Chapter 25
ANOTHER BLACK AFFAIR
During my childhood, I had heard much about films. The living pictures had been a wonder of the modern times, but we orphans had never had the opportunity to see a single film. I had been quite angry about it, but luckily the wizarding world had offered something much better: moving paintings which had bright colours and could speak, unlike the Muggle films.
After my return to life I had decided to find out how much the new technology had changed the world of films. Seeing my first film had been quite an overwhelming experience. Films had colours, people could speak in them, and they no longer needed a live orchestra for the music. The visual effects were like magic. It could be a great form of art if someone just put artistic effort into it. Mass production of films was disheartening, it was wasting the potential.
Still, I did not lose my hope. Every now and then I checked the film reviews from Muggle newspapers in the hope of finding a really good one.
That was how I learned of a highly praised horror film. Every critic seemed to consider it the absolute best of its genre. It was produced, directed, and written by…
… by…
I had to rub my eyes.
… by Dennis Bishop!
What? My fellow orphan, one of the two I had visited the cave with, had become an eminent film industry magnate?
There was his interview in the newspaper, and he explained the inspiration for his new film. As a child, he had lived at an orphanage, and he had visited a horrible cave. That experience had caused him nightmares for decades, until he had turned that source of fear into a source of inspiration. He would have liked to return to the cave for the filming, but unfortunately he had not found it again.
I burst out laughing. I could not explain what exactly was so amusing about it. Perhaps it was the fact that fate was so unpredictable.
What a pity Dennis had not found the cave again. It should not have been that difficult. I remembered perfectly well where it was…
I was suddenly on my feet. If the cave could not be found, it might be magically concealed. And if it was, who would have concealed it if not Voldemort?
Of course! Why had I not thought about it sooner? Voldemort had chosen the cave to hide one of his Horcruxes! It was the perfect place: remote, ominous, unknown to others, personally significant.
Soon I would have the third one in my possession!
I hovered on my Firebolt next to the steep seaside cliffs that were familiar to me from one of the few enjoyable days of my childhood before my first entry to Hogwarts. It was a harsh and unwelcoming place, but still better in every way when compared to the orphanage. Climbing down had required all magical skills I had developed on my own. (Mrs Cole had accused me of causing the horrible traumas to Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson, which was outrageous. Without me those two kids would have slipped for sure and found their graves from beneath the waves. Certainly they rather took the traumas than death, especially since the traumas were not entirely a bad thing. Come to think of it, it was quite ungrateful for Dennis not to give me credit for his success in the film industry.)
It did not take very long for me to find the footholds on the cliffs, but they did not lead to the small cave. There was nothing to be seen, just rock. Somehow the cave had disappeared as if it had never existed. Such an adversity had obviously discouraged Dennis's filming team, but to me it was a clear sign that there was magic hiding one of the pieces of my soul.
I made good use of the Blunt Triggering Spell again, and this time they tore Voldemort's magic away much faster than in Little Hangleton. This place did not need such strong defences; if anyone decided to break into the cave, it meant he knew there was one with something important placed within, and in that case no mere concealment would stop him.
Once the entrance to the cave was visible again, I began my normal procedure of casting revealing and diagnostic charms, and entered only after I was sure it was safe. As I remembered, there was the tight opening that I had thought of as an antechamber, but unlike I remembered, the way to the inner and larger cave was blocked by solid-looking rock.
One diagnostic charm later I knew that a part of the wall was a magical creation that could be opened when certain criteria were met. The obvious criterion was that it only opened for Lord Voldemort. Such a criterion was soul magic, which meant the wall should acknowledge me to be him. However, after slapping the wall a few times I was convinced Voldemort had not used that method. It was not actually a surprise; if he had used it, why there instead of the entrance? Next I tried to hiss commands to the wall with Parseltongue, but again to no avail.
It was strange. Voldemort had not secured the entrance very well. Perhaps this was a similar; anyone could gain entry to the inner cave? If I was to design such inadequate protection, I would at least ensure that the intruder would enter weakened. That meant a sacrifice of blood.
A few drops were enough to dissolve the wall, and very carefully I proceeded onwards and soon saw once again the eerily still lake, the most magnificent place I had been to before Hogwarts. I could almost hear the echoes of the horrified screams of Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson still lingering there. It was now more dangerous a place than ever; I could feel the presence of Dark magic tingling on my skin, and my diagnostic charms confirmed that the place was deadly. There was also the constricting feeling of the Anti-Apparition Ward; there would be no quick way to safety… unless…
"Dobby?"
