Disturbing Tales and New Trails

Harry's POV

After a breath of excitement, I pushed the door: It was locked. (Y/N) chuckled, "Anti-climax much?" Hermione pointed her wand at the handle and said, "Alohomora." There was a click, and the door swung open.

We moved over the threshold together, gazing around. Regulus's bedroom was slightly smaller than Sirius's, though it had the same sense of former grandeur.

Whereas Sirius had sought to advertise his difference from the rest of the family, Regulus had striven to emphasise the opposite. The Slytherin colours of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bed, the walls, and the windows.

The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto, Toujours Pur. "Always pure...charming" said (Y/N) as we entered. "Need to get me a family motto" he mumbled

Beneath it was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage. Hermione crossed the room to examine them. "They're all about Voldemort," she said. "Regulus seems to have been a fan for a few years before he joined the Death Eaters. . . ."

I had noticed another photograph; a Hogwarts Quidditch team was smiling and waving out of the frame. I moved closer and saw the snakes emblazoned on their chests: Slytherins.

Regulus was instantly recognisable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller, slighter, and rather less handsome than Sirius had been. "He played Seeker," I voiced my thought.

"What?" said Hermione vaguely; she was still immersed in Voldemort's press clippings. "He's sitting in the middle of the front row, that's where the Seeker . . . Never mind," I said, realising that nobody was listening: Ron was on his hands and knees, searching under the wardrobe.

(Y/N) was searching behind the headboard and under the mattress, keen to find something incriminating that wasn't necessarily linked to Voldemort it seems. After around five minutes of searching there was a sigh from the corner of the room.

"There's an easier way," said Hermione. She raised her wand and said, "Accio Locket!" "Oh yeah, we know magic" (Y/N) sighed to himself. But nothing happened. Ron, who had been searching the folds of the faded curtains, looked disappointed.

"Nothing is ever simple." (Y/N) sighed again, "There we go, that's gonna be the motto of our dynasty 'Mione" he chuckled, she was flustered at the insinuation and dropped the newspapaer clippings.

"Can you two stop the flirting, this is serious." said Ron, "Never!" proclaimed (Y/N), Hermione rolled her eyes, "Is that it, then? It's not here?" groaned Ron "Oh, it could still be here, but under counter-enchantments," said Hermione. "Charms to prevent it being summoned magically, you know."

"Like Voldemort put on the stone basin in the cave," I said remembering how I had been unable to Summon the fake locket. "How are we supposed to find it then?" asked Ron. "We search manually," said Hermione.

"That's a good idea," said Ron, rolling his eyes, and he resumed his examination of the curtains. "Have fun, I'm gonna go make breakfast before I pass out" said (Y/N), hurrying downstairs, It was only seconds later that we heard the clattering of pots and pans as he began cooking.

We combed every inch of the room for more than an hour, but were forced, finally, to conclude that the locket was not there. The sun had risen now; its light dazzled them even through the grimy landing windows.

"It could be somewhere else in the house, though," said Hermione in a rallying tone as they walked back downstairs. As Ron and I had become more discouraged, she seemed to have become more determined.

"Whether he'd managed to destroy it or not, he'd want to keep it hidden from Voldemort, wouldn't he? Remember all those awful things we had to get rid of when we were here last time?"

"That clock that shot bolts at everyone and those old robes that tried to strangle Ron; Regulus might have put them there to protect the locket's hiding place, even though we didn't realise it at-"

She was standing with one foot in midair, with the dumbstruck look of one who had just been Obliviated; her eyes had even drifted out of focus. "-at the time," she finished in a whisper.

"Something wrong?" asked Ron. "There was a locket." "What?" said (Y/N) and Ron together as (Y/N) passed out the food he'd managed to cook for us. "In the cabinet in the drawing room. Nobody could open it. And we...we..."

I felt as though a brick had slid down through my chest into my stomach. I remembered: I had even handled the thing as we passed it around, each trying in turn to prise it open.

It had been tossed into a sack of rubbish, along with the snuffbox of Wartcap powder and the music box that had made everyone sleepy. "Kreacher nicked loads of things back from us," I said desperately.

