Verus

My dearest Harry,

It is a strange feeling that envelopes me as I write to you now, a thousand years before anyone will ever read this letter. I hope that you are well, that you have only grown more inquisitive in nature since our last encounter, and twice as remarkable, though I do not doubt it. You have always held such a fascinating nature, as both a student and as my progeny.

If I can be honest with you, Snakelet, I currently find myself struggling. I look at you today, sat in my lesson with a soot stained nose, surrounded by potions ingredients and other students that you do not second guess on giving aid, and wonder what life will be like for us all when you are finally gone. It sounds trivial, I have always known that you would never be able stay with us here forever. But still, I cannot help the fear I feel, young Harry. I know with all my heart and mind that you will be okay, that you will prevail and become every inch of the man I already know you to be, and yet, I continue to be selfish. Wishing that the anguish of your time will soon resolve itself so that you will not have to rejoin and live amongst them.

Because you see, in my life, Harry, I never truly pictured myself settling down, of finding a wife and sharing children. But then you were brought to the castle, to us, a mere babe with a face so innocent and eyes as bright as the break of day, and I thought to myself, that first time in which I bared witness to you, of how tiny you appeared bundled in Merlin’s arms, pondered over how on Earth any being could wish any foul thing on a creature so pure and delicate.

Then you grew, you changed and adapted. You learned to crawl and then to walk, and I got to bare witness to it all. A privilege I never thought I deserved. I watched you talk to the snakes that hid amongst the castle’s grounds. I saw how hard you tried when casting your patronus and then when becoming an animagi. How genial you were to the other pupils who were scared and wary, so far from home. I witnessed the way you took the others in, how you made your strength theirs, how you gave each of them a chance, a voice. Even when they might not have deserved it.

And in each instance I was proud. Proud that I had been gifted such an opportunity of having had a hand in raising you, as well as the pleasure of then teaching you. Simply just proud of you in your entirety, my little Serpens.

I understand that things may be difficult in the coming months, but you would do best to remember that you are stronger than the damage that is being done. That nothing lasts forever and forever never lasts. You need only try.

I should tell you that I am set to travel after the week of your departure, I hope to find some more students for the castle to house, or at the very least attempt to. We have heard word of conspirators in East Anglia and so I plan to head there first. With a little luck it will be nothing too worrisome. After that, I will then travel into the West, there seems to be some rumours surrounding the breeding of magical serpents near Cambridgeshire that I am rather intrigued to see if reign true. I only pray that these things will keep me occupied in your vacancy.

Good luck, Harry, if I failed to mention that sentiment during our final encounter. Though, I doubt you will be needing it, seeing as you have the fortune of a four leaf clover whenever it comes to escaping the trouble that often finds you.

This letter shall be my last chance to speak with you, at least that is what I believe. I do not think that the others have had the foresight to write to you also, but in truth this is also part of an experiment of mine. Though the workings of it will either be lost to time or held within your current grasp. I dually hope it is the latter. Still, I know they also wish you well and will miss you in the same extremity as I.

Already I mourn you, my child. Though I will cherish our every moment.

Sincerely yours, Salazar Slytherin.

Harry had already read the letter a least a dozen times since. First, that same evening in the kitchen, once Sirius had left and Kreacher had long gone to bed, then again and again as he wondered throughout the house’s dreary halls that same night.

It was so very much like Sal to do something of this degree. To catch him so off guard and have him sob each and every time he even thought back to the letter, let alone reread the man’s words. My child, he had claimed, and it meant so much to Harry. Too much in fact, that the notion of it truly hurt. He and Sal hadn’t always been incredibly close- not to say that the man hadn’t cared, he’d cared greatly- but their bond had only become undeniable once Harry had begun to shape into a proper person. Since, he had quickly grown to view Salazar in the same sense a person would their father. Though the man practically was, in everything but blood. And even then, Harry had yet to research further into the ceremony the founders and Merlin had taken part in that eve of his birthday, so perhaps they still could be.

The thought made him chuckle lightly to himself as he reluctantly tucked the note into the dresser beside his bed, charming the drawer tightly shut.

