The End of All Things

Chapter Nine: Return to Grimmauld Place

“...my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them...that's him.”

Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name REGULUS BLACK. A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth.

“He was younger than me,” said Sirius. “and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.

“But he died,” said Harry.

“Yeah,” said Sirius. “Stupid idiot... he joined the Death Eaters.”

...There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; also a heavy locket that none of them could open...

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, “The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black”, first paperback edition, American edition, pp. 112-113, 116.

The door creaked as it opened.

Harry couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore had taken up Harry's offer to continue using Grimmauld Place; the house felt as though no one had been inside for a while.

It was still cleaner than it had been when Harry had first entered two summers ago, though. But he knew there was still work to be done. That was why they were here.

“Dobby! Kreacher!” Harry called.

Two cracks, almost simultaneous, echoed through the house. Almost instantly, muffled yells could be heard by the trio. It seemed as though the two elves were involved in another tussle.

Harry lit his wand and cast the beam over the pair struggling on the floor.

“Kreacher, freeze!”

The elf did so; bound by whatever magic linked him to Harry. Dobby however, seemed unable to resist another solid punch to Kreacher's nose. Harry was tempted to let this go on for awhile, but Dobby's own decency stopped him from continuing. He stepped back from Kreacher, breathing heavily.

“I don't suppose I want to know what that was about,” Harry said lightly as he stepped forward.

Dobby bowed. “Master Harry Potter sir is quite right sir. Dobby would never repeat such things in Master Harry Potter's hearing.”

Harry smiled. “Nice to know I can count on you Dobby. Speaking of which,” he beckoned to Ron and Hermione. “We could use your help with something.”

“Anything, sir.” Dobby said, bowing.

Harry knelt in front of the elf.

“The three of us find ourselves with some steam to vent. We all feel a need to blow something up. Hermione reminded me that Kreacher probably managed to sneak a lot of things away from us when we cleaned this place two years ago. So,” he turned to look at Kreacher, who was suddenly looking wary. “I order you, Kreacher, to bring us anything we meant to throw away, anything dangerous to the inhabitants of this house, or anything that might be classified as `dark'. Dobby, I want you to accompany him to make sure he brings us everything, and doesn't find a loophole in what I just said. I know I can trust you to take my orders in the way I meant.”

If an elf could turn pale, Kreacher did, Harry thought.

Dobby…well, grinned, was all one could call that horrifyingly gleeful expression.

About an hour later, the trio stood in the drawing room, a small mountain of junk before them. Dobby stood nearby, standing guard over Kreacher, who looked like he would gladly murder the inhabitants of the room, if he hadn't been bound and gagged by Dobby once the search had been completed.

Ron poked warily at the pile with his foot. “I recognize some of this stuff; I could have sworn I threw this box in the bin.”

Hermione walked around the pile, tilting her head quizzically. “I wonder how he managed to sneak that out,” she said vaguely. Harry didn't bother asking her what item she was referring to.

“Right then,” he said briskly, rolling up his sleeves. “Dobby, is there anything we should worry about before we get rid of this?”

Dobby shook his head. “No sir, Dobby checked everything himself. Anything that might harm master and his friends, Dobby took care of. Except for that sir.” He pointed across the wall to the tapestry of Sirius' family.

“The tapestry's cursed?” Harry wasn't surprised.

“Oh, yes sir, most awfully.” Dobby glanced at it, and then looked back at Harry.

“If master wants, Dobby could destroy it sir.”

“It won't hurt you, though?”

“Oh no, sir! Dobby knows how to get rid of some terrible curses sir. Dobby's old masters sometimes…” Dobby gasped and ran at the wall.

Harry managed to stop the elf before he crashed headlong into the tapestry. He picked Dobby up by the back of his necktie, and looked rather sternly at him.

“I would have thought you'd have stopped doing that by now.”

Dobby looked abashed. “Most sorry, sir, Dobby still forgets sometimes.”

Harry set him down. “Why don't you help Ron and Hermione with that pile? I want to look at the tapestry for a moment.”

Dobby grinned. “Yes sir!”

Harry set him down and turned to peruse Sirius' family line.

