"Harry Potter." That voice. That glorious beautiful voice which he would have recognized anywhere, more keenly than even his own. That wonderful high pitched susurrus which had once filled him with fear now filled him with an entirely different sensation, causing a warmth to pool in his belly which was completely separate from the usual pleasure which overwhelmed him on contact with the Dark Lord's skin. "The Boy Who Lived." He was blind in warm darkness, utterly relaxed and feeling entirely boneless as he lay across his lap. A position he'd once have reviled, but now his only complaint was that he couldn't see his benefactor's face. He nuzzled into his hip, feeling thick silken robes rub against his face. Comforted by his familiar scent; heady and rich and slightly reptilian. "My Black Lion." A large hand with long spidery fingers came to rest on his back. The touch almost delicate and making the raven yearn for less clothes to separate them. "They've called you the Savior of the Wizarding World for almost all your life, and now you truly shall be. My Horcrux. My consort. My most loyal-."

"Mum says get up! Your breakfast is in the kitchen!" George's voice was so loud that Harry was sure he'd shouted directly into his ear, and all traces of the dream he'd been having shattered apart along with his skull as his head hit the ceiling. "Sorry Harry, didn't mean to frighten you that badly but you'd better hurry up before Ronnikins eats your portion along with his. You'll definitely need your strength today."

Finished hissing out a string of curses in Parseltongue while rubbing the raised knot on his head Harry sent George a mild glare through his watering eyes. Nihil seemed more amused by the situation than he was, judging by his cackling. "Why would that be?" he gritted out.

"Surely Ron and Hermione told you about the child labor house cleaning services; not old enough to participate in the actual fighting? Never fear, for you can still contribute to the war effort by assisting the Order of the Phoenix in clearing the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!"

Cleaning? Marvelous. Just when Harry had thought the remainder of his summer couldn't get any worse he was now expected to preform practically the same duties as he had at the Dursley's? Were Snape less of an ass Harry might have actually begun to sympathize with the man: being a double agent truly was a thankless job.

"And it looks like it'll be even worse than usual today, sad to say. She found loads more Doxies in the drawing room than she expected, and on top of everything else there's a nest of dead Puffskeins under the couch."

Puffskeins? A brief moment of consideration conjured up an image of a giant ball of fluff with a simian like face. They had, if he recalled correctly, briefly talked about them during Care of Magical Creatures at some point between Hippogryphs and Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"Right. I'll be down as soon as I've changed."

George nodded at him once before disappearing with a crack. Harry hauled himself off the surprisingly comfortable bed and padded over to the trunk, changing into one of the few sets of Muggle clothing that he had; better not to wear anything he might need later for a day of slaving away at clearing the house. He'd always wound up covered in dust and mud and sweat by the end of such a day-almost every day-at the home of his 'oh so loving' relatives and there was no telling what he'd be covered in by the end of such a day in a magical home. Especially one that had stood empty for as long as Number 12.

Dressed in a soft white t-shirt and blue jeans and resolving to make use of the private bathroom as soon as their cleaning was through Harry headed down the stairs to quickly eat his breakfast and join the others in the drawing room.

A high ceiling. Olive green walls covered in dirty tapestries. A number of pieces of antique, claw footed furniture were scattered throughout the room, their weight leaving deep prints pressed into the grey stained carpet. Thick velvet curtains, their green hue obscured by a layer of dust so thick that their shade was almost indiscernible, hung astride the windows buzzing like a hive full of bees. The moment he stepped over the threshold an odd, gentle hissing filled the furthest an odd, gentle hissing filled the furthest reaches of his awareness.

Did he really want to know? The small group of people with bandanas tied around their faces and bottles of what looked like black Windex in their hands told him that, no, he really didn't. But as Mrs. Weasley's eyes landed on him Harry knew he didn't have a choice.

"Cover your face and grab the last bottle, Harry dear." She said, voice muffled behind the cloth as she pointed at the bottle resting on the spindly legged table. "It's Doxycide; I've never seen an infestation this bad."

She went on to say more but Harry had affectively tuned her out. It didn't matter what it was, what they were up against or whether or not it touched, stung, bit or otherwise attempted to harm him. He was swathed in the strongest protections which Lord Voldemort had to offer; only the best to defend the carrier of his soul.

Next to nothing could touch him now so what was the point of caution when dealing with anything aside from Dumbledore?

He only refocused on the conversation when Sirius made some comment or another about Kreacher before dropping a bag of dead rats-why? Did he care, not really, but why?-on the very same table the Doxicide had been resting on and went to examine a rattling writing desk.

The two adults discussed in voices which were carefully polite, making it clear that neither had forgotten the explosive argument which had occurred the night before, after dinner had concluded and the amusement from 'Julian's' prank had faded when Harry had indulged his curiosity.

He'd been left frustrated and without any real answers. Sirius only remained in the room briefly before rushing off to silence the portrait of his mother, agitated into screaming by the doorbell which rang out through the house.

