A.N.: Hiya! I'm back! Thanks for the reviews, and to all of you who were wondering about the error in the beginning of cha 52, I was going to have Harriet attacked by a ton of Slytherins and have her be in the hospital wing—and I forgot to change the beginning of cha 52! I've fixed it, though! Please enjoy!
…and His Orders Finally Fulfilled
"The locket!" Harriet breathed. There it was, lying on the middle shelf, made of gold, clumsily wrought with an elaborate S on the oval, with a heavy gold chain coiled around it on the glass shelf. She reached for the little serpentine handle of the cabinet, but Sirius tutted and tugged her sleeve.
"I don't think so," he said, stepping in: He took Harriet's wand for a moment, held it pointing to the cabinet, murmured several charms and handed the wand back, opening one of the glass doors. He took the locket out, weighed it, and closed the cabinet door. He examined the locket for a moment before handing it to Harriet. "And now we destroy it."
"Now we destroy it," Harriet breathed. She went back to the centre of the room, where her bag was, and where a clear patch of carpet marked where Kreacher had been rolling around in emotional agony: She stooped down, set the locket on the floor face-up and rummaged in her bag; she unrolled Hermes' scarf carefully so that she touched neither of the Basilisk fangs and set them out carefully.
"One each, do you reckon, just in case?" Sirius said, frowning at the locket. "He'll have put curses on it, I'd expect, some form of protection, on the casing as Kreacher said."
"The locket belonged to Slytherin…" Harriet mused, eyeing the S engraved into the gold; it flickered like a serpent in the wand- and lamplight. She glanced at Kreacher. "It's no wonder you couldn't destroy it, Kreacher, Regulus couldn't have done it, either… I think only a Parselmouth could have opened the locket."
"Lucky we've got one on-hand," Sirius smiled: He squatted down and took one of the Basilisk fangs in his fist.
"Alright… On the count of three, I'll open it, and we strike," Harriet said to Sirius, as she took the second fang. "Each of us go for one side." Sirius nodded. Kreacher watched them with eyes widened fearfully, also slightly awed. "One…two…three… Open," she hissed at the locket. With a soft click, the two panels opened and lay flat on the carpet: two glass-fronted panels for portraits were visible for a split-second before eyes—handsome dark eyes, dark eyes of Tom Riddle, frantically swivelling—appeared there. Harriet tightened her grip on her fang, bracing herself to strike, imagining blood pouring from the empty windows…
"Strike…"
But a voice hissed from out of the Horcrux, a voice Harriet knew only from her dreams, and though the voice spoke only to her, Sirius froze also, as if it too was piercing his very heart.
"Harriet Potter…I know your fears, and I know your desires…both are possible…"
"STAB!" Harriet said, but she was frozen. The voice, again;
"Your parents needn't have died, you know this—they sacrificed themselves for you…yet you throw this away for the man beside you, poor replacement for your father's love… You replace your friend Rhona with another girl, though deep down I see you are grieving, in pain, every day, for your loss…the girl will always overshadow you, always be prettiest, taller, always be the ones the boys choose, for she is not awkward, she has no ugly scar carved into her forehead, she does not have to wonder if she killed her parents…"
The locket quivered on the floor and Harriet stared, transfixed, mortified, knew it wasn't true but couldn't help herself: out of the right-hand window, the one she had designated herself to strike with the Basilisk fang that was no longer in her grasp, something—two somethings blossomed like grotesque bubbles, distorted, the heads of her parents. Harriet yelled and backed away, startled: beside her, Sirius reacted the same way but he was not seeing the same thing, he was looking to the left. Riddle-James now spoke, his voice high and cold as Voldemort's had been;
"We should never have had you. We were better off without you, happier without you, alive, when you were not, nobody would have harmed us had you never been born…"
"Had you never been born," Riddle-Lily echoed: She was ferociously beautiful, fearsome and unnatural; Harriet stared, transfixed. "We could have been happy, if we hadn't had you…we could have had babies, babies who wouldn't have destroyed us… We never wanted a child so young…never wanted you…you were a mistake, you should never have been born. You're the reason we're dead—"
But something greyish lunged at the locket and there was a prolonged, high-pitched scream.
