Chapter Five The Locket

"So did it reveal anything we didn't already know?" McGonagall asked. She was watching Lupin who had once again bent his head into the Pensieve and watched the memories play out before him.

Remus looked puzzled and nodded. "I think so. I shall have to have time to think about what I saw, Minerva. It's clear that Snape used the Pensieve to hold some of his worst memories so that when he was teaching Harry Occlumency he wouldn't be able to access them. Poor Harry! Unfortunately, it's also clear that Harry stumbled on a few of them. Dumbledore's memories include a particularly virulent argument he had with Snape."

She glanced at the Pensieve and once again sealed its' contents into the fishbowl. "Don't tell me, I don't want to know. I have been kept in the dark about so many things that I am ashamed to say that I feel like a fool. I don't want to know anymore."

"Minerva..." Lupin began.

"No...no," she said, shaking her head. "It's alright. Perhaps it's better if I don't know. Now, I must be off. I have an appointment with Scrimgeour about opening the school."

"Really?!" Remus exclaimed. "He's for it?"

McGonagall nodded. "It seems our Miss Granger has been rather busy this summer with the help of some of the other students in a letter-writing campaign. I don't know how she did it but Rita Skeeter has recently been writing articles about how Hogwarts needs to open again. The Minister thinks I put her up to it, but that's beside the point. If he wants to reopen Hogwarts then I will agree, as long as we can insure the safety of the students. I expect the Minister to help with that." McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Really he should know me better then that, although it doesn't surprise me. Rufus Scrimgeour was not my brightest student."

"Yes, well Voldemort had a streak of luck with those cabinets in the Room of Requirement, letting all those Death eaters into the school," Remus said. "I suppose that's been taken care of so we don't have to worry about that happening again."

"Oh, good lord, Remus!" Minerva said. "I hadn't given it a thought since Dumbledore's funeral. I shall take care of it instantly." She grabbed the globe and headed for the door and then suddenly turned. "Remus, I must insist that you consider the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts if the school is reopened."

"Minerva...." Remus began.

"Just think about it. Parents will either send their children back to school or they won't and I'll be rolled in oil and burned at the stake if I let Scrimgeour dictate the terms like Fudge did. If Dolores Umbridge sets foot on these grounds I will quit and I believe every teacher on these grounds will follow suit."

Remus studied her face and smiled slightly.

"Remus, just think about it. I know you have many important things to do, but you really are the best candidate I have at the moment." She shrugged and added, "And the other thing you can do is find Harry Potter."

"Oh, I think one of the house-elves can assist me with that," Lupin said, which caused her to raise her eyebrows. Remus continued, "I want to take a detour to Gringott's and see what is happening with Dumbledore' vault first. Perhaps he hid something there."

She stared steadily at him for a moment and said, "Do be careful, Remus. When I have a moment I will go down to the library and do some research. If I find anything pertinent I will send you an owl. Where will you be staying until term begins?"

"Number 12 Grimmauld Place," he answered.

"Do you think that's wise?" she asked.

He nodded and said, "I'll be fine, Minerva." He watched her leave and then looked around Dumbledore's office and stepped out. He pulled his wand from his robe and whispered a few unintelligible words and sealed the door. Satisfied that no one could get in, he left.

...

Neville Longbottom shouldered his bag and started up the road towards Hogwarts. He still did not know how to Apparate and felt slightly embarrassed about it. However, even with such a handicap, he had told his grandmother that he was of age, he was leaving her house and he would work until he could apply for a job at Hogwarts as a teacher.

She was, to say the least, flabbergasted. "I suppose it's because you think you're mother is getting better. You have fooled yourself into believing that she will recover completely."

Neville was immediately angry. He'd visited his parents over the summer as he always did. This past summer his mother had taken to dressing herself, doing her own hair and wandering about the ward straightening up as if it were her house. When Neville visited he found to his delight that she would sit and hold his hand for hours on end and seemed to be unhappy when he left.

"You don't want her to get better!" he said quickly.

"Do not hold out false hope, boy," his grandmother warned. "It has been years. There has been very little change."

"It's time I live on my own," he responded. He didn't feel courageous, although it had taken everything he had to not cringe at the look she gave him. He thought perhaps she was right. Maybe he did feel stronger because of his mother. No matter what his grandmother said, he would never give up on his parents; not even if his mother didn't improve any further.

He recalled the whole fight as he walked towards Hogwarts. It was really the only home he had ever had, or the only place he felt good about himself and had friends. And in spite of the fact that Dumbledore was gone and the school might not open again, he had nowhere else to go. He hoped that he would not be turned away. All he really wanted was to work in the greenhouses where there was peace and quiet and growing things.

