Disclaimer: Guess what - I created Harry Potter! Aren't you all surprised? I lied in my other disclaimers! ... I wish.
They all paused outside the room when they reached it, memories of Sirius and house-cleaning flooding back to them.
"God, he hated this house so much," muttered Harry, as he surveyed the bare room before him, still smelling of damp and mould even after all Mrs Weasley's efforts to ventilate it. The dusty cupboards were empty, stripped of all their dark objects, and Harry glanced at them, trying to remember if there really had been a locket in them. But his mind was blank. Ron, on the other hand, suddenly let out a sigh of remembrance and Harry turned his head quickly, questioning Ron with a look.
"Yeah, I remember," said Ron, nodding. "There was a locket. Great heavy gold thing, we tried to open it, remember? But it was stuck. And," he added, looking amazed at his own brilliance, "I've just realised - Kreacher!"
"Kreacher?" repeated Harry, perplexed, but beside him, Hermione breathed a sigh of comprehension. "Yes… yes!" she whispered, and suddenly turned to Ron and hugged him, hard. He went purple -either from embarrassment or because she'd cut off his air supply, Harry couldn't tell which. When she let go, after giving him a quick kiss, Ron reeled backwards, cheeks aflame and a mixture of shock and bliss stamped on his face. As he seemed incapable of normal speech, she continued, looking slightly amused.
"Kreacher came in, remember? And he took some of Sirius' things from the waste bags. So, what if he took the locket? Ron, you're wonderful." He flushed even more, his face clashing dreadfully with his hair. But Harry was still sceptical.
"What if he didn't? Sirius threw him out before he had a chance to nick anything."
Hermione's face fell, but Ron punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Don't be too optimistic, mate, I'm drowning in all that hope. We might as well ask Kreacher, just in case. There's a chance he could've sneaked some stuff out later."
"But for now," said Hermione briskly, "Let's have a look at that tapestry." And together they crossed the dusty floorboards to the other side of the room where the ancient tapestry hung, faded and somehow strangely sinister. More memories came surging through Harry's mind ... here Sirius had told him about his childhood, how he hated his pureblood family. How he'd run away from home.
Harry stared at the yellowed cloth, running his fingers over the embroidered names, and could almost hear Sirius' brooding voice in his mind as his gaze flicked from one name to another.
Elladora Black…Aunt Elladora, the house-elf decapitator … Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's mother ... next to that, a small burn mark - all that remained of Andromeda, the shameful wife of a Muggle.
Bellatrix Lestrange… Harry's fists clenched as her stared at that particular name - Sirius' murderer. Harry was busy swearing to himself that one day, he would kill her in the slowest, most painful way his imagination could provide him with when Hermione's voice interrupted his dark thoughts.
"Harry!" she gasped. "Harry, look -" he had rarely heard her so excited, and he and Ron leant over quickly to read the name she was pointing to.
Regulus Black.
Harry's heart missed a beat. Regulus Black, Sirius' brother… what had Sirius said about him? His parents preferred Regulus because he was far more Slytherin than Sirius could even pretend to be.
Harry looked at the numbers beside Regulus' name for more clues and saw the date of death. So young to die... a memory was nagging at Harry's mind. And then it hit him. A realisation so strong he felt dizzy. And Harry's own words came back to him from that summer only two years ago, "Was he killed by an Auror?" "No, he was murdered by Voldemort…he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out."
But what if Sirius had been wrong? So few knew Voldemort's secret. If Regulus had been killed by Voldemort, could it not have been for a deeper, more sinister reason? "I know I will be dead long before you read this..." If Regulus had known, perhaps he had not been a Death Eater after all. Could he have been a spy?
"Harry," said a loud and impatient voice in his ear. "You're turning into Hermione. You going to tell us what you're thinking, or just keep sitting there looking enlightened?"
"Wha-? Oh - yeah, sorry," said Harry, focusing on Ron and Hermione. He'd almost forgotten they were there. Quickly he told them everything he could remember about Regulus, Hermione's eyes widening with every sentence.
"Oh, Harry, if he was - if he was really a good person! Do you think so? Yes, it fits, it all fits," she answered herself, and she began muttering inaudibly under her breath, forehead furrowed. Harry and Ron waited, not wanting to interrupt her train of thought. After about five minutes, they were rewarded. Hemione looked up at them, satisfied.
"Yes. He's got to be R.A.B. He was killed for finding out Voldemort's secret, he found the Horcrux but must have hidden it here before Voldemort hunted him down. Regulus was either always on our side, as a spy, and didn't tell his parents, or he was a Deatheater but turned traitor to Voldemort. I'm sure of it." Harry and Ron nodded all the way through her speech. Harry was still marvelling that the mysterious R.A.B. who had plagued him all summer was actually his dead godfather's brother, but then his spirits sank as he thought again of the locket.
