Chapter 67: The Cave

The full moon fell on December 7. Once again, thanks to the combination of Severus' brilliance, Sirius' devotion, and his own grit, Remus managed to teach a full day of classes in the moon's aftermath.

As often as he reminded himself to be grateful— such a feat would have been unthinkable twenty years before— he couldn't ignore the exhausted ache deep in his bones as it led to bouts of dizziness and nausea. He would never have wanted a student to come to class in such a state, nor would he have expected his colleagues to teach in such a state.

But with more and more students whispering his secret in corridors and common rooms, he had no choice. He needed to stay at Hogwarts, with Harry, for every moment that he could. He needed to give all of the OWL and NEWT students their best chance at succeeding in the exams.

He needed to enjoy this job while he had it.

He was not pleased, then, when he was forced to give detention to two of his favorite second years when he caught them hurling Every Flavor Beans from the top of the main staircase at their classmates below. The problem was that Namrata and Margarita knew perfectly well how much he liked them. They'd stood there and winked at him, beaming, insisting that they hadn't done it while the bag of Every Flavor Beans was still plainly visible in Margarita's hand.

He had to summon his last reserves of energy to point out that their activity of choice was mildly dangerous and horrifically disrespectful, and to suggest that perhaps he ought to tell Mr. Filch what he had seen and allow him to make them his apprentices as he cleaned the castle from top to bottom without magic.

At that point, Namrata had summoned the self-preservation to apologize sincerely and he had told the two of them that their detention would be served with him the next night. After all, he was too tired to clean the cages and tanks that housed the creatures his third years were studying, but Namrata and Margarita were perfectly capable of doing it under his supervision.

They chattered happily as they worked. Remus couldn't help but be delighted when they agreed that they were very much looking forward to their third year when they could study the grindylow in their class instead of in detention.

"And third year starts with boggart day!" exclaimed Margarita. "What d'you reckon yours will be?"

"A snake." Namrata shuddered. "A basilisk maybe."

"Dennis told me his brother saw a basilisk. Turned it right into a coil of ribbon."

"I could do that." Neither Namrata nor Margarita ever lacked for confidence.

Remus wished with all of his heart that there was even the slightest possibility that he would still be their teacher in their third year. He wanted to be there on their boggart day. He wanted them to have a boggart day.

They worked well together. Brushes, food, water, and soap passed between them as if they were parts of one being. The pair of them reminded him of Sirius and James. They always had.

The pair of them also reminded him of their former classmate Simona MacAlastair, who had left Hogwarts almost exactly a year before. He wished that he could have found a way to make Hogwarts palatable to Simona. He would leave Hogwarts with regrets both that he hadn't done more in the past and that he wouldn't be permitted to do more in the future.

Remus had just returned the grindylow to his newly refurbished tank when Namrata and Margarita became suddenly, suspiciously quiet. He knew why when he heard Dumbledore's voice.

"Miss Vemulakonda. Miss Jewell. Serving a detention, I see?"

"Yes, Headmaster," they chorused. Margarita even went so far as to blush.

"I'm afraid that I must speak to Professor Lupin and that as a result your detention must be cut short. You are willing to make this sacrifice for my convenience, I trust?"

"Anything for Hogwarts and its headmaster," said Namrata with a cheeky smile.

"Excellent. Thank you. Mind that you walk straight back to Gryffindor Tower with no detours."

They chorused that they would. Remus put the odds of their honesty at roughly fifty percent and told them goodnight. They called their own goodnights over their shoulders as they scurried away, pleased with their luck.


"I hope I didn't undermine you, Remus," said Dumbledore when the door was closed and the girls were out of earshot. "But you and I are overdue for a conversation."

Remus nodded. It was true.

"I expect that you are aware that the Child Safety and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act passed today."

"It was hardly a surprise."