...

Hermione stepped off the train at Hogsmeade. If she had walked but a short distance she would have seen Neville headed towards Hogwarts. As it was, she was met on the platform by a very rugged young man who lifted her off her feet and grinned up at her as she tried to wiggle free. Viktor Krum was dressed in clothes that were out of place and foreign to the little village of Hogsmeade, and because of this and because he was easily recognized, he immediately attracted a crowd of autograph seekers.

Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration as they waded through the growing group of children and parents. News does seem to travel fast, she thought pulling him along by his hand. He grinned at her and nodded and waved to the crowd.

Hermione headed for Madam Rosmerta's pub. It had been closed and boarded up by the Ministry after it was discovered that she had been Imperiused and was part of the plot to kill Dumbledore. Innocent of wrongdoing, she was still held for a trial that had not yet taken place. Hermione felt very sorry for the innocent woman even though Madam Rosmerta had been the object of Ron's boyhood crush.

Hermione took Viktor in a roundabout course and finally slipped in the back door of the pub by unlocking the door with her wand.

"So you have found us a quiet place to stay, where we can be alone," Viktor said and grinned.

"Don't get any ideas, Viktor," Hermione said firmly. "I wrote to you about how I felt and about my current relationship. I want to be your friend and that's all."

He nodded solemnly and then smiled again. "Perhaps. And maybe you will change your mind about me. I am strong, attractive guy. Yes? And I will be most famous Seeker on any Quidditch team ever. I am now known by many in this country."

"Oh, yes," she answered and moved away as he edged towards her. "I imagine you will be quite famous, even more then you are now.."

"Who could not want husband like me?" he asked.

"Viktor you don't want a wife," she said sarcastically. You want a queen so you can play king, was what she thought.

"Very well, we will discuss this later," he mumbled and dropped down into an empty chair. "I have come a long way. I wish to know why you have brought me here."

Hermione sat across from him and produced two iced butter beers for them. "I need your help Viktor. As one friend to another," she said pointedly, " I need for you to help me find Igor Karkaroff."

He sat forward, frowning at her. "He is coward! Why do you want to find him! Phewy" he snarled, "I do not like him. I don't trust him! He was not even good teacher. Everything I learned came from a wiser man." Viktor picked up the bottle and drank it down and sat back looking sullen. "This place....it is jinxed. Nothing good happens here at Hogwarts. Your Professor Dumbledore was killed here, by the dark wizard- hmmmm- I think Snape was his name. Yes?"

"Yes," Hermione answered. "Dumbledore was murdered."

"Come away with me where you will be safe, Hermione," he urged and she saw that he was serious. "You can stay in Bulgaria until all of these bad things are over with."

"I appreciate your concern Viktor. But I really, really need to find Karkaroff."

"He ran away," Viktor said and shrugged. "He is not at Durmstrang anymore."

"Yes, I know," Hermione said patiently. "But you are such a skilled wizard, and he is in your country. I couldn't possibly get as far as you can searching for him. He trusts you."

"What do you want with him?" Krum asked.

"I can't tell you Viktor. It has something to do with my friend Harry Potter and it is a matter of life and death." She found herself crossing her fingers under the table.

"Ah yes. Harry Potter," he frowned and nodded. "He is a good Seeker, but not better then me."

"No, not better then you," Hermione agreed. She waited and watched him. The room was silent and she watched dust motes drifting down on a single beam of light that broke through a window. The place was so different without it's regular raucous crowd.

"Very well. I will do it," Viktor said and shoved himself away from the table. "But you cannot come with me. It would not be safe."

"Oh-well- alright," she said and rose to her feet. She hadn't expected such an immediate response.

"What do you want me to do with him when I find him?" he asked.

"Ah-uhm," she considered the question. "Well bring him here, to me and...and send an owl. I'll be staying here until I hear from you."

"Very well," he said seriously and drew closer. "You will hear from me." He leaned in to kiss her and Hermione drew back a little and then leaned in and accepted the kiss.

After all, she thought, it is the least I can do.

"You see," he said and grinned. "I think you do like me. When I return I will ask for your hand again. Perhaps you will reconsider."

"Thank you for doing this Viktor," she said.

They stepped out onto the street and Hermione went towards the Inn while Viktor disapparated. She was not aware that villainous eyes followed her.

...

Ron found that he had no difficulty in getting into Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore had set the defensive charms on the door and it seemed that no one had thought to replace them after his death.

