Harry Potter and the Curse of V'Ardian
Chapter 31
Of Grimmauld and Ghosts
Standard Disclaimers Apply
A/N: Nearly three weeks between my last two updates! I'm so sorry but I just haven't had time to post my stuff. I promise I'll try to get it back to one week or less :) I had some questions about why Harry would kill Dumbledore. I apologise profusely if I did not make this clear enough. It was because of the prophecy. Just about the only thing keeping Voldemort from winning is Dumbledore. The prophecy says that Harry will restore Voldemort to the height of his power. For that to happen Dumbledore had to die and Harry had to do it. If you don't like it, then too bad, cos that's the story. Harry isn't evil, per se, but he's in control of some pretty evil magic and has to do some pretty evil stuff. He doesn't like it though, so he's still good.
oOoOo
The first three days in Grimmauld Place were stressful. Harry was tired, Katherine was upset, and Emily was thoroughly sick of being the go-between. She was torn between wanting to comfort her best friend, finding out what was wrong with her brother, and telling them to pull their heads out and sort out their issues.
Things finally came to a head on the fifth day, when Emily demanded that they talk. She seated them at the dining room table across from each other and sat between them.
"Now I don't know about you two," she said, "but I would prefer my holidays to be enjoyable. What could possibly be so bad that you refuse to talk to each other?"
Harry looked down at the table. No matter how else he felt, he was thankful that she had not told Emily of what had happened.
"Well?" demanded Emily when neither of them answered her.
"Why don't you tell her, Harry," said Katherine, in a tone that was halfway to being icy but didn't have the heart. Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair.
"It wasn't Snape who killed Dumbledore," he said. "It wasn't even Malfoy."
Emily rolled her eyes.
"I know Severus didn't do it. But if it wasn't Malfoy then who was it?"
Harry glanced briefly at Emily, his eyes searching her face. He didn't want to tell her, but the time had come and he wouldn't lie.
"I did," he said softly. "I killed Dumbledore."
Emily blinked and gave a short, humourless laugh, which stopped as soon as she saw the look on Katherine's face.
"Katherine, is it true?"
Katherine nodded, looking down at her hand and biting her lip. Emily looked shell shocked.
"How could you, Harry?" she asked, her gaze angry and disappointed. Harry couldn't look at her.
He related the tale of the two prophecies.
"Dumbledore would have died that night, regardless of who did it, but it had to be me for this war to end quickly. Snape made an Unbreakable Vow to Malfoy's mother to finish the job if Malfoy couldn't do it, and I did it to save either of them from taking his life."
"And you're a vampire?" Emily asked slowly, her expression unsure.
Harry nodded. Emily turned to Katherine.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked her. Katherine reached out and they grasped each other's hands.
"I'm sorry, Em," she whispered. "I promised I wouldn't."
And then they were both crying and hugging each other, and Harry felt more cut off than he ever had before. He stood unnoticed and left the room quickly. Unshed tears blurred his vision and he wiped them angrily away. He slammed the door of his room and went straight to his trunk, ripping out the journal. He found a quill and ripped open the cover.
Who are you? He wrote angrily, his script spiky and agitated, the nib of the quill ripping cruelly into the page. A flowing script answered his inquiry, snaking gracefully across the page.
This is the book of the Dead, it said. What is your name?
Harry stared in shock at the page. The book of the Dead?
My name is of no consequence, he wrote. What is this book used for?
It is a means of contacting the Dead. Long ago there were other uses for it, but I suspect they have long been forgotten.
Can I contact anyone? Harry wrote, his heart pounding in excitement.
No, the book replied, and Harry's heart sunk. Only those who have unfinished business in the physical realm or have knowledge of this journal may seek it out and use it.
Harry sighed, determined to finish the job that Dumbledore and R.A.B. had started.
I need to speak with Regulus Black, Harry wrote. The book seemed to pause for a second, and suddenly the pages began flipping over, so fast that they blurred. Thousands of pages seemed to pass; far more than he had first thought were in the thin journal. The pages slowed, stopped, and a neat cursive script greeted him.
I am Regulus Black, it said.
Harry wasted no time in extracting the information he wanted.
Why were you killed by Lord Voldemort?
Because I betrayed him. I had come to learn of his Horcruxes, and I set out to destroy him.
How many did you destroy?
Only one. The Dark Lord stored part of his soul within the castle of Hogwarts, and this is the one I found first. I came upon a second, but my life was taken before I could dispose of it.
Yes, I know where it is.
