Remus paced nervously back and forth in front of the fireplace in the sitting room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. It had taken a while to calm the Weasleys down and explain what happened, only to have to calm them again afterward. As he had known would happen, not a single one of them blamed Harry for what he had been forced to do; now he just needed the young man himself to appear so that he could tell him that. Hermione had said to meet them, but she hadn't said when; just 'later.' He and Dora had arrived about 45 minutes ago, and he'd spent the entire time doing what he was now, much to Tonks's consternation.
"Remus, please sit down. You're making me tired just watching you," the Auror finally commented from the threadbare couch.
"Dora, you don't understand," the werewolf replied with a haunted look in his eyes. He spoke softly. "He's all I have left of James, Lily, and Sirius." Remus turned to regard her and continued. "When all of that happened in '81, I'm embarrassed to say that I wasn't even thinking about Harry. My entire world had evaporated in almost the blink of an eye, and while everyone else celebrated I ran, and when I couldn't run I hid in a bottle. For almost 3 years I lived like a gypsy, taking work where I could both in the magical and Muggle world, never making any lasting connections because every time I tried it hurt in here," he said, tapping on his breastbone. "It hurt to think that I would even contemplate replacing them in my life. I know that's not how it works," he said, forestalling her response, "but that's how it felt.
"When I finally got my shite together somewhere in early '85, I wrote to Dumbledore asking about Harry. He sent me a note back saying he was safe, though was stunningly sparse on details; I found out later it was because he'd never checked back in with the Dursleys after he'd left Harry there, per the promise he had made Petunia. The promise also encompassed everyone else; Albus wouldn't tell me where they lived because he knew that I would do anything and everything to see Harry, which would just set the Dursleys off. And for whatever reason, I didn't push the issue." Remus frowned at his own recollection. "I think somewhere subconsciously I thought that Harry, even only being 4 or 5, would reject me because of what I am, and my heart just couldn't take that. I held him as a baby, you know?" Remus asked, a small smile on his face that disappeared almost immediately. "I wasn't sure I could take him looking at me the way almost the entire rest of the world does when they find out about me.
"And so I ran again. Thankfully I didn't fall back into drinking my life away; I found a master in the States who was willing to let me apprentice for my credentials in Defense and Runes despite my condition. I buried myself in that and finally finished my qualifications in '92, just in time to take the DADA post at Hogwarts in '93." Remus had turned and laid a hand on the mantle of the fireplace, staring into the burning embers that lay there. "I thought I was finally ready to face my demons that had haunted me since that Halloween. But then Sirius escaped, and all the crazy that seems to orbit around Harry pulled me in, and . . . well, I think you know the rest.
"I was happy to see him. To get to know him. Standing there, looking so much like James and acting so much like Lily." Remus smiled. "And then I found out Sirius was innocent, and the axis of my world finally seemed to be tilting back to where it belonged. Sirius and I both decided to take our time, to heal ourselves while continuing to try and build a relationship with Harry. Baby steps. But then Voldemort was back and everything went to Hell. And then . . . Sirius died, and it all just started falling apart again.
"I love that boy like he was my own. I have since the day he was born, from the first moment Lily put him in my arms. For so long I couldn't face up to that, but now I think I'm ready. I want to help him: to learn, to grow, to find himself, whatever. It doesn't matter. He's the last link to the life I had, and a building block to the life I want. And I hadn't even taken the time to appreciate and cherish that until I thought he was going to die too, just like all the others."
"I always knew, Remus, even if you couldn't say it," came Harry's soft voice from the entry to the hallway. Remus and Tonks both turned to see Harry and Hermione, holding hands and seemingly none the worse for wear. "You and Sirius both. I know how much you both cared."
"Harry, I –" a hand from Harry stopped Remus before he could continue.
"There will be time, Remus. We'll make it. Hell, we'll build a Time Turner if we have to." As Hermione moved toward the couch Harry walked over and put a hand on the werewolf's shoulder. "You're all I have left of them too, you know. The last true Marauder. The last of my first family. I'm not letting that go without a fight." He turned back toward the women. "But that's something for another day. I think today should be about plans and explanations." Harry looked around, his brows furrowing as if something wasn't quite right. "And let's start with one for all of us. Kreacher!"
A few seconds after the summons the old house elf appeared in the room with a loud crack. "Nasty half-blood master calls Kreacher? Oh, what would mistress say if she found creatures and Mudbloods in the House of Black?"