Crack.
"Master Tom, sir!" the elf said.
As I had expected: Voldemort had not been clever enough to realize that the Anti-Apparition Ward did not work on the house-elves' version of the spell.
"Grasp my sleeve and Apparate us to safety at the first sign of trouble," I said.
The adventure continued by the shore of the lake. There was a green glow emanating from the middle of the lake, and I was sure that was where Voldemort had put one of his Horcruxes. I was yet unsure how the glow could be reached; the Firebolt had been rendered useless by the Anti-Flying Ward, and I was not venturing into the lake which was without a doubt filled with monsters.
Suddenly my constant stream of diagnostic and revealing charms alerted me to a faint trace of magic. There was a boat hidden under the water, but it was not difficult to get it up. It felt like a trap, but by this point I had understood what kind of laughable security measures Voldemort had used to protect his anchors to immortality. The man was simply crazy. He had put his Horcruxes to obvious places and did not make them impossible to find. This cave was an indisputable proof of his idiocy: the lack of protections at the entrance, the antechamber that could be opened by anyone, and now a boat to cross to lake. Did he think that if someone was able to survive these obstacles, they deserved to find the Horcrux? Was this a challenge?
The lake was full of Inferi, but they did not rise to stop me as I sailed to the rock from where the glow originated. There was a basin filled with ominous green potion, the source of light. I approached it carefully, then sighed. Another obstacle? Any sane person would hide the Horcrux at the bottom of the lake, not display it openly.
Then again, I did not yet know if the Horcrux was in the basin. It could be a decoy. I tried to Vanish the potion, then to evaporate it, then to pour it to another basin that I had conjured, but at least Voldemort had made all these methods of getting rid of it impossible. It had to be drunk.
I turned to look at Dobby who was clearly wondering why his master had ended up in such a place. It would be foolish to sacrifice my quick way out, and Harry would question me if the elf suddenly disappeared. Would I have to drop by in the Muggle prison again and kidnap a murderer?
Then I remembered that I had once planned a secret password for myself. It was in Parseltongue so that no one else could pronounce it. Perhaps Voldemort had used it to open these obstacles if he ever wanted to visit the cave or to take the Horcrux away.
"Slytherin, slither out," I hissed.
The potion drained from the basin, and a golden locket was revealed. I chuckled. I should have tried that in Little Hangleton.
"Pick it up," I told Dobby, and he obeyed.
It was not the Locket of Salazar Slytherin that I had seen in many pictures. I was beginning to get intrigued. Voldemort had, after all, used a decoy!
"Open it," I said.
"There is a message, Master Tom, sir," Dobby said.
I cast a diagnostic charm on the small piece of parchment, then took it. It read,
To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this,
but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,
you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.
There were so many thoughts and feelings in my head that I quickly decided to handle them later. Surprise, worry, even grudging respect for the one who had discovered Voldemort's plan to make himself immortal.
"We're done here," I said. "Take us home."
Crack.
I forced myself to play the violin for half an hour before I returned to ponder the mystery of the locket. There was one thing I could tell about R.A.B.: Voldemort had known him. That limited the possible people behind the initials.
"Dobby? Do you know anyone with the initials R.A.B.?" I asked.
"No one comes to Dobby's mind at the moment, sir," the elf said after thinking for a while.
Well, there was this lovely thing called index of persons, the value of which could be understood only when one was not available.
"Accio Rise and Fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," I said, and the book zoomed to me.
Black, Regulus was the only one whose first and last name matched the initials. (I thought briefly about how long solving this mystery would have taken from a less competent person than myself.) He had been a Death Eater, and the brother of Sirius Black. It made sense that it would be a Death Eater who learned of Voldemort's Horcruxes.
I did not want to admit that one of my anchors to immortality was destroyed, which was why I read the message again and again, and then I noticed something that gave me hope. Regulus Black had told that he intended to destroy the Horcrux – that meant that at the moment of writing he had not known how to do it. And, according to the book, he had been killed very shortly after joining the Death Eaters. Clearly Voldemort had not learned of his betrayal, because the wrong locket had remained in the cave. It was possible Black had not succeeded in destroying the Locket of Slytherin, in which case the Horcrux might still be intact.
