Narcissa Black felt the runes changing her magic. No. That wasn't right. Narcissa had been raised in the ancient traditions, she had given herself to the rituals at the sabbats, at the equinox and solstice and felt the purity of bringing the magic inside her into harmony with the magic of the world.
Wand magic was a thing of the mind, you used your wand motion, visualization, and incantation as a sort of shorthand to create a structure that focused the ambient magic of the world to enact an effect. The Chinese Wu-Jen would inscribe an elaborate character upon a piece of paper and then ignite it with their will, while the Hindu spiritualists would make elaborate seals through motions of their whole body, then release their will. It was all variations of the same, external manifestation of will binding magic to create an effect that generations of practitioners had layered into the magic of the world, creating a pattern a small amount of energy could generate a predictable effect through.
It was safe, knowable, predictable, and limited to human desire.
This was the foundation of civilized magic, and inside it were the schools of light and dark magic, where deliberate limitations were written into the spell forms to bind a given working to the human understandings of light and dark, with all the emotional and therefore intent based baggage of those concepts. The collective understanding of humanity gave those schools power to do things beyond the normal for wand magic, but with limitations and consequences.
Ritual magic was different. You connected to the magic, opening yourself to become a part of a working that was both beyond your skin and your control, and within yourself on levels beneath your concious awareness or control. It was primal, instinctive, ecstatic and wild. The basic forms like the basic runes were known and knowable, but they were only the connection points to the Wild Magic. The unformed magic of creation, that spark of divine will that looked upon non-being and willed it to take form. Ritual magic stood on the border between the Real and the Unreal where the needs and currents of power in the world itself mattered more than the witch or wizards will. If you tried to move against those currents, you could be snuffed out or simply ignored, depending on if you moved counter or crossways to the needs of magic. If you moved with the needs of magic, miracles could happen.
It was dangerous, wild, unpredictable, and belonged to the world, not to humanity alone.
The wild simply was. Humanity was a part of it, but so were every other race that could sense power, and make the choice to move with it, and in some cases to shape it. Wild magic was about the truth of what you were, not what you thought you were, wished you were, or admitted you were.
Lies got you killed in the Wild Magic, which is why it was the power that bound wizards oaths and family magic. To take up the Wild Magic was to be forced to set aside what you wanted to think about yourself, and face the reality of what you were.
Narcissa felt the clan runes of course. Othala for family, to bind them together, Algiz for protection to keep them safe. Yet watching the rune be woven in her own flesh, her rune, had been a shock.
Thurisaz. Thorn. The rune that symbolized reaction, defense, conflict, catharsis, regeneration. Narcissa remembered her sister Andromeda when they were being taught the runes. She called Thurisaz the bitch rune. The thorn hedge that kept people away, the scourge that stripped away lies and defenses until the truth lay bloody and naked before it. It was a rune of bitterness and truth, yet the rune used to turn attackers magic back upon themselves. Thurisaz was not a passive defense, it was the bane to those who harmed what it defended.
Venomed One Noodle had named her. Not poisoned one, for she did not weaken or harm those she protected. Venomed One, for those that came for her and hers alone would feel her bite. Witch magic was more dangerous than wand magic, because you had to face yourself before you could take it up.
Narcissa was a bitch, but she looked after her own. She was never going to be like the Longbottom boy, who made everyone feel better about themselves just by breathing and looking like some sort of body pillow for otherwise rational and self-respecting witches. Her healing was different. Hers was thorny. Taking up the broken pieces of yourself and learning to cut the hand that tried to strike you again. She looked upon the children who had determined to set themselves against the world and sighed. They needed her, the dark witch of thorns, the venomed one. Even if they didn't know it.
She looked over at Sirius Black, the eternal man-child and saw the rune of his own nature that had been graven over his heart. She smirked. If she was a bitch, and that was hard to swallow, then Sirius the man-child would choke on his.
The vaguely T shaped rune Tiwas shone in the center of his chest. Tiwas, the rune of Kingship. Masculinity, justice, leadership, logic, battle. Sirius had always been the symbol of masculinity, if he wasn't every witch's dream, he certainly tried to make as many of them come true as possible in his Hogwarts days. He had been a bit of a man whore, no a lot of a man-whore, but quite gentlemanly about it. A lot of her dorm mates talked, but she never heard about it from Sirius. That one mark in his favour, but for the rest, his turning into a dog was not a surprise.
