Chapter Ninety-Four - The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black
After being escorted upstairs by Mrs. Zabini, Harry and Blaise bid goodnight to Millie. Harry watched as she made her way down the hall to the room she shared with Ginny, thinking it would be nice if they could have one of their sleepovers of old. He wanted to discuss what they had just learned together, and with Grimmauld Place bursting with Weasleys, there was no telling when they'd find another chance to talk privately.
As if to confirm this thought, Fred and George apparated into his room just as Harry and Blaise were pulling on their pajamas.
"Hey!" shouted Blaise as one of the twins nearly toppled him over with their sudden entrance.
"Keep your voice down!" the twin urged while his doppleganger flopped onto Harry's bed, "You want our parents hearing you?"
"What do you want?" Harry asked with a sigh, staring down at the twin who had taken possession of his bed.
"What do you think? We want to know what you've learned about the Order."
"And why should I tell you anything?"
He was irritated by their presumption. Though he rather admired the twins for their ingenuity and quick wit, he didn't consider them friends. It was bold of them to think they could extract any sort of confidence from him.
"Look, Bulstrode has probably told Ginny everything by now," said the first twin.
His brother nodded, "We'll find out eventually whether you tell us or not."
"Then there's no reason for you to hear it from me," Harry replied, turning away from them. Privately, he knew there was some truth to what they claimed. Perhaps it was because they were the only girls in Grimmauld Place, or it was merely proximity, but Millie and Ginny had formed an unlikely alliance. Harry knew that Millie would never betray him, but there was no telling what she might choose to disclose to her new friend about the Order.
Seeing that this argument had failed to get the results they wanted, the twin sprawled on Harry's bed jumped to his feet and said, "Look, we agreed to take Death Eater Junior for the summer. You could at least let us in on what they were thinking, letting him and his mother in here!"
"We didn't ask," Harry admitted. His mind had been far away from Draco and Mrs. Malfoy, eager as he was to learn more about what the Order was doing in the fight against Voldemort. He cursed himself for not probing deeper.
"You didn't ask?" said the first twin incredulously, "You didn't ask what makes them so confident that she's not a spy?"
The second twin chimed in, "You didn't ask if they used veritaserum on her, too?"
"Or if she agreed to give them information on what the Death Eaters are planning?" they chorused.
Harry looked at Blaise, his guilty expression begging for support. Blaise, acknowledging Harry's cue, said, "We didn't learn much that we couldn't have guessed ourselves."
The twins turned to look at him. Blaise's gaze remained fixed on Harry, who gave him a slight nod to continue. Truthfully, what they knew didn't amount to much. Perhaps the clever twins could do more with it than they had considered so far.
Blaise, encouraged by Harry's gesture, cleared his throat and continued, "We did learn that You-Know-Who is after something he didn't have before."
"Before? Like when he was in power?" asked one twin, now eager for more information.
"So what's he after?" demanded his brother.
For a moment, Harry considered telling them that Voldemort had needed his blood to make him stronger. It could mean divulging the rest of what happened that night in the graveyard, but Harry almost longed for an excuse to tell them everything. Would they still think he was the Chosen One then?
Then he remembered what Sirius said. It wasn't more blood that Voldemort needed now.
"Information," said Harry, "Sirius told us that Voldemort is looking for information."
"Well, so are we!" cried the twins in unison, forgetting in their exasperation to flinch at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, "That doesn't tell us anything!"
"Shush!" Blaise warned, just as they heard the sound of a creaking stair.
"Ground floor, third step from the bottom," said one of the twins. Harry was begging to think this one was George.
"Probably mum coming to check on us," said the one Harry suspected was Fred.
Without another word, they disapparated from the room. Harry was sure they'd retreated to their bedroom, where Ron would be anxiously waiting for their report… And Draco as well. Harry sighed to himself as he climbed into bed, hoping the twins were smart enough to use caution with whatever they said.
That night, Harry dreamt of a long, dark corridor. The walls and floor were paved with a smooth, black stone. There were no windows. His shadow, tall and thin, was cast against the polished stone by the flickering light of torches, set at even intervals along the wall. He saw a door at the end of the hall, heavy and black like the stone encasing it. The door was locked. He knew it without even reaching for the handle. But he wanted that door to open…
When Harry opened his eyes to the bit of light streaming through his bedroom window, he frowned with disappointment. He wasn't ready to wake. He'd wanted to see what was on the other side of the door.