It was the only chance, the only slender hope left to them, and I was going to cling to it until forced to let go. "He had a whole stash of stuff in his cupboard in the kitchen. C'mon."

We ran down the stairs taking two steps at a time making so much noise that they woke the portrait of Sirius's mother as they passed through the hall.

"Filth! Mudbloods! Scum!" she screamed after them as they dashed down into the basement kitchen and slammed the door behind them.

We searched Kreachers quarters, if you could call it that, but there was nothing there, just old rags and a book. Ron groaned as he threw himself into a kitchen chair; Hermione closed her eyes. "It's not over yet," I said, getting an idea "Kreacher!"

There was a loud crack and the house-elf that I reluctantly inherited from Sirius appeared out of nowhere in front of the cold and empty fireplace: tiny, half human-sized, his pale skin hanging off him in folds, white hair sprouting copiously from his batlike ears.

He was still wearing the filthy rag, and the contemptuous look he bowed to me showed that his attitude to his change of ownership had altered no more than his outfit.

"Master," croaked Kreacher in his bullfrog's voice, and he bowed low, muttering to his knees, "back in my Mistress's old house with the blood-traitor Weasley, the Muggle lover and the Mudblood-" "you little-" started (Y/N), pointing cutlery threateningly as he ate.

"I forbid you to call anyone 'blood traitor' 'Muggle lover' or 'Mudblood,' " I said immediately "I've got a question for you," I started, my heart beating rather fast as I looked down at the elf, "and I order you to answer it truthfully. Understand?"

"Yes, Master," said Kreacher, bowing low again: I saw his lips moving soundlessly, undoubtedly framing the insults he was now forbidden to utter. "Two years ago, there was a big gold locket in the drawing room upstairs. We threw it out. Did you steal it back?"

There was a moment's silence, during which Kreacher straightened up to look Harry full in the face. Then he said, "Yes." "Where is it now?" I asked jubilantly as the others looked gleeful.

Kreacher closed his eyes as though he could not bear to see their reactions to his next word. "Gone." "Gone?" I echoed, elation flooding out of me. "What do you mean, it's gone?" The elf shivered. He swayed. "Kreacher," I said fiercely, "I order you-"

"Mundungus Fletcher," croaked the elf, his eyes still tight shut. "Mundungus Fletcher stole it all: Miss Bella's and Miss Cissy's pictures, my Mistress's gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and-"

Kreacher was gulping for air: His hollow chest was rising and falling rapidly, then his eyes flew open and he uttered a bloodcurdling scream. "and the locket, Master Regulus's locket, Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!"

I reacted instinctively: As Kreacher lunged for the poker standing in the grate of the fireplace, I launched myself upon the elf, flattening him. Hermione's scream mingled with Kreacher's, but I bellowed louder than both of them: "Kreacher, I order you to stay still!"

The elf froze, Kreacher lay flat on the cold stone floor, tears gushing from his sagging eyes. "Harry, let him up!" Hermione whispered. "So he can beat himself up with the poker?" I snorted, kneeling beside the elf.

"I don't think so. Right, Kreacher, I want the truth: How do you know Mundungus Fletcher stole the locket?" "Kreacher saw him!" gasped the elf as tears poured over his snout and into his mouth full of graying teeth.

"Kreacher saw him coming out of Kreacher's cupboard with his hands full of Kreacher's treasures. Kreacher told the sneak thief to stop, but Mundungus Fletcher laughed and r-ran. . . ."

"Well, that does sound like Dung." (Y/N) said, fuming over the prospect of seeing Fletcher again. "You called the locket 'Master Regulus's,' " I continued. "Why?" "Where did it come from? What did Regulus have to do with it? Kreacher, sit up and tell me everything you know about that locket, and everything Regulus had to do with it!"

The elf sat up, curled into a ball, placed his wet face between his knees, and began to rock backward and forward. For the first time since they had met each other, (Y/N) spoke to Kreacher kindly.

"Don't worry Kreacher, It isn't your fault, just take it slow, tell us everything you can, we can help you get Master Regulus's locket back, cant we guys?" The others nodded and Kreacher looked between us all, wide eyed and shocked.