The monstrous versions of her parents were gone. Standing over the shattered locket was Kreacher, a Basilisk fang in each hand, his expression rather impassioned. Harriet and Sirius both collapsed on the floor on their bums with staggering gasps: tears that Harriet hadn't notice form slipped down her cheeks and Sirius's eyes glistened as he hastily brushed his cheek.
"Kreacher!" he breathed, clenching his eyes shut. "What've you done?"
"Kreacher has fulfilled Master Regulus's orders, Master," Kreacher croaked; his eyes were wide, haunted, but his expression was set as he glowered down at the locket. Harriet wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jumper and blinked furiously, scrambling to her knees. "Kreacher has destroyed the locket."
"Thank you, Kreacher," she whispered, staring at the locket: Kreacher had pierced two sizzling holes into it, one in either portrait glass. The stained silk beneath the glass was sizzling, burning away: Whatever had lived inside the locket, the Horcrux, had disappeared, destroyed: Torturing them had been its final act: Harriet pretended not to notice how Sirius had his hand over his eyes and his jaw was set as if trying not to cry. Harriet knelt, staring at the locket.
She hadn't been able to do it. It should have been so easy—she knew her parents would never have said those things, never even thought them—she should have known Riddle would use her insecurities against her…but she didn't. She hadn't been able to do it. She wiped her cheeks and sighed. "Thank you, Kreacher," she said again, this time her voice stronger. "Thank you, I…thank you."
Kreacher bowed low to her, setting the Basilisk fangs back on the scarf still spread out on the floor. Harriet went to the locket and gingerly picked it up; it was quite cool, but there was the smell of burnt silk, and the catch was broken now, it did not close properly; the fangs had just pierced the outer shell, with two holes made as if by knitting-needles.
"Kreacher, you know since Harriet is my goddaughter, I'm her legal guardian, she's part of my family now. If she asks you to do something, calls on you in future, I would like you to treat her requests as orders," Sirius said, getting to his feet; there were large patches of thick dust on his knees.
"Madam has honoured Master Regulus's will to destroy the locket and honours the family name—Master Regulus told Kreacher of her and her desperate situation. Kreacher would be proud to serve the little lady Master Regulus esteemed so even as a babe," Kreacher croaked.
"Yeah, er…alright…" Harriet mumbled embarrassedly as Kreacher stooped into another low bow. Sirius caught her eye; Yes, you were polite enough, she smiled.
Sirius checked a pocket-watch and jumped. "It's nearly noon, Harriet, we told Hermes you'd be back in an hour."
"Oh. Well… I supposed this is goodbye for now, Kreacher," Harriet said, smiling kindly. Harriet stooped and wrapped up the Basilisk fangs and the broken locket in Hermes' scarf.
Sirius reached into Harriet's bag and pulled out Great-Grandmother Hesper's locket, and held it to Kreacher, the locket glinting on the chain. Harriet liked that locket—it was smallish, plain but very elegant.
"Here, Kreacher, have this—Regulus would've rewarded you for carrying out his orders," Sirius said. "He always did."
The elf took one look at the locket, let out a howl of shock and misery and threw himself down onto the ground, screaming with tears.
"I told you to be nice to him, not give him a heart-attack!" Harriet said, staring. "What did you do?"
"Must be shock," Sirius said contemplatively, examining Kreacher on the floor with mild interest. "We never admired each other, even when I was a boy."
It took them nearly half an hour to calm Kreacher down. So overcome was he to be presented with a Black family heirloom for his very, by the boy who had always disliked and mistreated him, was too much for him; he couldn't stand properly. When finally he could stand properly, he swept into low bows for both Harriet and Sirius, and his attitude towards the latter had changed dramatically.
