Disclaimer: The following characters, settings and referenced events are, and always will be, the property of J K Rowling.

– CHAPTER SEVEN –

Inherent Responsibility

As Harry, Ron and Hermione walked around the small square which was Grimmauld Place, Harry felt his chest tightening. The houses surrounding the patch of unkempt grass were still grimy, windows were still broken, paint peeling and rubbish bulging forth as if from open wounds.

Reaching the bottom of the worn stone steps leading up to number twelve, Harry gazed up at the battered-looking black door. In the faint light from the streetlamps, the serpent-shaped silver doorknocker glittered dully.

'Are you two ready?' Harry glanced around at Ron and Hermione. They nodded back at him.

It was only after Harry had fished the key out of his pocket that he realised he didn't have anything to prick his finger with. 'Er …'

'Wait here.' Hermione walked over to the house next door and began rummaging amongst one of the many bin-bags just inside its broken gate. She came back a moment later carrying an empty soup tin. 'Can I borrow your wand?' she asked Harry, then pointed it at the tin and said, 'Scourgify.'

'Use that.' She handed Harry's wand and the now sparkling-clean tin to him, pointing to the jagged edge where the lid had been cut away.

Harry pocketed his wand, then ran his finger along the sharp metal. Smearing blood onto the head of the key, he then pointed it against the snake's mouth, which promptly swallowed the head, its lips closing around the shaft. From the other side of the door, they heard loud, metallic clicks and a chain clattering, then the door swung inwards, allowing them to enter.

It was only after the door swung closed behind them, bolts clicking back into place, that it hit them. A smell, somewhere between rotting flesh and a broken sewer, assaulted their nostrils. Ron promptly lost control, spraying most of what he had eaten at the wedding feast over the threadbare carpet. Harry clamped one hand over his mouth as he fumbled for his wand with the other, but jumped when he felt other hands patting the waistband of his trousers.

A moment later, Hermione muttered 'Lumos,' (Harry suspected she hadn't opened her lips very much), and then three buckets appeared in the faint light glowing from the end of Harry's wand, spinning slightly in midair before floating to each of them. Hermione then pointed the wand towards the end of the long hallway and the kitchen door slammed shut with a bang. A moment later, the smell in the hallway lessened enough that Harry felt he could move without throwing up every other step and began pounding his way up the stairs, Ron vomiting into his bucket behind him and Hermione bringing up the rear.

Reaching the safety of the drawing room, Harry slumped against the door, bucket pressed tight against his chest.

'What was I thinking?' he groaned, fighting to keep his stomach down. 'If Bellatrix Lestrange wants this place, she can have it.'

Hermione threw him a panicked look over the top of her own bucket. 'But you can't leave now.' She sounded positively terrified. 'The house has locked you in. You can't leave for three days.'

'Shut up, Hermione!' Ron groaned from the depths of his bucket. He pulled his head up and gazed blearily at Harry. 'So what do we do now?'

Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the sight of Ron diving headfirst into his bucket again. 'Stay, I guess. You two can go if you want to,' he offered. 'I'll understand.'

'What?' Ron was very green by now. 'Go back through that?' He turned greener at the thought.

'It should be fine by morning.' Hermione was rubbing her stomach. 'I shut the kitchen door and cleaned up your vomit.'

'And what do we do about that lot?' Harry jerked his head back over his shoulder. At the sound of Ron vomiting downstairs, the portraits lining the hall, including Sirius's mother, had woken and begun screaming insults to the air around them. They were still shrieking in the background, their voices becoming shriller by the minute.

'Let them go for it,' suggested Hermione. 'With any luck, their throats will be so sore by morning, they'll be hoarse.'

Harry wasn't sure it was possible for a magical portrait to go hoarse.

'But what do we do tonight?' Ron pressed.

'Find out if our old rooms are still OK, then get some sleep. We can start cleaning this place up tomorrow.

Ron's grip slackened on his bucket. 'Why do we need to clean the house? Just Mum and Dad's old room should do. It's even got a bathroom attached. We can hang out there and magic up anything we need.'

'Like food?' Harry's words sent Ron diving for his bucket again.

Hermione looked scandalised at the thought of being confined to two rooms. 'But we may as well clean the whole house. Now Harry's left the Dursleys', he'll need somewhere to live. Won't you, Harry?'

Harry glanced across at the tapestry detailing the Black family tree, remembering Sirius's brooding presence.

'I'd rather not be here at all.'