Blaise was still asleep. Harry slipped quietly out of bed, as usual giving his friend a few extra minutes of beauty sleep before waking him. As he pulled his clothes on in the dim light from the window, Harry pondered his dream.
Last year, when Voldemort had been gathering his strength to return, Harry had dreams of him torturing or even killing people. Those had been terrifying, but this dream had felt different. Far from being scared, Harry had felt excitement. Perhaps it was merely his mind's way of processing the information he'd received last night. All summer he had been dying to know what the Order of the Phoenix was doing. Now that he had answers, he craved more. Being left out of the Order was like staring at that black door, barring him from whatever lay on the other side.
He decided not to tell Blaise about his dream, believing it to be little more than his anxious subconscious at work. They would have plenty to do that day to take his mind off of sleep. Sirius had ordered the cleaning committee to resume its cleansing of the upper floors of Grimmauld Place.
Sirius had been using the entire third floor as storage space. Most of the bizarre artifacts they found for Mundungus came from these unused rooms. The crew of Gryffindors and Slytherins decided to tackle one of the larger rooms together, and were busy sorting broken items from those they could sell when Ginny asked, "Where's Draco?"
Harry turned. Draco had been with them only a moment before, or so he'd thought. He had been clearing away cobwebs with a busted old racing broom. But now his corner was empty, the broom leaning unobtrusively against the wall.
"We sent him to bring more doxycide," said the twin who was almost certainly Fred. He and his brother were inspecting a suspicious carpet that had been rolled up and shoved in a wardrobe. It was covered in stains that looked suspiciously like dried blood.
"He's taking long enough," said the twin who was probably George, "We want to get this room cleared before lunch!"
Harry, suspicious of what Draco could be doing if left on his own, volunteered to find him. As he marched into the hall, he heard Ginny ask, "Why're you in such a hurry? It's not like we've got anywhere to be."
"This may surprise you, but we have hobbies outside of playing housekeeper," Fred replied.
"Like what? Developing more novelty products?" asked Ron.
Harry would have liked to stick around and hear what Fred and George were working on next, but finding Draco was more important. The conversation faded as he moved to the lower floors. He paused to check each of the bedrooms before moving down to the house's ground level. After searching the kitchen, library, and the parlor, Harry began to worry. What if Draco had run away? He could have become disillusioned with the Order, and gone back to his father's home.
While Harry's imagination presented the likely consequences of Mr. Malfoy knowing their location, he suddenly stumbled upon Draco. He was standing in one of the little used drawing rooms, staring at an ancient tapestry on the wall.
Harry was familiar with the tapestry, having spent enough time in Grimmauld Place before it became headquarters for the Order. Across the top, embroidered in silver thread, were the words "The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black." It was Sirius's family tree, stretching back countless generations, each family member's name threaded with care and precision. Draco seemed transfixed by it.
He must have heard Harry's muffled footsteps on the carpet. Without turning his head, he asked aloud, "What is this?"
"It's a family tree," Harry said bluntly.
A bit of his old self showed through Draco's haughty expression as he replied, "I can see as much, Potter. I mean, what is it doing here?"
"Look," said Harry, thinking Draco must be very dim indeed if he couldn't decipher it for himself. He pointed to a blackened scorch mark near the bottom branches of the tree. "That used to be Sirius, before he ran away from home. We'd have taken the whole thing down, but there's a sticking charm on it. Just like the portrait of Sirius's mother."
Draco didn't appear to be listening to him. Instead, he pointed to another branch of the tree, not far from Sirius's scorch mark.
"I'm here," he said in a wondering voice, "And my parents. And Aunt Bella."
His finger moved over each name in turn, then came to rest on another scorch mark, situated between Narcissa and Bellatrix Black. He frowned, clearly confused. Apparently, Draco had an aunt or uncle who had been disowned like Sirius. Harry wondered if he'd known about them before.
"This doesn't make any sense," Draco whispered, more to himself than Harry, "Mother always said that family mattered more than anything…"
"Being part of the Black family comes with conditions," said a voice from behind them.