When he spoke, his voice was muffled but quite distinct in the silent, echoing kitchen. "Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress's heart with his lawless ways."

"But Master Regulus had proper pride; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood." "For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns . . . and when he was sixteen years old..."

"Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve . . . And one day, a year after he had joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher."

"Master Regulus said the Dark Lord required an elf." "Voldemort needed an elf ?" I said confused. "Oh yes," moaned Kreacher.

"And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honour, said Master Regulus, an honour for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do...and then to c-come home."

Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath coming in sobs. "So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave there was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake."

"There was a boat..." "There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it" The elf quaked from head to foot. "Kreacher drank, and as he drank, he saw terrible things."

"Kreacher's insides burned. . . . Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed." Hermione let out a short sobbing noise, (Y/N) let out a grunt of anger and disgust. Before saying "Smart, a house elf wouldn't protest an order like a follower, they're disposable to him."

Ron seemed utterly frozen, unable to comment. "He made Kreacher drink all the potion. He dropped a locket into the empty basin. He filled it with more potion. And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island."

"Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake, and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface."

"How did you get away?" I asked, and in a whisper like voice. Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked at me with his great, bloodshot eyes "Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," was all he said.

"I know, but how did you escape the Inferi?" Kreacher did not seem to understand. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he repeated. "I know, but —" "Well, it's obvious, isn't it, Harry?" said Ron. "He Disapparated!"

"But . . . you couldn't Apparate in and out of that cave," said Harry, "otherwise Dumbledore —" "Elf magic isn't like wizard's magic, is it?" said Ron.

"I mean, they can Apparate and Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts when we can't." (Y/N) nodded, "Yeah, Winky helped me escape the Inquisitorial squad, and I tried to get her to apparate me to the Ministry remember, when mum..." he trailed off and went back to eating

There was silence as I processed. How could Voldemort have made such a mistake? But even as I thought, Hermione spoke, and her voice was icy.

"Of course, Voldemort would have considered the ways of house elves far beneath his notice, just like all the purebloods who treat them like animals. It would never have occurred to him that they might have magic that he didn't."

"The house-elf's highest law is his Master's bidding," intoned Kreacher. "Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home." "Well, then, you did what you were told, didn't you?" said Hermione kindly. "You didn't disobey orders at all!"

Kreacher shook his head, rocking as fast as ever. "So what happened when you got back? What did Regulus say when you told him what had happened?" "Master Regulus was very worried, very worried," croaked Kreacher.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then it was a little while later . . . Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night"

"Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord."

"And he made you drink the potion?" I asked, disgusted. But Kreacher shook his head and wept. Hermione's hands leapt to her mouth: She seemed to have understood something.

(Y/N) covered his face with his hands, running them along his eyes as he held back tears too. "Of course, he'd never expect a house elf, wouldn't think to search for him" he said as wiped his face.

"M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had," said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snoutlike nose. "And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets. . . ."

Kreacher's sobs came in great rasps now "And he ordered — Kreacher to leave — without him. And he told Kreacher — to go home — and never to tell my Mistress — what he had done — but to destroy — the first locket. And he drank — all the potion — and Kreacher swapped the lockets — and watched . . . as Master Regulus . . . was dragged beneath the water . . . and . . ."

"Oh, Kreacher!" wailed Hermione, who was crying. She dropped to her knees beside the elf and tried to hug him. At once he was on his feet, cringing away from her, quite obviously repulsed. "The Mudblood touched Kreacher, he will not allow it, what would his Mistress say?"

"I told you not to call her 'Mudblood'!" I snarled, but the elf was already punishing himself: He fell to the ground and banged his forehead on the floor. (Y/N) rushed beside him and gripped his wrists.

"Stop." He said quickly as Kreacher began to bang his head on the floor instead. But Kreacher didn't listen to him, so I shouted "Kreacher. stop, stop!"

The elf lay on the floor, panting and shivering, green mucus glistening around his snout, a bruise already blooming on his pallid forehead where he had struck himself, his eyes swollen and bloodshot and swimming in tears. I had never seen anything so pitiful.