Not in the mood to beat around the bush or try to change the elf, Harry got straight to the point. "Kreacher, there either is or was something that belonged to Voldemort in this house. Don't try to deny it, I'm more than sure. I demand that you tell me what it is, where it is, and how it came to be here." The other three seemed to want to ask him how he knew this, but he waved them off as he waited for Kreacher to answer.
The aged being struggled to fight the command from his master, but in the end the magic was too strong. "There was a locket that Kreacher and Master Regulus took from the Dark Lord." Kreacher put his head down, and everyone in the room was startled to see him start to cry. "Kreacher hates the locket. Kreacher must destroy it for Master Regulus."
Harry knelt down in front of the now sobbing house elf. "Kreacher, I need you to explain all of that, and I need you to do so right now." Kreacher looked up at Harry, and, in between breakdowns, told the story of how the locket came to be in Grimmauld Place; Regulus's 'loan' of Kreacher to Voldemort, discovering what the locket was, the elf and Regulus going to the cave to collect it, and Regulus's death at the hands of the Inferi defenders of the island the locket resided upon. Kreacher spoke of his attempts to destroy the locket, his repeated failures and self-punishment for failing his master, and how once his Mistress died the only thing that kept him going was his desire to see Master Regulus's last order fulfilled. Everyone in the room was familiar with the dedication seen among house elves, but even this seemed beyond what they would have expected of the diminutive race. At the end, though, there was one piece of information they needed that had not been given.
"Kreacher, where is the locket now?" Harry asked.
Kreacher seemed to cringe back from his master as he answered. "Kreacher does not know where the locket is."
"What happened to it? Why isn't it in this house any longer?"
The elf's eyes took on a furious stare as he answered. "The thief: Mundungus Fletcher. He came the same night Mistress Bella put an end to the unworthy betrayer." Harry had to sublimate his anger at Kreacher's description of Sirius, and both Tonks and Hermione had to keep Remus out of it. "He took many things. The silver. The Order of Merlin. And the locket."
Harry remembered running into Dung in Hogsmeade and seeing the goblets with the Black crest on them that had fallen out of his briefcase. He remembered being really upset at that time; now knowing that he had also taken Voldemort's locket was putting him to a point where the other three could feel his magic permeating the room as he stood. "Kreacher," Harry said, and something in his tone, or more likely the angry magic roiling all around the elf, caused him to immediately stop crying and stand up straight. "Find him and bring him to me. Willingly, unwillingly, I don't care as long as he's still alive. Bring him here." Surprising the humans in the room with his short bow, the elf disappeared from the room.
"Oh Harry I wish you wouldn't talk to him like that," said Hermione once Kreacher had left.
"Hermione, this is Voldemort we're talking about," he replied. "I understand that ordering house elves instead of asking them crosses some kind of line, but honestly we don't have time to do this the hard way."
After a moment, the witch nodded. "Right. Perspective," she said simply, before walking over to Harry, pulling him by the hand, plopping him down in a chair, and sitting on his lap. "Okay, Harry, now explain all that. How did you know something of Voldemort's was here?"
Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist as he took a deep breath. "I'm not exactly sure. Since everything happened earlier I've felt different. Lighter, maybe? Cleaner? I'm guessing it's because the Horcrux is gone. Well, when I walked into the house, I felt a hint of that . . . I guess what used to be there," he finished, tapping his much-reduced scar.
"I'm sorry, but can someone tell me what the hell we're talking about?" asked Tonks, the exasperation clear in her voice. Harry thought about her request. Dumbledore had asked that he not bring the Horcruxes up with anyone except Ron and Hermione. Of course, he had then spoken of them in front of Remus, and Harry wasn't particularly in a 'listen to and heed what Dumbledore says' kind of mood anyway. Besides, based on the situation he figured he would need all the help he could get, and he instinctively knew he could trust the pink-haired Auror sitting across from him.
After explaining to Tonks what they knew about Horcruxes (which was noticeably sparse), including Dumbledore saying that one had been in Harry, the Auror pondered for a moment before commenting. "That kind of makes sense, actually," Tonks offered, and she continued as the other three looked at her questioningly. "Have you ever had someone come up to you and tell you that you smell bad, but you can't tell? Then, once you've cleaned up, you can immediately smell it on what you were wearing? Maybe it's kind of like that; with this Horcrux thing inside you, you couldn't tell. But once it was removed you can pick up on others."