"When it takes effect in January, you will risk Azkaban every day that you remain at the school as a professor. I expect that I know your answer, but I must ask you again now that your fate is all but certain: do you wish to wait until you are discovered, or do you wish to resign during the Christmas holiday?"

It was no choice at all. He had put Harry in the position of needing to defeat Voldemort once again. He could do nothing but stay at Hogwarts, with Harry, for as long as he could. "I am determined to stay, Headmaster."

"I thought you would say that, and I'm sure you know that I'm pleased. I know it will not be easy."

Privately, Remus thought that submitting to Azkaban would feel much more natural to him than many of the things he had done in the past few years: accepting Sirius' money, inserting himself into Harry's life, and offering himself to Dora.

"We also need to discuss a special project I have taken the liberty of scheduling for the early hours of Christmas Eve morning."

For an instant, Remus was surprised. The previous Christmas, most of the students had chosen to spend their holiday at the school because of the Triwizard Tournament and the Yule Ball. This year, from what Remus had heard, only three students would remain over the winter holiday.

Then he realized, belatedly, that the special project had nothing to do with the school. To the contrary, it had been scheduled for a time when no students would miss them. On Christmas Eve, almost everyone in Britain would be busy with his or her own plans. No one would notice them.

"Indeed?" asked Remus. "Do you believe you've found a Horcrux?"

"I believe I've found the Horcrux that Harry and I were seeking the night I died in your memories. Tell me, Remus, do you recall any indication that Harry and I had been near the sea on that night?"

Remus shook his head. "You've seen and heard everything that I saw and heard."

"But a memory in a Pensieve doesn't tell me whether you smelled sea air clinging to Harry the night he told you that Severus murdered me in front of him."

If he had, Remus hadn't noticed, his mind being otherwise engaged. He told Dumbledore as much.

"We shall soon know, then. I've already spoken to Harry and Severus, and sent an owl to Sirius, although of course I was quite vague in my letter as to precisely why I required his presence on Christmas Eve. I will tell you a bit more. Each of the Horcruxes we have found thus far have been hidden in a place that had meaning to Voldemort. The cup and the diary were left with his most trusted followers. The diadem he hid here, where he honed his powers. The ring was left at his family's ancestral home. I believe that he may have hidden a piece of his soul in the place where he first learned that he could control his magic well enough to cause permanent damage to those who would not do his bidding, a place he is arrogant enough to believe that no one could ever find."

"But you have found it?"

"I have." Dumbledore was serene in the way that only Dumbledore could be.

"I'm a bit surprised that you didn't simply fetch it yourself, as you did the when you determined that you knew where to find Helga Hufflepuff's cup."

"Ah, but there will be nothing simple about fetching it. I have invited each of you for reason. Alas, Remus, I believe that your most important task will be the most difficult."

Remus braced himself for the revelation. Did Dumbledore want him to hold off a hundred dementors indefinitely? Face a pack of werewolves? Distract Dolores Umbridge? "Yes, Headmaster?"

"I need you to keep Sirius and Severus from destroying each other and sabotaging the entire purpose of our expedition in the process."

"I will do my best." It sounded weak, even to his own ears. He had been failing at that very thing since childhood.

"You need to use any means necessary."

The thought turned his stomach. He wasn't certain that those means existed. Sirius and Severus were both more clever than he was and they could both out-duel him. That left appealing to their senses of superiority and duty, or just begging Sirius to behave out of affection for Remus… "Yes, Sir."

"We are very close, Remus. You and I have both speculated that Voldemort intended to create a sixth and final Horcrux when he murdered the Potters. If that is so, and I do not believe that we can know for certain until we find a way to ask Voldemort himself, the only step remaining once we have destroyed this Horcrux—almost certainly a locket belonging to Salazar Slytherin—"

"Is to resurrect Voldemort and ask Harry to submit to the killing curse."

"You have not yet told him that he is a Horcrux?"

"No. I don't fancy offering him that revelation as a Christmas present."

"Nor do I. But the time when none of us will have a choice is fast approaching."