Frankly she blamed Sirius for Harry impregnating a basilisk on their first meeting. it wasn't fair, but Sirius was family, and Black family didn't do fair. Harry was basically a sweet boy, if a bit niave, and a good influence on Draco. With Milicent and her Draco to modify his Hufflepuffian tendencies, Harry might well become the greatest wizard of this age.
Harry was the catalyst for Sirius change. For Harry he moved past the boy, and became the man. Masculine yes, but he learned the truth of Justice in Azkaban. He could no longer afford to be the brash hero charging into battle. The Ministry, the Dark Lord, Dumbledore, the rival great families, rival goblin clans, and the mass of very dangerous sheep that were the public of Wizarding Britain all were threats that could and would destroy Harry Potter for the crime of their being shortsighted and stupid, or because he legitimately would not allow their plans to crush those he would defend. Sirius would have to become the leader Arcturus Black long ago demanded he become, the leader of House Black, the most feared of all the Great Houses. He would have to be not just a warrior, but a politician, a strategist, an empire builder. He would have to build a nation around The Boy Who Lived before the nations of the world destroyed him in their fear.
Harry, Merlin bless his innocent little soul, was determined to destroy the Dark Lord for his many past, present, and planned future crimes, which was just, right and holy of course. He was also utterly unwilling to tolerate the casual cruelty, injustice and corruption that was the foundation of the stagnant and declining wizarding world. He had no plans to change the world, but he was either going to remake it in his image, or it would wipe him out.
He was perhaps, the only one of his company that did not understand it. For her many and various sins, magic had chosen to make her Harry's designated dark witch, and Sirius Black the warlord who together would clear the path for the Boy Who Lived to do something distressingly Hufflepuffian. At least Hufflepuffs put in the work on the details, not charging blindly ahead like a Gryffindor trusting that truth and justice will somehow magically fix everything they smash.
It bothered her to admit that blackmail and assassination legitimately could not fix things. Wizarding Britain had fallen so far that only revolution could fix it. She petted the sleeping basilisk at her breast and sighed. Revolution was so un-Slytherin, but Harry Potter had actually got an army of Salazar Slytherin's basilisk on his side. Even if all the little darlings did was eat and sleep.
Hagrid was over the moon about it. The shaggy brute couldn't stop talking about how unnatural, of course he called it magical, their growth was. A clutch that should have taken decades to hatch took barely months. Basilisk that should eat once a month in a growth spurt are eating and growing like dragons, doubling their weight on nearly a daily basis.
Narcissa could feel the magic of the Chamber of Secrets, Salazar Slytherin's own sanctuary, and beyond it the magic of Hogwarts itself, pouring into the basilisk, drawn by the power of Harry Potter's blood and magic, drawn by the power of the goblin runes carved in goblin silver into their very flesh. Runes that grew as the snakes did, the goblin silver laying down new layers as a goblin warriors did, after every kill.
When the basilisk took to the Forbidden Forest to hunt with the children, the magic of the forest sang so loudly her bones ached. The earth gave song beneath their feet as the children ran through a forest that grown wizards feared to tred and its horrors fled before them like so many frightened rabbits.
The centaur and unicorn saluted as they passed, but the Acromantual problem was virtually eliminated. Out of respect for Hagrid, Aragog was left alive, but the monsters of his eldest children and the twenty nests they had made surrounding the castle in growing and terrible threat were pretty much shattered.
It turned out that having someone to cut their food for them made Acromantula the favored food of growing basiliks. The spiders flee before Slytherin's monster, not just a catchy phrase, it was the truth. Of course you can't hide from Neville Longbottom in a forest, and he doesn't much care for spiders.
The school year had ended, and they would be leaving Hogwarts and the Chamber to thier various homes, but Griphook had his goblins build a fireplace into the chamber and connect it to the floo network. Hermione had Griphook help ward her own home, so the muggle Grangers could be on the floo network without the Ministry being able to note or access their home.
