Chap. 33: The box, the European visit, Dumbledore, and Black Manor.
(Here, we dive into the second to the last book, and quote Kreacher in the last section.)
Harry opened the old blue Samsonite suitcase given to him by his aunt to remove the photos within it, which he had purchased frames and an album for. After setting them out, he noticed the well-taped box still lying inside, and he decided that now was the right time to open it.
He removed the long box, and with his wand, he slit the tape allowing the lip to open. Inside, he found a dagger and three other boxes which were packed tightly together with newspaper.
One box, which was orange with some white print, was only about one and one-half inches thick, and about four inches by six inches square. The other two boxes were about two inches square, and about four inches long.
He had been expecting something like this, so he removed the dagger, which he knew was meant to be used for dealing out a silent death, and placed it in a drawer of the desk in his study, where he then opened the orange box. Inside was a weapon small enough to be easily carried and concealed, which he carefully picked up and examined. One could easily carry this in one's pocket, he thought. Here, he lay this down on the desk's blotter and looked inside the remaining two boxes, where, he smirked. Yes, after today, he would be carrying this with him at all times, he thought.
After making it ready, he slipped it into his right trouser pocket and stood from his desk. Even though today was the 31st, he had a trip to make, and a portkey to catch.
Harry found himself staying at the Hotel Schloss Dürnstein that evening, after a productive day. Dürnstein, of course, was a small town on the Danube river in Lower Austria, and it sat at the foot of a mountain that held Dürnstein Castle on its rocky peak. It was also the home of Mykew Gregorovitch, who Harry had just visited to learn about his new wand.
According to the old wandmaker, it was a new version of the Elder Wand, except this one held two cores holding much more, and some of the narrow-minded might claim, dark, magical power. He thought it more powerful than the famed Elder Wand. The wood was from the Hawthorn family and was known as "Swamp Mayhaw," which referred to when its fruit ripened. The trees lived within the water of the bayou and wetlands in Louisiana, and the fruit was used for making preserves and wine. The wood, the old wandmaker had told him, was used by Violetta Beauvais in the construction of her wands that also used Rougarou hair.
Here, Gregorovitch held the wand up, listened to it, smiled, and then tried to bend it.
"It's yours, there's no doubt," Gregorovitch said, "and it is slightly flexible but unyielding. It would rather be destroyed than yield in battle."
"You speak of wands as being sentient, Mr. Gregorovitch," Harry said.
"They are, Mr. Potter," Gregorovitch explained, "but nobody really knows why, though there are many clashing theories.
"I've always believed that some life still lives within some magical cores from the beast that they were taken from; some otherworldly tie that matches with the personality of the wielder. I can't prove that, just as no other wandmaker can, but that is my theory." Here, he went on to educate Harry on wandlore.
The Rougarou was said to prowl the swamps around Acadiana and Greater New Orleans, and the sugar cane fields and woodlands of the regions. The Rougarou most often was described, the old wandmaker told him, as a creature with a human body and the head of a wolf or dog. Not quite a werewolf, they claim. Their hair comes from their head, and a hairy ridge running down their spine during the full moon.
Gregorovitch told Harry that President Seraphina Picquery, of MACUSA, used one of these wands against Grindelwald when he first rose to power, and it was a powerful wand. However, he also told Harry about his new wand's second core, which was the translucent spine of a White River Monster that was mostly found in Arkansas but could be found all the way down to the Gulf Coast in the US. This creature's spine, Gregorovitch told him, wrapped in Rougarou hair, was what gave the wand such power and punch, as the spine, alone, was said to produce spells of "great force and true elegance."
The wand was long, Gregorovitch said, because it needed to be, as all of Thiago Quintana, the other American wandmaker's wands were "sleek and unusually long in design, and thus, they produced spells of "force and elegance." These rare wands were sought out by warlocks and sorcerers, Gregorovitch had told him. It was a war mage's wand, in the extreme, by having two cores, and from his experience with the Elder Wand, he didn't think the older wand could come close to topping it.
When Gregorovitch had asked Harry, who was sitting with him on a bench down by the Danube river, about who crafted the wand, the old wandmaker paled when Harry said, "Baron Samedi."
"That's - that's who reportedly crafted the Elder Wand, Mr. Potter," Gregorovitch shakily replied, "or our version of him; the Lord of Death."
After a while, Harry finally warned the old wandmaker about Tom, and that he should flee until he was ended. Harry explained that Tom was now looking for a new wand, and whether Ollivander would try to construct one for him, or not, was unknown, since the wand chooses the wizard.