"Will sir be requiring Kreacher's assistance, Master Sirius?" he asked, even eagerly.
"Er…Not at the moment, Kreacher," Sirius said, taken aback. Harriet smiled and focused on everything else in the drawing-room.
"Will sir be returning to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black soon, sir?" Kreacher asked hopefully. At this, Sirius looked very darkly around the room.
"Not until it's fit for human habitation, Kreacher," he said heavily, glancing around. Kreacher bowed low. "And not for quite some time—I'll be with Harriet."
"Perhaps in the summer," Harriet suggested, smiling kindly at Kreacher, who held Regulus's locket with utmost tenderness in his hands, gazing at it amorously. Kreacher looked up, his bat-like ears straightening out with hope. "After I've finished school, maybe I can come and stay here with you, over the summer. Maybe Hermes and… Maybe they'd like to stay in this great house." It was a great house, had once been grand, and Harriet knew to compliment the house was to endear her only greater in Kreacher's eyes. And if she'd learned anything of house-elves, it was always advisable to befriend them if one could, and treat them as equals.
"Kreacher will show you out," Kreacher said, bowing low.
"Hold on, Kreacher," Sirius called softly, running the length of the room to a little occasional table beside a grand winged armchair, on which a little curved casket stood with a clear inch of dust on it. Sirius gingerly turned the tiny silver key and lifted the lid, and grimaced. "Harriet, your wand, please?" Harriet handed it over, and Sirius performed a Scouring Charm on the box, closed the lid, turned the key, returned Harriet's wand and asked she put the box in her bag, without offering any explanation. Kreacher led them back downstairs, and Harriet remembered to keep quiet, though didn't know why.
"Goodbye, Kreacher," Harriet whispered, tugging her Invisibility Cloak out of her bag; Sirius hid his body beneath, holding a fold out for her; Kreacher beamed, opened the door, and Harriet hid, Sirius covering his head, and they slipped out of the house;
"Goodbye, little madam, Master Sirius," Kreacher said quietly, and when they reached the end of the path, he was still standing in the doorway with his hands clasped around Regulus's locket. As soon as they were on the pavement, the house disappeared; Kreacher must have closed the door. Sirius clanged the gate shut and they went back to the square of grass in the centre of the square.
"Did you see them?" Harriet said quietly, glancing at Sirius; his light grey eyes flickered over her face and he licked his lips, returning his eyes to the lawn as they reached it.
"Among other things," he said softly. Harriet wondered what his deepest insecurities were, as she had always thought of him as the most stalwart, fearless protector. Sirius Apparated them back to Hogsmeade, by the stile, and both with quite a lot to think about, they made their way back towards the village square: Sirius as a dog, even though Harriet suggested he used the Invisibility Cloak—but he daren't, because "Mad-Eye's mad eye can see through Invisibility Cloaks, and even if he is retired from the Ministry, instincts like his don't just die down overnight."
But Harriet had her orders for Hogsmeade; peanut brittle for Sirius, a selection of chocolate bars to send to Remus, fudge flies (Sirius knew they had always been given to Kreacher by Regulus as a special treat) and enough chocoballs to fill the Sirius's casket. She forgot about the taunting and the badges as she walked back into the village square, the High Street: She saw the badges flashing everywhere, as she no longer wore the Cloak, but seeing as she just destroyed (or Kreacher just destroyed, but she had made it happen by opening the locket in the first place) a piece of Voldemort's soul, she realised she should be in a very good mood, and nobody should be able to dampen her spirits: the day was crisp, cool, everything frosted like a Narnia just thawing out; it wasn't snowing yet, but it would only be a few weeks.
Hermes stood outside Gladrags Wizardwear, glancing around anxiously for any sign of her; his face broke out into a great smile of relief, and she sped up to meet him, ignoring the flashes of Harriet the Harlot Sucks.
"How'd it go?" he breathed; Harriet plunged her hand into her bag and brought out the mangled remains of Slytherin's locket. "Congratulations! How did you do it?"