"So you're saying I seem to be able to sniff out Horcruxes?" Harry asked with a chuckle.
"Hey, it was the best analogy I could think of," Tonks defended her description.
"That actually makes a lot of sense," Hermione added. "Having one in you for so many years has given you a sensitivity to them now that they're not being 'masked' by the one in your head. Hopefully we can use that to find any others he might have made."
"So you got a plan, Harry, or are you just going to Gryffindor it and see what happens?" Tonks asked with a smirk.
"Well, for now the plan is to find Dung and get the locket back." Harry's face scrunched up again; something was on the very edge of his consciousness but he was having trouble bringing it to the fore. He went over the last few minutes in his mind, trying to figure out what was causing the sensation that he was missing something important. They'd come in, talked to Remus and Tonks, talked to Kreacher about Voldemort's locket . . .
"The locket," Harry said distractedly.
"What's that, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"That's why Dumbledore has been showing me all of those memories about Riddle," Harry said, and the more he thought about it the more he knew he was right. "He wasn't just telling me about the bastard's history, he was telling me what he thought the Horcruxes were!"
"Sorry, don't follow," Tonks said. "What memories?"
"Dumbledore has been giving me lessons all year, but instead of dueling or Transfiguration he's been showing me memories of Riddle's history before he became Voldemort. The first memory was from before he was born, showing me his mother, uncle, and grandfather. Voldemort's mother, Merope, was wearing a locket that belonged to Slytherin in the memory, and Marvolo was wearing a ring that he said had belonged to some old family I can't remember. Dumbledore had the ring; he said himself he'd gotten it around the same time he'd hurt his hand. What if the ring was another Horcrux, and Dumbledore got hurt destroying it?" Hermione gasped, unable to refute the path Harry's thoughts were traveling.
"What other memories did he show you?" Remus asked, having moved up to the very edge of the couch cushion.
"There was one about when Dumbledore first told Riddle he was a wizard, and then one where Riddle met his uncle. And the false one from Slughorn. That's it. Nothing in those seemed focused on an object or anything like that." Harry stopped and pondered for a second before speaking again. "Slughorn's false memory was him telling Riddle to get out after he'd been asked about Horcruxes."
"You don't think he knows how to make one, do you?" offered Tonks.
Hermione could only shrug her shoulders. "He doesn't really seem the type. Yes, he's quite slimy and I feel the need to check if I still have all my fingers after I shake his hand, but he doesn't actually seem evil. And if Voldemort wanted this information, and with how Dumbledore seems especially eager to keep the information contained, we have to assume the process to make one is quite distasteful. I don't think he has it in him."
"But it's the only thing that makes sense if Slughorn was ashamed enough to deliberately falsify a memory," the Metamorphmagus responded.
"I'm with Hermione on this one," Remus added. "Maybe he gave Voldemort clues to where he could find out more about them. Or said he'd put him in touch with one of his Slug Club alums who might have known. Without the real memory we can't know what Dumbledore's looking for."
"I'll deal with Slughorn when we get back to the castle," Harry said, and from his tone none of the other three doubted what Harry meant by 'deal with.' Harry was going to get the information that he needed; after what Riddle had done today he was playing for keeps.
"I hope Dung still has the locket when Kreacher finds him," Hermione said, trying to change the subject. "Dumbledore said that the diary that possessed Ginny was a Horcrux, and she was just writing in it. Can you imagine what would happen to someone after wearing a piece of Voldemort all day?" She shivered at the thought, and the other three carried worried looks over the possible implications.
"Okay, that's just not funny," Tonks said after a dry swallow.
"We need to figure out how Dumbledore destroyed the ring," Harry thought out loud. "A Basilisk fang worked on the diary, but that might have been because it was a sharp, corrosive object hitting paper." Harry blushed slightly. "And I don't think how Hermione and I got rid of the one in my head will work either. But if Kreacher couldn't break the locket I'm going to imagine it takes more than just 'kill it with fire,'" Harry sighed before continuing. "I should probably have that 'reckoning' talk with Dumbledore sooner rather than later; I know he's meant well, but it seems like everything he does that involves me just ends up fucking me over worse, and I'm bloody tired of it. And . . . something tells me he hasn't got a lot of time left."
"What makes you say that, Harry?" queried Remus.
"Well, something obviously is wrong with his hand, probably some kind of curse to look at it. And it must be bad for no one to have been able to fix it. And he's . . . what? A hundred and twenty? One thirty?"