Now the Chamber and its basilisk would be accessible to all. Narcissa had been quietly impressed that Noodle had ambushed Hagrid and woven compulsions into his brain that would forbid him from not only speaking of the basilisk and the chamber, but from even thinking about them even under a Legimens attack. She had been planning on poisoning him, giants being otherwise very had to kill subtly, but the children had removed him as an information risk without murder. She had never held the Hufflepuffs in the contempt of many of her house. They could be as practical as any Slytherin, they simply were willing to work harder to find methods other than murder. If forced to be honest, she had noticed that the Dark Lord's rise would have been far more successful if he had remembered that there was both a carrot and a stick once he began his rise. Fear sometimes caused more problems than it solved.
Today Sirius Black would return to Grimauld Place, and take up residence as its Lord. Narchissa knew about Walburga's portrait, and what Sirius mother both thought and said of her wayward Gryffindor son. She smiled cruelly. Malfoy Mannor had never been as wonderful to return to as it was right now. She laughed softly at the welcome Sirius would receive with Half Blood Harry and Muggle Born Hermione in tow. Honestly, only Noodle and the baby basilisk would be welcomed. Walburga was too Slytherin to be impolite to magical serpents.
Harry Potter was happy. He was taking his Godfather Sirius Black home. Frithweaver had sent Glitterbright and Fangborn along with Harry and Hermione to Grimauld Place with Sirius because she needed to know it was properly secure, and because Sirius needed a little socializing, since Azkaban is to interpersonal skills as unlimited treacle tart is to diets.
Sirius was looking at the Floo powder bowl on top of the Chamber of Secrets fireplace with the face of a man marching to his own execution. No, wait, he had been stunned unconscious when he was taken to Azkaban, so that didn't hold true. Worse, he was looking at the Floo powder with the same fear he had when Aunt Dorea Potter made him eat his brussle sprouts when he ran to Potter Manor to get away from his family at Grimauld Place.
Now, decades later, he was returning to Grimauld place, and he found himself oddly preferring brussel sprouts.
"You look worried Sirius, are you sure you are ready to face everything Grimauld place means to you?" Hermione asked softly. Harry looked confused, because home to him meant everything. The idea that home might be the place you ran from not to was something he didn't process easily.
"I think brussle sprouts receive a bad name. They may look like someone cut the balls of a green-man and made you eat them, and if they are overdone they taste like swamp, but they are good preparation for life. They are on the plate for a reason, and go down a lot better if you squeeze them between bites of something you actually like. Its your own damned fault if you leave them for last." Sirus said honestly.
"Huh? Sirius its nine in the morning. Who is threatening you with vegetables?" Harry said in some confusion.
Glitterbright smacked her younger brother on the back because his head was getting annoyingly out of reach.
"That was a metaphor you moron. He means you have to learn to take the good with the bad, because life is usually mixed. If you avoid the bad, it just piles up until you get left with a pile of nothing but bad to work through." Glitterbright said, turning to Hermione, they shared an eye roll of "men, what can you do with them that doesn't involve digging holes to hide the bodies" and turned back to Sirius.
Sirius straighten up and took a pinch of Floo powder in his hands. "Harry, you are very lucky. You have nothing but smart and dangerous women in your life. This will cost you any number of hexes, and possibly leave permanent dents in the back of your head, but you will probably screw up less of your life than I did.
Grimauld place is where brussels sprouts get condemned to if no one eats them. It is where depression goes to die when it can't take it anymore. It is the only place on earth that can make me miss Azkaban, and it's all mine.
Lets have a sleepover!"
Sirius tossed the floo powder into the fireplace and cuddling his baby basilisk (BG or Best Girl), snarled "Grimauld Place" and disappeared.
Harry grinned. "It can't be that bad, " He took his baby basilisk and stepped forward.
"Come on Ramen, lets go visit Sirius. Grimauld Place!"
Harry disappeared in a flash. Noodle and Hermione's basilisk Viagra exchanged a look across Hermione's frowning face and settled in. It seems the wisest witch of her generation was convinced it could indeed be that bad.
"$ Noodle, you watch the kids. The Black family is only not the scariest thing in wizarding Britain because Voldemort didn't bother to hide what he did, and the Blacks kept the worst of it behind closed doors. Sirius didn't get that way without damage, and Narcissa is a reaction to something I don't really want to know. Consider Grimald Place another Chamber of Secrets until we have killed everything Sirius is too used to avoiding to warn us against. $" Hermione hissed.