"Well, it's great we've worked it out, but I still think it's unlikely the locket's still here," he said, standing up and brushing some old, dry Doxy droppings off his robes. "We may as well have a look in Kreacher's room now, though, just in case."
Kreacher's old room, the little space in the kitchen that enclosed the boiler, looked much the same as ever, though with a forlorn, disused feel about it. The same filthy nest of tattered sheets covered the floor - Hermione's face fell as she looked in vain for the patchwork quilt she had given the elf - and tucked away behind a bundle of dirt-smeared rags which seemed to have served as a pillow, lay some small objects. Part of a wooden photo-frame stuck out, a silver watch-strap, and something else - gleaming gold! Harry heard Hermione's excited gasp in his ear as he reached out quickly, heart thumping, and pushed aside the pillow to reveal the items entirely.
There was no locket.
All three groaned quietly in disappointment. The gold object was just an ordinary brooch, stamped with the Black crest. Ron pushed aside a silver music box, an Order of Merlin, and the photograph, searching in vain.
"Accio locket!" said Hermione firmly, pointing her wand inside the den. Nothing happened.
Harry shut his eyes, concentrated on the locket as hard as he could, and waved his wand to the house in general, "Accio locket!" They all strained their ears, hoping against hope to hear an object come zooming out of one of the rooms. But after a few minutes of tense silence, all three had to admit defeat.
"Okay, so the locket's not here," said Harry resignedly. "Well, where do we try next?" But before anyone could answer, they were interrupted.
"What are you doing?" came a startled voice at the doorway. They looked all jumped and glanced round guiltily. Ginny was standing there, still in her nightdress, looking at them all as though they had lost their minds. Harry and Hermione both had their wands drawn from the Summoning Spells and Ron had been leaning back on his haunches, staring gloomily into Kreacher's den. Mrs Weasley appeared behind her, peering curiously into the kitchen. Ron slammed shut the door of Kreacher's den and Harry and Hermione hastily pocketed their wands, as Ginny and her mother entered the kitchen.
"Nothing, Ginny, nothing," said Ron evasively. "I just, um, got the wrong door, Mum, I, er - I thought it was the pantry," he added lamely, for his mother was looking at him shrewdly.
"I hope you three aren't up to anything dangerous again," Mrs Weasley said, hands on hips, and Harry could see she hadn't swallowed Ron's lame story for one minute. "Because I know you lot, can't stay out of trouble for five minutes, you're worse than Fred and George for making me worry sometimes!"
"Aw, Mum, we're all right," said Ron vaguely. "Just messing around, you know. Want to go to your room, Harry? Um, we could learn some magic from Hermione's books!" he said, glancing at Mrs Weasley who, if she had looked curious before, now looked extremely suspicious, and the three of them hurried out before she could ask any more questions.
Halfway up the stairs, Harry felt rather than heard someone close behind him, and turned to see Ginny stealthily following him, a determined look on her face. He sighed, knowing a confrontation was coming, but didn't try to stop her coming into his room.
"What were you really doing?" she demanded, the minute the door closed and they were out of range of Mrs Weasley's hearing.
Harry sighed. "Look, Ginny, it's to do with what I told you about earlier - "
"What you didn't tell me, you mean!" she shot back, hair looking redder that ever and her eyes flashing. Harry rubbed his nose helplessly.
"Well, yeah - Ginny, look -"
"Harry, don't do this to me," she said angrily, shaking her head. "Don't keep me in the dark any longer. I've been thinking, and you're making me feel like you can't trust me, and you know, just maybe I could help you."
"I do trust -"
"Then tell me, Harry."
"Ginny -"
"What have you got to lose?"
"You, maybe?" Harry shot back, starting to get angry himself.
"If there are four of us, we can protect each other better!"
"Not necess-"
"Remember your 'saving-people thing', Harry?"
Ron and Hermione glanced at each other nervously, and Harry sat down heavily on the bed, running his hand over his eyes. Ginny stood there, adamant, glaring at him, and he sighed. He hated doing this to her, and perhaps she had a point, anyway. His 'saving-people thing' hadn't always been good in the end; and Dumbledore could've been wrong, he thought wearily. Ginny was clever, she had guts, she knew her stuff - but he didn't want to lead anyone else into danger if he could help it.
"Ron, Hermione, help me out here," Harry said to them in desperation. "Dumbledore said not to tell anyone else but you, but if we all agree - what d'you think?"
Ron hesitated. "I dunno, Ginny," he said, fidgeting and avoiding his sister's eyes. "Mum's going to go spare when she finds out what I'm doing, and she'll blame me if you get duffed up -"
Harry grimaced, but Ginny said coolly, "Maybe I might end up stopping you getting 'duffed up', Ron, I'm not rubbish with a wand, you know."