"Well…" Harriet glanced around and froze. Rita Skeeter, today in brilliant teal robes with acid-green feathers, came sauntering out of the Three Broomsticks the other side of the square, with her paunchy photographer friend, apparently deep in a hushed conversation. "Let's get inside, out of her way," Harriet said urgently, and they both ducked into Gladrags with Padfoot.
"I overheard her talking a little while ago," Hermes said, eyeing Rita Skeeter through the window as she strutted past with her photographer friend. "She's staying in the village—I'll bet anything she's coming to watch the first task."
Harriet's stomach flooded with a wave of molten panic. She had completely forgotten about the first tournament. Not that the other students made it easy to forget she was a champion, but she hadn't thought about the first task, what with being attacked, battling Inferi, and today her insecurities. Now, however, with the locket Horcrux behind her and only the first task ahead, she started panicking.
"Oh…" Hermes said quietly, catching sight of her expression; they'd come to an unspoken agreement: Neither of them mentioned the first task. As much as Harriet had forgotten about it, Harriet thought Hermes couldn't bear to think about it, and what might happen to Harriet during it. "So…you wanted socks, for Dobby, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Harriet said, remembering her vow only moments ago to not let anyone ruin her stride. Her mood swung upwards as she and Hermes picked out the most lurid socks—she didn't even bother buying them in pairs, but mixed and matched the most brilliant-patterned ones, having a lot of fun doing so, and got the shopkeeper to wrap them as a present for her.
"Good luck with the first task, Harriet!" he called after her, as she and Hermes opened the door for Padfoot. Harriet shot a strained smile over her shoulder at the man and the bell tinkled overhead as the door swung shut.
"Where next?" Hermes asked briskly, glancing around and squinting in the silvery, wintry sunlight.
"Honeydukes," Harriet said, and they made their way across the square to the sweetshop, which wasn't as packed as it usually was because most students were still up at Hogwarts: She fulfilled Remus's monthly order of chocolate bars, got a large bag of fudge flies for Kreacher, the shopkeeper had to use a small mallet to break up a large block of peanut brittle for Sirius, and she and Hermes had a lot of fun taste-testing the new chocoball flavour—warm apple chunks and cinnamon, coated with crumble and drizzled with a thin layer of milk-chocolate—and picked out thirty-odd small 1-inch chocoballs to go in Sirius's box.
"So where to now?" Hermes asked, digging through a bag of his favourite, pistachio and almond nougat chunks.
"How about the Three Broomsticks?" Harriet suggested. "Padfoot's allowed in there." Padfoot sniffed at Harriet's bag, in which she'd put her Honeydukes purchases, and barked happily at what he smelled: they made their way over to the Three Broomsticks. It was packed with people—students mostly—but also an odd assortment of characters Harriet rarely saw anywhere else, even in Diagon Alley. Hags, who weren't as adept as wizards at disguising themselves, gimlet-eyed goblins, Gilbert Wimple with his horns—there were tiny witches up from London for a bit of quiet shopping, a few parents had stopped by to see their children in between holidays, and someone who looked suspiciously like a vampire, drinking something very dark red out of a crystal goblet, Madam Rosmerta watching him beadily from behind the bar, as he sat close to a group of pretty, giggling girls who must have noticed his cheekbones. There were several of the boys from Durmstrang enjoying firewhiskey and a table of Beauxbatons girls sipping little glasses of red wine as they examined purchases from Madam Primpernelle's delightedly and sifted through grab-bags of Honeydukes sweets.
"You go and find us a table, Hermes, I'll get the drinks," Harriet said, and Hermes nodded, followed by Padfoot, and went to an empty table in a corner by the smoky leather boots, which were filled with people taking their lunch in the vibrant, warm atmosphere of the pub.