He had noticed some similarities between his and Sirius' family trees. Both didn't branch out widely as most did. In Harry's family, this had been because of a high mortality rate. In Sirius' family, it was because the members of the family had only married purebloods; mostly anyway. Harry grinned wryly at the burn marks on the cloth. He glanced at where Sirius should have been, and another name caught his eye.

Regulus Alphonse Black

Harry couldn't immediately say what struck him about that name. He knew that Regulus was Sirius's brother, and that he had been a Death Eater who'd tried to scarper before he got in too deep.

Harry stared hard at the name until his vision began to blur. The capitol letters had been worked elaborately, and stood out from the rest, until Harry could only see them clearly.

R………A………B

It can't be…

Harry turned slowly, afraid he was too late.

As though in slow motion, he took in the scene before him. Ron was holding his wand at the ready, mouth opening on a spell. Hermione was holding her wand in a similar position on the opposite side from Ron. Dobby was grinning and rubbing his hands together, blue sparks dancing between his fingers…and on the top of the pile, right in front of Hermione, was a locket. A locket they hadn't been able to open before…

“Stop!” Harry screamed.

The Burrow was quiet that night.

By the time the trio returned, Ron's family were all in bed. Mrs. Weasley had left a note on the table, and a pot of vegetable soup on the stove, though none of the three felt like eating.

Dobby, after destroying the tapestry as well as the portrait of Mrs. Black (which he had been a bit reluctant to do, until the woman started screaming threats and insults at Harry) had escorted Kreacher back to the Hogwart's kitchens, where, he assured Harry, that Kreacher would be well taken care of. Harry wondered, but decided not to ask what Dobby meant, seeing as how Dobby had been cracking his knuckles as he'd told him that.

Harry turned the locket over in his hands. Hermione had found some metal polish, and had cleaned the locket, revealing the serpent that Harry had seen in a Pensieve only a few months ago.

A Horcrux at Grimmauld place, all that time…Sirius' brother is R.A.B…was that why he chickened out? Did Voldemort ask him to hide the Horcrux in the cave? Why would he change his mind at the last minute?

How on earth are we going to destroy this?

Harry could tell his two friends were thinking the same thing. He put the locket on the table between them.

“Well, any ideas?”

Hermione shook her head. “It seems to me as if the only two that have been destroyed were destroyed mostly by luck. Harry, you didn't even know the diary was a Horcrux when you stabbed it with the basilisk fang. And we all know what the ring did to Dumbledore's hand, though we don't know how he actually destroyed it.”

Ron rubbed his eyes and yawned. The other two stared at him.

“Sorry,” he said a trifle defensively. “But could we think about this tomorrow? I'm dead tired, I'm sure you two are as well, and even if we do manage to figure out how to destroy it tonight, we won't have the energy for it anyway.”

Harry smiled. “Fair point. To bed then, and we'll think about this tomorrow. But,” he looked at them seriously. “I don't think we should tell anyone about this.”

“Even now?” Ron asked.

“Especially now,” Harry said firmly.

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Harry's right. The less people who know about this, the better.”

Ron nodded wearily, and then turned to head upstairs, yawning all the way up. Harry soon followed, Hermione bringing up the rear.

Behind them in the kitchen, the locket lay on the table, looking like nothing more than a plain piece of jewelry.

Hermione couldn't sleep.

She had been accused countless times of being overly analytical. She knew herself that she couldn't let a problem go until she had figured it out.

In her mind, the locket was a problem; its destruction, a puzzle to be solved. In spite of how tired she was now (from the emotional trials of today, as well as the shock that she had, for a time, been living in the same house with a piece of Voldemort's soul), she found herself unable to rest.

Muttering under her breath, she got out of bed and donned her bathrobe. Surely one more look couldn't hurt? She might even see something she hadn't noticed before, something that would help her solve this.

She closed the bedroom door quietly behind her, padding softly down the hall.

She didn't notice another figure following.

Ron had woken up hungry. The vegetable soup hadn't been enough, and he knew he'd never get to sleep when his stomach was growling so loudly at him.

He left his room, leaving Harry and Sirius fast asleep, with Sirius's tail still twitching.

He'd seen Hermione leave her room and start toward the kitchen as well. His stomach rumbled particularly loudly, but she didn't seem to hear, which was just as well. Maybe she was hungry too? Maybe they could share a bite, and maybe he could talk with her again, maybe she'd changed her mind, from earlier this afternoon.