Dumbledore's words rang in Remus' ears each time he saw Harry for the next week.

On the last day of classes, Harry sauntered into the fourth-year Ravenclaws' Defense lesson and dropped his arm around Luna Lovegood's shoulders. He looked insolently at Helen Bolton, who blushed and fluttered her eyelashes.

"I've heard that people have been taking my friend Luna's belongings without her permission. Is that something that happens a lot in your dormitory?"

Helen gaped and stammered that she didn't think it happened very much, no, and hopefully it had been a misunderstanding, and she would certainly look out for such problems in the future.

"Good," said Harry warmly. He squeezed Luna's shoulders, waved goodbye to Remus, and made an exit that Remus fancied was rather reminiscent of James. James had always known exactly how to make an entrance, or an exit, send the perfect message. (James' perfect message had admittedly often been along the lines of I am powerful and brilliant, but he had delivered it with much style and good humor.)


Remus decided not to summon Harry to his office. Ron and Hermione would be going home for Christmas the next morning, and Remus didn't doubt that Harry wanted one last evening with them before they separated for several weeks. This would be their first Christmas spent entirely apart from one another since they'd begun school.

Nonetheless, Harry arrived at his office uninvited soon after the evening meal ended.

"I thought you might like to know why I was in your Ravenclaw fourth year class today."

"I assumed that you enjoyed last year's classes so much that you wished to relive them."

Harry smiled, but his eyes remained serious behind his round glasses. "Well, yes. But a few weeks ago Luna Lovegood couldn't go to class because someone took all of her shoes. She says it's something that happens all the time. People take her things and hide them because they think she's odd. And she is odd, but that's no reason to take her things!"

"Of course not."

"It took me a while to work out which of her roommates was doing it. I mean, I reckon they all know, and maybe Helen Bolton does it because one of the others says to. Sometimes all it takes to make something like that stop is knowing that someone is paying attention, so I told Helen I was paying attention."

"And she certainly heard you."

"I don't know anything about her. Is she usually horrid?"

Remus smiled. "I can't share my thoughts on one student with another, Harry. But I will take your concern about Luna seriously and I'll watch all of those students more carefully. Is it all right with you and Luna if I speak to Professor Flitwick as well?"

Harry shrugged. "Do you think that will do any good? The teachers don't usually care about things like that."

"That isn't true," said Remus, even though he knew perfectly well why Harry would think it was.

"Neville sees Snape in a boggart. And in my second year— you weren't here yet— but everyone decided that I was the Heir of Slytherin who was setting the basilisk on Muggle-borns, and people would point at me in the corridors, and hiss at me, and Peeves had a song." Harry puffed out his chest in a fair imitation of Peeves' usual posture. "Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done, you're killing off students, you think it's good fun!"

"Professor Snape is an unusual case. I think you understand something of why."

Harry shrugged again.

Remus tried not to sigh. He knew where Harry was coming from. "I won't share the details with you, but Professor Flitwick came to me earlier this year regarding his discipline of a student for inappropriate behavior toward another student. He wanted to make certain that I enforced it in my class."

"Did the student stop doing whatever it was to the other student?"

"I don't know. I hope that it was an isolated incident. But nothing further has been reported, and neither Professor Flitwick nor I have seen anything."

"Then I suppose you can tell Professor Flitwick. Luna doesn't think there's any point, but she doesn't mind."

"Very well. Thank you, Harry. Though I must admit that as a practical matter you may have solved Luna's problem. Your good opinion is so very much in demand amongst your admiring public."

"Do they still think I'm looking for people to invite to another weird birthday party next summer?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps they just admire you. Quidditch star. Dueling champion. Boy Who Lived. Chosen One."

"Chosen One?"

Remus hadn't meant to share that with Harry, but he didn't think it would hurt. "That's what they called you when it became public knowledge that you were fated to defeat Lord Voldemort. The Chosen One."

