Chapter 16

Think Before You Jump

Amelda Barlow Stanovich bore little resemblance to her brother, Richard Barlow, the two having few common features. Before the three teens stood a stout middle-aged woman, with a friendly face and thick curly blond hair down to her neck. She wore a typical muggle dress.

After introductions, Amelda pointed down the avenue explaining, "There's a favorite restaurant of mine a couple of blocks that way. To be honest, I arranged to meet you here so that I could talk to you there."

The three consented and maneuvered their way down several busy blocks, weaving their way through the mass of pedestrians in an attempt to keep up with the middle-aged witch. Amelda walked quickly and powerfully, forcing others on the street to avoid her. Soon they seated themselves in a typical fish and chips shop. Harry could see nothing special about the establishment, but Amelda seemed to absorb every inch of it with relish, reliving good memories.

"Regulus and I used to come here occasionally, you know, "she commented, carefully placing her purse on the floor and spreading a napkin on her lap, "I know you wanted to talk to me about him."

Harry nodded but held up a hand, "Just a moment, Mrs. Stanovich." He discreetly unsheathed his wand and muttered, "Muffliato."

"I've never heard that spell," Amelda commented with curiosity, "Must be a new one. By the way, please call me Amelda."

"Actually it's an old spell," explained Harry, replacing his wand in its holder, "but it's not well known. It makes people around you not focus on you and sort of creates a buzz in their ears so that they can't listen in." Amelda smiled and gazed quickly but appraisingly at each of the three friends.

"Ah, yes, I remember learning new spells. But I've outgrown that, I'm afraid. I understand Richard told you that I am married to a muggle." The three nodded. "My husband knows about my abilities, but he prefers I not use magic. From time to time I might when he's not around, but I'm pretty much a muggle now. With what I hear's going on in the magical world, I think I'll stay right where I'm at." She flipped her menu on the table, already knowing what she wished to order.

Hermione wanted to put Amelda at ease, though the older woman did not appear nearly as nervous as her brother.

"I don't blame you. I'm muggle-born myself, and sometimes I wonder if my life wouldn't have been better if I had stayed there. But I'm very much part of the magical world now, and I can't turn back." Hermione smiled genuinely and shifted back into her chair.

"She's Head Girl this year," boasted Harry proudly, pointing at Hermione, "She's the most talented witch we know." Hermione blushed with pleasure, a smile of thanks on her face. Amelda casually glanced again at the three teens, all of whom had dressed as nicely as they could given their limited wardrobes. The two boys wore plain jeans and shirts while Hermione wore a navy blue vest over a white blouse.

"Well, I was no Head Girl, that's for sure," Amelda chuckled, "but I knew my way around a wand. Still do when I want to, but you know, when you live like a muggle for awhile, you discover that you really don't need a wand for much, unless you're just plain lazy. And that's what's happened to a lot of wizard folk; they're just plain lazy."

As enjoyable as this was, Harry nervously fidgeted in his chair, anxious to get down to business.

"Amelda, I don't think you know that Sirius Black was my godfather, so I know a bit about the Black family. But we need to know something about Regulus Black, and we understand that you were a good friend of his."

Amelda's friendly expression gradually turned more serious and reflective. She set her iced tea down on the table.

"Yes, Regulus and I were friends, especially at Hogwarts, but then again just before he died." They could hear the emotion in those last words. "Regulus was a wonderful person corrupted by those horrible parents of his!" she growled.

"We were wondering how you got to know him so well," asked Ron as tactfully as he could between bites of his chips, "I mean you were Ravenclaw and he was Slytherin, you were a half blood and he was a full blood. . . ."

"And he was handsome and I was ugly," Amelda interrupted with a laugh. She obviously did not take herself too seriously. "Well, I was a bit better to the eye back then, but I was never a looker. Regulus was quite handsome, at least I thought so. You never met him, of course, but he looked a lot like Sirius, an inch or two shorter, not quite as muscular, but otherwise similar." She sighed deeply, and began to tell the story, one which she had never told anyone before:

"It's hard to explain why we became such fast friends. We had some classes together in all of our years, and I sat next to him by chance in one of them, in first year. We liked each other straight away, and whenever we had class with Slytherin, we would find each other. Regulus may have looked like Sirius, but he was much quieter, not an attention-seeker like his brother. But Sirius had a strong will; he'd stand up to Merlin himself if he had a mind to. Sure stood up to his parents from what I hear. Regulus wasn't like that. He was completely under the influence of his parents, especially that hag of a mother."

