FIC: All the Answers - Chapter 7
Title: All the Answers
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 6500
Disclaimer: It's not mine. Really. J.K. Rowling's the brilliant mind behind HP.
Notes: Post-HBP, so yes, SPOILERS! Many, many thanks to my lovely betas, smutella and impish_nymph! Ladies, you're both fantastic!
Summary: Since when has conquering evil ever been easy?
--> All chapters can be found here. <--
previous chapter
~~Chapter 7~~
The next couple of days were interesting ones, as they were never really sure who would be showing up or when they would be popping in. Often times they’d wander into the kitchen and find Tonks sitting there at the table, sipping her tea, and other times they’d head into the living room, only to find Moody holding some sort of impromptu meeting with several other people, none of whom they knew.
Then there were the days, sometimes two or three in a row, where no one would come by at all and they would have the entire house to themselves. These were the days that Harry liked best, because he never had to worry about anyone overhearing their conversations.
Not that there was really anything to overhear. They still didn’t have any solid leads on where or what the remaining Horcruxes might be. On the bright side though, at least Grimmauld Place had a much larger library to choose from than what they’d previously had access to. Though saying library gives the wrong impression. What Grimmauld Place had were boxes upon boxes of books, stacked up in the attic from their frantic cleaning spree before fifth year. Harry remembered that Sirius had wanted to burn the lot of them, but had been persuaded otherwise by Remus and Hermione.
And so, it was back to reading. They scoured the stacks up in the attic, leaving no cover untouched and no page unturned. Or that was the plan, at least. Many of the books were useless, containing information on par with something Gilderoy Lockheart might have written. There was a collection of books about the Dark Arts in one box, a set of encyclopedias on Old Ritual Magic in another. There were some tomes that looked so old it seemed they would crumble into dust at the slightest touch.
In short, there was a lot more up there than Harry remembered packing away.
“We’re never going to get through all of these,” Ron moaned one afternoon toward the end of September. “It’s impossible! We’ve been up here for a week already. I’m bloody tired of reading!”
Hermione sighed, slamming the book she was reading shut and setting it aside. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but…so am I.” She ignored the gaping look that Ron was giving her and rested her cheek on her fist, casting a sidelong glance at Harry. “Harry, do you think we’ve been going about this the wrong way? I don’t know how much we’re going to be able to find out from books.”
Harry blinked. “Right…” He arched an eyebrow. “Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?” Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. “I mean it. Since when have you not been able to find the answer in a book? The library’s never failed you before!”
“Well, it has this time,” Hermione said, frustrated. “Unless you can find me something titled My Seven Horcruxes and Where to Find Them, written by T.M. Riddle, I doubt we’re going to have much luck here.”
“Six,” Harry murmured distractedly. “There’s only six Horcruxes. The seventh part of Voldemort’s soul is the bit in his body.”
“And how do we even know if that’s true?” Hermione cried, turning to face him. “That’s an assumption Dumbledore made based on a memory of Voldemort when he was, what, our age? That was before your parents’ time, even! Harry, he could have split his soul into thirteen parts, for all we know. That’s a fairly significant number too, isn’t it? And that would make twelve Horcruxes!”
Harry scowled. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought of that before, he just…preferred to believe what Dumbledore had come up with. He still didn’t know how he was going to go about finding the remaining four Horcruxes as it was, let alone having to worry about six more of them.
“Lay off, Hermione,” Ron spoke up. “We’re all frustrated about it.”
“I know, I know,” Hermione said, calming down a bit. “I’m sorry. It’s just that… Harry, I think we need to stop worrying about the other Horcruxes for a while, and concentrate on finding the one we do have a clue about.”
Harry’s eyes slid shut as he breathed in deeply. This had also been plaguing him recently; he was surprised it had taken Hermione so long to bring it up. He didn’t like thinking about the one Horcrux they actually might be able to find, simply because it reminded him too much of the disastrous failure that night had been. Hermione hadn’t mentioned it since they’d left Hogwarts. The last time they’d discussed the note, and the mysterious R.A.B. who had written it, had been when Hermione had told him she couldn’t find any significant person whose initials matched.
“Alright,” Harry said, opening his eyes again and looking at his friends. “The locket, then.”
Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, before Hermione stood and brushed the dust off her clothes. “Let’s go downstairs. We need to find out who this R.A.B. person could be.”
They headed downstairs, making a stop in the kitchen first to whip up some sandwiches for lunch.
“Okay,” Ron said, once they were seated with their food on the couches in the drawing room. “Let’s get straight to it, yeah? R.A.B. Who is he?”
“Someone close to Voldemort, obviously,” Harry said. “Otherwise I don’t know how he would have even known about the Horcrux thing.”
“So probably a Death Eater, then,” Hermione murmured. “Do you think he had any help? I mean, from what you described, it sounds as if it’s almost impossible for one person to go in alone.”
Harry shrugged. “Maybe if they were extremely determined or something...”
“I dunno, mate,” Ron said. “You’d think Dumbledore would have been alright by himself, then.”
Harry sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. Standing, he walked over to one of the cabinets, gazing absently at its now-empty shelves. “Dumbledore might have already been weakened towards the Horcruxes,” he said slowly. “He never did tell me how he got rid of the ring, but whatever he did - something about that Horcrux cursed him. And I think it was incurable. It was probably still affecting him when we went into the cave.”
“Still,” Hermione said, looking at Ron, “I think Ron’s right. If one of the most powerful wizards in the world wasn’t able to get it by himself… I definitely think R.A.B. had help. Who it was, though…”
“That might not matter,” Harry pointed out. “He may have just used the Imperius curse on someone.”
“True…”
Harry sighed again and walked over toward the tapestry on the wall that they’d never been able to get down. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. He snorted, running a hand along the fabric down to where Sirius’ name would have been, next to Regulus’. It was hard to imagine that Sirius had even had a brother. Harry wasn’t sure why; probably just because he’d always imagined Sirius as an only child, sort of like himself-
Wait.
Harry’s eyes darted back to Regulus’ name.
Regulus.
Regulus Black.
His eyes widened.
But no… No, he couldn’t jump to conclusions. That never led to anything good, only disappointment…
Harry spun around to face his friends. “Hermione,” he said slowly. “Do you think…?” He trailed off, frowning, and shook his head a bit. “No, never mind.” It was entirely too farfetched, not to mention it would be too easy and when did anything easy ever happen to him?
“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked, her brow furrowing.
“Nothing.” He began pacing around the room, running his hand absentmindedly along the various cabinets and bare bookshelves. “I had an idea, but it’s not…” He paused, standing in front of another empty cabinet.
His eyes narrowed.
“Harry?”
They’d been at such a roadblock these past couple of months, with no clues, no ideas, and absolutely no leads on where any of the Horcruxes might be. So as much as Harry tried not to dwell on it, he couldn’t help turning the same thought over and over in his head. Was it possible that one of the Horcruxes had been right under their noses the whole time? Well, not the Horcrux itself, but the clue to finding it?
He peered at the cabinet, running his eyes over its bare shelves, trying to remember…
They’d tossed out an awful lot of things when they’d cleaned this room. They hadn’t really even stopped to consider that they might be important. Hadn’t there been…
Harry felt his eyes widen, and he knew his face must have paled, too, because Hermione and Ron were looking at him, worried.
“Everything alright, mate?” Ron asked tentatively.
Harry swallowed. “No…”
A locket. There had been a locket. A heavy gold locket. They hadn’t been able to get it open…
He turned back to the tapestry, hoping but not daring to believe it quite yet…
Regulus Black. What was his middle name?
Harry threw caution to the wind and prayed that he wasn’t about to be sorely disappointed.
“KREACHER!” he bellowed, making his friends jump. Hermione nearly upset her tea when the decrepit elf appeared in the middle of the room.
“Master is calling Kreacher?” the old elf croaked, before adding under his breath, “Ungrateful little brat that he is…”
“What was Regulus’ middle name?” Harry demanded, storming over to where Kreacher was and staring down at him, hands clenched. “Kreacher! What was his name?”
“Master Regulus?” Kreacher repeated, blinking. “Master Regulus was a good master, not like these Mudbloods and blood traitors living here now. Oh, my poor Mistress, what would she say? She’d have Kreacher’s head, she would, allowing these misfits into her house-”
“Kreacher!” Harry interrupted.
Kreacher looked up at him balefully. “Master is wanting to know Regulus’ middle name? Kreacher is not sure he remembers…” He turned his chin up and looked away.