Harry also told him that he was pretty sure that Tom knew of the Deathly Hallows, and might come searching for the Elder Wand after today. If he did, then he would murder Gregorovitch to keep him from talking.
Gregorovitch, however, had some news for Harry. Grindelwald had stolen the Elder Wand from him, when young, and had lost it in his duel with Dumbledore, where it was rumored that the old headmaster still used it, today. He then told Harry that he should stop Tom from obtaining it at all costs, since the wand's allegiance was easily won.
When Harry asked about his new wand, though, Gregorovitch said that his would not be won so easily, as the mage would have to be attuned to both cores and the wood, which Harry was, due to the ritual.
Finally, the two made their way back to the old wizard's home, and he helped him pack. Gregorovitch then told Harry that he was going to visit Moscow, as he was friends with a wandmaker in their wizarding district.
Harry arrived back in Britain the next morning on the 1st of November, by portkey, and after stopping by the paper's office, he apparated to Hogwarts, where he sent a pulse of magic at the gate to call Hagrid.
Hagrid allowed him entrance, and after asking about each other's health, the young mage made his way to the headmaster's office.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore said, as the door opened with a wave of his wand.
"Headmaster," Harry said with a nod before taking a seat and gazing around at the office.
"There's something that we should discuss," Harry said in a low voice, "that's urgent, but without all the ears."
Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up at this, but the old wizard stood, and said, "Follow me."
Here, Harry followed Dumbledore to the top of the astronomy tower, where both began looking out at the grounds.
"Now, Harry, what did you wish to discuss?"
"I know that you have two of the Deathly Hallows, Headmaster," Harry replied, "and Tom will be looking for one of them shortly."
Dumbledore stood there for a moment, stymied, until he sighed.
"How did you find out, may I ask?"
"Gregorovitch," Harry said, "who I just visited, yesterday. He did once have your wand."
Here, Dumbledore tugged at his beard as he stared at Harry, wondering how much more he knew.
"So," the old wizard delicately said, "you know about Grindelwald."
"Every seedy bit of it," said Harry, who noticed the old wizard's left hand shake.
"The biggest mistake of my life, I dare say," said Dumbledore. "Yes, Harry, I won the wand from him during our duel."
"You know that you must not allow Tom to obtain it, do you not?" Harry asked.
The headmaster only nodded at this.
"He will go after Mykew after today," Dumbledore said, "I'm sure of it. Like Rufus thought, he targeted Azkaban last night, and it was in this morning's Prophet."
"He's safe," Harry replied, "I made sure of it. I'm afraid that Garrick has spilled the beans, where Tom is still wandless, we believe, and borrowing wands to use."
Dumbledore nodded at this assessment.
"I had intended on dying with the wand, and being buried with it," Dumbledore said as he looked up at the cloudy sky.
"He will just rob your grave," Harry replied, "and take it. Mykew said that the Elder Wand had a very loose allegiance."
"The wand that they've all searched for," Dumbledore said as he sat down on the edge of the tower's parapet, "and that has cost the lives of many. Then, there is the stone, which I had intended on giving to you, and still will.
"You, of course, hold the only Hallow of true benefit. It's able to thwart many spells, and completely hide someone if they're knowledgeable in how to use it. One can even pass through minor wards with it, undetected.
"What do you think I should do, young Harry? The wand is addictive, what with the power it yields, but I do understand that Tom mustn't be allowed to obtain it."
"You still have your original wand, I take it?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore only nodded.
"Then, hide it," Harry stated, "and start using your old wand."
Here, Dumbledore withdrew the Elder Wand from his left sleeve with his damaged right hand and looked it over before holding it out to Harry.
"Take it, Harry; I'm too weak to hide it. I would only be tempted to retrieve it, and continue to use it until my death, which is quickly arriving."
Harry took the wand and placed it within a wand pocket inside his black Cashmere overcoat as Dumbledore stood, and made his way to the door.
"Come, Harry," the old headmaster said, "as there are items that only you should have."
Harry sat back in the luxurious leather office chair behind the desk in his study and took a drink of brandy as he pondered about everything that happened that day.
Dumbledore had handed him three books, with two being on the dark arts that he already had, which mentioned horcruxes. The other was his copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, where he had stated that he was going to give it to Hermione as a hint about the Hallows after his death, but that wasn't required, now, since Harry knew everything.