"Hermione?" asked Harry, turning to her before Ron and Ginny could start quarrelling.
"I think Ginny should know," said Hermione simply.
"Why?" said Harry helplessly.
"For all the reasons Ginny's given you, and I happen to think that if Dumbledore were here, he'd agree with me."
"But Dumbledore said -"
"Well, Ginny was only just fifteen when he said that," said Ron slowly. He was looking at his sister carefully, as though seeing her in a slightly different light. "And did you ask if you could tell her?"
"Well, no, but -"
"Maybe Hermione's right, then," said Ron, shrugging.
Ginny kept quiet, watching them very seriously.
"Things have changed, Harry!" said Hermione impatiently, as he dithered. "It's your choice, but I've been thinking for ages that Ginny should know; if you can't trust her, who can you trust?"
"I'm not worried about that," said Harry, annoyed. "You know I'm just scared Ginny'll get hurt."
"We've been through this," said Ginny, teeth gritted. "You three have just as much chance -"
"Fine!" snapped Harry, gripping his hair in frustration and feeling somehow just as he had that day eight years ago when Dudley's gang had cornered him amongst the school dustbins. "Fine, I give in, I'll tell you, just sit down and listen, okay?"
Ginny looked momentarily taken aback, but she sat and said nothing, just waiting.
"Right," said Harry, already wishing he hadn't agreed to this. "Well, it's a long story. I just hope Dumbledore's ghost won't pop up and bite my head off for this..."
Harry talked for a long time, starting from the very beginning and finally bringing out the fake locket Horcrux to show her. As he told her the story of the Prophecy, the memories Dumbledore had shown him, and finally the Horcruxes and the task he had to complete, Ginny's expression barely changed. She simply listened, and never took her eyes from Harry's face. Harry ended (rather lamely), with " - and, well, that's it really. Voldemort or me."
Ginny didn't speak. She looked up into Harry's face, the old wonderful blaze in her face, and simply hugged him, hard.
Then she whispered in his ear, "I'll be with you, Harry - count on me. All the way."
Ron was already looking anxious; Harry guessed he was dreading the inevitable battle with Mrs Weasley later when they told him her daughter wasn't going back to Hogwarts, but was going with them to places even they didn't yet know. Hermione was for some reason looking much happier now that Ginny was in the know, and some part of him was relieved, too; he had hated hurting Ginny by keeping secrets from her. And somehow now that he had told her, Harry found himself strangely glad to know that he had he determined support.
"But now we've sorted that out, we'd better not waste any more time," Hermione was saying. "We know what we have to do next. Ask Kreacher - Harry, call him here, he might be able to tell us something."
"Do I have to see that wretched little elf again?" muttered Harry darkly. Part of him still blamed Kreacher for Sirius' death. The foul creature had lied to him…it had been his fault Harry had gone to the Ministry in the first place. But Hermione gave him a stern look, and Harry gave in, throwing up his hands. "Fine, fine…Kreacher!" he said firmly, focusing his mind on the elf, and the next moment there was a loud Crack! and sure enough, Kreacher the house elf appeared. He was filthy as ever, bent low and glaring up at Harry through his yellowed eyeballs in greatest loathing.
"Master called?" he whined, bowing ridiculously deeply, his face dark with mutiny.
"Yeah, I did," said Harry, looking down at Kreacher in distaste. "We want you to tell us everything you know about a golden locket that was in one of the cupboards upstairs."
Kreacher bowed again, his snout-like nose now scraping the floor, and began muttering to himself. "Master wants to know about the locket, yes he does, the locket that was mine, I kept it, I saved it for my mistress and young dead master, and now it's gone, he stole it he did, yes, and he had no right to touch young dead master's property, filthy tramp of a Mudblood that he was, oh if my mistress knew, she'd be furious - "
"Yeah, yeah, we don't need to know about Sirius' mum thanks, Kreacher, we hear enough from her portrait as it is," said Ron, cutting across the elf's rambling. "So who took it?"
Kreacher stared at Ron in utmost detestation and began muttering again, "The blood-traitor is trying to order Kreacher around, Kreacher will not answer, no, my mistress would be ashamed to see Kreacher talk to such a blood-traitor, oh she would…"
"All right, Kreacher, enough!" said Harry loudly, ignoring Hermione's reproachful glance. "Who took the locket?" The elf tried rebelliously to keep his mouth shut, ears quivering in effort, but then as though he couldn't help himself, reluctant words came tumbling out. "That Mudblood took it, he did, yes, the filthy thief of a half-blooded traitor…"
Then Harry realised, and, knowing the 'filthy thief' to be out of their reach in Azkaban, breathed out the name in dismay, "Oh, God…not Mundungus."
Review? Pretty please :D