"Ah, Harriet!" Madam Rosmerta beamed, cleaning a spotless glass and stowing it above her head. Madam Rosmerta was very pretty, and since last year had become very prone to talking to Harriet whenever she could—last Hogsmeade visit she'd had them all (all, including Hermes and Rhona) rolling in their seats, crying with laughter, telling them stories about her dad "and his best-friend; oh, they were a cheeky pair!"
"Hello, Madam Rosmerta," Harriet smiled: Madam Rosmerta always said she looked "a lot prettier than usual" when she smiled.
"What can I get for you this afternoon?" Madam Rosmerta smiled.
"Er…two Butterbeers, please," Harriet smiled.
"Oh, look, Draco, it's the Champion," someone simpered mockingly, as Rosmerta busied herself behind the bar. Harriet rolled her eyes and resisted temptation. "How much did you bet she'd not make it through the first task, Draco?" Harriet glanced to her side; Pansy Parkinson sat perched on a stool; Draco Malfoy was sipping his Butterbeer and pointedly not answering his friend.
"You know, I rather think that Rita Skeeter must be touched in the head," Pansy continued, undeterred. "'Strikingly beautiful,' her! What was she comparing against, goblins?" Harriet sighed heavily and turned to Pansy.
"At least I don't look worse than a robber's dog," she said sweetly, smiling. She mimicked panting and yapping like a small dog, and Draco Malfoy's mouth twitched around his Butterbeer glass. Pansy Parkinson's face fell, her nostrils turned white. A joyous laugh sparkled in the air and Harriet glanced over her shoulder at Yolande, who had just entered the pub with her brother and Sasha, and they all looked highly amused by Harriet's behaviour.
"Come on, Draco; let's not sit near that half-blood scum!" Pansy said tartly, sliding off her stool, with her pug nose in the air as she scuttled away. Malfoy shot Harriet a very tart little smirk as he followed her, his grey eyes twinkling.
"Here you are, deary," Madam Rosmerta smiled, handing Harriet two foaming Butterbeers. Harriet handed her the sickles she required and picked up the glasses. "Good luck for Tuesday, Harriet—I've got tickets to come and watch," Madam Rosmerta beamed.
"H-have you?" Harriet said, feeling her stomach flip-flop unpleasantly.
"Half the village is turning out for it," Madam Rosmerta beamed. "We'll be having a big celebration down here afterwards in your honour."
"I hope you're honouring Cedric Diggory too," Harriet smiled, though she got the feeling Cedric wasn't getting the attention he should for being the Hogwarts champion—the legitimate, unquestionable champion.
"Of course, dear!" Madam Rosmerta smiled, though Harriet thought she saw her look a little embarrassed for a moment—she'd forgotten Cedric. "He's the handsome boy over there, by the fire, isn't he?" Harriet glanced over at the enormous fireplace and nodded; Cedric Diggory sat amongst a throng of admirers and friends, all toasting him and laughing raucously.
"Yup, that's him," Harriet smiled.
"And are you two…?" Madam Rosmerta whispered, beaming eagerly; Harriet flushed.
"No," she said, taking the Butterbeers.
"He would be a lucky boy to catch you," Madam Rosmerta winked, and turned to serve handsome Sasha and the beautiful Doré siblings. Harriet winded her way through the tables and other standing customers; it would have been difficult in the Cloak to get past people without jostling them and raising concerns—she saw Rhona sitting in a corner with Dean, kissing, their Butterbeers forgotten: Seamus sat with Lavender and Parvati, looking thoroughly dejected.
"Missing your best-friend?" she asked knowingly, and Seamus nodded miserably, sipping his Butterbeer: Dean and Rhona had become a package-deal, they were always latched on to each other. Harriet edged through the crowd towards Hermes: He sat with his S.P.E.W. badge-box out and was scribbling in his notebook. "I thought that was my job!" Hermes glanced up and smiled, putting his Flourish and Blotts bag on the floor and freeing her chair. She handed him his Butterbeer and sat down.
"I just thought I'd make a few notes," Hermes smiled.