My next project was to learn the whereabouts of the house where the main line of the House of Black had lived. It turned out to be surprisingly difficult, much more difficult than finding the places Voldemort had hidden his Horcruxes. I leafed through many books about magical genealogy and pure-blood families, but found nothing, and I grew very frustrated. Orion Black, father of Sirius and Regulus, had been one of the Slytherin students who had gathered around me, but I could not recall a single time he would have mentioned where he lived. (Which was not that surprising, because he had been a year younger than I, and the role of everyone in my gang, and especially the younger ones, had been to listen to me, not to prattle about themselves.)
Hours passed, and Harry and Remus returned from one of their excursions, but they left me alone after they saw that I was almost buried with books. Eventually my head began to ache, and I went to bed, muttering sullenly about Orion's paranoia and wondering whether he had learned it from me.
When I woke up the next morning, my head felt much clearer, and I suddenly realized how I had been overly stubborn and disregarded another way of learning what I wanted. I quickly wrote a letter to the Malfoys, asking for an audience as soon as possible, and summoned Dobby.
"Get an owl, Apparate just outside the wards of your previous masters, and send this letter to them. Stay and wait for the owl to return with a reply, then come back home."
"Yes, Master Tom, sir!" the elf said, took the message, and Disapparated with a crack.
Dobby returned after twenty minutes, bringing a message from the Malfoys. Their whole family was at home at the moment, and they were happy to meet me. Without wasting time I Apparated outside of the gate of the Malfoy estate, signalling my arrival by touching the metal bars. The gate opened silently, and I began to walk with long strides towards the manor.
Draco and his parents were waiting for me while overseeing a group of house-elves preparing some kind of garden party for the wealthy pure-blood high society.
"Hello, Tom!" Draco said enthusiastically. "I was thinking about writing to you. Now that it's summer, there are many social activities for respectable wizard families!"
That was probably the least favourite part of the Slytherin culture to me: pointless socializing, pointless gossiping, petty politics, and the gargantuan amount of effort wasted in them. In my first life I had been invited to such frivolities, but I had never showed up, partially because I had never had enough money to acquire garments fine enough to hide my low background. (Only after having been freed of the Trace I had been free to steal and swindle as much money as I needed.) Many opportunities to manipulate people had been lost, but at least I had used the time to study.
"That sounds interesting," I forced myself to say, "but this is not a social visit. I may have a lead to finding Sirius Black. That's why I came to ask where his family lived. This information seems to be kept secret from the wider wizarding community."
I addressed these words to Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, cousin of Sirius and Regulus. She had certainly visited Regulus's home many times even though she had been of the cadet line of the House of Black. That was the way of these pompous aristocrats: balls, feasts, and other nonsense to give them something to do. It was no wonder none of them had become the Dark Lord.
"The townhouse is in London," Mrs Malfoy said. "Let me think… Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. The house is very well protected. If Sirius has managed to master the wards through his blood, he may very well be hiding in there."
"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place?" I said. "Thank you, Mrs Malfoy. If I'll have him captured, I'll let the Aurors know that you've been of indispensable help. Good day to you all."
With that, I turned on my heels and left, leaving the three Malfoys looking bemusedly after me.
"Um… Mr Valedro believes in being efficient," I heard Draco explaining my abrupt departure to his parents.
Only while explaining my false reason to find the townhouse of the House of Black had I realized that it actually might be the hiding place of Sirius Black. My desire to get my hands on one more Horcrux was not so strong that I would have wanted to single-handedly assault a place where a crazed mass-murderer was probably lurking, and so I headed to the Ministry of Magic. There I went to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and spoke to the receptionist.
"Good morning, Miss," I said with my most charming smile. "I've got important information for the Law Enforcement. Is this the place to request help from the Aurors?"
"Yes it is," said the receptionist, a witch had probably graduated from Hogwarts two or three years previously. "What kind of affair is this about?"
"A Black affair. I think I know where Sirius Black is hiding."
"Sirius Black?" the receptionist gasped and bounced off her seat.