After spending the night in a hastily-cleaned second-floor bedroom, Hermione had started them cleaning Mr and Mrs Weasley's old room. As they filled more buckets with dust, cobwebs and spiders (Ron had been noticeably absent), Harry suspected it was only a compromise and Ron hadn't really won their argument; Hermione still fully intended to continue with the rest of the house once these two rooms were done. Sure enough, just as Ron walked back in with a pile of moth-eaten blankets, Hermione started allocating chores for the remainder of the house, making Ron throw the blankets at her in disgust.

They had completed the bathroom and started the drawing room (Harry and Ron were trying to work the kinks out of their backs) when a loud, clanging bell sounded through the house. Unfortunately, the portraits hadn't given themselves sore throats the night before and demonstrated this by screaming louder than ever, drowning out the doorbell. Peering down from the window, Harry grinned as he spotted Fred and George standing on the front steps.

'It's OK,' he assured the others. 'It's just your brothers.'

'Which ones?' Ron came over to the window as Hermione went to let them in. 'They'd better not have brought Mum with them.'

A few moments later, Fred and George followed Hermione into the drawing room, carrying several bags.

'Nice to see Sirius's mum is still in fine voice.' George commented as he dumped the bags into a chair. 'Who did what downstairs?'

'We don't know yet.' Harry noted that downstairs was silent again and assumed the twins had managed to pull Mrs Black's curtains back over the portrait.

'What's that?' Ron nodded towards the bags.

'Change of clothes and–,' Fred waved his hands with a flourish, '– food. Mum knew there wouldn't be anything decent left in the house – I mean, let's face it, no one's been near the place in a year – and she didn't want you lot starving so … Hey, don't complain,' he said as Ron looked decidedly unhappy that he was still being mothered. 'It was either this, or Mum would be here herself. Dad's doing his best keeping her at home for the moment, but he'll be back at work tomorrow.'

'Can't you two do something to keep her busy?' asked Ron. 'You must have made a fair bit of money by now; can't you – I don't know – say she's won a trip to the other side of the world and she has to leave, like, right now? You could afford to pay for that, couldn't you?'

Fred and George exchanged looks.

'And what's in it for us?' asked George.

'What?'

'Yeah,' Fred circled his brother, eyeing him malevolently. 'You want us to part with hard-earned profits to keep Mum off your back for you. What are you prepared to do to repay the favour?'

'It's Harry you'd be doing the favour for!'

Harry raised his hands protestingly. 'Don't look at me,' he laughed as the twins did just that. 'This is Ron's idea.'

'Thanks!' Ron scowled as he rummaged amongst the bags his brothers had brought, trying to ignore Fred and George's evil grins.

'Well, it was your idea, Ron.' Hermione had been leaning against the tapestry on the far side of the room, shaking with silent laughter as she watched the scene unfold before her. Ron tossed a bag at her in disgust, but she ducked and it hit the tapestry instead, spattering its contents (mashed potato) over the gold threads detailing Sirius's lineage.

'Good one, Ron!' Hermione glared from the damage to her boyfriend. 'How are we supposed to get that clean? We can't take it down!'

Ron fired up immediately. 'You're the idiot who wanted to clean the whole house; we just wanted to do our bedroom and ensuite! It's not like Harry wants to keep the place!'

'Why don't you want to keep it?' Fred and George sidled over to the window where Harry was grinning, watching the proceedings.

Harry felt his good humour darken considerably. 'Just … this house … the feel about it … memories … old ghosts …' He shrugged. 'I dunno, it's just …' He tried to find words to describe how he felt, but came up empty.

Fred and George exchanged glances.

'Wise decision.' Fred donned an approving look. Harry looked up, surprised.

'Putting a house like this on the market …'

'Bound to fetch an excellent price.'

'After all, it's a super location.' George glanced out the window at the neighbouring houses with their peeling paint and overflowing bin-bags facing the overgrown square.

'Solidly built – '

'Excellent protective wards –'

'Numerous comfortable, well-appointed rooms –'

'Long, noble history –'

'Perfect B and B for the discerning witch or wizard of taste –'

'Desiring a London port-of-call a cut above the Leaky Cauldron.'

'You could easily sell a house like this to a service-committed investor with Galleons to spend.'

'Name your price.'

Harry felt like he'd been hit by a speeding centaur. 'What? Are you two making me an offer?' The twins' faces split in identical grins.

'We might,' said George.

'You just need to get rid of the dark atmosphere.'