"How did it become— how did people know?"

"They drew that conclusion after Voldemort's public return established that you had been telling the truth about Cedric's death. I don't think very many people actually knew. Technically, I didn't know for a fact. I certainly wasn't invited to come along on Horcrux hunts with you the first time around."

Harry's fingers brushed over the scar on his forehead. Remus nearly told him the entire truth right then. But it was true, what he'd said to Dumbledore— the truth would make for a terrible Christmas present. And Sirius would be infuriated if Remus told Harry without warning.

But, a voice in the back of Remus' mind pushed, I was going to do better with Harry this time. I was going to offer him my time and my knowledge and let him tell me to bugger off if he didn't want it. I wasn't going to be the person who thought it was better if he didn't know that I knew James. The person who was afraid to touch him. I've as much right as Sirius to tell him.

In the end, he didn't tell him. Instead, he told Harry that he could have extra Defense lessons every morning for the next week in preparation for their journey.

"Can I learn the talking Patronus?" asked Harry eagerly.

"Yes, and we'd best practice your Vermillious in case you get separated and need to signal us. And…" Dumbledore had said that they were going to the sea. "Your bubble-head charm and perhaps Incendio."

"That's a first year spell."

"Then I hope you're more than proficient with it."

(They practiced every morning for a week. Harry was, indeed, more than proficient with it. Each afternoon when Harry went to visit Sirius, Sirius sent Remus a rather profane owl suggesting that he ought to find more interesting spells for Harry to practice.)


Happily, December 23 was the new moon and Remus felt his strongest and most human when they traveled to the place Dumbledore believed housed Voldemort's Horcrux.

Dumbledore looked as serious and determined as Remus has ever seen him. Gone was the friendly twinkle in his eye, the generous willingness to poke fun at himself that came with being the most powerful man in the world.

Beside Dumbledore, Severus' face was set in a tight-lipped sneer. He looked as if he might murder Sirius the moment Dumbledore's back was turned.

Sirius, for his part, was doing everything in his power to make Harry laugh. Currently that included singing a modified Christmas song.

I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want his soul to drown
In a ring or in a crown
Searching them out sucks
All I want is one more Horcrux

Voldemort has gone and hid
His soul shards everywhere
In the school and in the bank
Without a care
And everyone is seeking
And those Malfoys are sneaking
Santa won't you bring me
The one thing I need
Won't you please bring a Horcrux to me

I don't want a lot for Christmas
This is all I'm asking for
I just want to see Tom's Riddle
Smashed to pieces with the sword—

"A little more subtlety, please, Sirius," said Dumbledore, and Sirius fell silent. "Though you have always had a very fine singing voice."

It was true. When they'd been younger, Sirius had often been accused of having perfect pitch (he'd once drunkenly explained that in truth he only had relative pitch, which he believed anyone could learn if cared to). He had, of course, refused to cultivate his musical talent for the usual reason: his parents would have approved.

"I liked it," said Harry loyally. He was bouncing on his toes with eagerness, clearly in no need of a distraction.

Soon, they could spare no energy for singing or bouncing. Following Dumbledore's lead, they arrived at a high outcrop of dark rock. Water foamed and churned below them; a towering cliff stood behind them. They made a treacherous descent to the slippery rocks, against which lapped the cold, unforgiving water.

"From here," said Dumbledore, "we must swim."

And they swam through the frigid water to a dark slit in the rock face. The fissure became a tunnel, which became a passageway, which became steps leading to a cave.

Dumbledore caressed the wall of the cave while the others drew their wands and dried their sodden robes.

"Bet you aren't still sulking about those swimming lessons I made you take last summer," Sirius murmured to Harry.

"I didn't sulk," said Harry, but his attention was on Dumbledore. "Sir? Why do you have a knife?"

