Author's Note: Here is the answer to my evil cliffhanger. Not much to say this time. This chapter is dedicated to JiyuHotellKodai for being the only one to answer a question correctly. Congrats for figuring out who Rose's husband is. R&R.

Chapter Five- An Unexpected Guest:

"Sirius?"

The man stared at Harry for a moment and then stuttered "I- I-". Just then, Hermione noticed something and gave Harry's sleeve a tug to get his attention. He barely noticed. He was too busy staring at a man who was supposed to be dead.

"Harry," Hermione said, pulling on his sleeve, "oh, Harry, look at the clock." Having absolutely no idea what she was talking about, he looked at her blankly. "The clock on the mantle, Harry," she pointed out, "the one that tells where everyone is instead of telling time." He looked up at the clock and read each of the hands. Some of the people were people none of them knew. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were shown as 'Home'. Ted (Andromeda's husband), Nymphadora, Narcissa, and two other women named Rosanne and Rachel were shown as at 'Other Residence', meaning they were at home, but didn't live at Grimwald Place. Andromeda's and Ginny's hands pointed at 'Friend's House'. Someone named Kassandra was shown as being at 'Relative's House'. Someone named Rigel was shown as at 'School'. Lucius Malfoy's and Rodolphus Lestrange's hands were both pointing to 'Trouble' because both of them had been thrown in Azkaban, yet again. Draco's hand had moved from 'Mortal Peril' to 'Danger'. Apparently Voldemort had decided not to kill the boy. Bellatrix's hand pointed to 'Unknown'. Remus' hand pointed to 'Traveling'. Sirius' hand was still pointing to 'Lost' as it had been since he died. Then Harry noticed that there was a fourth hand pointed at 'Home'. One that was labeled 'Regulus'.

Harry's heart fell. Before anyone else could say anything, the portrait of Mrs. Black that hung in the hallway burst into shouting, "My son! My son has come home to me at last! No more blood traitors, half-breeds, or mudbloods in the Noble House of Black. My good son has returned to me and will rid the house of all those filthy, undeserving, excuses for wizards."

Regulus shook his head and said forlornly, "I'd hoped she would've been gone by now." Then he walked past the children into the hallway.

Upon seeing him, Mrs. Black exclaimed, "Regulus!"

"Hello Mother," he answered sullenly.

"I thought both my sons were dead, but my good son has beenreturned to me!" To the shock of the quartet, she actually sounded quite overjoyed.

"Yes, I came back, but you don't need to sound so happy," he said bitterly, "because I'm not kicking anyone out of this house. And get straight: I'm not your 'good' son. Sirius was the good one. I was the fuck up. You're just too insane to see it. So just shut up." He hadn't yelled, he hadn't even raised his voice, but his tone was furious.

"What?" Mrs. Black was shocked at her younger son's show of disrespect. "Don't you talk to me like that, young man-"

"I'll talk to you however the hell I bloody well please, you old hag!" Now he was yelling. "You're dead. You have no say over this family or this house. By the way, I'm not the head of the family, if you recall. Sirius' godson is. And I'm glad. I just wish I could have been here when my brother was still head of the family, what's left of it anyway. Maybe the two of together could have gotten the message across to you: Your days of prejudice and bigotry are over. Your influence over any one in this house is nonexistent. Give up, woman, and just accept the facts. You. Are. Dead. And good riddance." When Regulus stopped yelling, something happened that was practically a miracle, something that anyone who had ever even visited Grimwald Place while it was still Order headquarters would have paid a fortune to see.

Mrs. Black actually shut up. She just stared at Regulus, absolutely speechless. With a triumphant look on his face, Regulus easily pulled the curtains closed and cast a very strong sealing spell so that Mrs. Black could not will them back open. There was a very unexpected, very heavy silence for some time, that is, until Hermione finally composed herself.

"So," She asked, just to confirm it beyond a shadow of a doubt, "You're Sirius' brother?"

"Er, yah," the man answered uncomfortably, looking at the floor. "That would be the reason I was able to find this house. As for you all, I'm guessing, though I'm not positive, that my brother was living here until he- well, I'm guessing he was living here. I'm also guessing that you four know how to get here because you came to visit him."