Stepping into the green fire of the Floo, she said "Grimauld Place" and disappeared.
-Meanwhile, in Albania
Lucius No Name, once Lord Malfoy followed a laughing witch as she said goodbye to her gossipy friends as they left the tour group from Kruja Castle. He dared not act against her inside Kruja castle, the wards laid down centuries ago by Gjergj Kastriot Skanderbeg, Albania's national hero, and reenforced by centuries of proud Albanian wizards ever since, could rival those of Hogwarts. He dared not strike at Bertha Jorkins there, but he could not let her escape. Bertha Jorkins was his hope for survival.
Lucius No Name dared not return to the Dark Lord empty handed. Terrible was the cost of failure for those in the Dark Lord's service, but torture could be survived. Useless on the other hand, got you killed in slow and inventive ways that Lucius had always enjoyed watching but never dreamed to face himself.
To carry the news that Bellatrix, Rabastan and Rudolfus Lestrange were all dead, and Sirius was free; that Lucius Malfoy had lost title, wealth, and position would be enough to drive the Dark Lord mad. That Harry Potter had driven the Dementors of Azkaban from Hogwarts by magical force would be a thousand times worse unless Lucius Malfoy came with something useful to offer.
Lucius had been part of Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Senior's drive to bring the Quidditch World Cup and Triwizard Tournement back to Britain. The Quidditch World Cup Bagman and Crouch wanted for the fame and political capital, but the Triwizard Tournament was a way to get access to the most protected person in Hogwarts, and a way to draw him out from Dumbledore's protection.
To Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch, it was about restarting an ancient tradition that brought the focus of the wizarding world onto wizarding Britain for their short term political aims. To Lucius Malfoy, it had been the chance to get the Goblet of Fire into Hogwarts. The Goblet of Fire was a magical artifact which bound those chosen champions to a series of tasks to test their prowess and prove who was the best in the wizarding world. It had ended when the death toll became too high, not simply all the champions, but a fair number of judges and audience members.
The Goblet of Fire was so ancient no one remembers where it came from, but it was old magic. Once a champion's name was chosen, they had to compete or have their magic stripped from them forever. it was had been repurposed to test the strongest graduating students of Durmstrang, Beauxbaton, and Hogwarts after the Statue of Secrecy, but had been used to bind champions to settle wars and feuds all the way back to the early Iron Age.
Lucius handn't been blind to the possibilities of the Goblet of Fire being inside Hogwarts with the Boy Who Lived. His own plans to simply kill the boy in the contest were obviously no more since he had lost his position as a Board of Governors member and a part of the Goblet of Fire organizing committee, but he was not empty handed.
He knew his Dark Lord was in the forests of Albania as a wraith. Fenrir Greyback had been bringing victims to the Dark Lord for offerings to slowly build up his strength, but he was little more than a magical thug as a werewolf, and useless to restore the Dark Lord. Lucius knew Ludo Bagman was just a retired Quidditch star, a former celebrity who was a cross between Gildroy Lockheart and Horace Slughorn. He was little more than famous for being famous, lacking any talent beyond broom and beater bat, save one. He was an excellent social networker. Like Horace Slughorn, he had friends and contacts everywhere, he could open doors wherever he needed, he just had no talent to actually do his job.
For that he had Bertha Jorkins. Bertha was a notorious gossip, and complete airhead, but she could do Ministerial paperwork in her sleep. As a witch she was mediocre, as an administrator and organizer she was a generational genius. Ludo, being Ludo, had no idea what a genius he had access to, content to glad-hand and pose for photos while she translated every half baked idea he had into something reasonable successful. Barty Crouch Sr on the other hand still had his eye on the position of Minister for Magic. When his son was caught as a Death Eater at the end of the Blood War, he lost his chance at power.
Crouch had been relegated to the Department of International Cooperation, since Britain seldom cooperated with anyone it was a bit like being the Dementors fan club chair, neither much of an honour or filled with opportunities to shine. When Ludo came to him with the plans for the World Cup and Triwizard Tournament, he was very reluctant. Ludo was an oaf, and could barely brew tea, let alone potions. Any plan of his was less likely to succeed than explode.