Just a minute later I was in the office of the Head Auror, a grim old warrior named Rufus Scrimgeour. He looked at me with sharp, measuring eyes, but nodded approvingly in the end. It was a good thing I had bought the citizenship of wizarding Britain by donating such a huge pile of Galleons to the Ministry that everyone there remembered me fondly. The Aurors might even have got a raise because of my generosity.
"Hmph… information about Sirius Black, eh, lad?" the Auror grunted. "I hope this is worth our time. Minister Fudge is already quite annoyed with our lack of progress. How come you have a lead that my Aurors don't?"
"I was studying the history of British pure-blood families, and noticed that there is no knowledge whatsoever about where the House of Black lived. That's probably because the house is removed from the Ministry's records."
"Aye, they've always been secretive folk, the Blacks," Scrimgeour said. "One of them bribed the Ministry and got an Order of Merlin! Perhaps he used the opportunity to tamper the records."
"Well, I learned the whereabouts just this morning from someone who visited the townhouse before the deaths of Sirius Black's parents."
"Do share the information, Mr Valedro. I'll lead a team of Aurors there myself."
"There's a prize for the one who finds Black, right? I don't want it stolen from me. That's why I'm willing to share the information only if you let me accompany you on this mission."
Irritation flashed in the eyes of the old Auror.
"Not trusting the authorities, I take it?"
"'Constant Vigilance,'" I quoted, the corner of my mouth curving into a smirk.
"Well, you are of age, so I am allowed to take you as a guide."
Ten minutes later I stood amidst some dingy houses of a notorious part of London, accompanied by Scrimgeour and two Aurors he had chosen for the mission, John Dawlish and Kingsley Shacklebolt. We were facing the place where Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place should be, but appeared not to. I hoped Sirius Black was not inside the house we were about to reveal, because I had been able to use revenge as a means of teaching Harry some important life lessons. Ideally, Harry would be the one to punish Black for his betrayal, but in this case I had prioritized otherwise. My Horcrux was more important.
"All right, begin dismantling the wards," Scrimgeour commanded, and the three Aurors pointed their wands between the two visible houses.
They were all authorized Curse-Breakers as well as Aurors, but it still took the three of them over an hour to unravel the protections so that none of them blew up on our faces. Eventually Scrimgeour wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and said,
"Now it's safe to break them. Join us, Mr Valedro, if you're so keen to participate."
It still took surprisingly much magical power to tear the protections away; we really had to struggle with the task. Finally our combined efforts caused a sound like a muffled thunderclap as the wards broke down. A house appeared between the two Muggle houses, eerily pushing them apart. An ominous door was right in front of us, looking more unwelcoming than anything I had seen in a very long time, even the cave.
It took us a few more moments to open the door, and the Aurors entered first, their wands ready for action. The interior was dark, dusty, and stifling. I could not help but wonder if it truly was the townhouse of the immensely rich Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. It was so undignified.
"Homenum Revelio," Scrimgeour whispered. "There's someone in here… a house-elf, possibly. But don't let your guard down. There may be more wards, perhaps some that hide the family members. We must search the entire building…"
His words were interrupted by an ear-piercing scream so horrible that even the action-hardened Aurors almost got a heart attack, let alone I.
"HOW DARE YOU ATTACK MY ANCESTRAL HOME?!"
It was a portrait of a hideous old witch. Our four Silencing Charms had absolutely no effect against her verbal assault.
"SCUM! FILTH! BEASTS! GET BACK TO THE HELL THAT SPAWNED YOU!"
Another cry of fury came from the shadowy staircase, and an ancient house-elf lunged at us, but he was quickly brought down by a Stunning Charm.
"If Black's in here, he's now alerted to our presence!" Scrimgeour roared. "Dawlish, you must stay here and guard the entrance in case he tries to escape! Shacklebolt and I will start our search in the basement!"
"It's perhaps best to guard the entrance from the outside!" I remarked. "Black may attempt his escape from the windows!"
"Better there than here," Dawlish grumbled and left the hallway.
"YOU BEINGS OF DIRT DEFILE THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!"
"Mr Valedro, you're too young and inexperienced to accompany us here!" Scrimgeour barked. "I can't let you come further! Join Dawlish outside!"
"Fine, just get to work. We've wasted enough time."
The two Aurors disappeared into the basement. I did not exit the house, but turned into the unconscious house-elf and showed such an amount of self-restraint that I impressed myself by not incinerating the shrieking portrait with a flash of Dark magic. The Locket might be hidden behind it, and Horcruxes were vulnerable to Fiendfyre.
