CHAPTER NINE

The Evening of August 3, 1997

"So, what do we do now?" Finally, Ron Weasley had asked the question everyone else was thinking. Having escaped from the Death Eaters, the mismatched group—Neville, Calypso, Ron and Hermione—could now plot their next course of action.

Hermione sighed. "Isn't it obvious, Ron? We must find the Horcruxes and destroy them. We know that two are destroyed, and we have a lead on a third."

"We only know what it is, Hermione," Calypso interjected. "A locket, presumably taken by R.A.B., who seems to be a traitor to the Dark Lord."

"Well, you should be able to help there, Calypso," Ron sniggered, "seeing as you're a turncoat too."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, as though Ron was a small child. "Did you need to say that?"

Calypso, trying to calm the situation, assured Hermione that she did not mind the quip, before redirecting the conversation to the previous topic. "You know, I might I have a guess on who R. A. B. actually is. During the first Wizarding War, there was…" Calypso began pacing thoughtfully, trying to remember the Death Eater that her father used as a tale of warning. "He was one of the youngest Death Eaters, but he got scared and went missing. I think his first name was… oh… Perseus? No, no, um… Janus? Can't be that—Regulus! His name was Regulus Arcturus Black."

"Like Sirius Black?" Hermione asked.

"His brother," Calypso acknowledged.

"I didn't realize he had a brother."

"Everyone likes to forget about him, given all of Sirius's exploits." Calypso's words had a surprising amount of vitriol; growing up she had heard countless stories about the Marauders' cruelty.

Hermione seemed to share Calypso's low opinion. "That's a kind way to say it. His stupidity is always cluttering the pages of the Daily Prophet."

"Clutter, Hermione?" Ron gasped, offended. "He has the longest list of former jobs in the Wizarding world! That's impressive! He was a wandmaker, and a saleswizard, and a Troll trainer, and a Dragon keeper, and…"

"He is probably our best lead on the locket, unfortunately," Calypso interjected. "Given his relationship with Regulus."

"So we're going to Godric's Hollow," Ron stated, and when the rest of the group looked at him in surprise, he said, "What? It's common knowledge that he crashes at James Potter's whenever his girlfriend kicks him out."

Ah, James Potter: The lesser of the two evils when it came to the Marauders. While Sirius lived the wild life, full of parties, drinking, girls and questionable job choices, James split his time between a Quidditch career and the Junior Flyers, which was a Quidditch fanclub for Squib kids. He was still self-obsessed with a Gryffindor Hero complex, but at least he was making children happy.

"Lovely," Hermione said dryly. "Now, who all passed their Apparition Exam?"

After a show of hands, the foursome Apparated to Godric's Hollow in pairs. Upon reaching their destination, everyone released their Apparition buddy.

"This way," Ron instructed eagerly, leading the group to an overgrown cottage with a surprisingly short lawn. He stopped suddenly at the ivy-covered iron gate, causing Hermione to bump into his back.

"What did you stop for, Ron?" she demanded.

Ron scratched his head. "What if they aren't home? Or don't like visitors?"

"Ron..."

"I'm serious, Hermione. I'm about to meet the world's star Chaser and I'm wearing ruined dress robes. What if I give him the wrong impression?"

"It'll be fine, Ron. Now why don't you go and knock on the door before someone else decides to?"

Thump, thwomp. Too late. Knowing that if she waited, she would have talked herself out of it, Calypso stood on the doorstep, braided hair messy and formal dress snagged. The door opened a crack, just enough for the occupant to see her distinctive green eyes. He gasped and slammed the door in her face. Calypso let out a frustrated sigh and knocked again. This time, the door opened wider, revealing James, his spiky black hair streaked with grey.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I thought you were someone else. Who are you?"

"Calypso."

"Should I know you?" James asked. "Wait, Pads might know why you're here."

He turned and yelled back, "Hey, that rebound you wanted is here!"

"I never said I wanted a rebound!" Sirius hollered back.

"Just come here!"

"Fine." Sirius appeared next to James in the doorway, his eyes bloodshot. Then he noticed the gaggle of people gathered on the front step, and in a blink, his whole posture changed. He casually leaned against the doorframe and ran a hand through his hair, the black curls slipping through his fingers and falling into his smoldering eyes. He looked over her body appreciatively and whistled. "But I wouldn't say no to a date with her."

Calypso controlled her gag reflex—barely. He was too perfect, in a heartbreaker, unconscious-of-my-beauty-but-I-actually-know-everyone-loves-me way. And he was the same age as her father.

"I didn't come here to have you ogle at my body," Calypso snipped. "I have some questions for you, and my friends want to come in."

Sirius grinned and winked. "Follow me," he said, leading them into the sitting room. Sirius lifted a partially consumed box of pizza from the couch, placed it atop and dangerously swaying pile, and sat down. "Feel free to sit anywhere that looks comfortable," he invited, looking at Calypso and nodding towards his lap.

