Chapter Sixty - The Locket

His scar was hurting again. Harry was still in bed, wrapped comfortably in his blanket, warm and otherwise at ease. The only problem was the lingering pain in his scar. He rubbed it meditatively, trying to stimulate his memory. But he couldn't remember his dream.

He had a feeling he had seen Wormtail again, but the impression was hazy. As the pain in his scar began to ebb away, the images from his dream started to fade as well. He made up his mind to mention it to Sirius and Remus today. Perhaps they would have some insight into what was happening with his scar.

He didn't know what time it was, but since his mind was made up, he saw no more reason to wait. He left the warm embrace of his blankets without a shred of reluctance and slipped out of bed.

The bedroom still felt strange and alien to him. He hadn't unpacked any of his belongings, as he couldn't bring himself to open the wardrobe or chest of drawers. It felt like an intrusion, as if he were going through someone else's things. Sirius had told him that the room hadn't been occupied for many years, but with his brother's decorations still lining the walls, it felt as though Regulus Black could return any moment to reclaim the space as his own.

Harry was struck by the fact that Sirius never spoke about his family. He had mentioned living with Harry's father for a time, but of his parents or brother, he'd said nothing at all. Harry wondered where Regulus was now. Did he care at all that his brother was released from Azkaban? Didn't he want to see him after all this time?

Musing over these thoughts, Harry finished getting dressed and wandered downstairs to the kitchen. He could smell breakfast before he'd entered the room, and upon crossing the threshold saw Sirius standing over an old iron stove, busy directing various pots and pans with his wand.

Harry was pleased to see him using it so effectively. It was made of dogwood, fifteen inches in length, with a dragon heartstring core. Harry knew because he had made it himself in class last year. He had presented it to Sirius as a gift, and although Harry had said it probably wouldn't work, having been crafted by an amateur, Sirius insisted it was perfect and refused to visit Ollivander's for another. It was gratifying to see that it could cast a spell without setting anything on fire, and he wondered if Professor Nobilis would give him extra credit for a job well done.

Remus sat at the table reading The Daily Prophet. Harry spied Peter Pettigrew's face on the front page before Remus noticed him lingering in the doorway and tried to put the paper away.

"It's alright," Harry said quickly, for a moment forgetting the pain in his scar, "I've seen the papers. I know Pettigrew escaped."

At the sound of Harry's voice, Sirius turned away from the stove, his expression clouded.

"I warned those idiots at the ministry about Pettigrew," he said, "When I had to register myself as an animagus, I told them everything. They knew Pettigrew was a rat, and I even told them how I used my ability to get past the dementors. They should have been more careful."

"Or stopped using dementors, as Dumbledore told them ages ago," Remus said, "You did all you could, Sirius."

Sirius looked as though there was more he could say about the ministry's incompetence, but he turned abruptly back to the stove. With a swift wave of his wand, he moved several slices of sizzling bacon onto a plate, ready to serve. By the time he turned back around, he had schooled his face into a smile.

"Let's not ruin Harry's first morning with us," he said, motioning for Harry to join them at the table, "How did you sleep?"

Not wanting to add to the awkward atmosphere by mentioning his scar, Harry told them he'd slept well. But when Sirius asked him if he had finished unpacking, Harry was forced to admit that he hadn't even started.

"Not a problem, Kreacher can manage for you," Sirius suggested.

"Oh no, please. I can manage," Harry said hastily. He hadn't seen much of the house elf since his brief glimpse the previous day, and it hadn't left a good impression. "I don't want to bother him."

"It's not a bother," Sirius insisted, "It's his job. Besides, the work keeps him out of trouble in other parts of the house. It'll be good for him to have something to do."

Before Harry could think of another excuse, Sirius had called Kreacher's name loudly. With a sharp crack, the house elf appeared before them. Harry realized now that the dirty cloth that barely covered his thin, pale body was merely an old pillowcase. Kreacher dropped into another one of his very shallow bows before asking, "Did Master call on Kreacher?"

"You know I did," Sirius said, his tone already impatient, "I want you to go up to Harry's room and unpack his things. And I don't want to hear any arguments about it either."

Kreacher directed another quick, hateful glance toward Harry. He seemed to be considering breaking Sirus's orders just to insult the interloper, but he thought better of it, and settled for walking from the room at a snail's pace.

Harry waited until the elf was well out of earshot before he said to Sirius, "Will Regulus mind? I mean, he knows I'll be staying in his old room?"

Sirius became thoughtful. Harry saw that he was looking at Remus, who stared back at him over the rim of his coffee cup. Finally, Sirius replied softly, "My brother… he disappeared many years ago. No one knows where he is."

This did little to ease the creepy feeling Harry had whenever he was in the bedroom. He was now burning with curiosity, but he wasn't sure if now was the right time to ask. Thankfully, Sirius didn't wait for him to say more. He added, "I think he must have run away from home. I did the same when I was sixteen. Our mother… Well, let's just say there was always a lot of pressure to uphold the Honorable and Ancient House of Black. I imagine it got much worse for him after I left…"

He fell silent again, and Harry regretted ever mentioning his brother. He had so wanted his first day to go well, and in his anxiety to avoid one awkward topic, he had stumbled into something worse. It was Remus who came to his aid.

"Why don't you tell Harry where you went after leaving home?" he suggested.

A smile split across Sirius's face at the memory. Looking at Harry, he said, "I went to stay with the Potters."

"You lived with my mum and dad?" Harry asked, to which Sirius laughed.

"Lily and James! Remember Harry, we were only sixteen at the time! They didn't become the Potters till years later. I mean your father and his parents. Your grandparents."