He also gave him a wooden case of memories, in glass phials, all pertaining to Tom. These were the memories that Rufus and Gareth had seen, but he and Dumbledore did view the one about the Gaunts being confronted by Ogden, again, and Harry could have sworn that he had seen that locket before, but where?
Here, Harry slid the old Gaunt ring off his finger, put it in the lap drawer of his desk, and then took another drink of brandy.
Finally, he stood and looked at the empty portrait above the study's small fireplace.
"Phineas," Harry called out, and within a few seconds, Phineas Nigellus Black strolled into his portrait, and took his seat in the large green leather wingback chair.
"I take it you've dispensed with everything but the sword?" Phineas asked.
"I'll put it behind your portrait," Harry said, "and in the secret wall safe to keep it hidden until it's needed. The wand, I'll take to Gringotts, and rent a high-security vault."
"All right," Phineas said as his portrait swung outwards, where Harry placed Gryffindor's sword in the hollow of the wall behind it.
"It's secure," Harry said, where the portrait swung shut. "Something is bothering me, Phineas, about Slytherin's locket. I could swear that I've seen it before!"
"Did you not run across one at Islington, one that would not open, which Sirius threw out?"
Harry sat down and was stunned at this, where he took a huge gulp of his brandy. Finally, he came to himself, and called out, "Kreacher!"
There was a pop, and there stood Kreacher in all his glory, dirty rags and all.
"The dirty half-blood thinks he can bes ordering Kreacher, but he can't..."
"That's enough, Kreacher!" Phineas scolded, which caused the old elf to look up in fear.
"Yes, Master Phineas," Kreacher said, and bowed.
"Kreacher," Harry inquired, "do you remember a locket that Sirius wanted to throw out?"
"There bes several lockets..." Kreacher wheedled in his bullfrog voice.
"I order you to answer me truthfully, Kreacher. Understand? Did you take the locket that Sirius threw away?"
"Yes, Master," Kreacher said, but bowed while cursing Harry without speaking aloud.
"Where is it, Kreacher?"
"Kreacher still has it, in his nest, in London."
"Go there, now," Harry ordered, "and retrieve it. Next, bring it straight to me."
"Yes, Master," Kreacher croaked, and with a snap of his fingers, he disapparated.
Here, Harry poured himself another two fingers of brandy and waited. It didn't take long for the old elf to appear, and he was clutching the locket tightly to his chest while giving Harry a look of distrust.
Harry studied what he could see of the locket, so Harry asked the elf, "Kreacher, how did that locket end up at Grimmauld Place?"
"It was Master Regulus' locket, Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!"
Just as Kreacher launched himself toward the poker hanging beside the fireplace's grate, Harry shouted out, "Kreacher, STOP!"
Kreacher stopped dead, standing on one foot, the other still in the air.
"What do you mean, Master Regulus' locket? Answer me, Kreacher!"
The elf sat down on the rug, curled into a ball, placed his wet face between his knees, and began to rock backward and forwards. When he spoke, his voice was muffled, but quite distinct in the silent, echoing, study.
"Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my mistress's heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper pride; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns... and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve...
"And one day, a year after he had joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see poor ol' Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said... he said..."
Here, the old elf rocked faster than ever.
"...he said that the Dark Lord required an elf."
"You-Know-Who needed an elf ?" Harry repeated, looking around at Phineas, who looked just as puzzled as he did.
"Oh, yes," moaned Kreacher. "And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do... and then to c – come home."
Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath now coming in sobs.
"So poor ol' Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave, there was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great, black lake..."
The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up. Kreacher's croaking voice seemed to come to him from across the dark water that he imagined.
"...there was a boat.
"There was a b – basin full of potion on the island. The D – Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it..."
The elf now quaked from head to foot.
"Kreacher drank, and as he drank, he saw terrible things... Kreacher's insides burned... Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed... he made Kreacher drink all the potion... he dropped a locket into the empty basin... he filled it with more potion.
"And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving poor ol' Kreacher on that island..."
Harry could see it happening in his head. He watched Voldemort's white, snake-like face vanishing into the darkness, those red eyes fixed pitilessly on the thrashing elf whose death would occur within minutes, whenever he succumbed to the desperate thirst that the burning potion caused its victim … but here, Harry's imagination could go no further, for he could not see how Kreacher had escaped.
"Kreacher needed water, Master, so he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake... and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface..."
"How did you get away?" Harry asked, and he was not surprised to hear himself whispering.
Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked at Harry with his great, bloodshot eyes.