Calypso's gaze swept around the room, taking in dirty clothes, several old broomsticks, mountains of empty pizza boxes and crumpled trash. Her nose is filled with the stench of wet dog.

"I'll remain on my feet, thank you," Calypso replied, muttering 'creep' under her breath before asking, "When was the last time this place was cleaned?"

"Hm," Sirius contemplated. "Two…? years ago?

"In that case…" Calypso trailed. "Scourgify!"

"Why did you do that?!"

"This place was filthy!"

"I didn't have time to clean!"

"You had time for seventeen different jobs!" Calypso shot back.

"Well, I—" Sirius tried to defend, as James plopped down on the couch next to him. "Well, I can't deny what's true."

James leaned forward, asking, "So…why did you come to see us? Did you want an interview?"

"Sort of. We have a question for you—" Hermione began.

"Yeah," Calypso interrupted, "why don't you have better security? We could have been Death Eaters, and you just welcomed us into your house. It's not that we don't appreciate not answering questions to prove our identity, but still."

The two men shrugged. "We like to live on the edge," James answered.

"And you don't give a Knut for safety?"

Sirius shrugged. "Not really."

"That explains a lot," Calypso sneered.

Hermione, now slightly flustered, tried to take charge of the conversation. "Let's get back on subject. We all know your names, but you don't know our names. I'm—"

Sirius, abandoning his fake bored attitude, fixed Hermione with an intense look. "You're Hermione Granger, he's Ron Weasley, and I'd have to live under a bloody rock to not know that he is Neville Longbottom. The only one I don't know is her." He nodded at Calypso.

"Calypso Medea Evans."

"Weird name for a Muggle-born."

"My father picked it," Calypso said stiffly.

"Sounds like that's a sore subject," Sirius said impishly.

Hermione cut in. "We didn't come here so you could tease my friend. We need your help."

Sirius scoffed. "No one has said that in a long time."

"Well, it's true," Hermione admitted. "See, we're looking for these…objects, and once we find them, we need to destroy them."

James jumped up. "You think we have one of them?"

Calypso reluctantly explained, "I found a connection between you, Sirius, and a locket."

Sirius scoffed again. "My family has amassed a large collection of trinkets, including multiple lockets. To which do you refer?"

"Your brother, Regulus, may have brought it back with him after a mission for the Dark Lord," Calypso prodded.

"Well, that would narrow it down, except I never paid Reg any mind."

"So, no one would know where the locket is?" Hermione asked.

Sirius contemplated. "Hmmm…maybe Kreacher."

"That's his family's bitter house-elf," James explained.

"But he did seem to like Reg," Sirius added scornfully.

"He'll know where the locket is?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Sirius shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

"But how will we destroy it?" Neville queried. "I killed the diary using a Basilisk fang, but those are deep in the bowels of Hogwarts. We could try to retrieve one—"

"Absolutely not," Hermione broke in. "Voldemort has control of the school and you are not going there unless it is unavoidable."

"Too bad no one else speaks Parseltongue." Ron lamented.

Hermione started pacing. "What else could we us to destroy it?"

"Well, we need the locket first," Sirius stated practically. "After that, we could experiment with throwing it around, stomping on it, crushing it with rock, stabbing it with heirloom daggers and swords—"

"That wouldn't work," Hermione explained. "The locket will be warded so it can't be destroyed by ordinary means."

"Gryffindor's sword!" Calypso exclaimed.

"What of it?" Sirius asked, annoyed at the interruption.

"I bet a normal sword wouldn't work," Calypso continued, "but the sword of Godric Gryffindor is goblin-made, and so it'd be tougher than an average sword. Only problem is that it's at Hogwarts, in…Headmaster Snape's office."

James snorted derisively. "You afraid of old Snivellus?

"His name is Severus," Calypso corrected mechanically, "and no I am not scared, but I can't sneak into the school."

"I can fix that. Pads and I know all the secret passages," James bragged.

"We can't both go, Prongs. I'm the only one who can properly interrogate Kreacher," Sirius pointed out.

Unperturbed, James said, "So we split up. I'll sneak into Hogwarts; you interrogate a house-elf."

"What about us?" Calypso asked.

"Um, Pads, how about you take the girls and I'll take the boys," James suggested.

"I refuse to go with Sirius,"Calypso vehemently protested.

"And Neville needs to stay away from places where he could be spotted," Hermione added.

"So we swap you two."

"Um, I'd rather go with James as well," Hermione said.

Sirius shrugged. "Okay, that works."

And so, the six conspirators spent the rest of the morning and afternoon planning the Hogwarts break-in. They also raided James' and Sirius' closets for clean clothes. By three o'clock, the visitors were all wearing black robes, altered to fit and borrowed from their hosts. The ruined party robes went into a trunk, under the pretense they would be cleaned later. However, it was more likely that the clothes would by forgotten and be rediscovered by a future generation.