Chapter 9

Scarier than Aragog

Dobby prepared a delicious lunch for Harry and his friends, and for a few moments, they forgot their burdens and enjoyed each other's company. Ron and Hermione took turns making fun of the other, and Harry joined in their laughter.

"You should have seen your hair yesterday," mocked Ron, "it barely fit through the door. You need to warn us if you're going to show up like that so early in the morning. Scarier than Aragog, that was."

On another day, Ron's joke might have offended Hermione, but she remained so happy and relieved at Harry's recovery that nothing could dampen her bright mood.

"Well obviously you didn't take a look at yourself, Mr. Weasley," she counterattacked, "Your hair was sticking out in twenty different directions. Almost as bad as Harry's is all the time."

"Hey, how did I get involved in this," yelled Harry in feigned anger, throwing his hands through the air, and all three of them laughed until they had stitches in their sides. What Dobby thought of teen-age wizards and witches one can only guess.

After consuming an enormous quantity of delicious cookies baked by the house elf, the mood returned to earth, and Harry sighed, "Let's get started." The three reluctantly exited the kitchen and made their way to the sitting room.

Dobby had spruced up the room nicely, rearranging the furniture in a more intimate way closer to the fireplace, and the three friends all nodded their heads in appreciation.

"I have to say," commented Hermione, "If Dobby were my house elf, I would have a hard time freeing him. Is there anything he can't do?" Harry nodded in agreement but did his best not to change his expression.

Since the house belonged to Harry, his friends left the large, comfortable overstuffed chair for him, and Hermione and Ron sat on another chair and sofa respectively. They looked at Harry, who leaned back in his chair staring at the ceiling, not knowing where to begin.

Sensing his indecision, Hermione spoke first, "What happened, Harry? When you were fighting the horcrux? You can't believe how scared we were after you drank the water."

"I can't really explain it," Harry mused, not taking his eyes off the ceiling. "At first it was like drinking lava, my insides were boiling." He shuddered and leaned forward in his chair, but still not focusing his eyes on anything. "Then I felt the power of the horcrux searching for something, I think my soul, and then it concentrated itself right here," Harry explained, pointing to the area just below the ribs but above the stomach. "Finally I was able to concentrate on it, and then it talked to me."

"It talked to you?" Ron asked with astonishment. Hermione's expression showed that she felt the same.

"Communicate would be a better word; it didn't really talk in a voice, but I knew what it was saying. It tried to tempt me with power, that we could be great if I let it merge with my soul, that one way or the other it was going to defeat me. I kind of taunted it, said I had plenty of power and didn't want any more. It didn't really get mad at me, just said I had chosen."

Hermione and Ron sat in rapt attention but Harry continued looking through them.

"I felt like I could kill it easily, that I had plenty of power. Kind of like a wrestling match where I was the stronger wrestler, but I just couldn't finish the other bloke off. I didn't know what move to use or what strategy to take. It was exhausting, but I knew the horcrux was suffering too. We each had to back off for a minute to regroup, and I heard Professor Dumbledore say that my power was love. Somehow I thought about all the things I loved, and I knew I had one last attack in me. I told myself I couldn't fail, but I knew that if I didn't finish the horcrux off that time, it would be over. The horcrux would have taken over my soul. I would have become another Voldemort."

Not a sound could be heard in the sitting room, nor did Ron and Hermione move a muscle. Harry was just pausing and would continue in a minute, so they would do nothing to interrupt his train of thought. The young wizard now stared at a portrait on the opposite wall of some long deceased ancestor of Sirius, but he did not actually see it. Finally his eyes refocused, and he glanced at his friends. He stood up and moved next to the fireplace as if to warm himself, even though the day was warm and no fire had been lit.

"My final attack worked. I could feel that the horcrux was no more. It didn't really die; it just didn't exist anymore." Harry shook his head, "It's something you can't explain, I just knew it happened. Dumbledore said the same thing in his notebook. Now I know what he meant. Once I knew it was over, I was so drained, I blacked out. Somehow you two got me back. What did you do?"

Ron and Hermione alternately informed Harry of their actions, and Harry nodded in approval.

Eventually they described what happened during Harry's coma, with Hermione commenting to Harry, "It was weird. Every day Madam Pomfrey came and said you were just fine except that you wouldn't wake up. Do you remember anything?"