You are seeking them as well? You wish to destroy him?
Yes.
I only know of the two that I found. There are six.
I think I know where the others are. You don't have to worry about that.
The journal seemed to radiate approval.
Good.
I have to go now, Harry wrote.
Farewell, then, and good luck. I hope I do not see you soon.
Thankyou. Tell your brother that his godson misses him.
Harry closed the book before Regulus could reply and breathed a deep sigh, closing his eyes. He laid the journal in his trunk and closed the lid, casting a secure locking charm. Hesitating for only a second, he opened the door and descended the stairs.
He passed the entrance to the kitchen but did not look in; he could hear Katherine and Emily talking in low voices and did not wish to disturb them. Instead he turned to the door opposite that of the kitchen and opened it slowly. He entered the dark room and closed the door behind him. He could feel it more, now that he was aware of it; the malevolent presence that he had encountered when he had been in here with Tonks. His gaze went straight to the alabaster bust in the corner and he strode over to it, taking in the locket and matching earrings. He strode over to it and, taking a deep breath, removed the locket from around the neck.
A tingle of familiarity shot through his hands. He could feel the magic surrounding it, the same magic that resided within him. He wondered how to destroy it. He sent a locking charm at the door and placed the locket on a small table. Searching the room, he found a large stone paperweight. He raised it high above his head and brought it crashing down, but as soon as it came within a foot of the locket it seemed to slip sideways and hit the table with a loud bang.
Having not really expected that to work, Harry shot a Reductor curse at it, but the locket proved to be Impervious. He tried prying it open, but that, too, proved futile, as it was clasped tightly shut. Frowning, he swung himself into a chair and picked up the locket, rubbing his thumb over the shiny surface. He wondered how Dumbledore had destroyed the ring, and then suddenly it struck him. Dumbledore had injured his hand when he had destroyed the Horcrux, injured it because he had been wearing it. This brought Harry up short. Remembering the state of Dumbledore's hand, he was weary of putting it around his neck.
Steeling himself as he realised that it was the only way, Harry slipped the fine golden chain over his head. The effect was instantaneous. He was immersed in a sea of pain, and he sank blindly to the floor, trying fruitlessly to remove the locket from his person. How was it possible that the diary had been destroyed so easily, yet this locket was causing him so much pain? Perhaps the younger Voldemort who had created the Horcrux from the diary had not yet discovered the joys of inflicting pain on others.
Harry clawed at the locket, and found that it now opened with ease. Instinctively he brought it close to his face and saw the photograph that lay within it. It was a woman, and although she was not beautiful, Harry thought he could see a resemblance to the young Tom Riddle. He wondered if it were his mother.
With a gasp, Harry wrenched the locket over his head, realising just how stupid he had been. He had no idea how to destroy the Horcrux.
He stared at it for a moment before realising- he could not destroy it, but he could transfer its properties. Harry let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. He let his magic seep out of his chest and fold over the locket, and there it fought with Voldemort's magic and Voldemort's soul. Harry felt the physicality of the locket and the magic, and he separated the two, and suddenly Voldemort's soul was free, and only Harry kept it from returning to its owner.
Hurriedly he confined it within himself, placing it with the other extracts of Voldemort's magic. He felt the change within himself, because he had experienced it before and it was familiar to him. It changed him on such a basic level that if he had not secreted it away he would have become a different person.
He opened his eyes and flung the locket away, staring at it where it lay. The malignant presence no longer dominated the room. He could feel it inside himself now.
He stood, feeling an abrupt desire for fresh air, and fled the house. He ran through the garden, passing the bridge and the stream, and the flower whose petals were now shut, and sat on the bench in the clearing. He lowered his head into his hand with a sigh running one through his hair. He felt sick; shuddered at the thought that he had willingly ingested a piece of Voldemort.
He felt like he was drowning.
oOoOo
A/N: A short chapter, I know. And a while since I updated, too. Sorry. I can't decide if I have too much to do or if I'm not organised enough. I think sometimes it's one and sometimes it's the other. I'm truly sorry to the people who are disappointed at Dumbledore's death. Actually, I take that back. When I read HBP I wasn't quite happy with the way it happened, but in this situation I found it fitting. And I really hate how Snape killed him. I was very disappointed in that. Who else thought that? Remember to review! I'm working on another story at the moment, a sequel to The Strength of White. Read them. They're both one-shots, but quite long. I think they're my best so far. Despite this, my next chapter should come quicker- Wujjawoo.
Chapter 32: Of Seventh Year and Secrets