Getting rid of the dark atmosphere turned out to be almost too tall an order. Just like two years before, the house was putting up a very good fight, and even though Kreacher was no longer around to support it in its efforts, it seemed to somehow sense that Harry wasn't a Black – by name or nature – and shut itself down against him. Curtains refused to open to let in light, items mysteriously returned themselves to shelves and, most annoying, none of the bathroom doors would open for five hours after they finished lunch on the first day.

There was also some disagreement as to how the house should be cleaned.

Hermione wanted to start at the top and work their way down, magically sealing each room and floor as they finished so their work couldn't be undone while they were working elsewhere. Ron still preferred to confine themselves to the bedroom and ensuite, but if they had to do the whole house, he was all for throwing everything out – furniture, rugs, wallpaper – basically rip out everything until the house was little more than its frame – then start redecorating from scratch using Harry's very immense fortune.

Harry still wasn't completely certain what he wanted to do with the house but the B and B seemed as good an idea as anything to be going on with (and cleaning the entire house was certainly a step in the right direction); he just didn't think slowly forcing themselves down to the kitchen was the way to do it. He felt the kitchen would be better dealt with sooner rather than later. Hermione insisted on doing it first then, and Ron threatened to throw up at the thought (that was when they discovered the house's unco-operative attitude regarding the bathrooms). In the end, Harry decided that they should work on whichever room grabbed his fancy, then keep the completed rooms magically sealed except when they were going in or out. Since they had already started the drawing room, they may as well keep at it. As it was Harry's house, his decision stood.

'How are we going to get this stupid thing down?' Ron screwed his nose up at the potato stain drying on the tapestry.

'No idea,' Harry looked up from his inspection of a bundle of papers which had been wedged in a crevice in the writing desk. (So far he had found the deed to the house and Sirius's birth certificate.) He wandered over to the tapestry and grabbed a fistful of cloth, tugging hard but with no success. The tapestry remained firmly attached to the wall, mocking them.

'Maybe if we threaten it with fire?'

'Knowing our luck, the whole house would burn down,' said Ron in disgust.

And that would be a bad thing? Harry thought.

'This wall would certainly burn down at … least …' Hermione gazed at the wall with renewed interest. Much to Harry and Ron's confusion, she began tapping the wall at the end of the tapestry. On the third tap she grinned.

'Are we allowed to know what you're doing or is it a secret between you and the house?' Ron asked.

'This is the outer wall, right?'

'Yeah, so?'

'It's not double brick.' Hermione's enthusiasm would be contagious if they knew what they were supposed to be enthusiastic about.

'So …' Hermione threw Ron a look which plainly said she couldn't believe he was being so thick, '… we should be able to remove the inside wall.'

'What, as one piece?' Ron looked like he thought she had lost her mind.

'What if it still won't come away?' Harry ran an eye along the length of the wall.

'Then we cut the studding out too. We'll need props though, if we're going to do that, to stop the next floor collapsing on top of us. But … we should be able to finally get the tapestry down. That is, if you want to.'

'Why wouldn't Harry want to get rid of it?'

'Because it's a link to Sirius and his family.' said Hermione.

'And I want a link to Sirius's family, why?' Harry eyed Hermione warily.

'You might want to get to know them. Not the bad ones, of course.' Hermione rushed on when both boys' jaws dropped in horror. 'Just the good ones, like Tonks.'

'Except that all the good ones have been burnt off.' Harry pointed towards the small black marks dotted randomly over the fabric.

'But there are plenty of other names around them to give you somewhere to start to fill in the blanks.'

'What, you want Harry to rock up to someone like Malfoy's mum and ask, "Please, can you tell me the name of your good sister who got her name burnt off your auntie's tapestry?' Ron didn't make an attempt not to laugh at that thought.

'No,' Hermione sounded slight hurt. 'But he could ask Kreacher.'

Now Ron looked really scared. 'You're encouraging Harry to enforce the master-house-elf bond? Are you feeling OK? What happened to SPEW?'

'It's not SPEW, Ron.' Hermione was almost in tears.

But Harry wasn't listening. Giving up on the tapestry, he had gone back to the papers.

'Er …. you two …'

Ron and Hermione broke off their argument at the excited tone in Harry's voice.

'You might want to check this out.'

Curiosity keeping them from each other's throats, Ron and Hermione joined Harry and stared at what he was holding up.