The house was as dreary and gloomy as it always was even after having been cleaned. The portrait of Mrs. Black still hung on the wall and remained covered by black curtains. Ron crept by and headed for the kitchen, wanting to avoid wakening her at all costs.

He knew that the Order of the Phoenix kept the place stocked for their meetings and his family had used the house often enough that his mother had left some of their belongings behind. He also knew that Harry would be arriving at any time as soon as he left his aunt and uncle's house. He was looking forward to it and wanted to find something that might be of use.

He comforted himself by fixing a huge sandwich and eating it while he walked through the house. He started at the top, in the attic, and intended to work his way down. By afternoon he had covered only a fraction of the dark cluttered space, eaten several sandwiches and still had found nothing of interest.

"I'm not giving up, Harry. If there is anything in this house that you should know about I'll find it. Besides I'm a pureblood wizard- no offense- but I know what to look for." Ron was again communicating to an invisible Harry. "Dad says there's always magical residue on everything and that a wizard can tell the difference between ordinary objects and magical ones."

Harry would not have been surprised to hear Ron say it. During his journey to the cave with Dumbledore, Harry watched him find an invisible door and an invisible boat just by feeling for it.

Ron re-entered the massive attic and returned to the spot where he left burning candles. Trunks lined the walls along with old furniture. The mice had been into everything and had ruined ball gowns that were hanging in armoires, torn open and nested in expensive furniture and scattered their droppings into the inch thick dust. Various items were monogrammed with initials. No matter how old they were the last initial was always B for Black.

Ron held his illuminated wand up searching for telltale signs of spiders. He was worried about doxies and boggarts and other such benign creature, too. But they didn't hold the same kind of terror that spiders did. His light fell upon a nest that was somewhat larger then a mouse nest. Ron held his nose because, although it was abandoned, it still smelled.

Kreacher! he thought. Has to be. Look Harry, he's got all kinds of rubbish that belonged to the Blacks hidden here. Ron didn't verbalize the thought but continued his conversation with Harry. Look at this Harry! It's a jewelry box that belonged to Tonks.

The box was perched on top of a cabinet with her names printed on a brass plate: Nymphadora Tonks Black. There appeared to be scorch marks on it and the clasp was broken. "Didn't like you very much, huh Tonks?"

Hesitating to step into the nest, Ron pinched his nose with one hand and leaned in. "Aghhhhhh!" he yelped when he saw the bundle move.

The house elf emerged and his big round golf-ball sized eyes reflected the wands glare. Ron was shocked at his condition and wondered how the elf could even be alive.

"Kreacher!"

"Yes, it is Kreacher," the elf croaked. "The human is trespassing." The eyes narrowed and it shrieked, " The human is the friend of the half-blood master! We says go away. Leave us in peace."

Ron stood considering the creature. He wasn't sure if house elves hibernated. His parents had never had enough money to afford the luxury of a house elf and he knew little about them. But he thought that if he didn't get the elf out of the attic and give him some food that the creature would wither up and die. The smell from the nest told him that the creature might well be on it's way towards that end.

He couldn't be soft-hearted like Hermione would have been because he knew that the house elf was loyal to the end. This one had been trained by the Blacks and he would never change. He was loathsome and vile like his previous masters and not to be trusted. Still he could not do nothing. "Kreacher, your master is away. It's time you came out of the attic. You need to feed yourself and clean up this mess!"

"Kreacher does not take orders from this wizard."

"Perhaps not, but your master will be here at any time. It's your job to make sure the house is ready for him."

The house elf snarled and waved the light away.

"Let it be on your head then," Ron said, disheartened. He made one more futile attempt. "He's going to be really mad when he finds out that you haven't been protecting his property. He caught Mundungus Fletcher stealing things out of the house. He might have to have you strung up in the dungeon." Ron cringed at his own words Perhaps that's going too far, Harry. I doubt the house has dungeons like Hogwarts. Still house elves expect to be threatened now and again.

Kreacher glared at him and slipped away into the dark. Ron stood watching and listening but heard no more from the creature. Deciding that he shouldn't overlook the nest in his search, he once again held his breath and climbed in.

An hour later, he stepped into the hallway breathing in huge gasps of fresh air and held the locket up by its' chain with a handkerchief. Unlike all the other things in the attic, this one had one initial engraved on its' surface, a large ornate S. Not daring to touch the actual locket, he slipped it into Tonks jewelry box that he had dusted off for that purpose, and headed down the stairs feeling very satisfied and happy.

Now all I have to do is find Kreacher, Harry. He can tell me who this belongs to.