Harry stilled with his wand in hand afterwards, simply to stare down at it, but then he quickly got ahold of himself and inhaled sharply before he turned his back on the room altogether. He had a dinner to attend to tonight and had yet to inform his godforsaken elf of the matter.

“Kreacher?” Harry called out as soon his foot met the ground floor landing, eyes scanning the length of the hallway in search of the usually agitated elf. “Kreacher?” He said again and jumped slightly when the creature appeared right before him with no warning at all.

“Master be callings.” Kreacher smirked, staring up at him like nothing was amiss.

Harry tried to unthaw the lock on his jaw and released a heavy breath. “Should get you a bell or something,” He only relished a little in the scowl the elf gifted him before he reminded himself of the purpose he’d called out for. “Now, about this deal we made…”

“Breakfast has beens ready for the last hour.” Kreacher told him sharply, gaze narrowing as though he believed Harry was actively avoiding the task, “Master is the one wishing to not be disturbed.”

“Yes,” Harry sighed down at him in return, “But I’ve a valid reason for that, and besides, I promise to have it once I’m done talking with you.”

“Master be having it now.” The elf argued adamantly.

Harry raised a single brow, “Oh it’s like that now, is it?”

Kreacher copied the gesture and Harry truly had to fight down the amused snort that wanted to work its way up at the strangeness of it.

“Fine.” Harry relented easily enough, if only to keep the elf from being outwardly laughed at- knowing it would not turn out well for either of them if he dared even try- and begun his walk into the dining room that had never been used during his short stay in Grimmauld. Kreacher followed, clicking his fingers once before a tray came to hover close behind them.

Once he was settled in, with his egg and soldiers finally plated before him and Kreacher taking the opportunity to open the drapes, did Harry start back up with what he’d been trying to say from the very start of this whole charade.

“Right, do I have your attention now?” He questioned the house elf, who ultimately gave him a short nod in return. Harry tried not to sigh again. “Okay, so as I previously mentioned, something came up yesterday, it has to do with the deal we made.”

Kreacher nodded once more, indicating that he was aware and listening even as he started to dust the mantle. The elf was rather good at keeping up with his duties, Harry had come to note, and that only caused him to ponder on the thought of why the house had looked so decrepit and dilapidated when he’d first arrived.

“Part of our deal included a dinner with Lord Black, right?”

That caught the elf’s attention and Harry bit back a sudden smirk as he swiped a piece of buttered bread through an egg’s yolky centre.

“Well, Lord Black formally invited me to the Manor this evening.” Kreacher’s ears appeared to prick up upon hearing that and the elf’s entire being stilled for a brief moment before he turned to properly face Harry. “I was wondering if it would suffice instead of our original agreement. You’d be coming along too, of course. It’s your deal as much as mine. I figured that you could meet with Arcturus and then perhaps help the Manor’s elves with dinner, desert maybe.”

If Harry hadn’t been so involved in the magical act of making his breakfast disappear down his gullet, he might’ve noticed the odd expression on Kreacher’s face sooner.

“What, will that not do?” He questioned the elf shortly, because if so he’d really hate to have to sit through an entire other dinner with the Lord if he found that he did in fact hate the man.

“Master is almost as silly as the mutt.” Kreacher growled, but it wasn’t full of his usual ire, in actuality the elf wore an incredibly unconventional expression now, almost besotted. Harry was utterly bewildered by it. “Kreacher is happy to change the deal to better suit his Master.”

“Right…” Harry said slowly, wiping his hands free of crumbs as he sat up a little further in the armchair he’d taken over. “Glad that’s all sorted then?”

“Kreacher will be prepping Master’s robes now. Master must be ready for tonight.” Kreacher breathed, nodding mostly to himself as he hurried out of the dining room, leaving Harry to sit baffled in his wake.

“Well then.” Harry murmured to himself, going to reach for the last slice of bread before the dish vanished completely beneath his hand. Harry scowled unhappily, “Fucking elves.”

—

Harry found himself pacing the length of Grimmauld's receiving room as he waited for the hand on the aged grandfather clock in the corner to strike seven. He was in his finest robes, according to Kreacher, ones he’d picked up on his recent trip out to Diagon with both Sirius and Remus. They were all black, though tinged with an undercurrent of mossy green, the hems threaded with an ethereal coloured unicorn hair in the current of a careless wave. He wiped them down fussily whilst his footsteps continued to echo out across the wooden floor.