Harry pursed his lips and tried to refrain from strangling the stupid thing. “You don’t remember one of your old masters’ names?” he asked tightly. “I’m not sure your mistress would appreciate that. If she were alive, she might even give you clothes for being so…dishonorable.”
Kreacher’s eyes widened. “No!” he screeched. “Kreacher is never forgetting his old masters’ names - his true masters’ names! Regulus was being born Regulus Arcturus Black. Kreacher remembers. Master Regulus was a good baby, Kreacher is not forgetting!”
But Harry wasn’t listening anymore. He lifted his gaze, staring across at Hermione who looked as shell-shocked as he felt, and he knew instantly that she understood. “Hermione,” he said, breathing quickly. “You get it now, right?” If she did, if she knew what this meant, if it was plausible…
Maybe they’d finally be able to get their hands on one of the Horcruxes.
Hermione nodded frantically, and Harry felt a strange sort of elation bloom in his chest. “Yes - yes, I do! Harry - didn’t Sirius say that Regulus deserted the Death Eaters? And no one’s really sure how he died…”
“Wait, what’s going on? What’s this about Regulus?” Ron cut in, looking confused. They ignored him.
“And do you remember,” Harry said, stalking over to the cabinet, his heart pounding, “when we were cleaning all this out - Hermione, do you remember any of the things we threw away?”
Hermione followed Harry’s gaze, her brow furrowed. Harry could tell the exact moment that she remembered. “There was a locket,” she breathed, eyes wide. “We couldn’t get it to open…”
“What locket?” Ron asked, clearly frustrated. “What are you two going on about? Harry, you’re starting to worry me, you’re looking like Hermione does when she’s just figured something out but refuses to talk about it!”
“The locket, Ron!” Harry replied. “The one we’re looking for - it was here, do you remember?”
“What - that one that we threw out? That was just… I mean, I don’t remember anything special about it. It looked old and tacky, to me…”
“Of course it was old,” Hermione said impatiently. “It belonged to Salazar Slytherin, for God’s sake. Harry, do you know what this means? This could be really bad, it could be anywhere now!”
And just as quickly as his hopes had gone up, they fell again, plummeting at an alarming rate and hitting rock bottom with such force that Harry nearly keeled over from disappointment. He frowned, rubbing a hand across his face. “Well, shit,” he said in a dismayed tone.
“Hang on,” Ron said, his eyes going wide. “Regulus - you think he’s R.A.B.?”
“Took you long enough,” Harry muttered. “Damn it, now what?”
“Harry,” Hermione said, and when Harry looked at her she tilted her head in Kreacher’s direction.
“Oh. Forgot he was here. Kreacher, you can-”
“No! Harry, he was nicking things from us left and right. Maybe…maybe he took it?”
Harry arched his eyebrows, but refused to get his hopes up again. “Maybe… Kreacher!”
“Yes, Master?” Kreacher said sourly.
“What happened to all the things you took from us when we were cleaning this room out?”
Kreacher blinked slowly. “Kreacher is not sure what Master is asking…”
“Two summers ago,” Harry said, trying to remain calm, “when Sirius was here. We were cleaning out this room. You kept running off with stuff. There was a locket. A heavy gold locket. Did you take it?”
“Kreacher remembers the locket. Kreacher remembers helping get the locket.”
“You - wait, you helped?” Harry asked.
Kreacher shuddered suddenly, turning his eyes to the floor and muttering under his breath. Harry thought he heard the word ‘poison’ mumbled more than once and cold horror washed over him.
Well, that explained who exactly had been Regulus’ accomplice.
“Kreacher…” Harry said slowly. “Did Regulus make you drink the potion?” Hermione gasped from where she was sitting on the couch, but Harry ignored her.
“No,” Kreacher said fiercely, his head snapping up so he could glare at Harry. “No, Master Regulus was a good Master, he was always making Kreacher’s poor Mistress proud! Master Regulus wasn’t making Kreacher do anything, Kreacher only had to get the locket home after - after-”
“After Regulus drank the potion,” Ron finished for him. Kreacher shot him a baleful look but didn’t disagree, and Hermione made a small, dismayed sound.
Harry let out a breath. “So that’s how he died, then.” Which meant he had probably become one of the inferi Harry had fought off last year. The thought alone made him sick. “And it explains how the locket made it back here, but Kreacher, do you still have it?”
“Kreacher gave the locket to his poor Mistress.”
“And she kept it as an heirloom or whatever, we know, we saw it! What I need you to tell me is if you took it when we were trying to clean up in here!”
Kreacher gave a slow blink of his large eyes. “Kreacher doesn’t have it.”
Harry made a frustrated sound and dug his hand into his hair.
“Wait, Kreacher, you mean you don’t have it now?” Hermione asked in a gentle tone. “Or you never took it at all?”
The elf narrowed his eyes at her, but then turned up his nose. “Kreacher is not having to answer to Mudbloods, filthy creatures that they are. Oh, Kreacher’s poor Mistress, what would she do-”
“Kreacher, did you take the effing locket?!” Harry burst out, chest heaving.
Kreacher looked shifty. “Kreacher might have. But Kreacher is not having the locket now.”
“What did you do with it? Where is it now??”
“Kreacher does not know where it is now.”
“Damn it, if you don’t-”
“Kreacher returned it to its rightful owner, but Kreacher doesn’t know what is happening to the locket after that.”
“Its rightful owner?” Ron asked faintly. “Merlin, please don’t tell me you gave it back to You-Know-Who!”
“Who did you give it to?” Harry said slowly. “Tell me. Now.”
Kreacher sniffed. “Kreacher is bringing it to the other members of the most noble family of Black. Master Regulus was telling Kreacher to bring the locket back and protect it, so Kreacher did.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ron muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. Harry had gone still where he was standing.
“Kreacher wasn’t seeing Master Regulus again after that night,” Kreacher said, turning his eyes to the floor again. “Master Regulus was a good Master, not like Master Sirius. He was breaking his mother’s heart, oh, my poor Mistress!”
“Enough about your Mistress already,” Ron grumbled.
“Harry?” Hermione asked tentatively. She’d apparently noticed his sudden silence.
Harry blinked at her, and then trudged over towards the sofa. “It’s at the Malfoys’,” he said slowly, sinking down onto the cushions. He buried his face in his hands, so his voice was slightly muffled when he spoke again. “He gave it to Narcissa.”
“Kreacher didn’t give it to anyone!” Kreacher said suddenly, abruptly stopping his monologue about Mrs. Black. “Kreacher is hiding it in Mistress Malfoy’s room!” He cackled loudly. “No one is getting Regulus’ locket now! Kreacher is protecting it perfectly!”
“So… I guess we will be going to Malfoy Manor, then,” Ron said, slightly amused despite the situation.
“The wards will be stopping you,” Kreacher spoke up in a sing-song voice, still laughing a bit. “You isn’t getting in without help, and Kreacher can’t be helping because Kreacher isn’t a Malfoy elf! Though Kreacher is wishing he was. The Malfoy boy, what a good Master he would be!” He cackled some more, and Harry rolled his eyes in disgust.
“Dobby, then,” Hermione said promptly, and Kreacher’s laughter died rather quickly.
“Alright,” Harry said, nodding. “Alright, Kreacher, go back to Hogwarts and tell Dobby I need to see him-”
“NO!” Kreacher screamed, falling to his knees and banging the floor relentlessly. “No, Kreacher won’t! Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t!! Kreacher is protecting Master Regulus’ locket, not helping nasty little brats looking for it!”
“Tell Dobby I need to speak with him immediately,” Harry said loudly over Kreacher’s yelling. “And I forbid you to tell anyone a single word of what we said here today. You tell no one, got it?”
Kreacher looked up at Harry furiously. “Kreacher understands,” he bit out, and then with a crack he was gone, and not twenty seconds later Dobby was standing in his place, ten hats, Weasley sweater, mismatched socks and all.
“Harry Potter is wanting to see Dobby!” the little elf cried, bounding over and hugging Harry’s legs. “Dobby is so happy!”
Harry pried Dobby away, ignoring the amused look Hermione was giving him. “Yes, yes, Dobby, I wanted to see you.” He hesitated, and then plowed on, “We have a favor to ask.”
* * *
“Harry, do you think maybe we’re rushing into this a bit too quickly?” Hermione asked three days later. It was nearly midnight, and they were waiting for Dobby’s signal.
“We’ve wasted enough time as it is,” Harry replied from where he was pacing back and forth in the drawing room. “We’ve got pretty solid evidence; what else do you think we need?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermione said. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her fist. “It just seems too…easy.”