Dumbledore beamed, as if Harry had asked a clever question. "I find it most crude, almost unbelievably so, but the door requires payment in blood. I would have thought Voldemort—"

"Then you would have thought wrongly," injected Snape. "He would not miss an opportunity to cause even the slightest pain to his enemies, and I highly doubt that he cares whether you find his methodology crude."

"I disagree with you, Severus," said Dumbledore, but he let Snape take the knife from his hand.

Snape wound the knife around his fingers; Remus could see, now, that it was the kind of blade ordinarily used to prepare potions ingredients. "You can't spill your blood, Headmaster. You're much too valuable. And I imagine that you won't stand for us spilling the blood of the famous Mr. Potter, as much as you might wish to force the Dark Lord to appreciate the symbolism." He extended the knife to Sirius. "Perhaps you would like to make yourself useful, for once?"

Remus attempted to step between them— Dumbledore hadn't been wrong to suggest that Sirius and Severus needed constant supervision when they attempted to work toward a common goal— but Snape avoided him neatly.

"No werewolves need apply," said Snape witheringly, and Remus knew that the turn of phrase was not a coincidence. "Who knows how the curse in your blood might affect the door?"

"I'll do it," snapped Sirius. He wrenched the knife from Snape's hand and slashed the blade against his own arm, leaving a longer and deeper gash than Remus would have preferred, for all that he knew it could be sealed in the blink of an eye.

Beside them, Harry tensed, and that seemed to snap Sirius out of his desire to demonstrate his ability to bleed.

"Here?" Sirius asked Dumbledore politely, and when Dumbledore agreed, he smeared his blood against the rock wall.

The blazing silver outline of an arch appeared and the blood-spattered rock within it vanished to reveal a great black lake. They stepped through the archway onto a narrow rock ledge.

The darkness was oppressive; they lit their wands, but it did little good. "First of all, do not touch the water," Dumbledore ordered. "Sirius, stay close to the gateway, if you please. Severus, Remus, and Harry: I believe we are looking for— ah, yes." A tiny boat appeared from nowhere. It was clearly meant to hold no more than one. "I believe that it will allow Harry to come with me, as he is underaged and unqualified, and his magic will not register compared to mine."

"No," said Sirius. "Absolutely not. No one who is, as you say, underaged and unqualified—"

"You promised me last Christmas," Harry interrupted, hard and determined. "At the playground at St. Grogory's. You said that as soon as there was something I could do to help, you would tell me."

"That was before I knew a Horcrux was being used to—"

Harry stepped into the boat.

"Fine," said Sirius. "But do exactly what Dumbledore says and send up red sparks if anything unexpected happens."

"See you in a minute," said Harry, and he and Dumbledore and the boat were gone.

Sirius and Severus followed the boat with their eyes as best as they could, but Remus stared into the churning water. The longer he looked, the more convinced he became that there was very little water at all in the great black lake.

There were hands, there were feet, there were blank faces.

It was a massive, magical graveyard.

Do not touch the water, Dumbledore had said, leaving unspoken the words lest you wake an entire army of inferi.

"Thinking of bringing one back for your third years to observe?" Severus asked, suddenly looming beside Remus.

"What are they? Some sort of water demons?" Sirius, too, stepped closer to Remus and drew in his breath as he realized what he was seeing. "No wonder you had Harry practicing fire spells. You might have warned me, though."

"I didn't know," said Remus. "How many do you think there are?"

"Too many for us to take them all out quickly enough if something rouses them."

Remus had come to the same grim conclusion.

Severus' voice was low and sneering. "As long as that boy keeps his hands inside the boat, it shouldn't matter."

Sirius' head shot up, sensitive to any insult to Harry. "If he touches the water, he'll have a reason. It's likely set up so that there's something he has to do when he gets closer. Something that requires water."

"No need to make excuses for your godson's thickness before he's even—"

"Silence!" Remus snapped, glad that it was dark enough that neither Sirius nor Severus could see his face. Nor did he need to see Severus' disdain or Sirius' unflattering astonishment. "Let us assume that Harry or Dumbledore will rouse the inferi, out of necessity or otherwise. What is our course of action should that happen?"