Then Crouch met Bertha. An airhead typical of Ludo's choices, Barty was ready to dismiss her, until he saw her proposals. She was a genius at organization. Thorough didn't cut it, she had a sense for what was required and a network of fellow gossips in the Ministry that allowed her work to swan through and just casually have every other department add their constructive bits until what came back to her desk was little short of genius.
Not being an idiot, Barty Crouch Sr through his entire support, name, and department behind both the Quidditch World Cup bid and the Tri-wizard tournament. Unlike Ludo Bagman, he knew how to milk this for all the political capital, and with Bertha Jorkins organization, it would be a success. Since no one with two braincells to rub together would believe Ludo Bagman was responsible, and neither Ludo nor Bertha recognized her as an organizational genius, the credit would fall entirely to Barty Crouch Senior.
With Crouch shining as a star on the international stage, the crumbling Fudge administration in full ass covering mode and Dumbledore facing public criticism and humiliation, the chance to actually mount a bid for Minister of Magic was within Crouch's grasp.
Harry Potter's challenge to Sirius Black's imprisonment, and any inquiry into how it came to pass would kill Crouch's chances, but with the Tri-Wizard tournament coming to Hogwarts, well, Harry was a student, and a supposed hero. The Tri-Wizard tournament had killed hundreds of heroes over the year. Harry Potter couldn't call for any investigation if he was dead, and without Potter, Sirius Black had no real reason to fight for anything.
So many plans for the future of Wizarding Britain hung on the knowledge locked up in the head of one utterly forgettable witch, Bertha Jorkins. Lucius No Name smiled as she walked past him towards her hotel.
He spoke only a single word. "Imperio!"
The curse hit Bertha, and her will was no match to the former master of Malfoy Manor. He took her mind in claws of darkest magic, and she followed him to his carriage. The thestrals pulling it put out powerful muggle repelling charms and his own wards on the carriage would keep anyone else from noticing.
He would not go to the Dark Lord empty handed.
Lucius had no idea what his Dark Lord would do with the knowledge locked up in Bertha Jorkin's head, but he knew that Harry Potter and his little friends would pay a price for humiliating Lucius that would make the simple death of Potter's parents look like small change.
For the first time in months, Lucius smiled happily. Bertha smiled back, the mindless happy feeling washing over her mind as the Imperius Curse swallowed her will made the screaming of her soul all the sweeter. Lucius felt his Dark Mark start to itch. His Dark Lord was near. Near enough to hunt Lucius down.
Soon. Soon his revenge would begin.
-Grimmauld Place, London, Wizarding Britain.
"Filthy blood traitor, disgrace to the family, heartbreak of his noble mother." The ancient and twisted House Elf grumbled as Sirius appeared in Grimmauld Place and stepped from the Floo.
"That is Filthy Blood Traitor and Lord, heartbreak of his bitch of a mother and rightwise ruler of the House of Black. The place looks like a really poorly maintained pyramid after some camels with bowel control issues got in, what in Merlin's name have you been doing all this time Kreacher you useless git?" Sirius corrected his family elf unkindly.
Harry then Hermione stepped through, and Noodle dropped from Hermione's shoulders and slithered towards the House Elf.
"Mistress forbade Kreacher to clean. Noble Regulus was dead, Noble Bellatrix was imprisoned, only nasty dirty blood traitor Lord Sirius remains. Noble Mistress forbade Kreacher to clean, let filthy blood traitor Lord Sirius wallow in dust and filth like his dirty mudblood friends." Kreacher hissed.
Sirius wand was in his hand, but Noodle was blocking the way. Noodle began to sway in front of the House Elf, letting his eyes capture and bewitch the elf's eyes and mind.
"$ This one is broken. Twisted. Dark magic has corrupted his soul. It is insane. $" Noodle hissed.
Sirius smirked. "$ Well, it's that kind of house. Watch yourself if you see a rat, it's probably a vampire. If you see a vampire it's probably possessed by a demon. If you see a demon it's probably trying to get out before something frightening eats it. $"
Harry and Hermione were putting on gloves as Fangborn and Glitterbright stepped in. They both went tense and drew their magic together as their goblin senses felt the corruption.