Ron barked out a laugh. “Easy?” he repeated. “Yeah, we’ve only got to sneak into Malfoy’s house undetected, scour his mother’s room where she’s probably going to be sleeping, and then make it back out of the house with the Horcrux, again undetected. Yeah, that’ll be easy.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I was referring more to us being able to find the locket again so quickly after deciding to look for it. Are you sure Kreacher was telling you the truth? And what about the wards, how do we even know that Dobby will be able to get us in?”
“Dobby’s already scouted the area, and he knows more about Malfoy Manor than any of us do,” Harry pointed out.
“But what if the wards have changed since he left? Harry, that was four years ago!”
“Dobby told us he’d be able to get us in,” Harry said tightly, pushing a hand through his hair. “I trust him.”
“I’m not saying that I don’t.” Hermione sighed. “I just think this is very, very risky.”
“At least he didn’t just storm over there the minute he found out about it,” Ron said. “We actually sort of have a plan this time.”
“And we have an outside source, not just visions floating around inside my head,” Harry muttered.
“Your outside source is Kreacher,” Hermione said flatly.
Harry opened his mouth to say something about Hermione’s sudden lack of benevolence towards the old elf, but before he could get any words out Dobby loudly appeared in the middle of the room, the sound of his Apparation startling them all.
“Is Harry Potter ready?” Dobby asked, eagerly bouncing on his toes.
“Yeah, we’re ready,” Harry said, quickly moving toward him and getting down on one knee so he could face him better. “How are we doing this?”
“Dobby is bringing Harry Potter and his friends to the Malfoy gates,” Dobby said, obviously excited to be helping with such an endeavor. “Harry Potter can be getting into the manor with Dobby’s help, but Dobby can’t be entering. The other house elves might be noticing Dobby’s magic.”
“So you’re going to wait for us outside then?” Ron clarified.
Dobby nodded so rapidly that three of the hats on his head toppled off. “You is looking for Mistress Malfoy’s room?”
“That’s right.”
Dobby snapped his fingers and up popped a three-dimensional translucent model of what had to be the biggest house Harry had ever seen. It floated in the air before them as Dobby twirled his finger to make it spin. “Mistress Malfoy is living in the East Wing,” Dobby said, pointing at it. “Fifth door on the right on the third floor. Dobby is bringing you here.” He jabbed at a section of the gate near the East Wing. “Harry Potter is being able to Apparate, yes?”
“Yeah, I can,” Harry said distractedly. He was trying to ignore Ron’s bulging eyes and muttered, “That’s Malfoy’s house?”
“Good,” Dobby said, nodding. “You is being able to Apparate into the manor, then. Dobby can remove the anti-Apparation wards for…maybe two hours, Dobby is thinking, before the other house elves is catching on. Now,” he spun the model again, pointing at another section, “the Malfoy boy is sleeping here. You isn’t needing to go that way, so he shouldn’t be waking up.”
“The Malfoy boy?” Harry repeated. “Malfoy’s there?”
Dobby looked up at him. “Master Draco,” he said, and then looked as if he was trying to refrain from saying something bad about his former master. His eyes darted back and forth, probably looking for something to whack himself with, Harry knew.
“I didn’t realize he’d gone back to the manor,” Harry said quickly, before the elf could try to punish himself. “I thought he was trying to stay in hiding.”
“Dobby isn’t knowing why Master Draco is there,” Dobby muttered.
Harry glanced up and Ron and Hermione, both of whom shrugged.
“Has anyone else been to the manor, Dobby?” Harry asked.
“Dobby isn’t seeing anyone other than the Malfoys, last time Dobby checked.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “Odd…”
“Harry, we need to get going if we want to get this thing tonight,” Hermione said. “It’s after twelve already.”
“Right.” Harry stood, making sure he had his Invisibility Cloak stashed away in his robe pockets. “How are we getting to the manor, Dobby?”
“Dobby is Apparating you to the gate.” He held out his hand expectantly. Harry exchanged glances with his friends, and then tentatively the three of them reached out and touched Dobby’s upturned palm. A split second later there was the familiar feeling of being compressed all around, and then they were outside in the darkness, a large, slightly creepy looking mansion looming before them.
“Wow…” Ron murmured, staring up at it wide-eyed.
Harry looked down at Dobby, whose eyes were squeezed shut as he concentrated on something. After a minute or so of this, he snapped his fingers. “There,” Dobby panted. “The wards is down. Harry Potter should be able to Apparate inside.”
“Thank you, Dobby,” Harry whispered quickly. Dobby beamed at him. “We’ll be as quick as we can.” He turned to the others. “Let’s go.”
They crept up to one of the large windows and peered into what seemed to be some sort of large living room.
“Okay,” Harry whispered. “Apparate in there.”
“Here’s hoping Dobby got the wards down correctly,” Ron muttered, and then the three of them spun and seconds later they landed inside the room they’d just been staring into.
Harry lifted a finger to his mouth, listening carefully for sounds that anyone had noticed them coming in. After a minute of silence, he pulled out his wand. “Disillusionment Charms on, I think.”
“Okay,” Hermione said, once they were ready. “We need to find a staircase…”
They moved as quickly as they could down the hall, Hermione casting Silencing spells on their shoes as they went. The corridor seemed endless. It stretched on and on, and just when Harry was beginning to think they’d never reach the end of it, they spilled out into an open foyer of sorts. There was a spiraling staircase in the middle of it, and if they stood at the bottom of it and looked up, there was no telling where it ended. The place had to have at least five floors, Harry imagined. Plus a basement. And possibly an attic. It was enormous.
Harry gestured to the staircase, and he could make out the shapes of his friends moving towards it. Just when he was about to start climbing though, something caught his eyes on the other side of the room. There was another door, one that either led to another room, or possibly the other half of the endless hallway. Whatever it was, there was a faint light shining out from beneath it.
“Wait, wait,” Harry whispered, grabbing the back of Ron’s robe. “Look.”
“Harry!” Hermione hissed. “We need to get what we came for and leave; we can’t spend time exploring the rest of the hou-”
Ron shushed her abruptly, clamping a hand over her mouth and meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry knew why. “You hear it too?” he asked in a low voice. Ron nodded. Harry looked back at the door. Unless he was very much mistaken, he’d just heard voices coming from that direction. Heart pounding, he moved closer toward the door. He could feel Ron and Hermione at his back.
“Harry,” Hermione hissed again, sounding worried. “Harry, this isn’t a good idea…”
But Harry wasn’t listening to her. Wand out and at the ready, he very slowly inched the door open.
There was no one on the other side.
Harry released a breath he hadn’t realize he’d been holding. It was just another hallway, not a room. He could still see the light coming from a little ways down, though, and as he followed its source, his eyes eventually landed on a halfway open door. The soft light was pouring out of it, leaving a rectangular shaped yellow spot on the otherwise black floor. And the voices were definitely coming from there. Voices that were too deep and gruff to be Draco, and, from what Harry remembered, too shrill and nasally to be Narcissa.
There were other people in the house.
“I thought Dobby said no one else was here!” Ron said frantically, laying a hand on Harry’s shoulder. His other hand, Harry could see out of the corner of his eye, was wrapped tightly around Hermione’s.
“Maybe they just showed up,” Harry murmured. He took a step closer to the room, and this time both Ron and Hermione stopped him.
“Harry, you can’t,” Hermione insisted.
“They won’t be able to see me.”
“No - Harry, no!”
Harry had already broken free from their grasp, though, and was creeping closer to the open door. Once there he paused, taking a deep breath, and then he slid into the room, keeping himself pressed against the wall.
He couldn’t see anything right away, because the door opened on the far right side of the room, and there was a large cabinet of some sort directly next to it. That actually helped, Harry supposed, because he was able to stand behind it and lean out to see the rest of the room, whilst still able to avoid being seen himself.
Of course the Disillusionment Charm might have also had a hand in that.
“What do you see?” Ron asked quietly, and the voices in the room paused suddenly. Harry widened his eyes and made shushing gestures at Ron. After a moment, the voices started up again, and Harry finally peered around the side of the cabinet.
He was quite unprepared for what he saw.
Fenrir Greyback’s hair was more matted than the last time Harry had seen it, but his teeth were as yellow as ever as he smiled nastily at his companion, Bellatrix Lestrange. Just the sight of her made anger and boiling hatred spring up inside Harry so quickly it nearly overpowered him. He managed to keep it down and control himself, but only because of the other two people in the room.
Something must have happened, something important, because Harry could see no other reason for Bellatrix to have her wand trained on her own sister.