Harry and Draco both jumped in surprise, not realizing that their conversation had been overheard. Sirius was leaning against the door frame, observing them both with a sad smile. He strode forward and pointed to the blast mark Draco had just been considering.
"That is your aunt Andromeda. My favorite cousin. My mother burned her name off the tree for marrying someone muggle-born. Tonks should have her name there, right next to yours."
While Draco was still grappling with the idea that Tonks was his cousin, Sirius had moved on to another scorch mark, this one slightly above his own.
"My uncle Alphard, who left me a bit of money when he died. I suppose my mum thought it was an insult, since I was the son who ran away. Did Harry tell you?"
Draco shook his head. "Where did you go? After you left your parents?"
"To the Potters, of course. Harry's grandparents, I mean. They took me in like a second son. You see, there are different kinds of families. There are the ones you're stuck with, then there's the ones you choose. I always thought of the Potters as my family. And now, Harry and Remus are my family."
Draco was staring at the tapestry again, a thoughtful expression on his face. Harry looked on with attention, wondering what was going on inside his head.
After another moment of silence, Draco asked, "So does that make me family, too? Or will I get blasted off the tree?"
Sirius glanced at Harry with a smile, obviously wondering what his godson would say if he was stuck with Draco forever.
"That's entirely up to you," he replied, "But I'll have you know that in this household, getting blasted off the tree is a good thing."
It was then that Harry noticed the bottle of doxycide in Draco's hand. Clearly, he had been following the twins' instructions. He'd probably wandered into the drawing room in search of more cleaning supplies, but was waylaid by the tapestry. Harry's suspicions were unfounded.
Sirius noticed the bottle, as well. "Have you made any progress on the upper rooms?" he asked, drifting away from their interesting subject.
His question reminded Draco of his duties, and he quickly excused himself, advising Sirius to have a look at some of the artifacts they'd unearthed later. Harry was just about to move after him, ready to resume his chores, when Sirius called him back.
"Just a moment, Harry! I wanted to speak to you about something."
Harry, hoping that Sirius was about to tell him something else about the Order, obediently stopped and gave him his full attention.
To his disappointment, Sirius merely held out the palm of his hand, "It's about this locket."
It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but Harry felt an overwhelming sense of relief when he realized that Sirius was no longer wearing the pendant around his neck. Millie had to be right. Harry wouldn't feel such a sense of foreboding about the locket if it wasn't somehow cursed.
"What is it?" Harry asked, stepping closer against his own inclination, "Did you and Remus learn anything new about it?"
Sirius shook his head, "If our library had any books about enchanted lockets belonging to Hogwarts founders, we'd have found it by now. No, I'm afraid we're no closer to the truth. But I might know someone who is."
He gestured for Harry to follow him, and together they went in search of Kreacher.
The house-elf had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Order came to their home. He was always muttering in a loud voice about blood traitors and mudbloods consorting under his mistress's roof. On several occasions, the cleaning committee had caught him trying to scuttle off with some family heirloom. Harry had even begged Sirius to just set him free, but Sirius said it was too risky now. Kreacher knew too much of the comings and goings of the Order. If freed, he could run straight to a family of Death Eaters.
In spite of all this, it had been Kreacher who recognized the locket among Harry's other possessions. It had come to him out of the Sorting Hat when he was in need. To Harry, it had merely been a possible relic of Salazar Slytherin's. But Kreacher claimed he had stolen it, and that it had once belonged to Regulus Black, Sirius's younger brother.
Sirius was now determined to question the elf about how his brother came to possess such a trinket. He was explaining as much to Harry when they finally found Kreacher, holed up in a cupboard that doubled as his bed. The closet was fitted up with an old, ratty blanket and resembled nothing more than a bird's nest, only instead of twigs, it was crammed with "treasures" Kreacher had managed to save from the cleaning committee. Harry was uncomfortably reminded of his own makeshift bedroom in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursleys.
"Kreacher, come out of there!" Sirius demanded, hardly giving Kreacher a moment to comply before he'd hauled him out of the cramped space and forced the elf to stand before him. "We want to have a word with you about this locket."
Kreacher gazed up at Sirius, hatred leaking from his large, watery eyes. His glance flickered from Sirius to the locket with an almost hungry expression.
