Yes! Another chapter! Late again, I know, but I'm doing far better than I used to be. This was, again, because my new charger for my laptop only arrived yesterday and I've been rather busy, what with babysitting and church meetings that have taken all day… and AP World History tests to study for…

Chapter 31

One More Left

"You're back!"

Hermione met him with a practical squeal and a very enthusiastic hug. Harry patted her awkwardly on the back. "Hi, Hermione."

Ron's greeting was a slap on the back. "Hey mate." Then, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard by the people in the common room around them, he asked, "Did you find it?"

Harry nodded slightly. "I need to find Kreacher. Come with me."

They climbed out of the portrait hole. The corridors were deserted—it was after ten o' clock—and on their way to the kitchen, Harry explained everything that had happened. When he revealed that Durmstrang's headmaster was actually Regulus Black, both Ron and Hermione stopped short.

"Regulus Black?" Ron repeated disbelievingly.

Harry nodded. They fell silent as they passed Filch, who threw them a dirty look (he had never quiet gotten over Harry's authority to be out after hours and give his students to be as well), and resumed their conversation when he was well out of hearing range.

"Regulus Black, Harry? Really?"

"Do you think I would lie to you?" he asked in mock-indignation.

When he explained that Regulus had said that the locket was at Grimauld Place, Hermione inquired with a furrowed brow, "Then why are you trying to find Kreacher?"

"I don't think it's still there. We threw out everything we could, remember? But who knows how much of it Kreacher stole? If he doesn't have it, we'll take a trip to Grimauld Place to see if we can find it. Otherwise…"

He didn't have to finish his sentence. Otherwise they could dig through every landfill in Europe and they would probably never find it.

They arrived in front of a large painting of a fruit bowl. Hermione reached out and stroked the pear. It squirmed and giggled, and then it turned into a handle. Harry grasped it and entered the kitchen.

House elves everywhere began bowing and squeaking, "May we get you anything, sirs and miss?"

Ron was about to say something, but Harry cut him off. "We're looking for the elf Kreacher. I'm his master."

Their beaming faces fell slightly. "He's in the washroom, sir. Follow Skala, please."

Assuming that this elf was Skala, he followed her around a few corners and into a room stacked high with plates, goblets, and utinsels, both clean and dirty. Five, large, shallow wash basins lined the walls, and three house elves stood at each, up to their elbows in suds and water. Most of them bowed beamingly, but Harry made his way to the one who didn't, one who had white hair sticking out of his ears and who was muttering to himself.

"Kreacher," Harry said, "Stay here."

He had planned this out thoroughly. Kreacher could not be allowed to remain silent or vanish upon seeing his master. He had to be very clear in his commands.

Kreacher had whirled around and was glaring at him.

"Kreacher, I want you to tell me, right now and very plainly, if you ever took a golden locket from Grimauld Place."

Haltingly, hatred etched very clearly on his face, the house elf nodded.

"Tell me now and clearly, do you still have it?"

Again, a reluctant nod.

"Alright, then. When I tell you to, I want you to leave here and retrieve the locket. Go and return promptly, don't take any detours, and tell no one of what you are doing. Is that clear?"

Grudgingly, Kreacher hissed, "Yes, master."

"Good. Go."

The house elf vanished with a loud crack.

For five minutes, Harry and Ron stood there while Hermione pitched in and helped the house elves with the dishes, despite their vehement protests. Just as Harry was beginning to wonder what loophole he had accidentally left in his orders, Kreacher reappeared with another loud popping noise. Dangling from his fist was an ornate golden locket with a serpent in the shape of an S embossed on the front.

"Give it to me," Harry commanded.

It dropped into his hand, and instantly, Harry knew that this was it. It's a trick, his mind told him; how could it be so easy?

It's not easy, Harry thought bitterly. Dumbledore paid for this with his life.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Harry slipped away from breakfast early the next morning and made his way to the head's office. He nervously said the password and ascended the spiral staircase, fervently hoping that Professor McGonagall would not decide to come up earlier than normal.

With an apprehensive glance around, he entered the circular old office and half-expected to see Dumbledore sitting at the familiar desk. Instead, he saw the late headmaster's portrait hanging on the wall behind it, still asleep.

Harry climbed the ladder to the highest bookshelf and pulled on the book by Nicholas Flamel. The bookshelf slid out and to the side, revealing the secret alcove that Dumbledore's portrait had shown him on the Sunday he had arrived at Hogwarts.

He dug into his pocket for the three objects he had brought to store here. They sat in his hands, like little relics of the past.

Relics of evil, he reminded himself.

In reverence for their antiquity and in disgust for what they housed, he laid them gently beside the long staff that was already there.

I've found them all, he thought suddenly, all but him himself. Dumbledore found the ring and the diary, and he destroyed those, and he found the staff but didn't get a chance to do away with it. I've found the timeturner, the cup, and the locket.

His body is the only one left.

He was shaking as he climbed down. He knew he had to destroy the Horcruxes, and the sooner the better. But he remembered the words of the encyclopedia at the Ministry's library that summer, what it had said about venturing to the world of Swift Light… those who venture there are never quite the same.

He was scared. It was a strange feeling because it didn't happen very often, but he was scared. He remembered Dumbledore's hand and briefly wondered whether it had been the spell Propero Luminarium that had done it. Dumbledore had never told him what had really happened…

Lost in thought, he did not realize that the door was opening and that someone was coming in until it was too late. Cursing, he shoved the book back into place, and as the secret alcove was sliding shut, he jumped down from off the ladder.

When Professor McGonagall entered her office, she found Harry Potter on the floor, holding his ankle in a pained grimace and looking sheepishly up at her. Her nostrils flared sharply and her lips compressed into a sharp line. "You have a lot of explaining to do, Mr. Potter."