Amelda paused for a few seconds, half of her meal remaining on its plate forgotten. Ron had finished his meal, while Harry and Hermione took a bite from time to time without realizing it.

"He didn't know I was a half blood at first, and when he found out, he didn't know what to do. By fourth and fifth year, we were liking each other a little more, if you catch my drift, but he couldn't get past the blood thing. By seventh year, we had more than a few rows about it, I can tell you. But he had changed, become darker. I could see it and told him so. He stayed under the spell of his parents who supported You Know Who, and, I'm not sure exactly how it happened, they pushed him into joining the death eaters."

She paused to breathe, and then relaxed. It felt good to get this off her chest.

Taking a sip of her iced tea, she continued, "I tried to talk him out of it, but it was useless. That was it, I told him, don't come looking for me anymore. Shed a few tears, I did. And that was it for about three years. I still lived in England at the time, near Bath, and I had pretty much put him behind me, when he showed up at my door. I can't describe my shock when I saw him. He looked terrible, thin, gaunt, scraggly hair." She shook her head at the memory, while Harry recalled how Sirius appeared the first time he saw him in the Shrieking Shack.

"Well, to get to the point you're looking for, he told me that he needed my help, that he'd found out about the dark lord (that's what he always called him), what he really was doing. You Know Who wanted to kill all muggleborns, then half bloods, and then who knows what. In the end, Regulus just couldn't stomach it. Said he had done terrible things, that he had to do something to redeem himself. Then he told me why he needed my help." Amelda lowered her voice while glancing at the other patrons, even though Harry's spell remained in effect. "Do you know what a 'horcrux' is?" Harry gave her a thin smile.

"Yes we do. I suppose you can guess that's why we're here."

"I thought as much," Amelda replied, though she did not return the smile, "It's the only important thing I know, and I don't know much. All I know is that Regulus took me to this god-awful cave by the coast. It was terrible getting in there, but Regulus somehow knew all about it. He knew exactly how to get in, cross this lake to a little island. That's when he needed my help." Amelda's voice choked, and she shuddered at the memory. She could not go on.

Harry pushed his plate away and carried on the story, "He had to drink a potion from a large bowl, right? And you had to force him to drink all of it." Amelda nodded and inhaled deeply in an attempt to compose herself.

"So you've been there too?" Harry nodded. "Regulus then was terribly thirsty, but he made sure to bring a bottle of water. He told me wand water wouldn't work but regular water from a muggle tap would. He grabbed a golden locket from the bowl even though he was wracked with pain and almost delirious. I was beside myself, but he somehow kept going. He put a fake locket back in the bowl, and then we took the boat back. He could hardly walk, but somehow we made it back."

"We figured something like that must have happened," Harry admitted, listening avidly to every word, "What we really need to know is what happened to the locket. Was Regulus able to destroy the horcrux?" Please let it be destroyed, he thought.

"He tried. He had seven or eight different theories; I never understood them. I helped him brew a horribly complicated potion that he thought would kill it, took two weeks to prepare, but it didn't work. There were a couple of incantations that he had discovered that he thought might work, dark magic, but they failed too." Amelda crumpled a napkin in her hand while she spoke. "I tried to tell him that he needed to use some form of light magic, that no dark magic would be able to kill it. But he told me he had to try everything. Nothing worked, and he despaired. By then, You Know Who knew that Regulus had abandoned him. He hid for quite a while, I helped him, but after eight or nine weeks, he gave up."

Tears streamed from Amelda's eyes, which she tried to dab as quickly as they came. She looked around to see if others noticed her tears, but the muffliato spell prevented that. A look of determination came over her. She was so close to the end of the story.