"So you brought the locket home," I said relentlessly, determined to know the full story. "And you tried to destroy it?" "Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it," moaned the elf.

"Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work. . . . So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open. . . ."

"Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket!"

"Kreacher it's not your fault" said (Y/N) comfortingly, a polar opposite to mere minutes ago. "You tried, I'm sure Regulus would be proud that you did." Kreacher shook his head and began to bawl.

"Mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared, and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave. . . ."

Kreacher began to sob so hard that there were no more coherent words. Tears flowed down Hermione's cheeks as she watched Kreacher, but she did not dare touch him again.

Even Ron, who was no fan of Kreacher's, looked troubled. I should have been the same but a bitter part of me still had a question I wanted answering, "I don't understand you, Kreacher," I said finally.

"Voldemort tried to kill you, Regulus died to bring Voldemort down, but you were still happy to betray Sirius to Voldemort? You were happy to go to Narcissa and Bellatrix, and pass information to Voldemort through them. . . ."

"Harry, Kreacher doesn't think like that," said Hermione, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "He's a slave; house-elves are used to bad, even brutal treatment; what Voldemort did to Kreacher wasn't that far out of the common way."

"What do wizard wars mean to an elf like Kreacher? He's loyal to people who are kind to him, and Mrs. Black must have been, and Regulus certainly was, so he served them willingly and parroted their beliefs."

"I know what you're going to say," she went on as I began to protest, "that Regulus changed his mind . . . but he doesn't seem to have explained that to Kreacher, does he?"

"And I think I know why. Kreacher and Regulus's family were all safer if they kept to the old pure-blood line. Regulus was trying to protect them all." "Sirius-" I started to protest.

"Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it's no good looking like that, you know it's true." She defended at my look of outrage.

"Kreacher had been alone for a long time when Sirius came to live here, and he was probably starving for a bit of affection. I'm sure 'Miss Cissy' and 'Miss Bella' were perfectly lovely to Kreacher when he turned up, so he did them a favour and told them everything they wanted to know."

"I've said all along that wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did...and so did Sirius." I had no retort.

I remembered what Dumbledore had said to me, mere hours after Sirius's death: "I do not think Sirius ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human's"

"Kreacher," I said after a while, "when you feel up to it, er . . . please sit up." It was several minutes before Kreacher hiccuped himself into silence. Then he pushed himself into a sitting position again, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes like a small child.

"Kreacher, I am going to ask you to do something," I explained as politely as I could. "Kreacher, I want you, please, to go and find Mundungus Fletcher."

"We need to find out where the locket, where Master Regulus's locket is. It's really important. We want to finish the work Master Regulus started, we want to, er, ensure that he didn't die in vain."

Kreacher dropped his fists and looked up at me. "Find Mundungus Fletcher?" he croaked. "And bring him here, to Grimmauld Place," I instructed "Do you think you could do that for us?" Kreacher nodded and got to his feet.

I had a sudden inspiration. I pulled out Hagrid's purse and took out the fake Horcrux, the substitute locket in which Regulus had placed the note to Voldemort.

"Kreacher, I'd, er, like you to have this," he said, pressing the locket into the elf's hand. "This belonged to Regulus and I'm sure he'd want you to have it as a token of gratitude for what you —"

"Overkill, mate," said Ron as the elf took one look at the locket, let out a howl of shock and misery, and threw himself back onto the ground. "This is gonna take a while" said (Y/N), returning to his food. He was right.

It took us nearly half an hour to calm down Kreacher, who was so overcome to be presented with a Black family heirloom for his very own that he was too weak at the knees to stand properly.

When finally he was able to totter a few steps we all accompanied him to his cupboard, watched him tuck up the locket safely in his dirty blankets, and assured him that we would make its protection our first priority while he was away.

He then made two low bows to Harry and Ron, a little nod to (Y/N), and even gave a funny little spasm in Hermione's direction that might have been an attempt at a respectful salute, before Disapparating with the usual loud crack. "Y'know, the old prune's growing on me." Said (Y/N) as he disappeared.

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