Narcissa was backed against the wall, her face slightly pale, though Harry thought that was more because her son was currently being held in a stranglehold by Greyback than because her sister looked like she was about to hex her.
“I will not ask you again, Narcissa,” Bellatrix was saying. “The Dark Lord says it’s here; now where is it?!”
Harry quickly sidled back out of the room, facing Ron and Hermione with wide eyes. He ushered them a bit further away, before he began talking. “Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback are in there,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Greyback’s got Malfoy, and Bellatrix has her wand pulled on Narcissa.”
Hermione gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth, as Ron said, “What?!” in a startled tone.
Harry nodded. “Yeah,” he said, thinking quickly. “This might be a good thing, though. Ron, do you remember where Dobby said Narcissa’s room was?”
“Third floor, fifth door on the right,” Ron answered promptly, his eyes wide with understanding. “She’s not there right now. You want me to go look for the locket?”
It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement, but Harry nodded anyway. “You should be okay to search for it. I’m…I’m going to stay here and see what’s up.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” he muttered. “But at least you’ve got your priorities straight; you haven’t forgotten about the Horcrux in any case. Where do you want Hermione?”
Harry glanced at her, but she answered first. “I’ll stay down here. There’s no way I’m leaving Harry alone with a bunch of Death Eaters. I think you’ll be alright on your own, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Ron said cheekily, grinning. He turned to leave, and then paused. “Just…don’t do anything - stupid. Okay? Promise me, Harry. Promise me that you won’t try to take them all on by yourself or something.”
“I promise,” Harry said quickly. “Now go!” Ron grinned again, gave Harry a quick mock solute, and then ran off down the hall.
“Okay,” Hermione said once he was gone. “What’s your plan?”
“Don’t have one,” Harry muttered, walking back towards the room. “I just want to see what they want. It didn’t look like Malfoy and his mum were expecting them.”
He slid into the room again, Hermione at his back, and together they peered around the cabinet.
Draco was stark white and shaking in Greyback’s grip now and Narcissa was still pressed again the wall, her face blank.
“Bellatrix, I’ve told you,” she said, and Harry was startled to hear the slight tremor in her voice, because she looked fairly calm otherwise, “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about! You would have to ask Lucius, and he’s obviously not here at the moment-”
“Don’t lie to me, sister,” Bellatrix said silkily. “You’re of no value to the Dark Lord, you know. He’s very disappointed in your family, and he gave me permission to do whatever it takes to get that book back.”
That book.
Harry’s eyes widened.
The diary?
But Voldemort knew it had been destroyed, didn’t he? Dumbledore had said…
“Why do you think I brought Fenrir with me?” Bellatrix continued. “He does so love children, I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“I’m not a child,” Draco spat, struggling in vain against the hairy arm wrapped around his neck.
“Draco, be quiet,” Narcissa said firmly, without a glance in the boy’s direction.
Greyback leaned closer to Draco, his mouth right against the boy’s ear as he rasped, “You’d best listen to your mother, boy. And stop struggling, lest you find my teeth accidentally slipping.” He dragged a long, yellow nail down Draco’s cheek, leaving a faint pink line, and Draco stopped moving abruptly, his eyes wide with fear and panic. “Children. So young. So naïve.”
“Leave him be!” Narcissa cried. “He’s done nothing to warrant this-”
“Well, that’s half the problem, isn’t it, Cissy?” Bellatrix interrupted, tapping her wand against her hand. “He did nothing. He took the coward’s route-”
“He’s just a boy,” Narcissa said, and there was a desperate edge to her voice now. “He was only sixteen years old!”
“I’m seventeen now, Mother!”
“Now is not the time to talk back to me, Draco!” she said in a rush.
Bellatrix sighed. “It’s like this, Cissy. The Dark Lord wants the book. He entrusted it to Lucius years ago, before the Potter brat interrupted things, and Lucius failed. The book was destroyed, according to your dear husband, and now the Dark Lord wants to be absolutely sure that it’s gone.”
“Bella, I do not know where it is,” Narcissa said imploringly. “Lucius never said anything to me.”
“Very well,” Bellatrix said heavily. “You leave me no choice. You understand that if you don’t hand it over, I’m to allow Fenrir to have his way with your son.”
Harry watched as Draco visibly jerked and Greyback grinned a very feral and pointy-toothed grin.
Narcissa’s face paled, the first crack in her calm mask. “My son, your nephew!” she whispered harshly.
Bellatrix laughed shrilly, the sound of it sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. He felt Hermione clutching the back of his robe. “And you think that will stop me? Ah, Cissy, this is why you never would have succeeded as a Death Eater. I suspect it is also the reason your son did not succeed.”
“I was given a nearly impossible task-!” Draco choked mid-word as Greyback tightened his arm around his throat. He clawed at the arm, but apparently the pressure didn’t let up because Draco’s face was slowly going red.
“Let go of him!” Narcissa exclaimed, her eyes wide as she lurched forward, one hand out as if she could stop him.
“Crucio!” Bellatrix snapped, effectively halting her sister. Narcissa fell to the ground, screaming and writhing.
Draco’s eyes bulged. “Mum!” he clearly tried to yell, but nothing came out. His lips formed the word, but all they heard was a rasping, choked sound, and he fought even harder against Greyback.
Bellatrix lazily lifted her wand, leaving Narcissa panting on the floor.
Harry suddenly realized his fingernails were cutting into his palms from his hands being clenched so tight.
“Now, Narcissa,” Bellatrix said, and there was nothing friendly in her voice now. They might as well have been complete strangers as opposed to sisters. “You will bring me to this book of the Dark Lord’s. He no longer trusts it in your family’s hands.”
“You speak as though you aren’t part of that family,” Narcissa said slowly, pushing herself up onto her hands and knees, and from there standing shakily.
Bellatrix eyed her coldly, her wand still out. “I’m not. I’ve found something better.”
“Bella…” Narcissa said brokenly.
“The book, Narcissa. I won’t repeat myself again. If you truly don’t know where it is, then bring me to Lucius’ study instead. We will search for it there, and if we don’t find it then we’ll move onto the next room. And the next, and the next, and so on until we find it. We’ll search the entire bloody manor if we have to, but I am not returning to the Dark Lord without that book!”
“How does he even know it’s here?” Narcissa asked. “What proof does he have? Why would Lucius have kept it if it was destroyed?”
“He would have to be very stupid to get rid of something so important, destroyed or not,” Bellatrix said dangerously. She narrowed her eyes. “Do you doubt the Dark Lord?”
There was a slight pause, almost unnoticeable but there all the same, and then Narcissa said, “Of course not.”
“Liar!” Bellatrix hissed. “I’ve had enough of your insolence, dear sister!” She turned to Greyback. “Do as you wish, Fenrir.”
Draco had gone deathly pale and was struggling against Greyback with renewed strength. His knuckles were white as he pulled at the thick arm around his neck. His feet kicked at the ground as tried to tear himself away from Greyback’s grip.
Greyback was leering at Draco now. Harry absently thought he looked more like a vampire than a werewolf, the way he was opening his mouth against Draco’s neck. Draco bucked some more, and Harry noticed with a sort of detached horror that Draco was seriously about to be bitten.
Harry knew that Draco couldn’t actually become a werewolf from Greyback biting him when he was human, but it didn’t stop the images of Bill’s horribly scarred face from rushing to the forefront of his mind. His drooping mouth, his eye that could barely open, the still unhealed wounds marking Bill’s once handsome visage - it was easy for the lines to blur and for Harry to see Draco there instead, injured beyond even the most magical means of healing.
Greyback had worked one gnarled hand beneath Draco’s shirt and was tightly gripping Draco’s waist to hold him in place as he spoke. “You’re lucky, young one,” he growled into Draco’s ear, so softly Harry almost couldn’t hear it. “The first full moon’s in two days. I’ll be able to help you through it. I’ll have to bite you that night, of course, but I can give you a sample now, if you like…” His mouth opened, his teeth were pressing against Draco’s skin, Draco looked like he was seconds away from passing out…
A flurry of thoughts went through Harry’s head.
Should he help?
Should he walk away?
Hermione would kill him if he jumped into view now, but could he really just stand by and watch a fellow classmate get mauled, even if that classmate was Draco Malfoy?
He had just made up his mind when everything went crazy.
Yay, a long chapter! Hehe, uh...that's because I'm going to Florida for a week so I won't be able to update... I know, I'm sorry, I left you all with that cliffhanger! I'm terrible!!
...Please review, though?