Under the words Birth Certificate, almost mocking them, was the full name of Sirius's younger brother:

Regulus Alphard Black.

All three of them stared at the name, stunned.

'It couldn't be … could it?' Ron glanced at Harry.

'The initials match,' Hermione pointed out.

'And it fits.' Harry pointed to the tapestry.

'How?' argued Ron. 'Whoever nicked the locket was no friend of … I mean, they said in that note that they were going to destroy it so You-Know-Who can be destroyed. Sirius's brother was a Death Eater –'

'Who got cold feet,' said Harry, tracing Regulus's name with his finger. 'So he didn't consider Voldemort a friend anymore. Plus, the person who wrote the note called Voldemort "Dark Lord" and only Death Eaters call him that, so whoever switched the locket had been a Death Eater at some point.'

'But Sirius said his brother was killed by Death Eaters because he tried to back out,' argued Ron, 'not because he nicked anything. Why would Sirius say that if it wasn't true?'

Harry shook his head slowly. 'I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore.'

'It doesn't really matter why Regulus died,' said Hermione. 'What matters is whether he managed to destroy the locket before he was killed. But –' she clapped both boys on the shoulder, '– that isn't getting us any closer to getting this place cleaned. Come on, Ron, I need a hand upending the sofa.'

Over the rest of the day, Harry found his mind returning often to the mystery of Regulus and the locket. It was no doubt stolen back by the Death Eaters when they killed him and returned to Voldemort, but that was seventeen years ago. Why didn't Voldemort create a new Horcrux with the locket and restore it to its hiding place in the cave? Unless …

Harry's hand stopped in the middle of pulling up carpet tacks. A thought had just occurred to him. Had Voldemort been going to use Harry's murder to recreate the locket Horcrux? And if so, did that mean that Slytherin's locket was now somewhere in the ruins of his parents' house?

'Have you finished with that lot yet, Harry?'

Harry jumped as Hermione came over to inspect his progress. Quickly wrenching up a nail to cover his laxness, he pulled too hard, making it fly up and nearly hit her in the eye.

They finished the last of Mrs Weasley's food for breakfast on Monday morning so, at eleven, Hermione headed out to get some more. She had wanted the boys to get started on the dining room but, being on the ground floor, it was a little too close to the as-yet-untouched kitchen. Even with the door shut, it was more than they were prepared to endure so Hermione agreed with Ron's suggestion of moving the table upstairs to the drawing room. She also left them with a long list of other tasks to attend to in her absence.

'And don't you two go slacking off!' she ordered, taking a deep breath before heading out to the hall.

Getting the table upstairs took much longer than expected. Ron tried to be clever and enchanted it to walk itself up the stairs but it refused to budge; even Wingardium Leviosa wouldn't work. Things didn't improve when they finally started awkwardly lugging the table upstairs manually. Halfway up, it decided it had had enough of pretending not to be bewitched and demonstrated this by wrapping its legs around Ron and pulling. Ron fell over and tumbled down the stairs, landing hard against the troll's foot umbrella stand. As three dusty moth-eaten umbrellas fell out of the stand and started hitting him, the table (which Harry had been valiantly straining against to keep from sliding after Ron) knocked Harry over and scurried up to the first floor, giving a very wooden laugh as it ran. It hesitated on the landing, as if wondering what to do next, then quickly ducked into the drawing room.

Getting slowly to his feet, Harry crept silently up the stairs (not that the table would have heard him approach over the noise of Ron swearing loudly at the umbrellas and Mrs Black shrieking), thinking about what he had just witnessed. Despite being far too wide for the doorway, the table hadn't shrunk itself in any way or even turned itself on its side; instead, the door's frame had expanded like a giant mouth and swallowed the table whole, belching before returning to its normal size. If the building could do stuff like that, trying to remove walls was certainly going to be interesting.

Reaching the landing, Harry peeked around the corner, being careful to stay out of reach of the door. The table stood boldly in the centre of the room, while a rather battered-looking footstool, which Harry was sure had occupied the space where the table was, quivered behind the sofa. Satisfied that they didn't need to move the table any further, Harry quickly cast Finite Incantatum and headed down to help Ron fight off the umbrella which had shut itself over his head.

It was well after one o'clock before Ron decided he was too hungry to wait for lunch any longer and decided he would go in search of food himself. Harry expressed a concern that Voldemort or the Death Eaters might have managed to intercept Hermione but Ron brushed this off.