"Not quite one hundred and sixteen," answered Hermione automatically.
"Close enough," said Harry. "He's no spring chicken, and an injury like that at his age can't be good. In addition to his age and his hand, there have been at least two attempts on his life this year; first the necklace that got Katie and then the liquor bottle Slughorn had." Harry ruthlessly fought down the anger that welled up at the thought of both of those incidents; it would do him no good at the moment. "Hermione, I think we need to run with your plan to get Draco talking as well."
"Malfoy? What has that little blond ponce been up to?" Remus asked.
"Harry's gut is telling him he had something to do with both of the assassination attempts," Hermione offered. "I'm not as sure, but if six years of being near Harry has taught me anything it's to listen to Harry's gut. So we want to see what he knows, and if he really did have anything to do with it."
"And God help him if he did," growled Harry.
"Harry, finding out who did those things is my job, not yours," Tonks offered. Harry just turned to her and stared.
"Ron's dead and Katie's been in St. Mungo's since first term because of all that. I know you're an Auror, Tonks, and that investigating these things is your responsibility, but let me ask you a couple of questions. First; is anyone even trying to figure out what happened to Katie Bell, or has everyone in the Ministry already forgotten that she was subjected to the Imperius Curse and almost died at the hands of a cursed Dark object?" Tonks had no answer; not that Harry seemed to be expecting one as he kept on talking. "Second; do you have any evidence whatsoever, or do you think you can get any short of strapping the little shit down and pumping him full of Veritaserum, to support my claim that Draco Malfoy is somehow involved in any of this? And if so, do you think you'll be able to charge him? And if so, do you think Lucy's money along with all the favors Daddy dearest probably has to cash in at the Ministry will make it so that anything other than him walking out the door with a 'Sorry about that' happens to him?" The Auror could only shake her head impotently; she believed in the law but she was also a realist, and knew that pretty much everything Harry had just said was exactly how things would play out should she follow the Malfoy angle. In addition, she was sure that if she were to arrest Draco on suspicion of being the culprit without any evidence, more than likely it would mean the end of her short career. She put her head down dejectedly as Remus sat beside her and took her hand in his.
Harry took a deep breath to calm himself before he continued. He wasn't mad at Tonks at all; he was mad at the situation and the limitations placed on her. "I know you would if you could Tonks, but I need you both to understand something. I cannot let this pass. Evidence or no, I know in my bones that Draco Malfoy had a hand in the murder of Ron Weasley. I cannot, will not, stand by and let him get away with it. Or worse, injure or kill someone else. If I find out for sure that he was involved, he's going to pay."
"Harry you can't go all vigilante, playing judge, jury and executioner," Remus argued.
"What would you have me do, Remus?" Harry argued back, a clear edge in his voice. "First off, being a vigilante is, essentially, exactly what everyone, including the Ministry, is asking me to be. They want me, ME, a 16-year-old kid, to walk up to Voldemort and plant him in the ground, and so much the better if he takes some Death Eaters with him. I haven't been trained for that. I'm not an Auror, or a Hit Wizard, or an Unspeakable. Hell, I'm not even the damned Ministry janitor. But even the Minister himself wants me to come in and be the poster child for a war that everyone wants to fight but no one is willing to. Well, if no one else will then it necessarily falls to me. You call it vigilantism; I call it protecting me and mine. These people have already taken my parents, my godfather, and my brother from me; they will not take any more of the people I love as long as I have a say in the matter.
"Second, you know as well as I do that the Ministry either can't or won't do fuck-all about this thing with Malfoy. You, perhaps better than anyone in this room, understand just how much corruption, bigotry, ignorance, and incompetence exists there. Lucius Malfoy's money and power, even with him being 'disgraced'" Harry made air quotes as he said the word "and in Azkaban, will see to it that the truth is never set free, that justice isn't done. The system will fail Ron just like it has failed me in the past. Just like it has failed you, Remus, and Katie, and Sirius, and who knows who else.
"So what else can I possibly do that will allow me to sleep at night? If either of you know of something, anything, please tell me."
"You've met Scrimgeour and Robards; you know they're on your side now," Tonks tried.
"Scrimgeour is a politician, and Robards is bound by the same laws as you, Tonks. And this wouldn't be decided by either of them anyway but by the courts, which you know are owned by people like Malfoy and run by people like Umbridge."