"The last time I saw him, strangely enough, was at the Black mansion. I had only been there a couple of times, because of course his parents did not approve of me, but he snuck me in while his parents were away. He told me he wanted to come home one more time before the end. That was a terrible day, because we both knew that he was as good as dead. He was a broken man by that point, because he had failed to destroy the horcrux. It was heartbreaking," she concluded, her voice breaking throughout.

They allowed her a few moments to compose herself before Hermione asked the most important question, "Did Regulus have the locket with him? Was it at the Black mansion?"

Amelda sniffled and wiped her eyes as she nodded. "Yes, he had it there."

"Is it still there?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"No." Amelda paused for a moment in internal conflict before deciding she must proceed. "No, it's not there. He gave it to me. He told me to hide it, hide it until I find a person who can destroy it."

The three friends flinched, shocked by this news, as none of them ever considered that Amelda herself may have the horcrux. After a long pause, Harry realized that he needed to convince her to give the locket to him. He shifted forward in his chair and nervously brushed the hair from his eyes.

"Amelda, I am that person. I don't think you know that Lord Voldemort created more than one horcrux. I have destroyed two of them; I know how to do it. It's not easy, but it is my mission. It is my destiny."

Though the fish and chips restaurant reverberated with noise and activity, for the four diners at Harry's table, there was complete silence. Amelda's face did not appear friendly now. Harry and she stared intently at each other. The older woman tried to look as deep inside the famous young wizard as she could.

Neither spoke for nearly a minute until finally Amelda, still staring at Harry, concluded, "I believe you. My brother was right. There is something about you, Harry Potter. It's not your story or your 'legend.' I don't know what you have to do or how you will do it, but I believe that you can do it." She lifted her purse from the floor and opened it. Carefully she removed a small, square box, and after holding it for a second, placed it in front of Harry. "This is it."

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Upon returning to Hogwarts, even Hermione forgot about homework and Head Girl duties, and the three found an empty room down the hall from their common room. Harry barely uttered a word on the way back, deep in thought. Now that he possessed another horcrux, fear filled every vein of his body. His thoughts reverted to Hufflepuff's cup and the battle for his soul. The lava-like water that he drank still haunted him, and he dreaded another struggle with a different section of Voldemort's soul. Now that it came down to it, he did not want to suffer that again.

Hermione took the top off the box, and they gazed at the golden locket, none of them daring to touch it.

"How do you think this one works, Harry?" she asked quietly as she removed several pins from her hair, allowing it to fall naturally.

"It's a locket; I have to wear it." he responded simply, "I'll have to open it."

"When do you want to do it?" Ron half whispered. Harry stared at him, his eyes wide with fear.

"Never!"

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry and then glanced away when they saw the pain on his face. They knew that they could never understand what he would have to suffer.

After a long uncomfortable silence, Hermione finally decided, "We can wait, Harry, until you feel ready. You shouldn't do anything until then." She edged her chair a few inches closer to her friend's.

Harry glanced at Hermione while she spoke but then returned his gaze to the stone floor.

"Let me think about it," he responded, "I can't wait forever, but . . ." Ron and Hermione understood, and Harry needed to say no more.

"We'll have to plan how to do it, anyway," offered Hermione, hoping that turning the discussion to pragmatic matters would make the discussion easier. "This is different from the cup. We can decide when and where, and try to make it as comfortable as possible."

"Comfortable is not exactly the right word," Harry retorted, "but you're right. We can do it at Grimmauld Place. Dobby can be there to take care of me if, you know, I'm out of it again." Harry had a terribly difficult time talking about this, more than he had ever had in his many adventures. The certainty of the pain and the desperateness of the battle overwhelmed him.

"We'll be there too, Harry," Hermione insisted with finality, "We'll be there for every minute!"

"You have too much to do here, Hermione. Hogwarts needs you. Ernie isn't doing much as Head Boy, and this year Head Girl is extremely important," Harry argued half-heartedly, "Dobby can handle it, and you can come from time to time."

"I'll be there, Harry," promised Ron, "This is far more important than classes. I can keep Hermione up to date."

"I don't care about Head Girl!" Hermione exclaimed, reaching her hand out to Harry's, "They can dismiss me, or I'll quit. I am not going to let you face this alone. We don't know what this horcrux will be like; the other three have all been different. Ron and I should be there. Even if . . . (Hermione wanted to word it tactfully) . . . it happens again, I mean, if you are unconscious, you told us that you were aware. We can give you support, help you in your recovery."