*hides*
~Maxine
next chapter
You can also read it at my website, or at Skyehawke.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 6500
Disclaimer: It's not mine. Really. J.K. Rowling's the brilliant mind behind HP.
Notes: Post-HBP, so yes, SPOILERS! Many, many thanks to my lovely betas, smutella and impish_nymph! Ladies, you're both fantastic!
Summary: Since when has conquering evil ever been easy?
--> All chapters can be found here. <--
previous chapter
~~Chapter 7~~
The next couple of days were interesting ones, as they were never really sure who would be showing up or when they would be popping in. Often times they’d wander into the kitchen and find Tonks sitting there at the table, sipping her tea, and other times they’d head into the living room, only to find Moody holding some sort of impromptu meeting with several other people, none of whom they knew.
Then there were the days, sometimes two or three in a row, where no one would come by at all and they would have the entire house to themselves. These were the days that Harry liked best, because he never had to worry about anyone overhearing their conversations.
Not that there was really anything to overhear. They still didn’t have any solid leads on where or what the remaining Horcruxes might be. On the bright side though, at least Grimmauld Place had a much larger library to choose from than what they’d previously had access to. Though saying library gives the wrong impression. What Grimmauld Place had were boxes upon boxes of books, stacked up in the attic from their frantic cleaning spree before fifth year. Harry remembered that Sirius had wanted to burn the lot of them, but had been persuaded otherwise by Remus and Hermione.
And so, it was back to reading. They scoured the stacks up in the attic, leaving no cover untouched and no page unturned. Or that was the plan, at least. Many of the books were useless, containing information on par with something Gilderoy Lockheart might have written. There was a collection of books about the Dark Arts in one box, a set of encyclopedias on Old Ritual Magic in another. There were some tomes that looked so old it seemed they would crumble into dust at the slightest touch.
In short, there was a lot more up there than Harry remembered packing away.
“We’re never going to get through all of these,” Ron moaned one afternoon toward the end of September. “It’s impossible! We’ve been up here for a week already. I’m bloody tired of reading!”
Hermione sighed, slamming the book she was reading shut and setting it aside. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but…so am I.” She ignored the gaping look that Ron was giving her and rested her cheek on her fist, casting a sidelong glance at Harry. “Harry, do you think we’ve been going about this the wrong way? I don’t know how much we’re going to be able to find out from books.”
Harry blinked. “Right…” He arched an eyebrow. “Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?” Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. “I mean it. Since when have you not been able to find the answer in a book? The library’s never failed you before!”
“Well, it has this time,” Hermione said, frustrated. “Unless you can find me something titled My Seven Horcruxes and Where to Find Them, written by T.M. Riddle, I doubt we’re going to have much luck here.”
“Six,” Harry murmured distractedly. “There’s only six Horcruxes. The seventh part of Voldemort’s soul is the bit in his body.”
“And how do we even know if that’s true?” Hermione cried, turning to face him. “That’s an assumption Dumbledore made based on a memory of Voldemort when he was, what, our age? That was before your parents’ time, even! Harry, he could have split his soul into thirteen parts, for all we know. That’s a fairly significant number too, isn’t it? And that would make twelve Horcruxes!”
Harry scowled. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought of that before, he just…preferred to believe what Dumbledore had come up with. He still didn’t know how he was going to go about finding the remaining four Horcruxes as it was, let alone having to worry about six more of them.
“Lay off, Hermione,” Ron spoke up. “We’re all frustrated about it.”
“I know, I know,” Hermione said, calming down a bit. “I’m sorry. It’s just that… Harry, I think we need to stop worrying about the other Horcruxes for a while, and concentrate on finding the one we do have a clue about.”
Harry’s eyes slid shut as he breathed in deeply. This had also been plaguing him recently; he was surprised it had taken Hermione so long to bring it up. He didn’t like thinking about the one Horcrux they actually might be able to find, simply because it reminded him too much of the disastrous failure that night had been. Hermione hadn’t mentioned it since they’d left Hogwarts. The last time they’d discussed the note, and the mysterious R.A.B. who had written it, had been when Hermione had told him she couldn’t find any significant person whose initials matched.
“Alright,” Harry said, opening his eyes again and looking at his friends. “The locket, then.”
Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, before Hermione stood and brushed the dust off her clothes. “Let’s go downstairs. We need to find out who this R.A.B. person could be.”
They headed downstairs, making a stop in the kitchen first to whip up some sandwiches for lunch.
“Okay,” Ron said, once they were seated with their food on the couches in the drawing room. “Let’s get straight to it, yeah? R.A.B. Who is he?”
“Someone close to Voldemort, obviously,” Harry said. “Otherwise I don’t know how he would have even known about the Horcrux thing.”
“So probably a Death Eater, then,” Hermione murmured. “Do you think he had any help? I mean, from what you described, it sounds as if it’s almost impossible for one person to go in alone.”
Harry shrugged. “Maybe if they were extremely determined or something...”
“I dunno, mate,” Ron said. “You’d think Dumbledore would have been alright by himself, then.”
Harry sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. Standing, he walked over to one of the cabinets, gazing absently at its now-empty shelves. “Dumbledore might have already been weakened towards the Horcruxes,” he said slowly. “He never did tell me how he got rid of the ring, but whatever he did - something about that Horcrux cursed him. And I think it was incurable. It was probably still affecting him when we went into the cave.”
“Still,” Hermione said, looking at Ron, “I think Ron’s right. If one of the most powerful wizards in the world wasn’t able to get it by himself… I definitely think R.A.B. had help. Who it was, though…”
“That might not matter,” Harry pointed out. “He may have just used the Imperius curse on someone.”
“True…”
Harry sighed again and walked over toward the tapestry on the wall that they’d never been able to get down. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. He snorted, running a hand along the fabric down to where Sirius’ name would have been, next to Regulus’. It was hard to imagine that Sirius had even had a brother. Harry wasn’t sure why; probably just because he’d always imagined Sirius as an only child, sort of like himself-
Wait.
Harry’s eyes darted back to Regulus’ name.
Regulus.
Regulus Black.
His eyes widened.
But no… No, he couldn’t jump to conclusions. That never led to anything good, only disappointment…
Harry spun around to face his friends. “Hermione,” he said slowly. “Do you think…?” He trailed off, frowning, and shook his head a bit. “No, never mind.” It was entirely too farfetched, not to mention it would be too easy and when did anything easy ever happen to him?
“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked, her brow furrowing.
“Nothing.” He began pacing around the room, running his hand absentmindedly along the various cabinets and bare bookshelves. “I had an idea, but it’s not…” He paused, standing in front of another empty cabinet.
His eyes narrowed.
“Harry?”
They’d been at such a roadblock these past couple of months, with no clues, no ideas, and absolutely no leads on where any of the Horcruxes might be. So as much as Harry tried not to dwell on it, he couldn’t help turning the same thought over and over in his head. Was it possible that one of the Horcruxes had been right under their noses the whole time? Well, not the Horcrux itself, but the clue to finding it?
He peered at the cabinet, running his eyes over its bare shelves, trying to remember…
They’d tossed out an awful lot of things when they’d cleaned this room. They hadn’t really even stopped to consider that they might be important. Hadn’t there been…
Harry felt his eyes widen, and he knew his face must have paled, too, because Hermione and Ron were looking at him, worried.
“Everything alright, mate?” Ron asked tentatively.
Harry swallowed. “No…”
A locket. There had been a locket. A heavy gold locket. They hadn’t been able to get it open…
He turned back to the tapestry, hoping but not daring to believe it quite yet…
Regulus Black. What was his middle name?
Harry threw caution to the wind and prayed that he wasn’t about to be sorely disappointed.
“KREACHER!” he bellowed, making his friends jump. Hermione nearly upset her tea when the decrepit elf appeared in the middle of the room.
“Master is calling Kreacher?” the old elf croaked, before adding under his breath, “Ungrateful little brat that he is…”
“What was Regulus’ middle name?” Harry demanded, storming over to where Kreacher was and staring down at him, hands clenched. “Kreacher! What was his name?”
“Master Regulus?” Kreacher repeated, blinking. “Master Regulus was a good master, not like these Mudbloods and blood traitors living here now. Oh, my poor Mistress, what would she say? She’d have Kreacher’s head, she would, allowing these misfits into her house-”
“Kreacher!” Harry interrupted.
Kreacher looked up at him balefully. “Master is wanting to know Regulus’ middle name? Kreacher is not sure he remembers…” He turned his chin up and looked away.