"I just don't want you doing something you'll regret later, Harry," Tonks offered meekly.
"And I appreciate that, Tonks, but the only thing I regret with regard to Draco Malfoy is not pulling the truth out of him right after Katie was hurt," Harry growled in response. "If I had just listened to myself Ron would still be alive."
"Harry, you don't know that, and you still don't know for sure he did anything," Hermione stated, trying to be the voice of reason.
"I know, Hermione. But that's what I'm talking about. Making sure I'm right, and then making sure he gets what he deserves." He looked over at Tonks, who seemed very uncomfortable with the whole topic. "Tonks?" He ventured tentatively, and the Auror looked over at him. "I know I'm talking pretty hard, but please trust me enough to do what I think is right." She closed her eyes for a few moments before taking a deep breath and nodding slightly.
"I think we should table this discussion for now," Remus interrupted, desperate to again change the subject before the law woman in the room was forced to take some kind of action. "Harry, Molly and Arthur would like for you to stop by the Burrow tomorrow if you can. They're understandably upset about what happened but none of that is directed at you; they believe, the same as all of us, that you did what you had to do." Harry nodded his head to acknowledge he'd heard the older man but otherwise stayed silent. "And on the Voldemort front, you know that if there's anything you need done while you're still at Hogwarts you just let me know and I'll see what I can do."
"Well, I'd love it if the two of you would agree to train me up a bit? Remus, you were an amazing Defense teacher, and Tonks you're an Auror. I'm sure I could learn a lot from the two of you, and I'm also sure I'm going to need it." Both adults readily agreed, if any to make sure they kept tabs on the boy, and they made a tentative plan to start once Summer Term began. "Remus, do you know how to make those two-way mirrors like the one Sirius gave me?" Harry asked, his heart aching at the thought that he could have prevented so much if he'd just remembered to open the package and had found the damned mirror. "That would make it easier for us to talk."
Remus smiled. "I think I still have the potion recipe and the rune patterns written down somewhere," he answered. "It'll take me some time to dig them up, but it should be doable."
"Brilliant. And on that note, I know it's still a bit early but I'm going to turn in."
"You're staying here?" Tonks asked incredulously.
"Yeah. My first meeting with Hermione's parents was a little . . . strained, and even if we've settled the initial differences I'm not going to try and push it by asking to sleep in the room across the hall from her."
"Did they catch you doing the horizontal mambo?" Tonks asked as she wiggled her eyebrows.
"No, Harry beat up my dad before hanging him upside down and putting the fear of God into him," Hermione responded, smirking as both Tonks's and Remus's eyes got huge.
"To be fair to him, he thought we had done the horizontal mambo," Harry offered. "Still, he deserved it; he was being an arsehole."
"Harry!" Hermione scolded.
"Am I wrong?"
"Well . . . no . . . but he got better."
"Yeah, after I hung him upside down and put the fear of God into him. If only everyone was that easy," Harry grumbled the last part.
"I'm sure there could have been a less combative way to accomplish that."
Harry shrugged. "My way was faster."
"Anyway," Tonks interrupted, "do you want us to stay here with you? There are rooms set aside for the Order."
Harry thought about it a moment before shaking his head. "No, I think I'll be okay. You guys go on home. We'll catch back up tomorrow, let's say for lunch? We can go to the Burrow after that."
"Sure Harry," Remus answered as he stood up. "Try to get some sleep, and we'll see you in the morning." Everyone in the room stood and exchanged hugs before the older two people left. Once they had, Hermione turned toward Harry.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"
"I'm sure I do want you to stay," Harry replied as he wrapped his arms around her. "But you see your parents rarely enough as it is, I can't ask you to. You should seize every opportunity to be with your family."
Hermione's response to that small bit of selflessness was to kiss the man she loved deeply. "I love you, Harry."
"I love you too Hermione Jean. I'll see you in the morning, yeah?"
Hermione nodded and Harry walked her to the door. One last kiss and she walked across the street to the small park there. The crack of Apparition signaled her departure, and Harry closed the door quickly before resting his head against it. He really didn't want her to leave, and he really didn't want to stay at Grimmauld Place, especially alone, but he knew Hermione and her family needed each other right now; it was the best way for her to continue her healing process. Harry knew that he also needed time to heal, but despite her father's change of attitude after Harry had . . . explained everything to them. . . he felt like he was intruding at the Grangers and would just gum up the works for both Hermione and her parents if he were there.