“Master.”

Harry’s head darted up to find Kreacher stood about a foot away. The elf didn’t appear much different, but Harry was keenly aware of the small amount of pride he’d taken to groom himself for tonights proceedings.

“Kreacher.” Harry answered, glancing once more towards the clock face. Strange but rather useful contraptions they made. “Are you okay to follow?”

Kreacher dipped his head once, back rigid straight and hands tucked at either side. 

When the clock finally struck seven Harry took a single breath and headed towards the fireplace, “Black Manor!” He called out before he could think better of the whole situation.

—

Black Manor, Tisbury, Wiltshire, England

“Harry!” Sirius greeted with an overexcitable grin as Harry stepped through the floo, he wasn’t too sure if the man was all that eager to see him or just using it as an attempt to cover up his apparent nerves. They were quite obvious, seemed to roll of him in waves in actuality, shooting out left and right, only softened by the comforting presence behind him.

“Hey Sirius, Remus.” Harry smiled with a polite chuckle, peering between both his godfather and the man stood towering beside him. Remus wore a fond expression and kept his hands tucked within the confines of his trouser pockets when he mimicked the greeting. “How long have you both been here?”

“Oh, not all that long, pup.” Sirius assured him with a wave of his hand. Harry noted that the nickname he’d used had been cropping up here and there since meeting the man, more so after their talk yesterday. “Figured we’d wait for you though, Grandfather’s in the family room, reckoned it’d be best to give you both a minute, ey?”

Harry frowned, but fought not to outwardly show it. It was also in that moment that Kreacher chose to appear, bewildering the older pair briefly before Sirius’s joyful expression finally wavered into a mask of shock horror whilst Remus merely snorted at their newest addition.

“Master.” Kreacher acknowledged Harry, only to then set his sights upon the room’s only other occupants, thankfully he bit his tongue and offered nothing but a curt nod to the remaining two.

“What- no foul mouthing? No spitting like the deranged kneazle you are?” Sirius sputtered in surprise before he did a bang up job of impersonating the horrid little house elf, “Decrepit mutt! Mistress will be rollings in her grave at the very sight of her traitorous son! A blight on the mighty House of Black! A stain!”

Kreacher’s face grew red with the sheer strength it took for him not to retaliate and Harry found himself feeling almost proud of the elf, though mostly just amused.

“Alright, yes,” Harry found himself intervening before the creature lost its ability to keep his conniving tongue at bay, “I let Kreacher tag along but there’ll be no more of that please. From either of you." He added, sparing a glance towards the elf too, "I’d rather not spend dinner holding you each at arms length.”

“Sound just like your mother.” Remus quipped with a gleeful grin once Harry had directed a stern look at both his godfather and Kreacher himself, before he placed a gentle hand on Sirius’s right shoulder. “But he is right, I’m sure the pair of you can get along for a single night, no?”

Sirius spun to gape widely at Remus whilst the house-elf merely gifted them both a sharp smile, he looked to Harry afterwards who granted him a knowing look. The elf quickly schooled his mask.

They must have been taking quite a while, because no sooner than Sirius had folded his arms across his chest petulantly and huffed unhappily like a toddler about the whole ordeal, did the far door to the receiving room fly open.

All four of them glanced towards it and Harry blinked at the grand figure who stepped in through the archway, taken aback slightly by the sheer power that appeared to loom over the solemn man that had entered. He was aged, you could see it in the grey that coated his oil black hair and the lines that had only deepened in recent years, but still, he was rather magnificent, in that regal way Harry had always aligned with Salazar. Harry had to swallow back the sudden urge to step closer, to feel the man’s presence, his power, and instead allowed the older gentleman to make his way over to them in his own time, only releasing a short amount of breath when the man finally stopped about an arms width away.

“Grandfather,” Sirius attempted to greet, but was promptly cut off by the hand that rose up between their two bodies.

Grandfather, so this was in fact the great Lord of the Noble House of Black. Harry found himself feeling incredibly underprepared for the encounter then, all of the founders previous lessons having vanished completely from his mind as he fought not to break under this man’s formidable gaze.