"Well, you guessed right," Harry replied, "but how do we know we can trust you? You're a deatheater." Regulus smiled, almost smirking, and his eyes took on a mischievous glint that reminded the quartet of Fred and George (or on occasion Gred and Forge) right before they pulled one of their pranks. Harry imagined that Sirius must have worn a similar expression whenever he went on one of his 'expeditions' with the other Marauders.

"Was a deatheater, was, but I defected."

"Wait a minute, Ginny interrupted. "You're right. Sirius told us you defected. But you're supposed to be dead. After you defected, you were supposedly killed by Voldemort's loyal deatheaters."

"Again, supposedly. They did try. Merlin, if it had been a NEWTs or OWLs exam, I would have given them an O for effort. They managed to beat the hell out of m. I was so bloody and battered that they just assumed that I'd die soon from blood loss and that they'd done their job of hurrying my death along. So, the idiots that they thankfully were left me in an alley in muggle London to die. But I had healing potions with me. I was expecting to be attacked, you see, and-"

"Actually, I don't see," Hermione cut in quite sharply. "Why would you expect to be attacked? In fact, why did the even attack you to begin with? Plenty of other people defected and Voldemort might have been furious, but he never sent out an entire hit squad after any of them." She looked at him pointedly, in what Ron had termed her McGonagall impression, waiting for an answer.

"They weren't sent to kill me. There was no need for it. They all assumed I would die within several days of my defection. If the idiots, or even the Dark Lord for that matter, had actually thought about it for longer than five seconds, they would have realized that I should by all rights have died with in precisely forty-eight hours."

"Then why did they attack you?" This time, Ron was the one with a question. All this time, the gears in Harry's brain had slowly been piecing things together, and with Regulus' next answer, the last piece fell into place.

"Because they were looking for something. I had stolen something from the Dark Lord and he wasn't too pleased about it to say the-"

"Regulus Augustus Black!" Harry exclaimed this in a booming voice, effectively silencing everyone else in the kitchen (They had all moved into that room during the interrogation). "Your name is Regulus Augustus Black. Your initials are R.A.B. They were looking for the locket." Everyone else stared at the Boy-Who-Lived. Neither Ron nor Ginny believed that Harry could be right. If he were, then Regulus should be dead like Dumbledore. Hermione did believe him, but was stunned that Harry had figured out who R.A.B. was before she did. Regulus himself was just shocked that anyone even knew of the locket's existence, let alone the fact that it had been stolen, not to mention the tiny detail that it had been he who had done so.

"How do you even know the locket exists," Regulus asked Harry, almost afraid of the expression on the boy's face.

"Because of this," Harry spat, pulling something out of his robe pocket and hurling it down on the table. When the object hit the table, it opened and a slip of paper fell out. Regulus stared at the two items on the table. One was the fake locket and the other was the note he had left for the Dark Lord.

All he could choke out was, "Who had to die for you to get that?" His voice was filled with guilt. He had killed enough people as a Deatheater. He didn't need anyone else's blood on his hands.

With a look of pure hatred and in a voice that was deathly cold, Harry answered, "Albus Dumbledore." Several emotions flashed across the man's face as he heard this. First and foremost, there was fear. To him, Harry seemed eerily like the Dark Lord at the moment. Regulus would even have sworn under Veritaserum that he saw the boy's eyes glint with red. Then Harry's fury seemed to all but vanish as he fixed Regulus with a piercing stare, waiting for some kind of response. This too reminded Regulus of the Dark Lord, but it merely kept him extremely cautious instead of making him fear for his life. Thus, the second emotion to flash across his face was shock, before his expression settled on quilt. He did not say a word, much to Harry's vexation.

Harry didn't know what had changed about him a moment ago that was enough to frighten a grown wizard so much, but he did know he had been picturing Voldemort at the time. Figuring that somehow his visualization had induced Regulus' fear, and deciding that fear was the most effective way to get answers, Harry focused on the actual bond between himself and Voldemort. He pictured the Dark Lord at his most manipulative, controlling, and terrifying. Then he pulled all that he associated with the image toward himself as if it were a physical object. He had no idea that his eyes had turned completely red, however, he was not the least bit surprised at the cold, almost mocking tone his voice had suddenly taken on or at the fact that his voice had become almost a hiss. "Tell me then, Regulusss," he commanded, "Why aren't you dead?" His three friends eyed him quite nervously, especially Ginny, all of them frightened that he might be possessed. They had no way of knowing that Harry had called up this strange variety of a glamour spell himself. It was after all a question Voldemort would very much have liked to know the answer to. The temperature in the room had dropped at least ten degrees. What frightened them the most though, was that his eyes were fully red and his aura was radiating hatred and darkness. Regulus, both out of instinct and out of shock was terrified half out of his wits. If this was Harry and he didn't answer, he'd probably somehow end up in Azkaban; but if this was the Dark Lord speaking through Harry and he told the truth, he would probably end up dead.