"We need to create a passageway of fire for the boat to pass through," said Severus.

"We seal off the far sides and only worry about the inferi in our direct path," Sirius said almost simultaneously.

In the dark night of the new moon in the shadow of a cave in winter, they couldn't properly glare at one another for daring to agree.


They saw Harry's red sparks from the center of the lake before they saw the inferi stir.

"We know where they are. There's no danger of a miscast spell." Remus wasn't certain which of them had spoken aloud. They all knew that it was time to take action, before the inferi had a chance to attack.

The roar of fire warmed and enveloped them. The flames shooting from their wands looked out of place in the hidden lake where nothing had been bright or warm for many years.

Sirius cast to the left of Harry's beacon and Severus cast to the right. Remus busied himself with eliminating the few inferi who were safe between the walls of fire and were heading resolutely toward the trio of the ledge.

Incendio. An emaciated, bearded man.

Incendio. An elderly woman, her waterlogged rags not covering her misshapen breasts.

Incendio. A child, not more than five years old, his sunken face somehow yearning as it pulled away from his blank eyes.

Incedio. Hollow cheeks. Narrow waists.

Incendio. Half a dozen in a tangle of skeletal arms and legs.

Incendio. A man who would have been uncommonly broad-shouldered. He had worn his hair in dreadlocks, and decades in the water hadn't stripped them from his head. Before he knew why he was looking, Remus eyed the shape of his face closely, and that confirmed the story the dreadlocks had told. This was what remained of Caradoc Dearborn, who had been a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He had vanished in 1980; they'd never found his body.

Remus wanted to summon the abused corpse, to find a way to take it home and bury it properly, but the flames were already engulfing Caradoc's body and more inferi were coming.

"All right, Remus?" He glanced at Sirius. Sirius hadn't removed his gaze from the spell he was casting— powerful and protective— but he had sensed that Remus had stopped where stopping wasn't prudent.

"All right," Remus returned, and he thought it best if they all blamed the extra rasp in his voice on the smoke.

"The boat's coming. Dumbledore doesn't look right. Careful, Lupin!" That was Snape, just as adept at his craft as Sirius. Remus scalded the last few inferi as Harry stood up in the boat, pulling Dumbledore to his feet as he did.

Snape dragged Dumbledore onto the ledge; Sirius reopened the archway, which had long since sealed behind them. Remus grabbed Harry by his arm. "What happened to Dumbledore, Harry?"

"There was a potion. He had to drink it. He wouldn't let me do it. He—"

"Never mind why. Tell us about the potion!" Snape demanded as they staggered through the archway.

"It was—"

"What color?" asked Severus.

"Bright green. When he drank it he said he wanted to die, and then it made him thirsty—"

"That won't be what kills him." Severus hands flew over Dumbledore's prone form. There were burns where the flames had lapped at him and gashes where the inferi had reached him. "Lupin, help me."

"Sirius is the Healer," said Remus. And he put one hand between Sirius' shoulder blades to direct him toward his patient.

Sirius fell to the task. Wounds inflicted by inferi were nothing to a man who had been ministering to wounds inflicted by a werewolf for most of his life.

In the dim light of his wand, Remus fancied that he could see the slightest hint of respect on Severus' face.

"Did you get what we came for?" Remus asked Harry, when they could do nothing but hold their wands aloft to give Sirius and Severus light to work by.

"Yes. I had to let go of Dumbledore to take it out of the bottom of the basin after he drank the potion, and that's when he touched the water and those… things… woke up. They're called inferi?"

"He'll do well on his Defense OWL, Lupin. You must be so proud," drawled Severus from his place on the ground. Severus ignored whatever Sirius spat in return in favor of conjuring a goblet and splashing water on Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore, to Remus' immense relief, sat up and drank greedily.