Deep down, Harry wanted to hear this. He did not want to face this alone. Hearing his friends' support briefly buoyed his spirits, but only briefly.

"Thanks," he whispered, his gaze still downcast, "That means a lot to me."

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Harry tried his best to mask his depression over the next week, but his friends noticed soon enough. He overheard Neville Longbottom asking Ron, who responded that Harry just had a lot on his mind. Later Ron reported that Seamus and Dean had also noticed, and Harry knew that if the boys noticed, the girls most certainly had. Amazingly, his practical work in class continued to be superior, despite the fact that he could barely pay attention to anything for more than five minutes. The reading for his four classes should have taken him hours each day, but Harry barely opened his books. From time to time he would read a page or two and then flip though several more, picking out a word here or there on each page. Good enough, he would decide and flip the book away. Hermione, who had started hanging around the common room more often, did not bother to chastise him. Ron and she briefed Harry as best as they could for the two written exams that week, and Harry remembered enough to obtain passing grades.

The delay in action served Harry well. He thought continuously about the horcrux and the battle to come, and gradually his initial fear diminished. By the end of the week, he became restless. The time had come.

"Come in," Professor McGonagall's voice sounded, and Ron, Harry and Hermione entered her office. Harry quickly glanced at Dumbledore's portrait - no change. The three had decided that the headmistress must be told that they would be away, possibly for an extended period of time.

"I take it you are leaving the grounds again?" McGonagall asked in a businesslike manner as she returned an armful of files to a cabinet drawer in the corner of her office.

Since Hermione as Head Girl saw a lot of the headmistress and had developed a rapport with her, she had been designated to speak.

"Professor, we thought you should know that the three of us will be gone, probably for several days, though we don't know for sure how long. We will leave on Friday morning, and if all goes well, we may be back by Monday, but it may take longer."

The comrades awaited the explosion from the headmistress only to be greeted by silence. McGonagall stared at them intently and began pacing the office slowly. For a moment, she appeared ready to speak, only to continue pacing. More than once she glanced at Dumbledore's portrait. Finally she returned to her chair as the nervous trio awaited her judgment.

"This deals with something of great importance, correct?" The three nodded. "I assume it will involve a certain amount of danger?" Nods. "I further assume that it must be done?" Nods. "And lastly I assume that you will not inform me what you will be doing." Sheepish nods.

"Very well," McGonagall conceded, "I do not believe it necessary to give you my feelings on this matter, but I knew to what I agreed when I spoke with you in August. What should we say to the students who will inquire as to your whereabouts?"

"We already thought of something, Professor," Ron responded, "We need to attend an inquiry at the Ministry, the subject of which, of course, is confidential."

McGonagall pursed her lips, "I guess it is just as bad an excuse as any I would invent. The students will see right through it, of course." She stood to move to the front of her desk, sitting on the edge directly in front of Harry. They examined each other uncomfortably for some moments before the headmistress's visage softened. "Be extremely careful, Harry. Please do not act impetuously. Think before you jump!"

Harry could not avoid noticing that McGonagall had called him "Harry" rather than the usual "Mr. Potter," and tremendous worry filled her voice. The worry of a mother to a son departing for war.

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The three mates finalized preparations for the next horcrux battle on Thursday. Harry met with Dobby with instructions to prepare Harry's bedroom and two others for an extended stay, and to take some of his clothes, as well as some for Ron and Hermione. Harry did not want to take his trunk, as that would arouse suspicion. Dobby sensed the seriousness of the venture, though he did not ask for an explanation.

A whirlwind of activity, Hermione attempted to accomplish all that she could. She made a point, however, to check on Harry several times during the day. Ron acted unusually quietly during the day, a bundle of nerves. No longer were they enthusiastic soldiers stepping on the battlefield for the first time, ignorant of the horrors to come. Now they were battle tested, and perhaps a bit battle weary.

Ron remembered Harry's words in the park in Little Whinging: "I can't tell you two how much I appreciate you being willing to help. It's going to be so hard, and it's going to be dangerous." He shook his head, not believing that less than three months had passed since that day.