The tension of their earlier conversation melted away as Harry listened to anecdotes about his father. Sirius told him stories about the years he had spent with Harry's grandparents before graduating from Hogwarts. He spoke of the flat he'd rented with James before his marriage and the wild parties they held before Remus forced them to settle down. Apparently, there were many attempts to convince Remus to move in with them, but Remus firmly refused to live in the squalor that James and Sirius were pleased to call home.

Harry enjoyed listening to their banter. He was learning so much about not only his parents, but their two closest friends. He would have pestered them for more details and more stories all day. But then the screaming started.

It began with an odd, dry croak, almost a cough more than a scream. But as it rose in volume, reaching the trio in the kitchen, a second voice joined in, screeching loud enough to rattle the pots suspended from the ceiling.

Sirius broke off in the middle of a sentence and sprinted upstairs. Harry and Remus, after exchanging surprised looks, darted after him. Harry, still underage and not allowed to use magic outside of school, had not brought his wand with him to breakfast. But Remus had his in his hand as they approached the second floor.

It was then that Harry saw the source of the second voice. The black curtain at the top of the stairs had been thrown back, and behind it was a portrait of a woman. Her face was twisted with fury as she screamed, her fingers reaching for the gilded frame as if she thought she could tear her way out of it.

"BLOOD TRAITOR!" she screamed, "HALF-BREEDS AND MONGRELS IN MY HOUSE...THE SHAME OF IT! I CURSE YOU AND YOUR..."

Remus paused only to yank the curtain back over her screeching face. The heavy fabric muffled her cries, but there was still a disturbance coming from Harry's room. It was Kreacher. The elf was crouched on the floor, no longer shouting, but emitting a series of groans and curses that were no less disturbing. Sirius was standing over him, holding a familiar golden locket in his hand.

"Thief!" Kreacher cried when he looked up and saw Harry standing in the doorway, "Theif! It's him that has stolen it! He has taken Master's room and now he has stolen Master's locket!"

"Be silent!" Sirius said, stamping a foot in his impatience.

Kreacher was compelled to obey. His screams stopped at once, though he seemed to be chewing on his own lips, as if to prevent himself from another outburst against orders.

Sirius, with a deep breath, turned to Harry and held the locket out toward him.

"Harry, do you know what this is?"

He recognized it instantly. It was the locket he had pulled from the Sorting Hat during his second year at school. Millie had told him to put it away, and he had forgotten all about it. Glancing around the room, he saw Kreacher had been unpacking his things, though untidily. They were scattered all about the floor. He must have found the locket in Harry's school trunk.

"It's mine," Harry said, but his words were drowned out by Kreacher, who was no longer able to hold himself back.

"He lies! It belongs to Master Regulus! The nasty brat has stolen it… it…"

"Regulus never kept a locket!" Sirius said, furious at the interruption.

"He did!" Kreacher insisted, "Master Regulus… He got it after Master Sirius left the house…"

"This is ridiculous. We're getting nowhere," Remus said, stepping further into the room, "Harry, where did you get this from?"

"I found it in the Sorting Hat," Harry admitted. He explained that he had been in the Chamber, and he gave Sirius a knowing glance. Sirius was very familiar with the Chamber of Secrets, and both Harry and Millie had recounted their adventures to him before. What Sirius hadn't been told was that when Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, flew into the Chamber to rescue him, he had brought the Sorting Hat along. Harry now explained that he had placed it on his head, asking for help, and the locket was the gift he received.

"When I wore it, the basilisk listened to me," he finished, "I think it must have belonged to Salazar Slytherin."

"What do you think, Remus?" Sirius asked.

Remus looked pensive as he replied, "Artifacts from the founders are rare. Those that do exist are the rightful property of Hogwarts. I've only seen one myself, the sword of Godric Gryffindor, and it's currently in the headmaster's office."

"I didn't steal it," said Harry.

Remus smiled at him, "No one is accusing you. I believe what you said about the Sorting Hat. The question is, why does Kreacher think it belonged to Regulus?"

"Well," Sirius said, turning toward the house elf, "You heard the question. Now let's hear your side of things."

But the elf, once so eager to be heard, was now reticently silent. His crooked mouth set into a hard line, and he shook his head from side to side.

"Kreacher, I am ordering you to tell me how Regulus got this locket!"

"NO!" Kreacher croaked, "Master Regulus told Kreacher not to tell… Not to tell a living soul… Kreacher will not say, not even to Master Sirius!"

"So you won't listen to your rightful master?" Sirius said grimly. Harry saw the hand that held the locket ball into a fist, and was afraid for a moment that he might strike the poor house elf, but instead he raised his hand and looked at the locket once more.

"I think this might be dangerous," he said, his voice suddenly softer, "I know it helped you in the Chamber, Harry, but my brother… Regulus was always interested in the dark arts."

"Which happens to be my specialty," said Remus. He grasped the gold chain from which the locket was suspended, and gave a slight shudder.

"Freezing…" he whispered, then turned to look at Harry, his expression kind but serious, "I think you should leave this here with us when you return to Hogwarts. I'll look it over and see if I can find out its true origin."

Harry looked between the faces of his godfather and Remus. They were calm, but Harry could see they had been shaken by this sudden disturbance. Harry felt responsible. He was the one that had brought the locket into the house. He should have returned it to Dumbledore when he'd had a chance. The only thing he could do now was agree to their offer.

"Well then, will that satisfy you?" Sirius said to Kreacher, "The locket will say in the house, for now. I won't have you calling Harry any more names."

Kreacher still looked mutinous, but he was calmed by the arrangement. With one last, spiteful glance at the three wizards, he shuffled slowly out the door. Sirius and Remus followed him, encouraging Harry to come back downstairs. Harry obeyed, but not before turning back to look around his bedroom once more, wondering what had happened to its previous occupant.