"Master Regulus's locket?" said the elf before lowering his voice and saying in a grudging tone, "What does he want? He has come to mock Kreacher… Kreacher failed his master, and now he is to be punished…"
"Enough of your rambling!" Sirius snarled.
Harry was sure the comments had been for the elf alone, but Kreacher didn't seem to notice that others could hear him. Or perhaps that was his intention.
"Of course, Master," Kreacher said in a tone of sarcastic servility, "What is it Master wishes to know?"
"Where did this come from?" Sirius asked, holding the locket by its chain, where it swing lazily before Kreacher's narrowed eyes, "And why did Regulus have it?"
Kreacher's wrinkled lips pursed ruefully, as if he were biting back a crass retort. Unable to keep himself in check for long, he began muttering again in earnest.
"Wants to know about the locket… Kreacher failed his Master once. Should never have let Master Sirius take it… Master Sirius is a bad boy who broke Mistress's heart. But Master Regulus had pride. He knew what was due to his name and the dignity of his pure blood…"
"I said enough!" Sirius told him sharply. He shook the locket in Kreacher's face, as if this would somehow mesmerize the elf into remaining focused. "We know this locket did not always belong to Regulus! I order you to tell me how my brother came to have it!"
Kreacher, unable to resist when compelled by a direct order, slowly said, "Yes… Mater Regulus did not possess the locket for long… He found it… While in service to the Dark Lord."
The silence that followed this admission seemed to stretch a very long time, though in reality, they paused for only a few seconds. Sirius exchanged a stunned look with Harry. They had come seeking answers about the locket, but they had found an unexpected connection to Lord Voldemort. Harry wasn't sure what Sirius was thinking, but Harry wondered if this simple trinket contained the very thing that Voldemort was searching for.
"Kreacher…" Sirius began again, "How do you know this? How do you know my brother served Lord Voldemort?"
Kreacher glared and muttered something to himself about how Sirius showed his disrespect by using the Dark Lord's name. To Sirius, he replied, "Master Regulus came to me. He said the Dark Lord required an elf."
"An elf?" Harry repeated in a wondering tone, "Voldemort needed a house elf?"
At the sound of Harry's voice, Kreacher let out a low moan and began to ramble again.
"He dares to question Kreacher as if he were Kreacher's master!" the elf spat, "Filthy child of a mudblood and a blood-traitor father! Thinks he has power… That he can defeat the Dark Lord…"
"Enough!" Sirius shouted, his face now red with anger, "Kreacher, I order you… You will not use that kind of language about Harry, or anyone for that matter! Do you understand me?"
"Yes Master, Kreacher hears and obeys," Kreacher said with a mock bow. Harry could see his lips moving with the silent insults he was no longer able to voice aloud.
"Focus, Kreacher," Sirius continued after a few breaths to calm himself, "What did Voldemort need you for?"
"The Dark Lord knew not of Kreacher. He merely wanted an elf, any elf, and Master Regulus volunteered Kreacher for the task. It was an honor for poor old Kreacher… So Kreacher went with the Dark Lord to a cave by the sea… Beyond the cave, there was a big cavern… And in the cavern was a great, black lake…"
Kreacher's expression had taken on a strange, almost entranced quality. Harry suspected that he was reliving a long forgotten memory. He no longer needed Sirius's constant prompting. In fact, he no longer seemed conscious of Sirius, crouched directly before him. Harry was no less spellbound as the elf's bizarre tale continued to unfold.
"There was a boat. The Dark Lord took Kreacher across the lake to an island… Small… With only a basin of potion. The Dark Lord made Kreacher drink the potion… It… It made Kreacher hear terrible things… But Kreacher had to keep drinking. Until the potion was all gone. Then the Dark Lord took out a locket. That locket…"
Kreacher's eyes traveled to the pendant still suspended from Sirius's outstretched hand. He shuddered before turning his eyes away once more.
"The Dark Lord dropped it inside the basin. Filled it up again. Then he said… He had no need for Kreacher anymore, and he sailed away. Kreacher stayed on the island… Alone… The potion made Kreacher very, very thirsty. Kreacher crawled to the edge of the water. There were… things… In the water. Dead things. They came for Kreacher, tried to pull Kreacher under… Kreacher could not breathe…"
For perhaps the first time, Harry felt sympathy for Kreacher. Without considering that the elf might resent being interrupted by him, he felt compelled to ask, "How did you escape?"