"$ This is different. This is like the cup. This is soul fouling corruption. This elf has been twisted not just by dark magic but by dark soul magic. $" Noodle hissed.
Fangborn stepped forward and came to examine Kreacher. "This elf has been corrupted by a Horcrux."
Kreacher snarled at the goblin and went to snap his fingers to banish him, but Sirius stopped him.
"Stop Kreacher, these goblins are our guests. You will not harm them. Noodle and Fangborn are telling me that this house, and you, are corrupted by a Horcrux. The only Merlin be damned idiot using those in this century is Voldemort. Did that twisted twat leave something in my house?" Sirius snapped.
Kreacher began to stamp his feet, gripping his ears and yanking on them, looking like Dobby trying to punish himself.
"Must not speak of Mistress Dark Lord that way. Must not talk about Master Regulus. Must complete Master Regulus orders. Kreacher cannot fail Master Regulus, but Kreacher cannot fulfil Master Regulus last wish. Kreacher failed Master Regulus." Kreacher stamped in a circle, then began pounding his head against the wall.
Hermione shouted. "Stop that, you will be hurt!"
"Nasty mudblood does not give Kreacher orders!" Kreacher shouted as he began to bang his head twice as hard against the walls.
Harry looked at Sirius, "Aren't you going to stop him?"
Sirius looked at Kreacher. "Kreacher, would you like nasty blood traitor Lord Sirius who broke that evil bitches heart to command you to stop hurting yourself?"
Kreacher stopped and glared. 'Nasty blood traitor master can go kiss a dementor." He glared, then hammered his head harder into the wall, stumbling back dizzy.
"See?" Said Sirius. "I am all about respecting boundaries and appreciating other cultures."
Glitterbright smiled with bared teeth. "Or you just like to watch evil racist twats hammer their heads flat against rune enhanced pillars."
Sirius touched the side of his nose. "That my good goblin, is called respecting House Elf traditions, and honouring his personal choices. Plus, the git deserves it for calling Hermione a mudblood."
He thought a bit more. "Hang on, there was something important in that last rambling though. Kreacher you stupid elf, stop banging and answer my question. What did Reggy demand you do, that you haven't done. Obviously it wasn't cleaning."
Kreacher burst into tears, but glared at Sirius.
"Most Noble master Regulus gave Kreacher a locket to destroy. Most Noble master Regulus died to recover this locket, and commanded Kreacher to live so he could destroy it, but Kreacher cannot destroy it. Kreacher must serve Lady Walburga even if Kreacher should have killed himself rather than serve filthy blood traitor Lord Sirius, because Kreacher has not yet fulfilled most noble master Regulus last command."
Sirius opened his mouth to make a smart remark, but stopped himself, then lowered himself to Kreacher's eyes.
"Kreacher, I am your Master. I am the recognized head of House Black, and you must answer me. How did my brother die? My brother Regulus, I loved him, even if we couldn't stand each other at the end, he was my brother and I loved him. How did he die Kreacher? I was never told during the war, and no one visited me in Azkaban with news." Sirius said softly.
Kreacher shuddered and began speaking.
"The Dark Lord borrowed Kreacher to go to the bad island. There were many unquiet dead, and a lake of poison the Dark Lord made under the stone of the island, and in that lake of poison and dead he sank his treasure. The Dark Lord made Kreacher drink the poison, and the pain was so bad Kreacher would have died if Master Regulus did not command him to live to return.
Master Regulus was not happy when Kreacher told him what he carried, and what Kreacher had to do. Kreacher brought Master Regulus back to the bad island, and this time Master Regulus drank the poison. He left a fake locket, and commanded me to bring this back home and destroy it. Master Regulus died, because he wouldn't let Kreacher drink the poison a second time and die himself. Kreacher is a bad elf because he could not destroy the Dark Lord's locket as most noble Master Regulus commanded!"
Kreacher began to bash his head against the wall again, only harder than before, as his shame was refreshed. Sirius was busy thinking, but decided to distract the elf before he killed himself accidentally.
"Kreacher can you get us some sandwiches while we talk about what to do next?" Sirius said, causing Kreature to stop and smile like a goblin at Sirius.
"Filthy blood traitor Master Black can starve. Kreacher was commanded by Mistress Walburga not to buy food for dirty stinking blood traitor spawn." Kreacher announced promptly.