Harry pursed his lips and tried to refrain from strangling the stupid thing. “You don’t remember one of your old masters’ names?” he asked tightly. “I’m not sure your mistress would appreciate that. If she were alive, she might even give you clothes for being so…dishonorable.”
Kreacher’s eyes widened. “No!” he screeched. “Kreacher is never forgetting his old masters’ names - his true masters’ names! Regulus was being born Regulus Arcturus Black. Kreacher remembers. Master Regulus was a good baby, Kreacher is not forgetting!”
But Harry wasn’t listening anymore. He lifted his gaze, staring across at Hermione who looked as shell-shocked as he felt, and he knew instantly that she understood. “Hermione,” he said, breathing quickly. “You get it now, right?” If she did, if she knew what this meant, if it was plausible…
Maybe they’d finally be able to get their hands on one of the Horcruxes.
Hermione nodded frantically, and Harry felt a strange sort of elation bloom in his chest. “Yes - yes, I do! Harry - didn’t Sirius say that Regulus deserted the Death Eaters? And no one’s really sure how he died…”
“Wait, what’s going on? What’s this about Regulus?” Ron cut in, looking confused. They ignored him.
“And do you remember,” Harry said, stalking over to the cabinet, his heart pounding, “when we were cleaning all this out - Hermione, do you remember any of the things we threw away?”
Hermione followed Harry’s gaze, her brow furrowed. Harry could tell the exact moment that she remembered. “There was a locket,” she breathed, eyes wide. “We couldn’t get it to open…”
“What locket?” Ron asked, clearly frustrated. “What are you two going on about? Harry, you’re starting to worry me, you’re looking like Hermione does when she’s just figured something out but refuses to talk about it!”
“The locket, Ron!” Harry replied. “The one we’re looking for - it was here, do you remember?”
“What - that one that we threw out? That was just… I mean, I don’t remember anything special about it. It looked old and tacky, to me…”
“Of course it was old,” Hermione said impatiently. “It belonged to Salazar Slytherin, for God’s sake. Harry, do you know what this means? This could be really bad, it could be anywhere now!”
And just as quickly as his hopes had gone up, they fell again, plummeting at an alarming rate and hitting rock bottom with such force that Harry nearly keeled over from disappointment. He frowned, rubbing a hand across his face. “Well, shit,” he said in a dismayed tone.
“Hang on,” Ron said, his eyes going wide. “Regulus - you think he’s R.A.B.?”
“Took you long enough,” Harry muttered. “Damn it, now what?”
“Harry,” Hermione said, and when Harry looked at her she tilted her head in Kreacher’s direction.
“Oh. Forgot he was here. Kreacher, you can-”
“No! Harry, he was nicking things from us left and right. Maybe…maybe he took it?”
Harry arched his eyebrows, but refused to get his hopes up again. “Maybe… Kreacher!”
“Yes, Master?” Kreacher said sourly.
“What happened to all the things you took from us when we were cleaning this room out?”
Kreacher blinked slowly. “Kreacher is not sure what Master is asking…”
“Two summers ago,” Harry said, trying to remain calm, “when Sirius was here. We were cleaning out this room. You kept running off with stuff. There was a locket. A heavy gold locket. Did you take it?”
“Kreacher remembers the locket. Kreacher remembers helping get the locket.”
“You - wait, you helped?” Harry asked.
Kreacher shuddered suddenly, turning his eyes to the floor and muttering under his breath. Harry thought he heard the word ‘poison’ mumbled more than once and cold horror washed over him.
Well, that explained who exactly had been Regulus’ accomplice.
“Kreacher…” Harry said slowly. “Did Regulus make you drink the potion?” Hermione gasped from where she was sitting on the couch, but Harry ignored her.
“No,” Kreacher said fiercely, his head snapping up so he could glare at Harry. “No, Master Regulus was a good Master, he was always making Kreacher’s poor Mistress proud! Master Regulus wasn’t making Kreacher do anything, Kreacher only had to get the locket home after - after-”
“After Regulus drank the potion,” Ron finished for him. Kreacher shot him a baleful look but didn’t disagree, and Hermione made a small, dismayed sound.
Harry let out a breath. “So that’s how he died, then.” Which meant he had probably become one of the inferi Harry had fought off last year. The thought alone made him sick. “And it explains how the locket made it back here, but Kreacher, do you still have it?”
“Kreacher gave the locket to his poor Mistress.”
“And she kept it as an heirloom or whatever, we know, we saw it! What I need you to tell me is if you took it when we were trying to clean up in here!”
Kreacher gave a slow blink of his large eyes. “Kreacher doesn’t have it.”
Harry made a frustrated sound and dug his hand into his hair.
“Wait, Kreacher, you mean you don’t have it now?” Hermione asked in a gentle tone. “Or you never took it at all?”
The elf narrowed his eyes at her, but then turned up his nose. “Kreacher is not having to answer to Mudbloods, filthy creatures that they are. Oh, Kreacher’s poor Mistress, what would she do-”
“Kreacher, did you take the effing locket?!” Harry burst out, chest heaving.
Kreacher looked shifty. “Kreacher might have. But Kreacher is not having the locket now.”
“What did you do with it? Where is it now??”
“Kreacher does not know where it is now.”
“Damn it, if you don’t-”
“Kreacher returned it to its rightful owner, but Kreacher doesn’t know what is happening to the locket after that.”
“Its rightful owner?” Ron asked faintly. “Merlin, please don’t tell me you gave it back to You-Know-Who!”
“Who did you give it to?” Harry said slowly. “Tell me. Now.”
Kreacher sniffed. “Kreacher is bringing it to the other members of the most noble family of Black. Master Regulus was telling Kreacher to bring the locket back and protect it, so Kreacher did.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ron muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. Harry had gone still where he was standing.
“Kreacher wasn’t seeing Master Regulus again after that night,” Kreacher said, turning his eyes to the floor again. “Master Regulus was a good Master, not like Master Sirius. He was breaking his mother’s heart, oh, my poor Mistress!”
“Enough about your Mistress already,” Ron grumbled.
“Harry?” Hermione asked tentatively. She’d apparently noticed his sudden silence.
Harry blinked at her, and then trudged over towards the sofa. “It’s at the Malfoys’,” he said slowly, sinking down onto the cushions. He buried his face in his hands, so his voice was slightly muffled when he spoke again. “He gave it to Narcissa.”
“Kreacher didn’t give it to anyone!” Kreacher said suddenly, abruptly stopping his monologue about Mrs. Black. “Kreacher is hiding it in Mistress Malfoy’s room!” He cackled loudly. “No one is getting Regulus’ locket now! Kreacher is protecting it perfectly!”
“So… I guess we will be going to Malfoy Manor, then,” Ron said, slightly amused despite the situation.
“The wards will be stopping you,” Kreacher spoke up in a sing-song voice, still laughing a bit. “You isn’t getting in without help, and Kreacher can’t be helping because Kreacher isn’t a Malfoy elf! Though Kreacher is wishing he was. The Malfoy boy, what a good Master he would be!” He cackled some more, and Harry rolled his eyes in disgust.
“Dobby, then,” Hermione said promptly, and Kreacher’s laughter died rather quickly.
“Alright,” Harry said, nodding. “Alright, Kreacher, go back to Hogwarts and tell Dobby I need to see him-”
“NO!” Kreacher screamed, falling to his knees and banging the floor relentlessly. “No, Kreacher won’t! Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t, Kreacher won’t!! Kreacher is protecting Master Regulus’ locket, not helping nasty little brats looking for it!”
“Tell Dobby I need to speak with him immediately,” Harry said loudly over Kreacher’s yelling. “And I forbid you to tell anyone a single word of what we said here today. You tell no one, got it?”
Kreacher looked up at Harry furiously. “Kreacher understands,” he bit out, and then with a crack he was gone, and not twenty seconds later Dobby was standing in his place, ten hats, Weasley sweater, mismatched socks and all.
“Harry Potter is wanting to see Dobby!” the little elf cried, bounding over and hugging Harry’s legs. “Dobby is so happy!”
Harry pried Dobby away, ignoring the amused look Hermione was giving him. “Yes, yes, Dobby, I wanted to see you.” He hesitated, and then plowed on, “We have a favor to ask.”
* * *
“Harry, do you think maybe we’re rushing into this a bit too quickly?” Hermione asked three days later. It was nearly midnight, and they were waiting for Dobby’s signal.
“We’ve wasted enough time as it is,” Harry replied from where he was pacing back and forth in the drawing room. “We’ve got pretty solid evidence; what else do you think we need?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermione said. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her fist. “It just seems too…easy.”