Fortunately, Kreacher, rather than hurling insults once more, merely replied in a breathless voice, "Master Regulus called me back."
"What?" asked Harry, "But how did you get away from the things in the water?"
Kreacher looked back at him, seemingly just as confused as Harry. He repeated, "Master Regulus called me back," as if this was the only explanation Harry required.
"Elf magic isn't the same as wizard magic," Sirius explained, "They can do things other magical creatures can't. They'll respond to their master's call no matter where in the world they may be, or what they might be doing."
His expression was grim as he spoke. When he continued, his eyes were still locked on Kreacher. "I want to know what happened when you returned. If the Dark Lord, as you call him, left the locket in the basin, how did it end up in Regulus's possession?"
"When Kreacher returned… Master Regulus told Kreacher to take him to the cave. Kreacher thinks… Kreacher believes this is why Master Regulus wanted Kreacher to go… So he would know what the Dark Lord was doing."
"So you took him there?" Harry asked, a horrible thought occurring to him, "No… He didn't make you drink the potion again?"
Kreacher groaned and began rocking back and forth on his heels, his thin arms wrapped around his aged, frail body. It was a gesture Harry had often seen in Dobby, whenever he felt that he had disobeyed his master's orders. Sirius gripped one of Harry's arms as a new idea, more terrible than the first, occurred to them both.
"No… He can't have… Regulus drank it himself!"
Kreacher had tears rolling down his withered cheeks. Unable to speak the awful truth, he nodded his head vigorously, his large ears flapping against his face.
"Kreacher would have done it!" he cried pathetically, "Kreacher would have done anything that Master Regulus required! But Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to go home and destroy the locket. Then he… He drank the potion… Kreacher wanted to help him, but Kreacher could not disobey! Kreacher had got into the boat, and Kreacher saw… Kreacher watched as Master Regulus was dragged beneath the water!"
Harry looked at Sirius, alarmed that the mystery of Regulus's disappearance should be burst upon him in this way. But if Sirius felt his brother's loss now, all these years later, he didn't show any signs. His face could have been carved from stone as he continued to question the elf in a hard, unfeeling voice.
"So you brought the locket home, and you tried to obey your master. You tried to destroy the locket," he said, encouraging Kreacher to finish the tale.
Kreacher moaned again, this time with grief over his own failure. "Kreacher tried everything! All of Kreacher's magic and tricks… But nothing worked! Kreacher was sure the only way to destroy the locket was to get inside… But it would not open! And Mistress was overcome with despair… Master Regulus was missing… No one knew where… And Kreacher had been ordered not to tell a soul!"
Kreacher's sobs rendered him unintelligible after that. Sirius straightened up from his crouched position and moved the locket to the palm of his hand. He stared down at it, an angry frown on his face.
"Thank you, Kreacher," he said after a moment, "Thank you for telling me what happened to my brother."
Kreacher gave a slight gasp, then sobbed even harder. Harry wondered if it was the first time Sirius, or anyone for that matter, had thanked the elf for anything. He never particularly liked being in the elf's company, but it was no wonder he was so surly and hateful. Being a slave to a family like the Blacks had been… Harry could imagine him, trying desperately to obey Regulus's final order, growing more mad and desperate with each failed attempt…
Like Sirius, Harry stared at the locket with a scowl. But while Sirius remained cool and impassive, Harry was afraid. Kreacher's story had confirmed every superstitious feeling he'd ever had concerning the locket. But if it had once belonged to Voldemort, why had it come to him out of the Sorting Hat?
"What do you think?" he asked his godfather, but Sirius merely shook his head, still lost in his thoughts.
"All this time," he said quietly, "I believed my brother to be a loyal servant of Lord Voldemort. I thought he had been killed in his service. Perhaps even by Voldemort's own hand."
Harry didn't respond. He knew Sirius's theories with regard to his missing brother. He had known that Regulus sympathized with Lord Voldemort's quest for power. When Sirius joined the first Order of the Phoenix, he did so knowing that he might have to fight his own brother along with the Death Eaters. What were his thoughts now that he knew the truth?
"He died trying to destroy this," Sirius said finally, "Whatever it is, it must be important to Lord Voldemort… I say we finish what Regulus started."