The Lord's Locket

A look at Kreacher and Regulus' retrieval of the Locket of Slytherin.

"I require a service from you, Regulus, Heir of Black," intoned the scaly, snakelike creature that sat on the self-conjured throne in the home of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

Regulus' countenance remained rigidly subservient, but within that, he was seething. He hated this monster. He hated 'it' with everything he was, since he found out all the truths about this self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort. It was a real pain to not show that hatred. It wouldn't help achieve anything at the moment. "I am but my Lord's humble servant."

The white thing sitting on the throne smiled a close-lipped smile – at least, the line that passed for its mouth curved upwards on both sides of its face.

"I want an elf, Regulus."

"An elf, milord?" dared Regulus.

"Do you dare question me?"

"Of course not, milord!" cried Regulus. "I was unable to hold my tongue out of puzzlement."

"Crucio!" cursed the white thing. Regulus writhed in agony for a few moments before Voldemort lifted the curse. "I suppose you will learn to hold your tongue henceforth, Regulus? It wouldn't do to deprive the House of Black of its Heir, would it?"

Regulus only stood, stumbling slightly as he shook. He only nodded, knowing to keep silent.

"Good. I am pleased. You are a quick learner, unlike your cousin. Do call the elf."

Regulus took a few deep breaths to regain his composure. He then softly called out, "Kreacher!"

The housekeeper and cook of the Black family's London home appeared before his favourite Black. "Master Regulus calls?" it croaked.

"Indeed I do, Kreacher. Fall to your knees in obeisance to our Lord, Kreacher."

The little elf turned his great bulbous eyes towards the white thing and immediately fell prostrate on the floor.

"The Lord has a special job for you, Kreacher. I need you to obey him as you would me."

"Yes Master!"

"Good." The white thing then looked at the elf and attempted to shred its mind with Legillimency. It was apparently satisfied, for it hissed, "You shall do, elf."

Kreacher looked positively gleeful at that. He and his master fell prostrate to the white thing again.

"You are dismissed Kreacher. I shall call for you later."

Regulus paced in his room in unease as he waited for the return of Kreacher. In the House of pureblood fanatics and equally fanatic rebels, Regulus was the one man who tried to please everyone and failed. Through his failings, though, Kreacher the house-elf had remained steadfastly by his side, even if it had been either out of a misplaced sense of loyalty or because he was the baby in the family, or some other reason entirely. Naturally, Regulus worried about Kreacher.

It was long known in the magical community that elves know when their masters are in danger. What was not known was that if the bond was strong enough – perhaps like a close emotional bond – masters knew when their elves were in trouble as well. A sudden feeling of foreboding told Regulus exactly that. Kreacher was in danger.

Unfortunately, Regulus had no means to reach Kreacher. He had no tracking charm on the elf, he couldn't ask Volde-ham for the directions to his elf, and Kreacher himself hadn't known where they would be going. Instinctively, he called for Kreacher.

The elf popped in, half-dead, an ear half-chewed off, and a hand – a dead man's rotting hand – slung across his shoulders. Volde-shite had just given Kreacher to the inferi.

"Don't make me drink it anymore!" moaned Kreacher piteously. "Please Master!"

A quick wave of Regulus' wand cleaned Kreacher and divested him of the unwanted accoutrement. Another spell at the ear healed the effects of the inferi. Crouching low near the elf, Regulus softly said, "Go rest, Kreacher. I will bring you some food. You are not to do anything till you are completely well."

It was a testament to the state of Kreacher that he didn't even protest against his master bringing him food. It probably didn't even register.

A month passed before Kreacher was well enough to resume his duties. Regulus knew to not be foolish enough as to allow Kreacher to be seen by the Malfoys or the Lestranges. Word would surely reach Volde-idiot and probably the entire House of Black and its attached Houses would go extinct.

It was yet another fortnight before Regulus confronted Kreacher.

"Kreacher!" he called.

"Yes Master?"