And so Harry turned from the door, slogged himself upstairs to the room he and Ron had shared before Fifth Year, and collapsed on the bed before drifting off into a fitful sleep.
{-}
A few hours later found Hermione tossing and turning in her own bed. She'd returned home and had a deep discussion with her parents about a number of topics. Harry and her relationship with him. Ron. The events of the last week. Her future plans. Her continued schooling. Whether they should pack up and abandon Britain. There had been a few laughs but a larger number of tears, and the strain of the day had finally hit Hermione hard, so much so that for the first time since she was 9 her father had carried her upstairs to bed. Deep sleep eluded her though; she either couldn't get comfortable or couldn't get her mind to stop whirring or both. Mostly she found herself worrying about Harry, about whether he was okay. It occurred to her that this was the first night they had spent apart since Ron died, and if his reaction to being alone was anything like hers they'd have to figure something out for the future, since they wouldn't always be able to spend the night together.
There was something she could do in the present, however. Still dressed in the comfortable clothes she had been wearing since their shower earlier she walked downstairs. After scribbling a quick note for her parents letting them know she'd be back for breakfast she then left the house, walking a short distance away before Apparating back to the park outside Grimmauld Place. She entered the old manor quietly and stole upstairs, somehow knowing what room Harry would be in. Sure enough, she found him in the second floor bedroom and, like she had guessed, he was tossing and turning, either unconsciously looking for a comfortable position or caught in one of his (unfortunately many) nightmares. Debating with herself for a moment, she then quickly shed her shoes and bra and crawled into bed beside Harry. She reached for him and, even asleep, he instinctively reached back for her, pulling her tightly to him and immediately settling down into a much calmer sleep. She kissed his temple lightly and settled in next to him, finally drifting off herself with his arms wrapped lovingly around her, to the sound and sensation that had soothed her to sleep every night since last Saturday; Harry's steady heartbeat.
{-}
The Sun was just peaking through the dirty window in the room as Harry slowly came to, and a smile immediately came across his face as he noticed his field of vision impaired by Hermione's brown hair. She was cuddled into him, her wonderful body pressed tightly against him as she used the left side of his chest as her pillow. Unlike that first morning they had woken up together there was no panic from him at his reaction to her presence so close to him; after their moments of closeness in the last week, and especially yesterday, he didn't feel like there was much left to be embarrassed about. He ran his hand up and down her spine softly and was entranced by the soft mewing sound she made as she started to wake up. She turned her head up to his as she pushed her body forward, catching his lips in what started out as a soft 'good morning' kiss that gradually became more intense as the minutes passed. When their kiss finally ended Hermione has lost her sweatpants and was astride him, a few thin pieces of fabric all that separated them from taking their budding romance to an entirely new level. Both were panting as their foreheads touched, her hands on either side of his head and Harry's firmly attached to the smooth skin of her hips just above the waistline of her knickers. As had happened so many times through the course of their friendship, a conversation without words took place between them as they tried to catch their breath. It was Harry who finally gave voice to their exchange.
"Not yet, love," he said softly and simply.
"I know," Hermione responded. "This is all too new, and we both are still way too emotional to approach this with any sense of rationality."
Harry nodded in agreement "But when we're ready . . ."
"Together."
"Together," Harry repeated before pulling her down for another loving kiss.
{-}
A short while later, as the teens got up to begin their day, Harry noticed they were not alone. "Hedwig!" he exclaimed upon seeing his snowy owl waiting and resting on the far bedpost. Her large yellow eyes took in her human as he approached, and she held out her leg for him to take what she carried. "I'm sorry I don't have any treats for you girl. Did you manage to get any hunting done last night?" A bark that seemed to be an affirmative had Harry smiling at her. "Good girl," he said as he gently pet her for a moment before turning back toward Hermione, who had re-dressed herself properly and was sitting cross-legged on the bed. He walked back toward her as he opened the missive Hedwig had brought him.
"Anything good?" she asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.
". . . maybe?" he replied tentatively. "It's from Gringotts. They want me to stop by and discuss my letter. Nothing about whether they agree or if they want to beat me senseless, though."
"Well, only one way to find out. Depending on how long we are at the Burrow we might be able to go later today; otherwise it may have to wait a couple of weeks until Easter Break. And we need to talk to the Twins, too; we really need to see if we can get their Portkey idea off the ground."
