A/N: This is the shortest chapter I've written so far :( Hopefully the next update will be longer…
Chapter 29: The Locket, the Basilisk, and Tom
Things are going round and round in my head - or maybe my head is going round and round in things. – Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle
Sirius dropped the Horcrux's dinner plate in shock. Then he winced, because there were few enough clean plates in the house that were safe to eat from, and one of them was now in pieces on the spare room floor amidst the mess that a minute ago had been egg and potatoes. The Horcrux looked impassively at the broken plate and ruined meal.
"You should be more careful," it said chidingly, in the sort of voice one would use when talking to a small child who couldn't be expected to know better.
Sirius was still reeling from the bombshell it had just dropped and so hardly heard it. There was a Horcrux in Grimmauld Place. Well, he shouldn't really be surprised; there were specimens of just about every other sort of Dark object lying around the place somewhere. None of his relatives had lived mysteriously long lives, so it was safe to assume the Horcrux in question hadn't been made by a Black. That meant…
"One of your Horcruxes is here?" he asked.
Riddle nodded, still looking thoroughly bored. "You needn't bother trying to find it. You won't be able to without my help."
Sirius aimed his wand at it. "Then help."
The Horcrux smiled coolly. "Why should I? It is, after all, part of my soul."
Sirius lowered his wand and stared at it. Then he swore. He used every swear word he'd heard as an Auror and every Muggle swear word he'd heard from Muggleborns both at Hogwarts and over the years since. When he'd exhausted that supply, he moved on to conjecturing on Tom Riddle's ancestry, mental state, appearance, personal hygiene, choice of bed-mates, and where he could expect to spend the hereafter. The animated Horcrux listened with interest.
"Go on," it said when he paused for breath after insinuating its mother had engaged in activities not normally mentioned in polite society. "You're being most amusing. By the way, is it possible to do that to a Hippogriff?"
Sirius clenched his fists and tried to resist the temptation to punch it. He should have known better than to suggest sharing a house with a piece of You-Know-Who's soul. He'd be stark raving mad before the day was out if this continued. "You're supposed to help us find your soul."
"But why?" it asked. It obviously didn't expect an answer, since it continued, "You want me to help you find and destroy pieces of my soul, the keys to my immortality. Do you honestly expect me to go along with this plan?"
A long, uncomfortable silence descended. Sirius realised he was gaping like a fish and hurriedly shut his mouth.
"Do something useful and clean that up," he said at last, gesturing to the ruined dinner. He hadn't time to do it himself; he needed to tell Dumbledore about this.
The Horcrux scowled. "In case you've forgotten, I don't have a wand."
"I haven't forgotten." Sirius transfigured the remains of the plate into a sponge and a rubbish bin. "You can clean it up the Muggle way."
An assortment of absolutely vile curses that rivalled his earlier tirade followed him out the door.
Neither Dumbledore nor Snape answered when he called them. Sirius sat back on the floor of the living room and wondered what to do next.
There was one of You-Know-Who's Horcruxes somewhere in Grimmauld Place. The animated Horcrux refused to say what or where it was. He had no hope of finding it on his own; he'd need someone who knew the house better than he did or knew how to identify a Horcrux. Sirius had never heard of You-Know-Who coming to Grimmauld Place, so he must have given it to one of the Blacks in his ranks. Neither Orion nor Walburga had been Death Eaters, and Bellatrix had never lived at Grimmauld Place, so Regulus must have left it there.
"Kreacher!" he shouted.
The house-elf appeared with a pop.
"What does Master Blood Traitor want?" it sneered, looking at Sirius as if he was something utterly revolting.
"Did Regulus bring any Dark artefacts home after Death Eater meetings?" Sirius asked, then winced. Kreacher didn't like anyone using "Good Master Regulus's" name. "Something that belonged to You-Know-Who himself, for instance?"
The elf gaped. "How does Master Blood Traitor know?"
So it was Regulus. His brother dropped even lower in his estimation.
Kreacher started to bang his head against the fireplace, to Sirius's astonishment. "Kreacher tried to follow Good Master Regulus's last order. Kreacher did his best, but he could not destroy the locket!"
…What was all this about destroying a locket? He assumed the locket was the Horcrux – his little brother had many flaws, but as far as he knew wantonly destroying perfectly harmless pieces of jewellery wasn't one of them – but why would a loyal Death Eater like Regulus want to destroy it?
"What was his last order?"
The house-elf pulled at its ears. "Good Master Regulus wanted Kreacher to destroy the locket. Kreacher tried, but he could not!"
"Do you still have this locket?" The elf nodded dejectedly. "Bring it to me."
Kreacher vanished and reappeared in the space of a few seconds. When he returned he held a locket that positively radiated Dark magic. Just being near it set Sirius's teeth on edge.
"Will Master Blood Traitor destroy the locket?" Kreacher asked hopefully.
"I'll try," he said.
"FRED! GEORGE!"
Harry almost jumped out of his skin. Ron started so violently he almost fell off his broom. Their impromptu Quidditch match came to a halt as they watched Mrs. Weasley storm out of the Burrow. The twins, who were on bended knee begging Remus to accept them as his apprentices in the art of causing chaos, hastily got up and awaited their mother's arrival. Remus, who was trying to keep score of the Quidditch match, looked decidedly relieved.
