Chapter 4: Grimmauld Place

Dear Harry,

Hedwig stopped by, so I'm assuming that meant you wanted me to send you a letter telling you that I'm fine. Well, you're lucky day, because I am. Fred and George have been trying to make food for a few days now. They aren't very good, but they are getting better, I suppose. They managed to make me a sandwich without burning anything, though they did burn the salad...

I received a letter from Luna yesterday. She's fine. Her father had to stop publishing the Quibbler though. The minister figured it would be better if Mr. Lovegood didn't attract attention to himself.

I also received a letter from Professor McGonnagal. It seems that Hogwarts is re-opening. Only a few students are coming back, though. I don't blame them, with Dumbledore gone. Luna said she was coming, and she said she'd been in contact with Neville, who's Gran feels he would be safer at Hogwarts even with Dumbledore gone. She might be right, but we still don't have the second best thing. Oh, don't be like that. You were the head of the D.A. You went to find the horcrux with him. You're everyone's hero and you know it. Mum doesn't want me to go back to school, but I'll be bored out of my mind if I stay here.

Love,

Ginny

P.S. I won't be able to come visit you in a month. Sorry. I'll keep you posted.

"So, anyone we know-" Ron asked, picking up his old routine.

"Well, if they're hurt, Ginny doesn't know it. She got a letter from Luna who got a letter from Neville. Hogwarts is back open. The three of them are going back so there'll be at least 3 students. Most of the Slytherins will probably be siding with their parents," Harry said, re-reading the letter. He sighed. "You and Hermione can go back if you want. I know how miserable she is with no homework to do."

A plate slammed on the table behind them. "Harry, we've already told you that we aren't leaving you! Pass the potatoes!" Hermione exclaimed. Ron obliged and passed the potatoes, mouth open.

"She'll be fine then, if she's at Hogwarts. Even You-Know-Who wouldn't attack the same place twice. And who's there that's worth attacking now? All the Slytherins have probably decided their greatest ambition is to be a death eater, now! You-Know-Who isn't going to waste his time on people like Luna Lovegood," Ron stated. He didn't seem to notice he was rambling, or that Harry and Hermione were looking extremely uncomfortable. "Of course, the prophecy could have been wrong and it could have been Neville it was talking about, which means that they are in danger at Hogwarts. But Professor McGonagall should have put up some spells and smashed that vanishing cabinet by now-"

"Ron!" Hermione shouted. He looked up from his plate, quite embarrassed, as though he thought only he could hear himself talk. He turned back to his plate, turning scarlet.

Hours flew by where Harry spent most of the time examining the one of the silver goblets Mundungus had tried to steal. "I suppose we should begin where we left off last time. We should start cleaning. Stay out of Sirius' room. There's nothing in there. Hermione, you go to the drawing room again," he told them. He waited until he was sure Hermione was upstairs. "Ron, you check Kreacher's room and the kitchen. I'll check the rest of the house."

"What are we supposed to be looking for?" Ron asked.

"Look for anything with the letters R.A.B."

They looked though lunch until dinner when they all sat down at the table again, exhausted. All anyone had found was an invitation to Bellatrix Lestrange's wedding in the drawing room. Harry was certain that Bellatrix had not stolen her beloved master's horcrux.

"Don't worry, Harry. We'll find something tomorrow," Hermione said soothingly, setting the plates out on the table. She spooned something onto the plates that looked like the mashed potatoes had decided to fight with the soup. It was a lumpy, half potato, half chicken monster.

"Er…Hermione?" Ron asked testily, poking at it, "What is this?"

What happened next was so fast that Harry barely had time to register it before it was over. Hermione, who had been facing the stove, had turned around, the angriest look on her face. She dug the spoon deeper into the bowl and flung spoonful after spoonful at Ron. Ron was soon so covered in potato that he bore a strange resemblance to a snow man. Harry, who was thoroughly horrified, immediately scarffed down his own chicken potato soup.

It was a long time before anyone spoke again. Harry had been too afraid to laugh. All in all, the potatoes didn't taste too bad. Ron finally cleaned all the potato off himself, though he never touched his plate.