"I'm all right Severus, I'm all right," were Dumbledore's first words. "Harry? You have it?"

Harry fell to his knees on the hard rock floor and drew a glittering locket from his pocket. "Yes, Sir."

"Hold onto it. Perhaps tomorrow…"

"Perhaps tomorrow Madam Pomfrey will free you from her Hospital Wing, but I have my doubts," said Severus. "Let's get back to the cliff so we can Apparate."


It was with little difficulty that they maneuvered Dumbledore back to the mostly-empty castle. For a while, Sirius and Remus and Harry stood at the edge of the Hospital Wing while Madam Pomfrey and Severus debated the best course of action and Dumbledore occasionally made an amused suggestion.

When it was quite clear that Dumbledore was well recovered and merely humoring his concerned staff, Harry turned to Sirius. "Were you really a Healer?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"That's what Remus said when Snape told him to help Dumbledore. He said you were the Healer. I know he always says you're good at everything, but it sounded different. So I wondered if that was what you studied."

"No," said Sirius. "I didn't study anything. I didn't have to. There was a war to fight and I planned to fight it. It wasn't as if I needed money to support myself."

"But wasn't there anything you wanted to do?"

"I wanted to fight Voldemort."

"He is unusually good at healing magic," said Remus. "He had ample opportunities to practice on me even before the war heated up."

"I'm good at healing you because you're you." Sirius' voice was gruff. "I'd be an awful Healer if I was meant to be kind to everyone."

"I assure you that most Healers aren't kind to everyone." Remus knew that very well. In his youth, several Healers had flatly refused to help him, even to touch him, once they'd realized what he was.

"Nonetheless, I never considered training as a Healer— or anything else— then and I wouldn't consider it now. I don't need the money and I don't want any responsibilities that could get in the way of protecting Harry and winning this war." Sirius' tone made it clear that he considered the matter to be closed. "Give me the locket, Harry. It needs destroying and there's no reason to wait for Dumbledore."

Harry obediently withdrew the locket and passed it to Sirius. Sirius weighed it in his hand. "It's not right," he said quietly.

"What do you mean it's not right? I haven't let go of it since I took it out of the basin."

"This locket didn't belong to Salazar Slytherin. He branded everything he touched, like the pureblood families still do today. It's much too plain. It's too light to be real goblin silver. It's not not entirely poor quality, but it's nothing Voldemort would put his soul into. Hold out your hand, Moony."

Remus did, and Sirius dropped the locket into his waiting palm. "Feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"Exactly. The diadem had almost a heartbeat. So did the ring. There's no dark magic in this. It's not magical at all as far as I can tell."

Remus had a sinking feeling that Sirius was right. "Let's take it up to the Headmaster's office and use the Sword of Gryffindor on it just in case."

Sirius turned on his heel and led the way.

When they reached Dumbledore's office, Harry guessed the password on his third try ("acid pop"). Remus dropped the locket onto the table and Sirius removed the sword from the wall.

"Take a whack at it, Harry," said Sirius. "You're the one who brought it back."

Harry took the sword with thoughtful deliberation before bringing it down on the locket with a resounding crack.

There was no wave of green smoke and no rancid smell, although the locket shattered into pieces. A fragment of parchment that had apparently been tucked inside the locket fluttered to the floor.

Remus picked it up and unfolded it. Harry and Sirius leaned over his shoulders to 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.

Remus didn't have time to digest the words before Sirius snatched the note from him and crumbled it in his fist.

"Son of a bitch. Regulus."

To be continued.


Auxiliary Disclaimer: Still don't own All I Want for Christmas is You. Borrowed a few lines from Half-Blood Prince when describing the cave. And obviously I did not write Regulus' note.

Recommendation:

As it's Christmastime again in BE-land, I recommend:

Remus Lupin and the Christmas Snail by Mercurie. It is story ID number 2191224 on this site.

Summary: In which a werewolf receives some well-deserved Christmas cheer.