"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he said.
"I know – but how did you escape the Inferi?"
Kreacher did not seem to understand.
"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he repeated.
"Yes, you've said, but –"
"Well, it's obvious, isn't it, Potter?' said Phineas. "He Disapparated!"
"But... he would have had the cave warded!"
"Elfin magic isn't like wizard's magic," explained Phineas. "They can apparate and disapparate in and out of Hogwarts and from this warded manor."
"The house-elf's highest law is his master's bidding," Kreacher loudly intoned. "Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home..."
"Well, then, you did what you were told, didn't you?" Harry asked.
Kreacher shook his head again, now rocking as fast as ever.
"So what happened when you got back, Kreacher?" Phineas spoke up and asked. "What did Regulus say when you told him about what had happened?"
"Master Regulus was very worried, very worried," croaked Kreacher. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden, and not to leave the house. And then... it was a little while later... Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell... and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord...'
And so they had set off. Harry could visualize them quite clearly and knew where this was heading.
"Did he make you drink the potion, too?" Harry asked.
Kreacher only shook his head and wept.
"M – Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had," said Kreacher, tears now pouring down either side of his snout-like nose. "And he told Kreacher to take it, and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets..."
Here, both Harry and Phineas grimaced.
Kreacher's sobs were now coming in great rasps; Harry had to concentrate hard to understand him.
"And he ordered – Kreacher to leave – without him. And he told Kreacher – to go home – and never to tell my mistress – what he had done – but to destroy – the first locket. And he drank – all the potion – and Kreacher swapped the lockets – and watched... as Master Regulus... was dragged beneath the water... and...'
"So, that's what truly happened," Harry said in a low voice, as he took a large swig of his brandy. "What happened next, Kreacher? You tried to destroy it, didn't you?"
"Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it," moaned the elf. "Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work... so many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open... Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief because Master Regulus had disappeared, and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f – f – forbidden him to tell any of the f – f – family what happened in the c – cave..."
"I don't understand you, Kreacher," Harry said finally. "You-Know-Who tried to kill you, Regulus died to bring the monster down, but you were still happy to betray Sirius to Voldemort? You were happy to go to Narcissa and Bellatrix, and pass information to You-Know-Who, through them, even though they were helping him, the man responsible for Regulus' death! Why, Kreacher?"
"Because Kreacher bes loyal to House Black, Master!"
"Kreacher," said Harry, and after a while with a sigh, "when you feel up to it, er … please sit up."
It was several minutes before Kreacher hiccuped himself into silence. Then he pushed himself into a sitting position again, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes like a small child.
"Kreacher, I am going to ask you to do something with me..." said Harry.
"Kreacher, I want you, please, to go with me outside to destroy that locket. I want to finish the work that your Master Regulus started, and I want to – er – ensure that he didn't die in vain."
Kreacher dropped his fists and looked up at Harry in surprise. (Partially from Chap. 10, Deathly Hallows)
"Master Harry wants to help poor ol' Kreacher?"
Harry only nodded.
Harry stood on the edge of the rear lawn at Black Manor, and he was staring at the locket laying on top of an old stump along the property line. In his right hand, he held the enchanted, and now poisonous, sword of Godric Gryffindor.
"Kreacher," Harry said as he glanced at the old elf, who was looking on with glee at what was about to occur, "if something bad was to happen, go straight to my wife and tell her to come here, and then go to Greenhill Manor, and tell Cyrus and Helen. Got that?"
"Yes, Master Harry! Kreacher will be doing that if something bad happens."
"All right, Kreacher, prepare to shield yourself, so here goes," Harry said as he held the sword over his head with two hands.
Harry took in a deep breath, and brought the sword down as hard as he could, where it cleaved the locket in half, and buried itself about a half-inch into the stump.
Here, Harry fell back onto his rump, and withdrew his new wand, as a black mist arose from the locket in a scream, where it formed into the head of Voldemort. Harry cast a mage's shield over he and Kreacher, as they watched the mist twist and writhe about before it evaporated.
"That bes dark magic," Kreacher croaked out, "Master Harry; the darkest!"
"We got him, though, didn't we, Kreacher," Harry replied with a smirk, "or at least a part of him?"
Here, Kreacher stood ramrod straight and puffed out his chest. "We did Master, and now Master Regulus bes avenged! Master be the true head of the House of Black!"
A/N: Another chapter down, which used Kreacher's tale from the Deathly Hallows, though modified for use, here. Thanks for all the reviews.