“Mr Potter,” Lord Black finally spoke, and there was an obvious conviction to his voice but it was immediately blanketed by the soft tone he’d paired with it. Harry felt his shoulders lessen a tad. “It truly is a privilege to finally be meeting you.”

“As it is you, Lord Black.” Harry hastily returned, bowing politely as accustomed and then withholding a smile when the older Lord granted him a respectful nod in return. “It’s an honour to be here, thank you for allowing me into your home and for your letter, it truly was greatly appreciated.”

The man granted Harry a small curve of his mouth, an almost there smile, but his eyes seemed to dance, seemingly pleased with the formal courtesy he’d received as well as the sentiment.

“Arcturus please,” Lord Black- Arcturus- responded in kind, and Harry tried to dampen his swelling pride. It felt like an honour to have been gifted the use of a name from a Noble Lord but even more so after having felt the magic which appeared to spill from the man’s every pore. “And I took much pleasure in writing to you, I can assure that, after having spent so many years in search of your whereabouts it is rather delightful to finally have you stood here before us, and so well refined too. Tell me, young Harrison- might I call you that?”

At Harry’s rapid nod, the man finally gave a proper smile and continued on.

“Where have you been all this time? My grandson has spun me quite the few fanciful tales, of which I am uncertain on whether to believe, but then you show up so different from what I first imagined. The perfect picture every Lord aspires his heir to be, even.”

Arcturus must’ve noted the surprise that overwhelmed Harry’s features then because he placed a careful hand on the boy’s shoulder in an unexpected offer of comfort, then smiled conspiratorially, “I’ve friends in many places, child, there are a fair few stories running amuck in certain circles about a young man with no name traversing about in Magical London.”

Harry huffed out a disbelieving laugh, that was fair enough he supposed, and it seemed to be enough too for the older gentleman to leave the topic be, at least for the moment. “I am sure we will talk more of it during dinner, I am rather curious, you see.” Harry was unable to help his smile, the man reminding him an awful lot of Godric in that precise moment, before Arcturus shifted in his stance, “And whom might you be?”

With a blink, Harry realised then that Arcturus now had his full focus on the straight-backed house-elf stood a step or two behind Harry himself. Sirius fumbled for a moment, having only Remus there to hold him back, before Harry hastily moved to answer the man.

“This is Grimmauld Place’s only house-elf, Lord Black.” At the older man’s raised brow Harry was quick to correct himself with a sincere smile, “My apologies, Arcturus. Well, I have grown rather fond of him during my stay within the home, he’s been a real treat seeing as though company within the Wizarding World has been sparse, what with my unexpected arrival. Though, I do stand by the statement, Grimmauld seems to appreciate him also. It’s rather amusing, in truth.”

At his godfather’s indignant squawk, cut swiftly off my Remus’s quick thinking, Harry turned to grin at the older Lord, he watched on as Arcturus appeared to scrutinise the creature for a long second, “Kreacher, yes.” Arcturus hummed lowly, “I remember you quite well, though it has been some time, has it not?”

Harry blinked down at the elf hunched beside him when Kreacher nodded his head in hasty succession, ears flopping with the strength of the movement. “Indeed, Lord Black. Kreacher has been looking after the Black family always.”

“Yes,” Arcturus affirmed, the sound deep and resonate as he continued to survey the small decrepit being. “Several hundred years, if I am not mistaken.”

With an overwhelming need to share his bafflement with someone, Harry’s wide eyes darted up to meet Remus’s own, whilst his godfather only continued to glance precariously between his Grandfather and the elf he loathed more than his mother herself. Thankfully, the ware seemed to be on the same page as Harry here, stuck between both amusement and utter confusion.

“Well, since you are already among us why don’t you head down to the kitchens. Seily will find some work to busy you with there.” The older man commanded with a self-confirming nod and as simple as that, Kreacher popped away. “Now,” Arcturus smiled, finally turning back towards the rest of them, “With that done, will you gentlemen do the honour of accompanying me to the dining room?”

Though Harry knew it was not quite a question, he was all too happy to follow.

—

Sirius Black was many things, you see. A menace. A flirt. Both fearless and obscenely arrogant. A traitor to his own family. His own kind, even. But one thing he was not, was quiet. So it was rather disconcerting having to force himself to bite his tongue throughout the entirety of this bewildering dinner.