"Did you get any new members?" Harriet asked interestedly. It wasn't exactly the right time to tell Hermes about Kreacher, but she would; he'd be thrilled she stood up for elf-rights.
"Quite a few actually, more than I expected," Hermes beamed proudly. "And I've been talking to those goblins," he nodded at the group of gimlet-eyed goblins enjoying some smoking drink, talking in low voices, "about how they secured a representative at the Ministry, and how the Goblin-Liaison Office was founded… It won't be easy, I'll tell you!" Hermes sighed, sipping his Butterbeer; There were about ten new names on the very short list beneath Hermes' name, Rhona's and Harriet's—with their titles: Founder, Treasurer, Official Secretary. "What did Pansy Parkinson have to say? Draco Malfoy looked highly amused."
"Oh—usual," Harriet rolled her eyes. "Comparing me to goblins, that sort of thing—so I called her a 'robber's dog'."
"You definitely know how to make friends and influence people," Hermes chuckled, still scribbling.
"Yeah…speaking of that—half the village is coming to watch the first task," Harriet said quietly, sipping her Butterbeer so she could glance over inconspicuously at Cedric's group. Every single person in the group was wearing a Support CEDRIC DIGGORY badge, one wore an S.P.E.W. badge (she was a pretty, curly haired Ravenclaw in Hermes' Arithmancy class). But Cedric wasn't wearing a badge—S.P.E.W. or otherwise—and that made Harriet feel a little bit better about the queasy feeling in her stomach. She sighed and sipped her Butterbeer, wondering what it would have been like had her name not come out of the Goblet.
She'd perhaps be enjoying a Butterbeer with Cedric, in that big group, ready to support him in the trials he was about to face, guessing what deadly dangerous task he had to face, giving him tips on how to just take a deep breath and clear his head if he got into bother. She wondered how the other champions were feeling…every time she saw Cedric, like today, he was surrounded by a big group of admirers, looking nervous but highly excited. Florent Delacour looked as he always did, haughty, unruffled, contemptuous of everything but his reflection. Viktoria Krum spent a lot of time in the library—which irritated Hermes, as her fan-club tended to start whispering and jostling, wondering whether they should ask for her autograph, and he found the noise distracting, and couldn't understand what the boys were so worked up about, "She isn't even very beautiful! They only like her because she's famous!" But Viktoria sat in the library, poring over books: Harriet had wondered a few times whether she was revising or whether she was looking up things to help her in the first task…something Harriet definitely had not been doing.
A tight knot clamped in her stomach and she had to sip her Butterbeer to get it to ease up a bit. The first task was on Tuesday, at one o'clock, after morning lessons had ended. She had only two and a half days.
"Oh, look! It's Hagrid!" Hermes said brightly. Hagrid's shaggy dark head rose above the rest of the crowd, and Harriet wondered why she hadn't seen him before, but then she realised he had been leaning low, talking to Professor Moody: Sirius had been right in thinking Moody would be here, with his magical all-seeing eye. They both stood up to leave, and Harriet waved: Moody paused, poked Hagrid in the small of the back as he couldn't reach his shoulder, and muttered something in Hagrid's ear when he bent down, and the two of them made their way over to their corner.
"All right, Hermes?" Hagrid said loudly over the noise of the pub.
"Yeah, thanks Hagrid," Hermes smiled.
"Harrie', yeh alright?" Harriet didn't trust herself to speak; Hagrid had started asking her this on Monday, with a week and one day to the first task, beginning a countdown and looking more anxious with every passing day. Hagrid bent down on the pretext of reading Hermes' S.P.E.W. notebook, and said in a whisper so low only Harriet could hear him, "Harrie', meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear your Cloak." He straightened up, winked, and said, "Nice ter see yeh both." He and Moody then departed, leaving Harriet feeling slightly bemused.
"Why's he want me to meet him at midnight?" she wondered.
"Does he?" Hermes' eyebrows rose. He frowned after Hagrid. "I wonder what he's up to."
"Dunno…"
A.N.: Please review!