Sirius had his wand drawn in reflex before he remembered he was trying to be an adult in front of Harry. He sighed, rubbed his head, and decided to cut to the chase. "Kreacher, bring me the locket."
The House Elf popped back and tried to drop the locket in Sirius hands, but Sirius jumped back, and everyone except Harry hissed in fear as the aura of a Horcrux assaulted their senses.
"Morgana's sweet honeypot. That is Slytherin's locket. The barmy twat Voldemort made two of the Hogwarts founding treasures into bloody Horcrux. First the Hufflepuff cup, then Slytherin's own locket. What do you want to bet that Ravenclaw's diadem got the same treatment."
Hermione frowned. "You can't get a ham and cheese, but you can have a Horcrux delivered? Sirius, your family needs serious help."
Sirius barked out laughter. "That is my joke young lady, keep your hands off it. Still, you aren't wrong. What do we do with the damned thing?"
Harry smiled. "We floo Milicent and Neville to join us for lunch, then we send you out to actually get some lunch. Then we have ham and cheese, and I eat Voldemort's soul."
Kreacher snarled at Harry. "Filthy blood traitor boy cannot destroy locket. Master Regulus could not destroy locket. Kreacher cannot destroy locket." Kreacher winced as Sirius smacked him in the back of the head for disrespecting Harry.
Harry corrected him gently. "I am a filthy mudblood, half blood technically, not a blood traitor. Just not pure enough to be a proper blood traitor. Still a purely muggleborn, a pair of half bloods and one blood traitor is all it takes to turn your Dark Lord into an after dinner mint. If you are a good elf, you can watch as we avenge most noble master Regulus, and destroy the bit of Dark Lord he tried to hide in it."
Two days later, Grimmauld Place was witness to a ritual that was becoming common to the kids, but would have shocked Dumbledore to his soul. With Sirius drumming Fangborn and Glitterbright warding the outer circle, the four original children called the quarters.
Neville Longbottom called the earth, and a pillar rose up to hold the locket, the great mass of the earth drew upon the locket as if it weighed tons not ounces. Milicent Bulstrode called upon ice, and a great wall followed the edges of the ritual circle, only for Hermione Granger to call upon fire and set the ice aflame. Lastly Harry called upon air, and a whirlwind took the cold/fire flames and wove them into a dome that fully enclosed the ritual space.
Harry gave himself to his magic, and shifted into a basilisk. Hissing in the holy tongue, Harry called upon Slytherin's locket. "$ Open $" he commanded.
As the locket opened and the protections on it flared into life, Milicent tapped it with her wand. "Isa" she commanded, and for an instant, all the wards, runes, and charms woven into the locket stilled.
Golden light extending like a sickle from his wand, Neville Longbottom called out "Jera" and with a powerful cut, attacked the connection between Voldemort's soul fragment and the locket. As it was severed, Harry struck, his basilisk venom burning not just the physical object, but the soul within.
Voldemort's soul fragment fled from the venom and Harry rose like a snake catching a jumping rabbit to take hold of the soul fragment as it poured from the locket.
Hermione called upon the holy fire of the phoenix, the power of life and primal creation as she incanted "Kenaz" and set the locket to burn in purifying fire as the soul, denied a path to escape, or a path back, had no where to run as Harry gulped it down like a fat tasty rabbit, not the most feared dark lord in the last half century.
Milicent cooled the locket with the primal power of her ice. She tucked it into her robes with a smirk.
"This is Slytherin's locket. You guys got to be badger heroes with the cup, I am at least going to get every Slytherin pure blood kissing my cauldron when I return Salazar Slytherin's own locket at start of term. If I don't make prefect next year after that, I will have to assassinate Snape." Milicent said happily.
Sirius laughed. The idea that Milicent and the kids were still able to focus on House Points and making Prefect after destroying parts of Voldemort's soul and bringing the end of the war that much closer somehow made him happy. They were still kids.
Glitterbright patted Milicent on the arm. "Good girl. Killing is good, but without profit it's really only half a win. Now let's have lunch!"
If anyone noticed Kreacher was stumbling as he served, tears streaming down his face, as the blood traitors and mud bloods made his most noble master Regulus last command come true, they didn't point it out.