"I think," Harry said finally, "that I'll go write back to Ginny." He got up from the table and walked upstairs. Hedwig hooted soothingly as he closed the door to his room. He sat down at the desk and pulled Ginny's letter and a quill toward him. He should start by answering the questions. Scanning the letter over and over, he realized that she hadn't asked any questions. Writing this letter was going to be harder than he thought. How exactly do you write to someone that your efforts have been fruitless and that you could die at any minute? He felt sympathy for the people in all those muggle wars.

The sun was setting before he even started on the letter and it was rising when he had finished. He felt satisfied as he tied the note to Hedwig's leg. He opened the window and shut it as soon as she had flown out, hoping no one noticed the owl appearing out of no where.

Hermione called upstairs for him to come down the breakfast. Thankfully, the toast looked like actual toast and Ron didn't end up wearing it. In fact, he didn't talk at all.

They began to search again after breakfast, but still their efforts were fruitless.

"Harry, have you thought of asking Kreacher if he knows anything about R.A.B.?" Hermione asked as they sat down once more at the table in the kitchen.

He snorted. "Why? Just so he can yell some gibberish about me being a terrible half-blooded master and befriending muggle-borns? No, thanks. All your spew stuff is fine when it comes to Dobby and Winky, but Kreacher is different. And even if he did know something, he wouldn't tell me if I asked him. He'd just go on with his stupid mutterings. If you find a way to get him here, you can ask him, but don't expect me to have anything to do with it," he said.

She looked dismally at a photograph on the wall. He sighed.

"Fine, but you're asking him. Kreacher!" A crack signaled the arrival of the bedraggled house-elf.

"Master has called Kreacher," the house-elf said, bowing quickly.

Harry turned to Hermione angrily. "Um…Kreacher, I have a question for you. Do you know anyone with the initials R.A.B.? Harry, Ron, and I have been looking for something. A locket? Do you know anything about this?"

As Harry had suspected, Kreacher pretended not to hear her. "The mudblood is talking to Kreacher again. Kreacher still won't listen. Kreacher doesn't care what she's saying. The mudblood is filth. She is spreading her filth all over Miss Bellatrix's house. This is my Mistress' house. The mudblood is in it. Kreacher won't listen to her. Kreacher won't. Master can't make him listen to the mudblood," he muttered.

"Kreacher, what do you know about R.A.B.?" Harry snapped.

The house-elf looked at him, disgusted. "R.A.B. That was my Mistress' son. Regulus. Not a disgrace. Worked for the Dark Lord. Not a blood traitor." Harry ignored him as he kept talking.

"Harry, that's it then! It's Regulus! That means it is here! You were right!"

Harry stopped her before she could go on. "Regulus was a death eater. Voldemort killed him. Well, he had him killed. He wasn't important enough for Voldemort to kill himself. It wasn't him. We're right back where we started," he said disappointedly, sitting down in a chair and rubbing his forehead. "I wish I didn't have to do this. This is all Snape's fault. He listened in on that prophecy. If it wasn't for him, I would be back at Hogwarts next week. If it wasn't for him, I'd still have parents. If it wasn't for him, Sirius and Dumbledore would still be alive! If it wasn't for him, Ginny and I…" He broke off. He'd started crying. Hermione was the only person who had ever really seen him cry.

She walked across the room, ignoring Kreacher, and hugged him. He broke away from her and opened a drawer to continue looking. She followed suit and opened a cupboard across the room.

"I don't believe this! We've looked everywhere in this entire, damn house and there's nothing! Nothing!" He threw a goblet against the wall. In the hallway, he could hear Sirius' mother's painting going at it; yelling about filthy half-bloods and mudbloods invading her house. He looked at the dent the goblet had made in the wall. It had barely missed a painting on the wall.

Harry was hit with a sudden stroke of genius. How could he not have seen it before? He ran upstairs to the drawing room, Ron and Hermione close behind him. He rushed straight to the tapestry that had magically glued itself to the wall. It was covered in scorch marks where the Blacks had blasted off family members that had 'disgraced the Black name'. Sirius wasn't on the tapestry, but Harry moved his hand next to his godfather's name. His eyes widened.

"This is it! This is the answer! We've found him! We've found R.A.B.!"