Harry was the one tasked with closing the drawing room door. It was only seconds after they had finally gotten around to spraying-the chemical smell made him terribly lightheaded himself and tasted sickly sweet on his tongue-a fully grown Doxy came flying out at him. The thing was much bigger than Harry had expected and actually managed to startle him a bit with its sudden appearance. His instincts reacted before his mind could catch up and rather than spray the demented little creature he seized it in his fist and threw it across the room into a wall. Ginny's aim was terrifying, Ron got bitten twice and the twins caused a bit of havoc trying to sneak away some of the unconscious Doxies for use in crafting joke supplies.

By the time they were through Harry felt as if his chest was being squeezed by metal bands and the curtains, now fully de-Doxied, hung limp and dripping from the intensity of their spraying. Not entirely interested in the sandwiches that Mrs. Weasley brought up to them he forced himself to eat at least one anyway to avoid being questioned. He nibbled unhappily on it as he stood in front of the glass-paned cabinet, peering in at the items inside.

The warm hissing was coming from something inside. They'd be cleaning it out once they finished with their meal. That time couldn't come fast enough.

"A nasty collection fit for an equally nasty witch." Said his Godfather from behind him. Sirius had come back into the room now that the portrait had once more been silenced. He should have known that he was approaching well before he spoke, but the glorious hissing had drowned out everything else with its hypnotic croon. "There's no telling what sort of vile things are in there. We'd best be careful when we open it."

Harry answered with a disinterested hum, green eyes still searching the contents for the source of the call. Another Horcrux. It had to be. But what was it hidden in and why was it here of all places?

"…" he could practically taste how nervous the other man was. Nihil shifted in agitation but didn't move otherwise. "So…want to 'meet the family'?"

He finally turned his eyes away from the cabinet to look his Godfather up and down. "I thought you were the last of the Black line."

"Well, I am, but the family tree is still around. If only because we've yet to find a way to get the bloody thing off the wall." He said. "Care to take a look?"

The plate of sandwiches were only half gone and, for once, even Ron didn't appear eager to start shoveling food into his mouth. Anything was better at this point, than attempting to develop spontaneous x-ray vision so he nodded. "Sure."

Despite his having kept his answer short and curt, an affirmative response made Sirius' face light up like Christmas come early. He bounded across the room and Harry followed at a much more sedate pace.

The tapestry was clearly very old and had been chewed on in a number of places, presumably by the Doxies they'd removed from the curtains. It was as filthy as the curtains had been before their Doxicide soaking but the golden thread still shone brightly enough that the family tree could still be clearly seen. As far as Harry could tell, it dated back to the Middle Ages.

Sirius proudly prattled on about how he'd run away from home, moving in instead with Harry's own father. He didn't pay all that much attention and interrupted when he caught sight of something which caught sight of something which caught his interest. He pointed at the name scrawled at the very bottom of the tree: REGULUS BLACK.

"Who's that?"

"My brother." He said. "He was younger than me and a much better son, at least according to my parents."

"He died."

"Course he did, the stupid idiot. Ran off to join the Death Eaters the moment he got the chance but got cold feet and tried to back out." Sirius said grimly. "But Voldemort doesn't take anything less than a death certificate as resignation: it's a lifetime of service or no life at all."

As it should be. Serving is a privilege only afforded to a few.

Nothing more could be said between them before Mrs. Weasley called them back. Lunch was finally over and the time to open the cabinet had come at last.

He needed to locate his brother amongst the clutter and somehow spare it from being chucked out with the trash, and paid attention to little else as they pried the odd objects from the shelves. A biting snuffbox filled with Wartcap Powder. A silver tool which looked like what you'd get if you bred an Acromantula with a pair of Muggle Surgical tweezers. An evil music box. A number of worthless books. A heavy locket which couldn't be opened.

Harry grabbed it before any of the others could and attempted to shove it into his pocket but wasn't as subtle, clearly, as the Twins had been as Mrs. Weasley caught him and promptly gave him a lecture on safety which would have put his Head of House to shame and tossed the locket out before he could do anything to stop her.

His mood was thunderous for the rest of the torturously long day and once the cleaning was finally done he shut himself up in his room rather than going down to dinner with the rest. He wasn't hungry, had a back log of summer homework which still needed finishing and above all needed to come up with some way to get the locket back.

He was sitting in the wing-backed chair, coiled around that year's Defense Against the Dark Arts text book, attempting to make the blatant stupidity scrawled across the pages make sense, when Sirius knocked on the door and walked it. Harry's eyes zeroed in instantly on the locket which he held.

"I checked it for curses and charms and came up with nothing, it's far too gaudy for my taste but likely too valuable to just pitch and I don't see any issue with allowing you to have it." He said, crossing the room towards him. "Mind telling me why you wanted it so badly, pup?"

"Because I realized what it was and wanted to give it to Julian; he's an antiquarian and has a special interest in items connected to the Hogwarts Founders despite not having gone there himself." He said. "He already has Hufflepuff's Cup and the 'lost' Diadem of Ravenclaw. The Sword of Gryffindor likes to travel a bit too much to stand for being collected by anyone but I figured giving him this would be enough of a consolation for his failed efforts regarding it."

Sirius seemed shocked by the news. "That's a Founder's item?"

Harry nodded, grinning as he took the heavy necklace and set the book aside. "It is. You've had the Locket of Salazar Slytherin sitting in a cabinet in your house for who knows how many years, just gathering dust and I think it's high time that it went to someone more capable of…appreciating such a priceless piece of history."