Any response Harry might have had was interrupted by a loud crack and a heavy weight landing on the other bed, disturbing a resting Hedwig who fluttered over to on top of the dresser. As the creaking from the old bedsprings settled they saw Kreacher with a look that could only be described as 'smugly evil' standing on top of a writhing burlap sack. "Kreacher has brought the thief to Master as he asked."
"Let me outta here you bleedin' menace!" came a muffled cry from the sack.
"Petrificus Totalus," a now-standing Hermione intoned with her wand pointed at the sack, and it suddenly went quiet and very rigid.
"Excellent job, Kreacher. Truly well done," Harry said to Kreacher. "Why don't you stick around and we'll see what the sack has to say for itself?" Kreacher seemed to take a rather perverse pleasure in stomping down on the sack below him as hard as he could as he stepped off of who they assumed was a now-Petrified Mundungus Fletcher. A quick Cutting Charm to open the sack confirmed that, and with a look similar to the one Kreacher had when he'd arrived Harry looked down at the stock-still Order member. "Hello again, Dung. We never got to finish our last conversation, so I thought now would be an excellent opportunity for you to explain why you felt inclined to steal from me, and how you're going to make it right. I'll warn you now that if I don't like your answers I'm going to let Kreacher get the truth out of you. He is also most displeased that you've stolen from the House of Black." The captive's eyes shot toward the old house elf, who was standing on the bed looking at him with a maniacal gleam that promised that Dung would not enjoy that at all. "Now, let's get started. Hermione, if you would do the honors?"
"Expelliarmus. Incarcerous. Petrificus Discoperiere," Hermione intoned in order, Mundungus's wand flying to her hand before ropes bound him. The Full-Body Bind being lifted saw him begin talking rapid-fire.
"Whatcha doin' all that for? I ain't done noffin' wrong," he said with conviction. "Whassa matter which'u, siccing a bloody 'ouse elf on me?"
"Dung, listen to me very closely," Harry said, grabbing the man's head and bringing his own very close, fighting off his gag reflex at the smell of tobacco, alcohol, and bad hygiene the man gave off. "Yesterday I declared war on the Death Eaters, put a Bludger-sized hole through Bellatrix Lestrange's chest, and made Voldemort piss his robes and run away." Harry wasn't positive about the last one, that it was fear that caused Riddle to flee, but he knew that was the story making the rounds and decided to use it to his advantage in this instance. "I really haven't got time for your bullshit, so I'm going to ask once, and if you don't answer me quickly and truthfully, Hermione and I are going to go have breakfast while Kreacher asks you, understand? Good. Now: Where. Is. The. Locket. That. You. Stole?"
Mundungus was all set to try and bluff his way out of it like he always did, until he saw the look in Harry's eyes. Dung was a survivor, and he managed that by knowing his place in the food chain; who he could shine on and who he should avoid. And right now, despite his captor's age, he knew he was staring into the eyes of a very hacked-off Alpha predator; bluffing was a one-way road to pain, of that he was sure. "I gave it to some Ministry witch so that she didn't take me in for floggin' me wares without a license."
"What was her name?"
"No name. Didn't want to know. Just wanted her to be on her merry. Ugly bird, though. Reminded me of a giant pink toad."
Harry let Dung go and brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to stave off the coming headache. "You have got to be kidding me."
Behind him, Hermione flopped down on the bed before burying her head in her hands. "Harry," she began, "what could you possibly have done in a past life to make your karma like an episode of the Benny Hill Show?"
"I'm not sure, but I'd like to have words with myself about it if I ever meet me. But at least there's one good thing."
"Oh? And what, pray tell, would that be Mr. Potter?"
"She's already such an evil bitch that it's not likely the locket is going to adversely affect her. And if it does, I really don't care. Actually, a small part of me kind of hopes that it eats her soul, as small and disgusting a meal as that would be."
"Huh. You're right, that does make me feel a bit better. But Harry, and know that I say this with all the love in my heart; if our first date turns out to be toad hunting Pomfrey will need a month to fix what I'll do to you."
"Duly noted, love." Harry smirked as he looked over at her. "What about the second date?"
A/N: As I hope you've all figured out by now, I'm trying hard not to bash too hard on popular fanfic targets and give them "reasonable" (yes I lose that term a bit loosely) explanations for why events surrounding Harry's life have played out like they have. This chapter was my stab at the "Where the F was Remus all those years" chapter.
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