He’d been trying, Gods had he been trying, to wrap his head around the sudden appearance of his godson, who was both so unlike anything he had ever pictured and beyond a curiosity, as well as the story Harry had gifted them all upon asking for an explanation on just where on Earth he’d been these past fifteen years.

‘The 10th century.’ He had told them without an ounce of humour and baring his mother’s wild but truthful gaze. Sirius had wanted to scoff at the very thought of it even then, but how could he? When Harry hadn’t given them much else to go off.

Remus had figured it was the boy’s way of holding all the cards, having the upper hand even, but Sirius could not bring himself to let it go. The 10th century. He thought about it often, it kept him up some nights and busied his mind during the day when he had nothing to occupy himself with. But he was more aware of it in that moment, especially as he watched his godson traverse his way through the proper silverware the Manor's elves had positioned. It was odd the way Harry went about using them, the sight of so many knives, forks and spoons appeared unfamiliar to the boy- at least from where Sirius was sat, seeing as though his Grandfather nor Remus had uttered a word about it. But even so, Harry seemed to be trying hard, and was almost succeeding in his attempt to act as though he knew exactly what he was doing, almost but not quite.

“How is Grimmauld treating you, Harry?” Sirius found himself asking before he could really even think to stop himself.

The entire table appeared to glance at him then, they had all gathered around it once the starters had popped into place, Grandfather at the head with Harry to his right, whilst Remus and himself were stationed to the left. It seemed fair, the surprise they all shared, Sirius supposed he’d been far too quiet that it was probably a tad bit suspicious for him to be piping up now.

“It’s been fine, I’m made to eat three meals a day and there is always something new to discover.” Harry answered him, his soup spoon toying with the bowl perched before him, “Though I am rather fond of the library.”

Grandfather tittered then, a sound Sirius had never been all that familiar with in his youth but something that seemed common now in the man’s old age. “Just wait until you get a look at the Manor’s, it is quite the maze.”

Harry’s face appeared to light up at the mere notion of being allowed to view the old tomb of books and Sirius felt a little stab of jealousy pierce his heart over the fact that both his Grandfather and late father had kept him from it until they were both very certain he’d been equipped to handle it. Not that he could really blame either of them, in truth, he’d always been extreme in everything he did as a child, obsessive they’d claimed, and all those books possessed with Dark Magic wouldn’t have been the best thing for him. He knew that now.

“I’d love that, Arcturus. Thank you.” Harry acclaimed, his lips twisting with an excited grin, one that reminded Sirius very much of James. He had to look away. 

“I’ll give you the tour once dinner has concluded.” His Grandfather said with a gruff tone of finality and Sirius had to wrangle his pitiful emotions into a stronghold after that, begrudging of the quick relationship his Grandfather had adopted with his own godson and how easily Harry fawned over the man in return.

Sirius sighed to himself when a firm hand came to rest on his knee underneath the table and glanced to his right whilst his Grandfather and Harry appeared to converse about the library further. He found Remus’s familiar gaze looking back at him and Sirius gifted him a small smile in hopes to assure the other man that he was in fact fine- though he was more than thankful when the ware’s hand held strong.

—

The Black Manor’s library was unlike anything Harry had ever witnessed, even back at Hogwarts where both Salazar and Rowena’s personal collections had continued to rival each others throughout the years, growing and growing until both their studies had had to have been magical expanded to better fit them all. Even so, neither of them had a thing on the Manor’s, it truly was just as Arcturus had described, a maze made up of tombs.

The ceilings of the room stretched like lazy trees, winding their way up and up until they finally curved and bended into a dome shape, creating panes for window like walls that echoed the stars in tonights sky. A plethora of shelves lined the large space, some spun to reveal a new layer whilst others hid behind alcoves and trapped doors. 

An armchair, sat beside one of the few real windows the library had to offer, was where Harry had conveniently decided to place himself after having conjured up every scroll and scripture the Manor had to offer him on soul magicks. He spent a long while there, holed up reading.