'You watch, she's run into someone she knows and they're gossiping. She probably doesn't even realise what the time is. So, what do you want for lunch?'

Order in hand, Ron had barely stepped out onto the landing when he came hurrying back into the drawing room.

'Look sharp!' he said. 'Hermione's back! And she's brought Ginny with her.'

'Ginny?' Harry's voice was several octaves higher than it should have been. 'What's she doing here?' he hissed 'She can't be – hi, Ginny.' Harry struggled to wipe the panic from his face. 'What are you doing here? Hermione didn't mention she was going to bring back company?' Harry quickly flashed a smile to try to cover his fear as Ginny entered the room, Hermione right behind her.

Hermione ran a critical eye around the room. 'Did you two do anything while I was gone?'

'Yeah,' said Ron indignantly. 'We dusted the table. Now it's fit to eat off.' He made a grab for the bags of Chinese food she had just dumped on the table, earning a sharp slap on the wrist.

Harry grinned at Ron wringing his hand as he helped Ginny unpack the food.

'What happened in the kitchen?' asked Ginny as she unwrapped several pairs of chopsticks.

'We don't know yet,' replied Hermione. 'We're still working up here. We hope to get this room finished tomorrow.'

'Remember that snuffbox which Fred nicked Wartcap powder from?' Harry reminisced. 'I wonder what he did with it.'

'And that music box.' Hermione started passing around paper serviettes. 'It's a good thing Ginny was here to shut its lid, or we might all still be sitting here sound asleep.'

'I'd just like to have had another go at that locket,' said Ginny, referring to a heavy locket which none of them had been able to open. She looked up from a box of chop suey to find three very startled faces staring at her. 'What? I just wondered whose picture was inside.'

'Don't you mean what?' Hermione recovered first. 'Knowing the Blacks, it probably wasn't something human. And if you two want something to eat, you'd better hurry up.' She threw a pointed look at Harry and Ron.

Harry felt shaky as he sat down and helped himself to some noodles. How could they have forgotten about that locket? He risked a quick glance at Ron and Hermione and knew they were both thinking the same thing. The Slytherin Horcrux had been right under their noses the whole time and they threw it out!

Or did they? Harry chewed his lemon chicken as he pondered the events of two years before. After all, the Black's former house-elf, Kreacher, had done his best to rescue a lot of the stuff Sirius had earmarked for disposal. What if he had also managed to recover the locket? Would he have taken it with him when Harry ordered him to Hogwarts? Harry couldn't remember seeing it anywhere on his person; an image of Kreacher rolling, kicking and screaming, on Aunt Petunia's clean carpet leapt to the front of his mind.

Which meant it would still be somewhere here in the house, most probably in Kreacher's bedroom under the old boiler in the kitchen. Which also meant they would have to find some way to get past the smell.

He ate quickly, suddenly keen to get Ginny packed off back to the Burrow as soon as possible.

'Are you lot OK?' Ginny asked uncertainly as she glanced around the table. 'You're eating like you haven't seen food for a week.'

It had to have been the slowest, most nerve-wracking two hours Harry had ever experienced but, finally, Ginny left for home, Ron escorting her back to Fred and George's shop. As soon as the front door closed behind them, Hermione turned to Harry.

'We need to check the kitchen,' she said without preamble. 'Do you know how to do a Bubble-Head Charm?'

'No.' Harry was surprised that Hermione thought he might know a spell which she didn't. 'It was Cedric and Fleur who did that; I used Gillyweed, remember?' he said, thinking back to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. 'But there's another way.' He trusted that she would follow as he bounded upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

'Why are we in here?' Hermione entered the master bedroom in time to see Harry carefully lift the Pensieve onto his bed. She gazed at it, confused. 'Whose memory are you going to check?'

'Mine!' Harry fished out his wand. 'I just hope I do this right.'

Touching the tip to his temple, he concentrated hard on the Christmas Mr Weasley had spent in St Mungo's. Slowly drawing the wand outwards, Harry knew he had done it right when Hermione gasped and stared at a point between his hand and the side of his head. Harry saw the memory strand glow in the mirror a moment before it came into view as it broke away and swung downwards towards the stone basin, dangling from his wand. He flicked his wrist to break the connection.

'You ready?'

Hermione gave a curt nod and leant forwards, disappearing as her nose touched the misty surface. Taking a deep breath, Harry dived after her.