Word had been spread by the three that they would be gone for a few days at the Ministry for the secret inquiry. Whether anyone believed them mattered little; at least the others would know that their absence had been planned. At the end of the day, the three friends lounged comfortably around the fire late that evening, speaking little.

Ginny watched them closely from a distance, worry etched on her face. Something big was happening, she knew, but Ron would not tell her anything other than the obvious lie about the inquiry, and she knew Harry would tell her nothing. She felt helpless.

Finally Friday morning arrived, and the three scurried about with the energy of travelers leaving on vacation. After an early breakfast, Harry returned to his trunk and carefully placed the small box containing the horcrux in the pocket of his robe. Their friends wished them luck at the inquiry and wondered what they were truly doing. At last they walked openly to the front gate of the Hogwarts grounds and apparated to the same spot outside No. 17 Grimmauld Place where they had brought Snape bound and gagged just a few weeks earlier.

Dobby greeted them and offered them refreshment. Though they had already eaten at Hogwarts, they welcomed any reason to postpone the inevitable, and the three friends sat in the kitchen quietly drinking tea and nibbling a few small cakes. None of them recalled the time less than two months earlier when they sat around the same table laughing hysterically at their silly jokes.

"Let's go," Harry soon ordered, pushing himself away from the thick table, "It's time." Hermione noticed that Harry's hands trembled. The three slowly climbed the stairs to his bedroom, which Dobby had prepared for him. Extra pillows sat on the bed, and many pillows lay piled on the floor around the bed in the event Harry should fall.

"At least I'll be comfortable," Harry joked, and Ron and Hermione, who had hardly spoken a word all morning, forced a smile.

Harry removed his robe and shoes, making himself at home. Sitting on the bed, he opened the box and examined the horcrux again. The golden locket truly was a beautiful piece of jewelry, expertly crafted with Slytherin's snake wrapping itself around the closed frontal piece. As he had done several times before, he waved his hand an inch above it, feeling the familiar magical aura emanating from the box. He had secretly hoped that they were mistaken, that this really was just a golden locket, not a horcrux at all.

"Are you sure you know what to do with it, Harry?" Hermione pleaded. She had carefully broached this subject before, but Harry merely assured her that he knew exactly what to do. And for some reason he could not explain, he knew. The horcrux was telling him, he realized. Like Hufflepuff's Cup, the locket made no attempt to avoid him. It WANTED this battle.

A somber mood descended on Harry's room, and it seemed proper for some final words. The young wizard felt like an aged father on his death bed, awaiting a blissful end.

"Well, let's hope this one is a little easier than the last one," Harry commented, trying unsuccessfully to sound unconcerned.

Hermione stood and pulled Harry off of the bed and into a bear hug, her arms wrapped as far around Harry's back as she could reach. Somehow she managed to prevent the tears welling up behind her eyes from falling, for she wanted to show Harry her confidence in him. Harry made no effort to break the embrace.

Finally Hermione loosened her grip and promised, "We'll be here all the time, Harry. I know that you'll destroy it. Remember, you've done it twice before. Remember that we love you, Harry, all of us do." Harry nodded his head but looked away.

He turned to Ron, who waited his turn but could not put his feelings into words. The lanky red head had always been in Harry's shadow, ever since first year, and he had resented it. But at this moment, he hoped he could hide in Harry's shadow forever, and the realization that Harry might not make it, that he might not overcome the horcrux, was too painful to contemplate.

Instead he avoided it altogether with a feeble attempt at humor, "Don't get too comfortable here, Harry, we have a DADA exam next Thursday." Harry smiled, understanding the reason behind his best friend's humor.

The two friends embraced, and Harry patted Ron on his back responding with his own light comment, "Don't let her drive you crazy," gesturing towards Hermione. He turned back to his bed, no longer feeling nervous or fearful. Harry remembered Dumbledore's letter.

"I have the power," he thought, "Let's get this over with." He removed the locket from the box and immediately felt a numbing shock pulse through his body, which intensified when he slipped it over his head, letting it hang on his chest. With one last glance at his friends, he opened the locket and released the horcrux.