Perhaps not his most smartest idea, building a teepee of sorts out of the darkest books he’d ever set eyes upon, but he had a puzzle to solve and he truly did believe that no one who could wander into the library would fault him for any of it- maybe steer him away from such tainted thoughts that soured souls, but that would be it. No judgment would be found from Lord Black, who’s library housed the books themselves, nor from his godfather who had wandered off long before dessert had even been served at dinner. Which only left the elves and Remus, the latter being unable to even steal a glance at the library’s enchanted entrance and the former busy with the tasks they’d been dealt.

Besides, it was a good enough use of his time. He had a lot of it to spare building up to the start of term and thoughts of the Voldemort’s horcrux had been plaguing his mind, keeping him up at night, in truth.

If the so called Dark Lord was set to be defeated, this soul piece of his would surely have to go first. Or so Harry assumed, which was why he’d been researching the topic so heavily, in order to make sure that he made no mistakes here. There was no use running head first into all the action when he knew nothing of the current affairs taking place in this time, he had no real proof of any Death Eaters that weren’t now incarcerated in Azkaban, he only had the meagre understanding that things amongst Voldemort and his followers had shifted in his time gone thanks to Merlin, and he’d yet to distinguish much else amongst the Wizarding World- just the fact that they were all too easily pleased to grovel at the feet of a mere child before they would herd him on towards an obvious death. Their supposed saviour, how sweet. 

Harry huffed outwardly at the thought, growing even more irritated when a strand of loose hair fell into his face once more. “Kreacher!” He summoned sourly, unhappy to have not found much else on the topic, or any more than what he'd already known. “Kreacher!”

“Little Master calls.” Sounded a now familiar voice, belonging to the hunched creature stood at the end of the shelf Harry had secured himself behind.

Biting back his childish agitation at having come no closer to finding an answer on how to somehow summon the tainted object or perhaps destroy it, Harry blew out an unsteady breath and flipped the large text his lap cradled shut.

“Yes, I just recalled that you’ve yet to hold up your end of our bargain.” Harry told the elf blatantly, closely observing the way Kreacher tensed. “So, I am asking for it now. You’ve gotten all you wished for, I eat every one of my meals- breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I brought you to the Manor’s estate, to Lord Black himself even! And I’d quite like to think that I’ve been somewhat of a reasonable wizard when it comes to the treatment of you, Kreacher, even when you’ve been nothing but conniving and sharp-tongued with me since my arrival, so out with it. Tell me what you know.”

There was a prominent pause. A moment. Where the house elf stared back at Harry obtusely.

Harry fought with himself not to be the first to break it. Binding his words behind clenched teeth and a fizzing tongue. He was at his wits end with all of this, the puzzle of the Dark Lord and Regulus, the pairs many secrets, it had itched at his mind for days now, and never had he ever had so much trouble with anything he’d taken to before. So yes, he was struggling with the obvious slight against his intelligence and was struggling even more so with the whole not taking it to heart thing.

He forced himself to breathe, to allow himself a second. He was no use to anyone in a state like that, but where he’d always been prideful, he’d also learnt fairly early on that the great thing about obtaining what it was you wanted was patience. The work you put in to get to the finish line was just as great as the feeling of accomplishment. 

It was in that breath that Kreacher finally stepped closer, wringing his spindly hands before him. “It be a locket. A locket is what the Lord hid. A locket that Master Regulus died for.”

Even after the many years that had passed since Regulus's supposed death a flash of intense pain flittered through the elf’s face at the very mention of the youngest Black brother. A part of Harry sympathised with him, the loss of his founders still so fresh. But ultimately shook himself out of it.

“What kind of locket was it?”

“Full of evil! So dark and bitter.” Kreacher immediately spat, “Cursed. Twisted!” He swore, face tightening with the lively nature of his feelings, “Can’t be touched, jinxed with blasted magicks!”

Harry’s brow deepened and he slowly moved to place the book he'd held onto into a nearby pile so that he could lean forward in his stance. “Where did you find this locket?”

The elf’s beady eyes snapped up to meet his own, hollowed by rage and fear. “A cave. So, so horrid.” Kreacher admitted quietly, but Harry noted how his voice wavered with emotion. “An army beneath water, he had. Protecting. Waiting. With their claws. Their pale arms. Rotten.”