Glancing around the kitchen, Hermione tested the air tentatively but, of course, there was no smell, only Mrs Weasley sniffing loudly over at the stove, sounding like she had a head cold. Hermione crossed the room to the boiler cupboard in the corner opposite the pantry and went to open the door, but was unable to grip the handle. She looked around at Harry, clearly perplexed.

'You can't touch anything, remember?'

'So how do we open the cupboard?'

'We don't.' Harry nodded towards the door leading upstairs. 'They will!' he continued as Ron, Hermione and Harry walked into the kitchen.

The present-day Hermione gazed at the wrapped present in her arms, a look of dawning spreading across her face.

'This is Christmas two years ago.' She glanced at Harry for confirmation as Mrs Weasley, still sniffing, wished the new arrivals 'Merry Christmas.'

'So is this Kreacher's bedroom?' asked Ron, walking straight through Harry on his way to join Hermione in the corner.

'Yes,' the memory-Hermione replied, sounding nervous. 'Er … I think we'd better knock.'

Ron did as instructed, but got no reply.

'He must be sneaking around upstairs,' he said, then pulled the door open. 'Urgh!'

Finally able to gain access to the cupboard, the present-day Harry and Hermione dived under Ron's arm and began examining the contents of Kreacher's bedroom, ignoring the assorted rags and smelly blankets, stale bread crusts and mouldy cheese, and concentrating their efforts on the far corner where small objects and coins glinted. Harry resisted the urge to snatch up the silver-framed photograph of Bellatrix Lestrange and smash it further.

Hermione's fingers were rummaging amongst the various objects as she muttered, 'No, no, no' quietly, rejecting each item from her search. Harry felt rather useless jammed against the boiler and was about to suggest he take Hermione's place when she suddenly cried, 'Yes!'

Leaning forwards, Harry looked at what she was pointing at. There, lying in a small fold in Kreacher's nest, was the locket he remembered from the day they cleaned the drawing room. However, he wasn't certain if it was also the same locket from Hokey's memory.

Harry didn't get a chance to do more than shrug at Hermione's enquiring face when they heard the memory-Hermione say, 'I think I'll just leave his present here,' as she leaned forwards and laid her package in the middle of the depression in the rags and blankets.

Quickly crawling past her legs, Harry and the present-day Hermione made it out of the boiler cupboard just in time, Harry helping his accomplice to her feet as her memory closed the cupboard door, saying, 'He'll find it later … that'll be fine.'

'Come to think of it, has anyone actually seen Kreacher lately?'

Harry's stomach plummeted as Sirius emerged from the pantry carrying a large turkey. Hermione's hands were clapped over her mouth as she threw Harry a panicked look.

'I haven't seen him since the night we came back here.' (Harry heard his voice from two years ago, but it sounded like it was much further away than that.) 'You were ordering him out of the kitchen.'

'Yeah …' Sirius frowned. 'You know –'

Hermione suddenly sprang forwards, grabbed Harry's arm in a vice-like grip and kicked off for the surface of the Pensieve, Harry too shocked to stop her.

x

'I can't believe it,' said Ron disgustedly as he helped Hermione clear the table. 'We threw it out!' He glanced up. 'What are you two grinning about?'

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances

'We didn't throw it out,' Harry informed him.

'What are you talking about? Of course we threw it out.'

'OK, yeah, we threw it out.' Harry allowed himself to be corrected. 'But it didn't get thrown out.' He grinned at Ron's confusion.

Ron turned to Hermione for help. 'Can you translate what he just said?'

Hermione grinned as well. 'We know where the locket is.'

Ron's confusion intensified. 'Where?'

'Here!' said Harry.

Ron glanced from Harry to Hermione 'Huh?'

'In Kreacher's bedroom,' added Hermione. 'We think!' she rushed on, determined to make it clear that there was still a degree of uncertainty involved as she explained about Harry's memory.

'So we need to go into the kitchen?' Ron's face was rapidly turning the colour of parchment. Hermione nodded morosely.

'Cheer up, you two; it's not as bad as you think.' Of the three of them, Harry was the only one who didn't look like he was about to be sick.

Ron threw him a murderous glare. 'And how do you work that out?'

'Numbing Nougats.'

'What nougats?' Hermione asked uncertainly as Ron said, 'Of course. That's brilliant!' Harry explained about Fred and George's sweets.

Hermione brightened up considerably. 'First thing tomorrow, Ron,' she said, tossing empty food containers into a bin-bag, 'you and I will go to your brothers' shop and buy some of those sweets. Then,' (her determined expression reminded Harry of McGonagall), 'we'll finally be able to find out if we have one less Horcrux to search for.'