"Imperio. Rennervate."
The house-elf opened his eyes.
"Is Sirius Black in here?" I asked. "Is there a locket in this house brought by Regulus Black?"
"No. Yes," the house-elf croaked.
"Give the locket to me," I ordered, feeling triumphant.
The elf began to shamble up the stairs. I followed him after I had cast the Disillusionment Charm on myself. On the first floor the elf opened a door and we entered what appeared to be a drawing room. Years of abandonment had not been kind to the room: it reeked of dust and Dark magic.
The Blacks had hoarded magical items of all sorts. Tomes, jewellery, potion ingredients, enchanted clothing and furniture, all imaginable kinds of requisite. Much of it was probably outlawed centuries ago. It was a real treasury.
"Look at this," I admired. "Dobby!"
Crack.
"Master Tom, sir."
"These foul items are the belongings of a deranged murderer. We'll do a public service and relocate them all. There should be room in the secure chamber in my basement."
"Yes there is, Master Tom," Dobby said happily.
The other elf was standing next to me, silently handing me something. Oh yes, I had almost forgotten what I came here for, the Locket of Slytherin. There it was, the serpentine S and all!
"Is it safe to touch?"
"It feels malicious," the elf mumbled.
"Wrap it in this," I ordered and gave him the cloth I had taken with me for the purpose. "Dobby, take the Locket to my study. Then come back and take all these items home. Keep hurry; two Aurors will come here before long. Don't let them see you."
Quickly I sneaked out of the room, downstairs, and joined Dawlish out on the street.
Even though Sirius Black was not found and captured, Scrimgeour did not consider the day's mission pointless. He and Shacklebolt found many cursed and illegal items from the basement and the attic, and he put the house under surveillance in case Black came there later on. We had lunch in the Ministry's cafeteria with Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and a few other notable officials, and someone suggested that I should become an Auror. I smiled and nodded and said appropriate things, but hurried home at the first opportunity.
The Locket of Slytherin was intact, and there was one of my soul fragments hidden within. I would soon begin my attempts to bind the Horcruxes to me, but in the meantime the Locket would wait in my Gringotts vault with the other two.
Three found, two still to go.
"He'll kill me for losing his ring."
"Why?" Albus Dumbledore asked. "What is so important about the ring?"
"It's our family heirloom. There's the Peverell coat of arms engraved on its stone."
"Peverell coat of arms?!" Dumbledore shouted, grabbing Morfin by the shirt. "A line, a circle, and a triangle? Speak!"
"Yeah, somethin' like that…"
"Where is the stone now?!"
"I just told you, I lost it. It was the day I killed the Muggle filth…"
Dumbledore stormed out of the cell.
Albus Dumbledore thought about his short conversation with the murderer over and over again while he flew over Little Hangleton. He visited the dilapidated Riddle house and used every single searching and revealing charm he knew, but to no avail.
Next he stormed into the cottage of Frank Bryce, the caretaker of the Riddle house, and used Legilimency on him. He wanted to know if anyone had ever found a ring in the village, but the old Muggle did not remember anything of the kind. Dumbledore was not satisfied with that, and proceeded to use Legilimency on every old enough inhabitant of the village, but still he was left without the ring or information about it.
When the village was thoroughly searched, he flew towards the shack where the Gaunts had lived, casting searching and revealing charms all the way in case Morfin had dropped the ring before reaching the village. Soon he found the remains of the shack. His massive barrage of charms found nothing but a small amount of residual magic.
Someone had excavated right in the middle of the ruin. A rotten wooden box was left behind, and Dumbledore used an extremely advanced spell on it. A mist rose from it, taking the shape the box had been before. A golden ring had been kept in the box, and there had been a stone attached to the ring.
But not anymore. The ring was gone, removed quite recently.
To say that Albus Dumbledore was furious would have been an understatement. He had not felt such fury ever since Harry Potter and Ronald and Ginevra Weasley had not been able to tell him where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was hidden. In his rage he smashed the box with a flick of the Elder Wand, but eventually he managed to calm himself. He had been patient for a century. At least someone had the Resurrection Stone; finding that someone might not be too difficult.
Published on the 23rd on March, 2020.