"Actually I remember quite a lot. I don't know how long I was completely out, but for the last few days at least, I knew that I was in a coma, I could sometimes hear people talking in the room, but I just couldn't wake up. In fact, I knew that I shouldn't wake up, so I didn't even try." Harry had returned to his large, comfortable chair which made him look even thinner than he already was. "My body was fine, but my soul needed repair; that's all I can figure." Harry left it at that. He did not want to tell them that he felt something was different, something was not whole. The horcrux had been destroyed but not without cost.

The mood in the sitting room had sunk into a joint depression, and Harry realized he needed to lighten the mood.

"All in all, I would say it was a great success!" he concluded brightly, "We killed a horcrux with a minimum of damage. We didn't get caught by the Ministry; we have the Order off our backs for the time being; and we have a better idea of what we are dealing with. I'm very satisfied."

"But you could have been terribly injured, Harry, or even killed," Hermione countered, "We need to be more careful next time."

"Well, we can be more careful about some things. That is true," Harry agreed, "but as far as me being hurt, I have already told you that what we have to do will be extremely dangerous. It's not going to get easier, Hermione. Also, the horcrux will not kill me, at least not intentionally, because I think it would die too. It needs to take over my soul. That is the real danger. It could turn me."

"You would never turn to the dark," scoffed Ron, "I don't care what the horcrux does to you." Hermione nodded her agreement.

Harry shook his head vigorously. "You don't understand. If the horcrux would have won, the soul inside of me would be Voldemort's, not mine. Can't you see how dangerous that would be? Everyone says I'm so powerful, well, Voldemort's soul would control my power."

The others could see that the though shook Harry. He held his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, deep in thought. Finally he straightened his back and decisively stated, "If that happens, you two have to kill me. Do you understand? It won't be me; it will be Voldemort in my body. You'll HAVE to kill me!"

"I don't know if I could do that, Harry," whispered Hermione honestly, shocked from the turn of this conversation. Ron sat in a daze and said nothing.

Harry looked at them, assessing his two best friends, and then averred with great confidence, "You will if you have to. I know you can. Let's just hope it doesn't come to that!"

xxxxxxxxxx

Over the next several days, Ron and Hermione came to No. 17 Grimmauld Place at designated times to discuss their next steps. After Harry's outburst at their first "meeting," their later get-togethers were not as joyous and full of laughter as their first lunch. Harry felt badly that he had spoiled things for everyone, but he believed that he said what needed to be said.

Their discussions first established the status of the horcruxes, so far as known:

Riddle's diary - destroyed by Harry
Slytherin's ring - destroyed by Dumbledore
Hufflepuff's cup - destroyed by Harry
Slytherin's locket - unknown if destroyed by R.A.B.
Nagini - unsure if it is horcrux or not. Dumbledore thought so.
Unknown sixth horcrux - cannot be sure a sixth was created but Dumbledore
believed it was, and Harry agreed based on the memory of Riddle's
conversation with Slughorn.
Voldemort - last part of his soul remains in his body.

In Harry's mind, an addition to this list had to be made: Harry himself. He believed more than ever that a piece of Voldemort's soul existed inside of him, even if not a horcrux. This remained a wild card, its effect unknown and unknowable.

What should they do next? Fortunate to have had Dumbledore's notes to lead them to the cup, they now were on their own. The only piece of hard evidence in their possession was the note left by "R.A.B." in the cave with the fake locket. They surmised that they should be able to determine the identity of R.A.B., who once had been a death eater and presumably was now deceased.

They tried to think of all of the names of death eaters that they knew - Nott, Avery, Malfoy, LeStrange, but they knew only a fraction of all of the followers of Voldemort, especially if one included the deceased with the living. Hermione finally realized that they were overlooking the most obvious candidate.

"Harry! Didn't Sirius say that he had a brother? His name would also be Black."

"How could I be so stupid!" Harry chastised himself, "Of course he did. His name was Regulus, so that would be two of the three initials. I don't know what his middle name was though. I remember Sirius, or maybe it was Remus, telling me that Regulus became a death eater and supported Voldemort at first, but then he tried to back out when he realized what was expected of him."

"Well," Ron summarized, "that fits in pretty well with the note. Regulus Black has to be our number one suspect."

"Who would know Regulus' middle name," asked Hermione, "Maybe we could ask Remus."

"This was the Black house," Harry reminded them, "Maybe there is something in the house that would tell us." Harry preferred not to consult Remus if possible.