The next day, Hermione set Harry the task of taking down curtains so they could be cleaned (having first checked that none of them contained any surprises like Doxys). Ron threw Harry a sympathetic look as he left; he obviously thought Harry had gotten the worse end of the deal, but Harry didn't mind. Much as he had hated being the Dursleys' slave, he had to admit it had been good training. And this time round, it wouldn't be a thankless task.

Grinning at the mental picture of how good his house (he was starting to like the sound of that) would look when they were all done, Harry set to work.

When Ron and Hermione returned with a very large bag of products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes (Fred and George had tossed in several more things when they realised it was for Harry), Hermione was all for attacking the kitchen immediately but Ron argued that it would be safer to wait until closer to lunch-time, as their stomachs would be emptier.

'But the smell won't make us sick, Ron. We won't be able to smell it,' Hermione pointed out.

'Yeah, but the sight of whatever is rotting away in the kitchen might; those sweets won't guard against that.'

So at half past twelve, their stomachs rumbling loudly, Harry, Ron and Hermione marched downstairs, chewing as they went. By the time they reached the basement door, Harry felt like he had just been to the dentist and had several fillings done.

'Wand oud,' he told them, carefully pushing the door open. Despite Hermione's protests, Ron had insisted on bringing their buckets with them (Don'd be tho jildich, Rond'), which turned out to be very fortunate.

When Harry saw what was on the table, he tried to block Hermione's view but she pushed past the two of them, muttering something about babies. A moment later, she let out a strangled scream and clutched her bucket close, just in time.

The stove, half the floor and the entire surface of the table were covered with at least four inches of food scraps, some of it covered in mould, some partly broken down like the contents of a compost heap. The stove's oven door had broken off at the hinges and lay amongst the filth on the floor, no doubt forced off by the Venomous Tentacula stretching forth from within the stove's bowels.

But what had, no doubt, affected Hermione most was the pile of bones in the centre of the table. Two small skeletons – one quite obviously a house-elf, the other, the same size, but headless – were set in a pose reminiscent of a medieval execution. The complete skeleton was holding a gigantic meat mallet in the middle of a small pile of very battered bones and mush, as if it had brutally beaten the victim's head to a pulp. Harry was pretty sure the mallet's target hadn't once been a house-elf's head (he recognised a chicken wing amongst it), but that still didn't stop Hermione half-filling her bucket, despite the fact that her stomach should have already been empty.

At the sound of Hermione being sick, Ron also joined in, making it very difficult for Harry not to let fly as well.

Grabbing Hermione, Harry roughly tried to push her back up the stairs ('Boove, Rond!'), battling against the urge to join their chorus until they reached the safety of the hall, where he finally lost control of his own stomach.

Collapsed against the door leading back down to the kitchen, Harry grinned weakly at the other two. 'Ad leathed we gan'd dathde id.'

Ron put on a brave face and returned the grin, but Hermione was curled into a ball against the troll's foot umbrella stand, shaking violently and crying uncontrollably into her bucket. Harry glanced at Ron, but his best friend was busily trying to suppress a series of burps, so Harry crawled forwards and pulled Hermione against his shoulder, awkwardly patting her on the back as he felt his face grow warm.

It took Hermione almost ten minutes to bring her crying under control, though she was still very shaky.

'I'b ogay,' she tried to reassure them as she allowed both of the boys to help her to her feet.

Upstairs ten minutes later (Ginny had brought Hermione's wand with her so she was able to clean up the buckets), they were finally able to have a proper conversation as the effects of the Numbing Nougats had worn off.

'Why would Kreacher do such a thing?' Hermione struggled against the urge to break down again.

'Because he's foul, loathsome and mental.' Ron seemed angry that Hermione had allowed herself to be comforted by Harry rather than him. 'And he hates humans.'

'He doesn't hate humans,' Harry forestalled Hermione's protest. 'He only hates humans who aren't evil snobs. He likes Sirius's family, especially Bellatrix Lestrange. You didn't hear him the night Dumbledore came to get me from the Dursleys; he was adamant he wanted to serve her rather than me.'

'But why … that?' Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, probably trying to shut out the image of downstairs.

'At a guess, so I wouldn't want to take possession,' said Harry. 'Then both Kreacher and this house would go to Bellatrix Lestrange.'