"Please fetch the family pensieve, please."

"Yes Master."

The pensieve was situated in front of Regulus on the table. "I want your memories of that night, Kreacher."

For the first time in Regulus' memory, Kreacher's face showed fear while dealing with his master's orders. He had not shown the same trepidation when he had scalded Sirius on Walburga's orders. Sometimes Regulus really didn't understand Kreacher and his dichotomy. Sirius hadn't cared much for the elf, but before his open rebellion, both had left each other to their own devices.

"Master, please..." Kreacher pled incompletely, his bond not allowing him to truly say what he wanted to.

"Kreacher," Regulus cut him off decisively. "The Dark Lord is not someone we should bow to. He has betrayed our world. I am going to destroy him."

"NO! You is not doings that, Master!" cried Kreacher in shock.

"You can't tell anyone this Kreacher. If you even try to hint at what I am going to do to anyone in the family, it will be clothes." Regulus never realised that his brother had not truly been disowned, for otherwise he would not have made such a proclamation.

"Master!" cried Kreacher in shock.

"Yes. I want those memories Kreacher."

And then with a baleful look at Regulus, Kreacher divested himself of the memories of that horrible night.

"Sit, elf," the white thing commanded, kicking Kreacher into the boat.

Kreacher looked down into the water and saw dirty hands and dead bodies and shuddered violently. These were dead but living! He was jerked out of the thoughts when the boat bumped gently into the small island bearing the green light.

"Come here elf," hissed the white thing. Kreacher duly obeyed, waddling over to the white thing, who handed him a gobletful of the potion. "Drink this."

The white thing had nothing to retrieve from the basin that contained the potion. It just wanted to test its effects. It had kept the potion there for nearly five years, and was wondering whether the potion lost its effects over time.

The first swallow itself told the white thing that its worries were unfounded. The elf gasped and screamed in fear. "NO MASTER! MASTER SIRIUS! KREACHER IS BEING SORRY, MASTER! MISTRESS IS BEING FORCING KREACHER TO HURT YOU!"

"The elf is not loyal to Regulus alone, then," thought the Volde-thing. "It will be disposed of anyway."

And so Kreacher drank under orders, dying with each swallow a little more.

"Water," gasped Kreacher at last.

"Drink!" ordered the white thing.

When at last the basin was empty, the white thing placed a precious piece of its sullied soul, and cast a self-refilling charm on the basin. Kreacher only glared hatefully at the thing as it sat in the boat and rode away. He crept towards the water for a drink and was soon pulled under by the inferi.

"Just as I had feared," muttered Regulus. "The turd has created soul anchors."

He looked at the elf that watched fearfully and spoke clearly and carefully, "Take me to that island, Kreacher."

"Master..."

"No. I am not going to make you drink it. I have a plan."

Kreacher obeyed. Master Regulus had never hurt him.

As soon as they reached the island, bypassing the need for the boat, Regulus conjured a goblet and reached out to take a swig and drink the potion himself.

"MASTER!" shouted Kreacher. "YOU ISN'T BEING DOING THIS!"

Regulus smiled at Kreacher. "Kreacher, the Dark Mark will kill me anyway for this betrayal. This is the only way in which I can redeem myself. You are going to take that locket and hide it at Grimmauld Place. Destroy it." And then attaching a straw to the basin and foregoing the goblet, he drank it all.

Having not stopped between swallows, the effects took some time to surface. Regulus used that time to Order Kreacher to go. Kreacher veered on the edge of disobeying his master when disaster struck. Regulus gasped and fell towards the water. He touched his lips to it, clutching and scratching away at his throat, when the first hand rose out of the water. The inferi were coming out!

"GO KREACHER! DESTROY THAT THING!" yelled Regulus.

"Master!" cried Kreacher in distress and then wailed out in sorrow, as Regulus was pulled under.

Kreacher stews alone in his failure, in bitterness as he hates the locket that killed his master, and which he cannot destroy and so has to protect till he finally can.