And so a major search of the house ensued, but it appeared that Sirius had removed virtually everything that had to do with the family Black from the house. The few times they encountered Regulus' name, no middle name or initial was included. After several fruitless hours, Harry realized how stupid he was being.

"Wait a minute. I know who knows the middle name, and he has to tell me, even though he won't want to." The other two looked at Harry perplexedly until they heard Harry call, "KREACHER!"

In a pop the house elf arrived, more pathetic than ever. He crouched even lower than before, as if permanently bowing to his master. His matted hair appeared not to have been washed in months, and quite noticeably he smelled. Stunk would be a better description.

"Master called Kreacher," he crooned unctuously.

"Kreacher, I need to know the middle name of Regulus Black," Harry asked directly, not desiring to spend any more time with his slave than necessary.

"Master Regulus was a fine master," responded Kreacher, "my mistress was so proud of him. Not a blood traitor like the other son. Kreacher will not help his new master; he will not tell him the name, no he won't." Kreacher half spoke to Harry and half to himself, as was his habit. Harry could not help but pity the creature, though he still harbored a great deal of hatred for the elf whose lie directly led to the death of Harry's godfather, Sirius Black.

"Kreacher, I am not asking you, I am ordering you to tell me. What was the middle name of Regulus Black?" Harry's voice rose in volume.

Kreacher briefly tried to resist the direct order, but having been a house elf for many decades, he knew that the enchantment would prevent his refusal.

"My mistress named her beloved son Regulus Apollo Black, a true pure blood wizard. Stayed true to his blood, not a blood traitor like master and his red-haired friend. Bringing a mudblood into mistress' house."

"KREACHER," Harry yelled, "I ORDER YOU NEVER TO USE THE WORD MUDBLOOD AGAIN, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Kreacher furiously turned towards his master, for "mudblood" was one of his favorite words. He had to answer the question and so gave a brief nod of understanding.

Harry's previous pity for his slave had vanished, and he wanted the creature out of his sight.

"Go back to Hogwarts, Kreacher. And when you get there, I order you to take a bath and to wash your hair. GO!" Kreacher's fury only increased as he popped away.

Though displeased by Harry's treatment of the elf, Hermione could not muster any sympathy for Kreacher either.

"So the note could have been written by Regulus," she stated, trying to distract Harry from his anger at Kreacher.

"Yeah, how many R.A.B.'s can there be," Ron added, seemingly convinced, "Everything about him seems to fit."

Harry nodded his head but did not seem completely in agreement with his friends. After a few moments, he realized what bothered him.

He turned to his mates and explained, "You may be right about Regulus, but something just occurred to me. How could he have taken the locket horcrux by himself? I don't think even Dumbledore could have done it alone. He couldn't have drunk all of the potion unless I forced him to, and I don't think he would have had the strength to get out alone."

Hermione nodded her head and agreed, "That's an excellent point, Harry. From everything we know about Regulus, which I know is not a lot, he doesn't seem to be special. Certainly he was no Dumbledore."

He must have had an accomplice, they concluded, but of course they had no idea of the accomplice's identity. If they could find him or her, perhaps they could determine whether the horcrux in Slytherin's locket had been destroyed.

"Maybe you can ask Kreacher again," suggested Ron.

"Maybe, but I don't want to see that piece of filth right now," spat Harry, whose mood had deteriorated during the day. "But wait a second," Harry murmured as a thought dawned upon him, "there might be another house elf who could help us. Dobby, come here please."

The more presentable house elf arrived promptly with a pop, hopping up and down with excitement.

"Dobby," Harry began, "you belonged to the Malfoys for a long time, right?"

Dobby's face immediately darkened upon hearing that name.

"Yes, they were bad masters. Bad wizards. Dobby was born a slave of Malfoys, many years ago."

"How long did you work for them," continued Harry, mindful that Dobby probably did not enjoy bringing up the past.

"Oh, house elves do not count like wizards. Dobby does not know how old Dobby is. But Dobby worked for bad masters a long time."

"Were you there before Lucius Malfoy was born?" Harry probed.

"Yes, I helped care for Master Lucius when he was a small wizard."

"Did you ever see the Blacks when Lucius was growing up?" Harry asked, assuming that two related elite pure-blood families would have had social contact.

"Yes, yes, Harry Potter," Dobby confirmed excitedly, for he felt he was being a help in some manner, "Blacks and Malfoys often visited. Sometimes the Blacks come to Malfoy Manor, sometimes the Malfoys come here, where the Blacks lived."

