with all the other cleansed horcruxes. It just seemed the right place to put them.

“Did anyone think about asking the goblins to check the vaults?” Arcturus asked, hitting himself mentally for not thinking of that before he died. He could have done Bellatrix’s. Now it was too late. Well, Harry could, probably.

“No, I don’t think so,” Vic said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. That thought never occurred to him. There were treaties to prevent Dark artifacts from being stored in the vaults. Then again, this was Death Eaters they were talking about.

“You might want to suggest that,” the old man said, tilting his head.

“I will, tomorrow,” the dogman stated, yawning loudly. He had not been getting enough sleep.

This caused Harry to yawn, and he glared at his uncle. Because of his dreams, he’d been getting less sleep than Vic. “Thanks, I wasn’t tired until you did that,” he snapped.

“That just proves you were lying to yourself,” Vic said, sticking his tongue out at him.

“Go to bed, you two,” Arcturus said, making shooing motions. He was worried about them. “We can talk more tomorrow,” he stated.

“Alright, goodnight, Uncle Arcturus, Vic,” Harry said, moving to the stairs, yawning all the way.

“Sleep well, Harry,” Vic said, staying seated. “I’m worried that he’s doing too much,” he confessed to his ex-grandfather.

“He is just stressed over the dreams. He’s doing fine in his classes,” Arcturus said, waving those concerns away. “If it weren’t for Death, the boy would be healthy.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Vic said, moving to go to bed. After draining it, he put his glass on the table, got up and headed out of the room. “Goodnight, Grandfather. I miss you sometimes,” he said, sleepily.

“Goodnight, Sirius,” Arcturus said softly, “I miss you too,” he said so no one could hear.