'But –'

'Stop trying to make excuses for him, Hermione!' snapped Ron, making her wince. 'That toerag hurt Buckbeak, lied to Harry to trick him into going to the Ministry, laughed when he told Dumbledore about it and was thrilled to bits when his favourite Black, Bellatrix, murdered his least favourite, Sirius. Not to mention all the insults he's always muttered at all of us. And he refers to you as Mudblood. He's as bad as Malfoy. If you like Kreacher, by rights you should also like Malfoy and feel sorry for him.'

Crack! Hermione's hand flew out and slapped Ron hard across the face, leaving a nasty welt. Ron leapt up angrily as she ran sobbing from the room, but he didn't get any further because Harry blocked his path.

'Let her go.' Harry forced Ron back as they heard the bedroom door slam shut. 'She just needs to get over everything that's happened, OK?'

Ron stared at the door, fuming.

Harry fished in his pocket and withdrew several coins. 'Now, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry, so why don't you go and get us something to eat.' Harry grinned as Ron's stomach growled loudly. 'Just don't eat it all before you get back.'

Halfway through lunch (fish and chips), Hermione's hunger got the better of her. Ron still didn't seem to want to forgive her for what happened earlier, so Harry spent most of his time between the two of them, keeping them from starting their argument again.

The only good thing which came from their attitudes was the fact that the dining room got cleaned in half the time they had expected, as both Ron and Hermione seemed to be trying to outdo each other. It wasn't until they started washing windows that things improved; Ron overbalanced the ladder and Hermione quickly came to the rescue, mending both the ladder and Ron's cuts and bruises. They looked at each other nervously for a moment, then both of them collapsed in a fit of giggles, leaving Harry wondering if things hadn't been better while they were still mad at each other.

After a few minutes, though, they calmed down enough to get back to work, still grinning from ear to ear, no longer prepared to bite each other's heads off.

The windows were half done when there was a quiet knock at the front door. Harry glanced questioningly at the others. Ron shrugged, just as mystified.

Harry was about to start climbing down the ladder when Hermione tossed her duster into the caddy. 'I'll go.'

'But it could be someone dangerous,' argued Harry.

'Exactly!' said Hermione.

Ron fished his wand out of his back pocket.

'Stay alert,' Hermione warned them as she disappeared into the hallway.

Ron and Harry crept over to the door and furtively peered around the edge. 'Oh, hello Professor,' they could just hear Hermione's whispered greeting, 'come in.'

Walking out onto the landing, Harry looked down in time to see Remus Lupin carefully start to mount the stairs. Grinning down at him, he felt the happiest he had for three days. He shoved his wand back into his pocket and held the door for Lupin and Hermione.

Once they were all inside, Lupin looked around appreciatively. 'You've done some good work,' he commented. 'Decided to make a go of it, after all?'

Harry shrugged. 'Well, I do need somewhere to live now I've left the Dursleys.'

'And my brothers pointed out that it could be worth a bit,' Ron added, earning a reproachful look from Hermione.

Lupin chuckled softly. 'There's nothing wrong with seeing the true value in things. It's not the building which was evil, it was the people living in it. Get rid of that, and you have a blank canvas. And a blank canvas is –'

'Just blank,' Harry finished.

'Yes.' Lupin seemed to steel himself. 'Speaking of canvasses, any ideas of what to do with Mrs Black?'

Harry explained about Hermione's suggestion.

Lupin nodded. 'I'm impressed. That sounds like it just might work. At least it's a place to start.' He clapped his hands together. 'So, are you ready to go?' he asked, looking around at them.

Harry glanced down at the damp patches on his clothes. 'We'll just get changed, and be right with you.'

He was about to lead the others out of the room when Lupin stopped him.

'Allow me,' he said and, with a swish of his wand, not only cleaned them up but changed their outfits completely.

Ron looked down at his thick jumper and heavy cloak. 'You've got to be joking! It's a hundred degrees outside. Where's Godric's Hollow - the South Pole?'

Lupin smiled grimly. 'No - enemy territory. And the clothes stay; believe me, you're going to need them.'

Harry looked at him quizzically, but he didn't elaborate. Holding the door open, he said, 'Shall we?'

'How are we getting there?' asked Hermione once they were out in the street and the house had disappeared.

Lupin held out both his arms. 'We'll Apparate. As I know the location I'll guide you - you all only need to focus your Destination upon me.

'So, hold on (they reached out to grasp part of his arms); now – one ... two ... three.' And with a turn, they were off.