Realizing, finally, that he had cast quite a powerful glamour on himself and that the glamour made him resemble Voldemort, Harry decided to use the illusion for all it was worth. He ignored the gasps of his friends as he quite consciously and purposely imitated the Dark Lord's voice. His tone was flawless, if he hadn't been so caught up in the act, he might have actually scared himself. "Do I have to curse you, Regulus," Harry hissed, drawing his wand. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a part of him both amazed and repulsed by how perfect his act was. Somewhere more towards the forefront of his brain, a larger part of him opted once more to use the fear card, this time in the form of threat of torture. "I'm quite capable of using the Cruciatus," he half-lied. The so called bluff worked –no pun intended- like a charm.

Regulus began spilling out the words of an explanation. "Because, I didn't drink the potion. The Dark Lord's wife, Melanie Duval did. She told me I was too young to die, but that she had nothing left to live for." His voice trembled and shook. His face had gone white as paper. He prayed Harry was not possessed.

Harry, on the other hand, who had maintained the semi-glamour throughout the entire explanation and who –though he hadn't known it- hadn't been half-lying, but telling the complete truth- was so shocked by the second sentence that by the time the former deatheater had finished speaking, he could no longer hold the façade. Abruptly the illusion fell, leaving only a shell shocked, sixteen-year-old boy. "She was his wife?" Harry asked in a weak, almost hurt tome. He couldn't explain it, but for some reason, knowing that Melanie had been Tom Riddle's wife and knowing that she was dead, by her own choice, because of her husband's evil deeds brought down a torrent of anguish, regret, and inexplicably, guilt.

"How did she know that whoever drank the potion would die," Harry asked.

But he never got to hear Ginny exclaim that she now remembered that Melanie had been a famed Potions Mistress. He never heard Regulus answer that she had invented the potion. He never heard Ron ask why she would invent something like that. And he certainly didn't hear Hermione call his name in concern as his world lost focus and he slid off the chair onto the cold tile floor. He was long gone by then. He had blacked out and was now seeing an influx of memories. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them flashed through his mind. They ranged from the very earliest memories of being a toddler to being a sixth year at Hogwarts. He recognized them all, understood them all. But none of them belonged to Harry Potter.

This was where chapter four was supposed to have ended, but then I added all the stuff about Rose and then I couldn't resist stopping with Harry whispering his godfather's name. It was such a perfect cliffhanger –I'd never managed a good cliffhanger before- so I decided to make this a separate chapter. Tell me what you think. Disappointed that it wasn't really Sirius? Or did you figure it wasn't him? Did any one see it coming that Melanie was Tom (Voldemort)'s wife? (Please, somebody say they caught that from the dream Harry had of Tom giving Melanie the locket.) Does anyone notice any other characters in the story that look like Melanie? If so, try to answer these questions: Who is this other person related to? What was Heather Evans' maiden name? (Hint: Juliet Ravencal was Harry's great grandmother, she was the heir of Ravenclaw, and Melanie Duval is the ghost of Ravenclaw.) Are there any characters (alive or dead) that have the most attention-grabbing features of either Tom or Melanie? (I.e. Melanie's bright red hair, Tom's emerald green eyes) Petunia said she can't remember if her aunt married a half-blood or a muggleborn, which was it? Is Harry really a pureblood (that means no muggles in the family for at least five generations.)? And once more, what is in the other box? Now onto the difficult question: Think about Melanie's riddle, the first two lines only, and consider that she had a connection to Tom, and that Harry's first vision/dream from Tom's life was of Tom, at the orphanage (where he was born), on the day that he first discovered the world of magic. Does that help solve a little of it? I would absolutely love it if some of my reviewers tried to figure out the first two lines and tell me the general location of the urn. If anyone gets the first two lines right, I'll give another clue in the author's note of the next chapter. Let us see if someone can figure it out before Hermione. ( :