Ron barked out a laugh. “Easy?” he repeated. “Yeah, we’ve only got to sneak into Malfoy’s house undetected, scour his mother’s room where she’s probably going to be sleeping, and then make it back out of the house with the Horcrux, again undetected. Yeah, that’ll be easy.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I was referring more to us being able to find the locket again so quickly after deciding to look for it. Are you sure Kreacher was telling you the truth? And what about the wards, how do we even know that Dobby will be able to get us in?”
“Dobby’s already scouted the area, and he knows more about Malfoy Manor than any of us do,” Harry pointed out.
“But what if the wards have changed since he left? Harry, that was four years ago!”
“Dobby told us he’d be able to get us in,” Harry said tightly, pushing a hand through his hair. “I trust him.”
“I’m not saying that I don’t.” Hermione sighed. “I just think this is very, very risky.”
“At least he didn’t just storm over there the minute he found out about it,” Ron said. “We actually sort of have a plan this time.”
“And we have an outside source, not just visions floating around inside my head,” Harry muttered.
“Your outside source is Kreacher,” Hermione said flatly.
Harry opened his mouth to say something about Hermione’s sudden lack of benevolence towards the old elf, but before he could get any words out Dobby loudly appeared in the middle of the room, the sound of his Apparation startling them all.
“Is Harry Potter ready?” Dobby asked, eagerly bouncing on his toes.
“Yeah, we’re ready,” Harry said, quickly moving toward him and getting down on one knee so he could face him better. “How are we doing this?”
“Dobby is bringing Harry Potter and his friends to the Malfoy gates,” Dobby said, obviously excited to be helping with such an endeavor. “Harry Potter can be getting into the manor with Dobby’s help, but Dobby can’t be entering. The other house elves might be noticing Dobby’s magic.”
“So you’re going to wait for us outside then?” Ron clarified.
Dobby nodded so rapidly that three of the hats on his head toppled off. “You is looking for Mistress Malfoy’s room?”
“That’s right.”
Dobby snapped his fingers and up popped a three-dimensional translucent model of what had to be the biggest house Harry had ever seen. It floated in the air before them as Dobby twirled his finger to make it spin. “Mistress Malfoy is living in the East Wing,” Dobby said, pointing at it. “Fifth door on the right on the third floor. Dobby is bringing you here.” He jabbed at a section of the gate near the East Wing. “Harry Potter is being able to Apparate, yes?”
“Yeah, I can,” Harry said distractedly. He was trying to ignore Ron’s bulging eyes and muttered, “That’s Malfoy’s house?”
“Good,” Dobby said, nodding. “You is being able to Apparate into the manor, then. Dobby can remove the anti-Apparation wards for…maybe two hours, Dobby is thinking, before the other house elves is catching on. Now,” he spun the model again, pointing at another section, “the Malfoy boy is sleeping here. You isn’t needing to go that way, so he shouldn’t be waking up.”
“The Malfoy boy?” Harry repeated. “Malfoy’s there?”
Dobby looked up at him. “Master Draco,” he said, and then looked as if he was trying to refrain from saying something bad about his former master. His eyes darted back and forth, probably looking for something to whack himself with, Harry knew.
“I didn’t realize he’d gone back to the manor,” Harry said quickly, before the elf could try to punish himself. “I thought he was trying to stay in hiding.”
“Dobby isn’t knowing why Master Draco is there,” Dobby muttered.
Harry glanced up and Ron and Hermione, both of whom shrugged.
“Has anyone else been to the manor, Dobby?” Harry asked.
“Dobby isn’t seeing anyone other than the Malfoys, last time Dobby checked.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “Odd…”
“Harry, we need to get going if we want to get this thing tonight,” Hermione said. “It’s after twelve already.”
“Right.” Harry stood, making sure he had his Invisibility Cloak stashed away in his robe pockets. “How are we getting to the manor, Dobby?”
“Dobby is Apparating you to the gate.” He held out his hand expectantly. Harry exchanged glances with his friends, and then tentatively the three of them reached out and touched Dobby’s upturned palm. A split second later there was the familiar feeling of being compressed all around, and then they were outside in the darkness, a large, slightly creepy looking mansion looming before them.
“Wow…” Ron murmured, staring up at it wide-eyed.
Harry looked down at Dobby, whose eyes were squeezed shut as he concentrated on something. After a minute or so of this, he snapped his fingers. “There,” Dobby panted. “The wards is down. Harry Potter should be able to Apparate inside.”
“Thank you, Dobby,” Harry whispered quickly. Dobby beamed at him. “We’ll be as quick as we can.” He turned to the others. “Let’s go.”
They crept up to one of the large windows and peered into what seemed to be some sort of large living room.
“Okay,” Harry whispered. “Apparate in there.”
“Here’s hoping Dobby got the wards down correctly,” Ron muttered, and then the three of them spun and seconds later they landed inside the room they’d just been staring into.
Harry lifted a finger to his mouth, listening carefully for sounds that anyone had noticed them coming in. After a minute of silence, he pulled out his wand. “Disillusionment Charms on, I think.”
“Okay,” Hermione said, once they were ready. “We need to find a staircase…”
They moved as quickly as they could down the hall, Hermione casting Silencing spells on their shoes as they went. The corridor seemed endless. It stretched on and on, and just when Harry was beginning to think they’d never reach the end of it, they spilled out into an open foyer of sorts. There was a spiraling staircase in the middle of it, and if they stood at the bottom of it and looked up, there was no telling where it ended. The place had to have at least five floors, Harry imagined. Plus a basement. And possibly an attic. It was enormous.
Harry gestured to the staircase, and he could make out the shapes of his friends moving towards it. Just when he was about to start climbing though, something caught his eyes on the other side of the room. There was another door, one that either led to another room, or possibly the other half of the endless hallway. Whatever it was, there was a faint light shining out from beneath it.
“Wait, wait,” Harry whispered, grabbing the back of Ron’s robe. “Look.”
“Harry!” Hermione hissed. “We need to get what we came for and leave; we can’t spend time exploring the rest of the hou-”
Ron shushed her abruptly, clamping a hand over her mouth and meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry knew why. “You hear it too?” he asked in a low voice. Ron nodded. Harry looked back at the door. Unless he was very much mistaken, he’d just heard voices coming from that direction. Heart pounding, he moved closer toward the door. He could feel Ron and Hermione at his back.
“Harry,” Hermione hissed again, sounding worried. “Harry, this isn’t a good idea…”
But Harry wasn’t listening to her. Wand out and at the ready, he very slowly inched the door open.
There was no one on the other side.
Harry released a breath he hadn’t realize he’d been holding. It was just another hallway, not a room. He could still see the light coming from a little ways down, though, and as he followed its source, his eyes eventually landed on a halfway open door. The soft light was pouring out of it, leaving a rectangular shaped yellow spot on the otherwise black floor. And the voices were definitely coming from there. Voices that were too deep and gruff to be Draco, and, from what Harry remembered, too shrill and nasally to be Narcissa.
There were other people in the house.
“I thought Dobby said no one else was here!” Ron said frantically, laying a hand on Harry’s shoulder. His other hand, Harry could see out of the corner of his eye, was wrapped tightly around Hermione’s.
“Maybe they just showed up,” Harry murmured. He took a step closer to the room, and this time both Ron and Hermione stopped him.
“Harry, you can’t,” Hermione insisted.
“They won’t be able to see me.”
“No - Harry, no!”
Harry had already broken free from their grasp, though, and was creeping closer to the open door. Once there he paused, taking a deep breath, and then he slid into the room, keeping himself pressed against the wall.
He couldn’t see anything right away, because the door opened on the far right side of the room, and there was a large cabinet of some sort directly next to it. That actually helped, Harry supposed, because he was able to stand behind it and lean out to see the rest of the room, whilst still able to avoid being seen himself.
Of course the Disillusionment Charm might have also had a hand in that.
“What do you see?” Ron asked quietly, and the voices in the room paused suddenly. Harry widened his eyes and made shushing gestures at Ron. After a moment, the voices started up again, and Harry finally peered around the side of the cabinet.
He was quite unprepared for what he saw.
Fenrir Greyback’s hair was more matted than the last time Harry had seen it, but his teeth were as yellow as ever as he smiled nastily at his companion, Bellatrix Lestrange. Just the sight of her made anger and boiling hatred spring up inside Harry so quickly it nearly overpowered him. He managed to keep it down and control himself, but only because of the other two people in the room.
Something must have happened, something important, because Harry could see no other reason for Bellatrix to have her wand trained on her own sister.