Mrs. Weasley bore down on them. Even from where he was hovering, over a yard away, Harry could see she looked so furious it was a wonder smoke wasn't billowing from her ears.
"Hello, Mum," said one of the twins. "Did you like what we did to the living room? We thought it looked a bit dull as it was."
"We wanted to make Harry feel at home," the other one chimed in, "so we took it upon ourselves to redecorate. Do you like it?"
"LIKE IT?" Mrs. Weasley thundered. She appeared to be currently incapable of speaking normally. Maybe Harry was imagining it, but it looked like she was trying desperately not to laugh. "Like it? You are going to remove all those drawings right now!"
"But, Mum, we thought you'd like them," said the first twin, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "We're thinking of sending them in to the Daily Prophet."
"We could make a series," the second one agreed. "'The Many Deaths of Mouldy Voldy'. I think the one of Harry pushing You-Know-Who into a pool full of piranhas is the best one, don't you?"
Harry looked at Ron. Ron looked at Harry.
"Do I even want to know?" Harry asked.
"Probably not," Ron said.
Below them, Mrs. Weasley told the twins that as interesting as the fates they invented for certain Dark wizards were, the drawings of said fates belonged on parchment, not the living room floor. The twins protested that they had only been drawing rough drafts and would scrub the floor clean as soon as they were finished.
Harry happened to glance towards the house and promptly did a double take. That couldn't be… It was!
"Sirius!" he shouted.
Mrs. Weasley, Remus, Ron and the twins looked round. Sure enough, Sirius was approaching them. And behind him was… Professor Snape?
There was a confused moment when everyone was talking at once.
"Why didn't you say you were coming?" Mrs. Weasley asked when things quietened down.
"We're not here on a social call," Professor Snape said. "We're here to bring Potter back to Hogwarts for an hour or two."
Harry blinked. "What have I done?"
"Nothing," Sirius hastened to add. "We just need to talk to someone, and he's more likely to listen to you than us. By the way, who drew those pictures in the living room?"
Mrs. Weasley groaned.
"We did!" the twins said in unison.
Sirius gave them an approving look. "They're brilliant, especially that one of You-Know-Who being hit by lightning. Do you think you could draw them all again? On paper? I know someone who'd love to see them, but he can't come here."
"Of course," the first twin said at once.
"On condition you make us your apprentices," the second one said. "We tried asking him-" he pointed at Remus, "-but he wouldn't."
Professor Snape looked like his worst nightmares were coming true.
"You want me to what?" Harry wasn't sure he heard properly.
"We want you to speak to the basilisk and ask it if it would destroy a few things for us," Sirius repeated as they walked up to Hogwarts.
"…But why?" Harry couldn't for the life of him understand this plan.
"Because the only other way to destroy the objects in question is Fiendfyre, which is extremely difficult to control and often causes the death of the caster," Professor Snape told him.
"Oh." Put like that, this idea made a lot more sense. "So, what do I ask it?"
"Ask it if it would be willing to give us one of its fangs or some of its venom," said Professor Snape.
"Hello? Jormungand? Was that in English?"
Sirius shook his head. Professor Snape looked slightly ill.
"Hello, speaker. What do you wish to ask me?"
"He's answered," Harry said for the benefit of his companions. "There are some dangerous things my friends want to find and destroy. Could you give us some of your venom or your fangs?"
"What use would my venom be to you?"
Harry relayed this to his godfather and the professor.
"It's the only thing that can destroy the Horcruxes," he said, and cringed. He was pretty sure he wasn't meant to say what it was they wanted destroyed.
"Horcruxes?" the basilisk sounded extremely offended. "What foolish wizard would make a Horcrux?"
"One that's not exactly sane," Harry said. "He's supposed to be dead now, and we want to stop him coming back. But we need your help."
The basilisk was silent for a long minute. "I will help. Bring the Horcrux to me when you find it."
"He said he'll help," Harry told the others.
"I never thought I'd see the day when I asked a basilisk for help," Professor Snape muttered. "Well, where is this locket?"
"Still at Grimmauld Place," Sirius said.
Professor Snape stared at him. "You mean we've come all this way, enlisted a basilisk's help, and we can't even destroy one Horc – er, one of the objects?"
Sirius had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. "I didn't want to spend more time around it than I had to, so I left it at Grimmauld Place."
Professor Snape looked like he wanted to hex something. "Go and fetch it."
Sirius began to say something about not taking orders from a slimy Slytherin. Then, for some reason, he reconsidered.
"I have to collect something from the Weasleys', anyway," he said as he left, as if going back to Grimmauld Place was entirely his idea.
Tom was jolted out of a sound sleep by someone opening the door of his cell – it might be a moderately-sized spare room, but it was still a cell as far as he was concerned. It was the wizard Dumbledore had made his jailor. A Black, apparently, though how Orion could be related to someone who worked for Dumbledore was an impenetrable mystery.
"I thought you might want something to read," Black said with a grin that boded no good.
He tossed a collection of parchment sheets stuck together at Tom, who caught it on reflex. As he left, the Horcrux eyed it curiously. What was this? 'The Many Deaths of Mouldy Voldy, by Messrs. Weasley and Weasley'?
A few minutes later, the halls of Grimmauld Place resounded with a great deal of angry shouting and the sound of parchment being torn to shreds.