Blinking at the onslaught he’d been given, Harry hurried to pull an image together, then wordlessly conjured another book he’d been reading earlier to find a page and present a gruesome image to the elf. “Like this?” He asked hastily as his eyes flickered over Kreacher’s face, looking for a reaction.

The elf paled considerably, strange for a creature of his pallor, but nodded all the same. Harry mimicked the motion, gaze snapping back to the image on the page. The Inferius.

They were grisly things, puppets practically for no better use of the word. Gaunt and skeletal in their structure, both dull and decaying. They were human corpses reanimated by Dark spells, not alive, but also not really dead. They did as instructed, following the word of their master, zombies with great physical strength and a superior speed that could kill or maim without thought, without question. It was no surprise that a wizard such as Voldemort would be willing to conjure them, and that they’d had no trouble it seemed in protecting the horcrux as intended.

Harry swallowed thickly at the thought of Sirius’s younger brother being ripped apart between a sea of them. Then shook his head, sadly.

“And what did you do with it- the locket, I mean- once you had it?” Harry forced himself to ask, closing the book and once again adding it to the mountain he’d constructed.

Kreacher’s eyes had since glossed over, the elf clearly still tormented by the memory, but thankfully he persevered. “Kreacher tried to destroy it, as Master Regulus wished. But it failed. There was nothing to be done! And Kreacher tried everything!”

At the sudden start up of the elf clawing his gritty nails into the top of his head, Harry sighed and pointed towards the elf, “Kreacher, stop that. You did your best, you can’t blame yourself for being unable to destroy an object most people don’t know to even exist. So there’s no use in gouging your brains out now, and especially not on the Manor’s carpet. Stars knows how long this has been here.” He commented thoughtlessly, eyes grazing the intricate stitchings woven into the large rug sat beneath them.

Harry sighed again, a heavy thing that loosened his entire being, before he glanced back up. Kreacher had stopped his attempt at self-torture but was still watching Harry with a certain amount of wariness. Harry thinned his lips.

“So where is it now? Will you gift the locket to me so that you can finally be rid of it and so I can find a way to destroy it?” He quizzed the elf, cocking a brow.

When Kreacher didn’t automatically reply and instead continued in his staring, Harry heard himself huff and fall back into his armchair, an arm flying up to cover his eyes as he felt a headache coming on.

“Gods, Kreacher! What is it now? I thought you wanted to follow Regulus’s orders?”

The silence dragged again, before...

“There was time, after Mistress passed.” He heard Kreacher say and at the sound of the elf’s raspy voice, Harry removed the flailed limb from across his face to peer back up. The house-elf hadn’t moved an inch, bare feet still squandering the ancient old carpet, but now he was staring at Harry with a face so blank it almost unnerved the young wizard.

“What do you mean?”

“There was a time after Mistress died that Kreacher no longer had a Master to devout himself to.” Kreacher answered vaguely, which only made Harry’s head pound harder.

“Stop speaking in riddles, Kreacher. Where was Sirius, wouldn’t the title have gone straight to him?” Harry pondered, sitting up once more, elbows digging into either knee now.

The elf shook his head, ears flowing with it. “The mutt silenced my Mistress! Boarded up the House of Black! Its magic! So Kreacher searched for the sisters. Alone as he was. He found one. The White witch born a Black.”

Harry frowned at the information, confused, but his mind was racing a mile a minute.

“Narcissa?” Harry asked- as it could have only be her, couldn’t it?

Kreacher jerked his head in a painful nod that even made Harry wince, before the realisation set in, creeping up his spine and diluting any previous thoughts from his mind.

“What did you do, Kreacher? What did you say to her?”

The elf was practically vibrating now, fingernails clawing at his arms where skin had been stretched to cover bone. “Kreacher knew the White witch, had watched after her as a babe, saw her grow. She was powerful, like the other sisters. But smart. Like Master Regulus. Master Regulus trusted the White witch. Kreacher knew his secret be safe with her.”

“No.” Harry shuddered, falling from the armchair to his knees almost unconsciously, “Kreacher, please, tell me you didn’t.” He demanded, pleaded, begged. He couldn’t have, he couldn’t have given it over. He wouldn’t have. “Where’s the locket, Kreacher? Where is it now?”

“Gone, Little Master.”