Narcissa was backed against the wall, her face slightly pale, though Harry thought that was more because her son was currently being held in a stranglehold by Greyback than because her sister looked like she was about to hex her.
“I will not ask you again, Narcissa,” Bellatrix was saying. “The Dark Lord says it’s here; now where is it?!”
Harry quickly sidled back out of the room, facing Ron and Hermione with wide eyes. He ushered them a bit further away, before he began talking. “Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback are in there,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Greyback’s got Malfoy, and Bellatrix has her wand pulled on Narcissa.”
Hermione gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth, as Ron said, “What?!” in a startled tone.
Harry nodded. “Yeah,” he said, thinking quickly. “This might be a good thing, though. Ron, do you remember where Dobby said Narcissa’s room was?”
“Third floor, fifth door on the right,” Ron answered promptly, his eyes wide with understanding. “She’s not there right now. You want me to go look for the locket?”
It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement, but Harry nodded anyway. “You should be okay to search for it. I’m…I’m going to stay here and see what’s up.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” he muttered. “But at least you’ve got your priorities straight; you haven’t forgotten about the Horcrux in any case. Where do you want Hermione?”
Harry glanced at her, but she answered first. “I’ll stay down here. There’s no way I’m leaving Harry alone with a bunch of Death Eaters. I think you’ll be alright on your own, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Ron said cheekily, grinning. He turned to leave, and then paused. “Just…don’t do anything - stupid. Okay? Promise me, Harry. Promise me that you won’t try to take them all on by yourself or something.”
“I promise,” Harry said quickly. “Now go!” Ron grinned again, gave Harry a quick mock solute, and then ran off down the hall.
“Okay,” Hermione said once he was gone. “What’s your plan?”
“Don’t have one,” Harry muttered, walking back towards the room. “I just want to see what they want. It didn’t look like Malfoy and his mum were expecting them.”
He slid into the room again, Hermione at his back, and together they peered around the cabinet.
Draco was stark white and shaking in Greyback’s grip now and Narcissa was still pressed again the wall, her face blank.
“Bellatrix, I’ve told you,” she said, and Harry was startled to hear the slight tremor in her voice, because she looked fairly calm otherwise, “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about! You would have to ask Lucius, and he’s obviously not here at the moment-”
“Don’t lie to me, sister,” Bellatrix said silkily. “You’re of no value to the Dark Lord, you know. He’s very disappointed in your family, and he gave me permission to do whatever it takes to get that book back.”
That book.
Harry’s eyes widened.
The diary?
But Voldemort knew it had been destroyed, didn’t he? Dumbledore had said…
“Why do you think I brought Fenrir with me?” Bellatrix continued. “He does so love children, I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“I’m not a child,” Draco spat, struggling in vain against the hairy arm wrapped around his neck.
“Draco, be quiet,” Narcissa said firmly, without a glance in the boy’s direction.
Greyback leaned closer to Draco, his mouth right against the boy’s ear as he rasped, “You’d best listen to your mother, boy. And stop struggling, lest you find my teeth accidentally slipping.” He dragged a long, yellow nail down Draco’s cheek, leaving a faint pink line, and Draco stopped moving abruptly, his eyes wide with fear and panic. “Children. So young. So naïve.”
“Leave him be!” Narcissa cried. “He’s done nothing to warrant this-”
“Well, that’s half the problem, isn’t it, Cissy?” Bellatrix interrupted, tapping her wand against her hand. “He did nothing. He took the coward’s route-”
“He’s just a boy,” Narcissa said, and there was a desperate edge to her voice now. “He was only sixteen years old!”
“I’m seventeen now, Mother!”
“Now is not the time to talk back to me, Draco!” she said in a rush.
Bellatrix sighed. “It’s like this, Cissy. The Dark Lord wants the book. He entrusted it to Lucius years ago, before the Potter brat interrupted things, and Lucius failed. The book was destroyed, according to your dear husband, and now the Dark Lord wants to be absolutely sure that it’s gone.”
“Bella, I do not know where it is,” Narcissa said imploringly. “Lucius never said anything to me.”
“Very well,” Bellatrix said heavily. “You leave me no choice. You understand that if you don’t hand it over, I’m to allow Fenrir to have his way with your son.”
Harry watched as Draco visibly jerked and Greyback grinned a very feral and pointy-toothed grin.
Narcissa’s face paled, the first crack in her calm mask. “My son, your nephew!” she whispered harshly.
Bellatrix laughed shrilly, the sound of it sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. He felt Hermione clutching the back of his robe. “And you think that will stop me? Ah, Cissy, this is why you never would have succeeded as a Death Eater. I suspect it is also the reason your son did not succeed.”
“I was given a nearly impossible task-!” Draco choked mid-word as Greyback tightened his arm around his throat. He clawed at the arm, but apparently the pressure didn’t let up because Draco’s face was slowly going red.
“Let go of him!” Narcissa exclaimed, her eyes wide as she lurched forward, one hand out as if she could stop him.
“Crucio!” Bellatrix snapped, effectively halting her sister. Narcissa fell to the ground, screaming and writhing.
Draco’s eyes bulged. “Mum!” he clearly tried to yell, but nothing came out. His lips formed the word, but all they heard was a rasping, choked sound, and he fought even harder against Greyback.
Bellatrix lazily lifted her wand, leaving Narcissa panting on the floor.
Harry suddenly realized his fingernails were cutting into his palms from his hands being clenched so tight.
“Now, Narcissa,” Bellatrix said, and there was nothing friendly in her voice now. They might as well have been complete strangers as opposed to sisters. “You will bring me to this book of the Dark Lord’s. He no longer trusts it in your family’s hands.”
“You speak as though you aren’t part of that family,” Narcissa said slowly, pushing herself up onto her hands and knees, and from there standing shakily.
Bellatrix eyed her coldly, her wand still out. “I’m not. I’ve found something better.”
“Bella…” Narcissa said brokenly.
“The book, Narcissa. I won’t repeat myself again. If you truly don’t know where it is, then bring me to Lucius’ study instead. We will search for it there, and if we don’t find it then we’ll move onto the next room. And the next, and the next, and so on until we find it. We’ll search the entire bloody manor if we have to, but I am not returning to the Dark Lord without that book!”
“How does he even know it’s here?” Narcissa asked. “What proof does he have? Why would Lucius have kept it if it was destroyed?”
“He would have to be very stupid to get rid of something so important, destroyed or not,” Bellatrix said dangerously. She narrowed her eyes. “Do you doubt the Dark Lord?”
There was a slight pause, almost unnoticeable but there all the same, and then Narcissa said, “Of course not.”
“Liar!” Bellatrix hissed. “I’ve had enough of your insolence, dear sister!” She turned to Greyback. “Do as you wish, Fenrir.”
Draco had gone deathly pale and was struggling against Greyback with renewed strength. His knuckles were white as he pulled at the thick arm around his neck. His feet kicked at the ground as tried to tear himself away from Greyback’s grip.
Greyback was leering at Draco now. Harry absently thought he looked more like a vampire than a werewolf, the way he was opening his mouth against Draco’s neck. Draco bucked some more, and Harry noticed with a sort of detached horror that Draco was seriously about to be bitten.
Harry knew that Draco couldn’t actually become a werewolf from Greyback biting him when he was human, but it didn’t stop the images of Bill’s horribly scarred face from rushing to the forefront of his mind. His drooping mouth, his eye that could barely open, the still unhealed wounds marking Bill’s once handsome visage - it was easy for the lines to blur and for Harry to see Draco there instead, injured beyond even the most magical means of healing.
Greyback had worked one gnarled hand beneath Draco’s shirt and was tightly gripping Draco’s waist to hold him in place as he spoke. “You’re lucky, young one,” he growled into Draco’s ear, so softly Harry almost couldn’t hear it. “The first full moon’s in two days. I’ll be able to help you through it. I’ll have to bite you that night, of course, but I can give you a sample now, if you like…” His mouth opened, his teeth were pressing against Draco’s skin, Draco looked like he was seconds away from passing out…
A flurry of thoughts went through Harry’s head.
Should he help?
Should he walk away?
Hermione would kill him if he jumped into view now, but could he really just stand by and watch a fellow classmate get mauled, even if that classmate was Draco Malfoy?
He had just made up his mind when everything went crazy.
Yay, a long chapter! Hehe, uh...that's because I'm going to Florida for a week so I won't be able to update... I know, I'm sorry, I left you all with that cliffhanger! I'm terrible!!
...Please review, though?
*hides*
~Maxine
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You can also read it at my website, or at Skyehawke.