"So you knew Sirius and Regulus Black, right?" Harry continued, knowing that they would have been about the same age as Lucius.

"Lucius played with Regulus when they were small wizards, yes I saw Regulus many times."

"Wasn't Lucius older than Regulus? Why didn't he play with Sirius?" Hermione asked, speaking for the first time since Dobby arrived. She now understood Harry's line of questioning.

"Lucius and Sirius hated each other. Never played together, only fought. But Lucius and Regulus liked each other," explained Dobby.

Harry doubted that Lucius would have assisted Regulus in stealing and destroying the locket, if in fact it was destroyed, so Harry pressed on.

"Dobby, all of this is very helpful. Thank you. Do you know if Regulus had other friends?

"Dobby did not know Regulus Black much, but Dobby served at many big parties where the Blacks came. Dobby remembers that Regulus played often with Dumbledore's friend, Snape."

"Regulus was friends with Snape?" Harry asked semi-shocked. Ron and Hermione shifted in their seats at the news, which came as a surprise to all of them.

"Yes, Dobby did not like Regulus or Snape. Not nice boys. Not nice wizards. Master Lucius also played with them at big parties. Not Sirius. Only argued and fought with Sirius."

Somehow knowing that his beloved godfather, Sirius Black, did not get on well with three future death eaters filled Harry with pride.

Ron injected himself into the questioning, asking, "Did Regulus have other close friends that you know of?

"Dobby does not know. But Dobby knows that Regulus became a bad wizard. Snape too. Followed the dark lord. Dobby heard masters talk. Dobby heard that Regulus was killed by the dark lord. Dark lord was not happy with Regulus, Dobby does not know why."

"Thank you Dobby, you've been very helpful." Harry said, indicating that the house elf could leave. "Well, what do you think? Could Snape have helped Regulus get the locket?"

"Could be," Hermione surmised, "but there's no way to know without asking him, and I doubt that he's going to tell us, even if he is on our side."

"Believe me, he will talk," growled Harry, and Ron and Hermione were taken aback at Harry's anger and aggression.

"We're getting way ahead of ourselves. Regulus may have had a lot of friends who could have helped him," Hermione pointed out, "and we don't have any way of finding Snape. He has to be in hiding."

"Maybe we could owl him," suggested Ron, "say that we need to see him, that Dumbledore told you that he's still on our side. Maybe he'd agree to see us."

"I'm sure he's made himself unplottable," noted Hermione, "otherwise the ministry could just track an owl right to him."

The three leaned back in their seats feeling defeated at the dead end. Harry considered Snape and Dumbledore. Something existed between them that only the two of them knew. Dumbledore would never speak of it, not even to Harry. The thought of Dumbledore carried Harry back to the night of his death, to his weakness from the potion, to the avada kedavra curse that killed him, to the look on Snape's face, to seeing the headmaster's pale body outside the castle in the dark, to hearing Fawkes' plaintive song later.

"Wait a minute!" Harry exploded as he jumped from his chair. "How about Fawkes? Phoenixes can do a lot of things that owls can't, and they are extremely intelligent. I've seen Dumbledore give Fawkes complicated directions, and it understands perfectly. Maybe the unplottable charm wouldn't work on a Phoenix. Disapparation wards don't, as Fawkes can come and go at Hogwarts as he pleases."

Hermione gave the matter her full concentration.

"You may have something there, Harry, but of course a phoenix will only do it if it wants to. And Fawkes was Dumbledore's bird, not yours."

"No, no." corrected Harry, "Fawkes was not a pet. He stayed with Dumbledore only because he wanted to; he could have left whenever he wanted."

"You're right," agreed Hermione, "but my point is that Fawkes may not agree to do it. And what if Fawkes delivers the message when Snape is around other death eaters? If he's really still our spy, it could give him away. It might ruin everything."

"We could tell Fawkes only to give it to Snape if he is by himself. Fawkes could do that," Ron assured them. He liked Harry's idea.

"He can," Harry agreed, "but Hermione's right. We would have to be very careful about how to do it. And we have to see if Fawkes will even come if I call. It came in the Chamber of Secrets, but . . ."

"OK," Hermione sighed, grudgingly consenting. "We need to try to find Snape anyway, whether or not he knows anything about the locket."

"Right!" agreed Harry, making the decision final. "We have some planning to do."