Heart pounding, he followed her downstairs, wincing at every creak.

He was slightly disappointed to see Hermione sitting at the table, chin propped up on her hands, staring avidly at the locket. So she'd just popped down for another look, had she? Ron smirked. Leave it to Hermione to not leave a puzzle like this alone.

Hermione reached out and picked up the locket. She turned it over in her hands, much like Harry had been doing before. She slid the chain through her fingers, and tried unsuccessfully to open it again.

It must be charmed closed. Wait a minute…charmed!

She pulled her wand from her bathrobe pocket. Some part of her mind was screaming at her that this wasn't a good idea, but hadn't Harry said that he'd been able to open the diary without it harming him? True, Tom Riddle had taken him on an out of body experience, and made Ginny open the chamber, but Harry had been all right afterwards, and the only reason he'd been able to affect Ginny was because she'd opened it many times, and had it for far longer than Harry had. Surely this wouldn't be any different? And if it was…well, that was a risk she was willing to take.

She transferred the locket to her left hand, taking up her wand in her right, and pointed it at the clasp. Let's start with the simple option.

“Alohomora!”

Nothing happened…at first.

The locket started glowing; a green fire erupted from the engraving of the snake, leaping several inches off the metal surface.

Hermione jumped, but did not drop it.

She couldn't. Her hand wouldn't obey her anymore.

Pain erupted from her fingers, shooting up her arm into her body. She felt herself sink to her knees, staring in horror as burn blisters spread across her hand. She raised her head, looking desperately around the room for water, something to drown the flames that were spreading up her arm.

She saw Ron standing in the doorway, face white, eyes staring.

“Ron…help...” she gasped.

His face blurred in her vision…

When Hermione woke up, the first thing she noticed was that the pain was gone. The second thing, her head was throbbing. Third, her left hand was wrapped so tightly she couldn't even twitch her fingers. Fourth—someone was holding her right hand.

She turned her head.

Harry was sitting in a chair next to her bed, his forehead resting on the covers at her side. She looked down at her undamaged right hand…held fast in Harry's heavily bandaged left.

She squeezed it, and whispered, “Harry.”

He woke at once, raising his head to look at her.

He had dark circles under his eyes, he looked as pale as a vampire, and his eyes were red, as though he had been crying.

“Hermione,” his voice came out as a croak. “How are you feeling?”

“Um, fine I guess. What happened to you?”

“I destroyed the locket,” he said simply.

“You did? How?”

He looked warily at her. “Don't you…remember?”

Hermione closed her eyes. Now that he mentioned it, she did remember something…

“Wait—is Ron all right?”

Harry's face darkened, and his hand clenched around hers painfully. She winced and Harry released her hand completely, dropping his to his lap.

“He's fine,” Harry said shortly.

“But how can that be? He saved me, didn't he…?”

Harry looked at her steadily. “Did he? Are you sure that's what you remember?”

Hermione sat up, putting her undamaged right hand to her forehead. Her headache seemed to be keeping her from thinking straight.

She'd seen Ron looking at her in horror, she'd begged him to help her…and then she was here.

She looked at Harry, shaking her head.

He stood and crossed the room. She noticed that his right hand was also bandaged, from fingertips to elbow. Dipping a cloth in a bowl of water on the bureau, he returned to her, and pressed the cold cloth to her head.

Hermione sighed in pleasure. Her headache lessened…

…and her memory returned.

Ron stared at her in horror, before turning and running back up the stairs.

Hermione gasped, pulling away from Harry and falling back onto her pillow.

“Hermione…”

“No…no…no…” she muttered wildly.

“Hermione, it's all right.”

“No it's not!” she screamed.

Harry jerked back.

“How can you say it's all right? He's a bloody coward! He ran away when I was…dying…”

She covered her face in her hands, vaguely noticing Harry sitting down next to her. He put his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her back.

“You saved me.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes,” His tone wasn't boastful. He was merely stating a fact.

“How did you know?”

“I didn't. Sirius woke me up by howling in my ear.”

Hermione smiled slightly. “Smart puppy.”

“Mmm. He ran to the door as soon as I was awake and started leaping at the handle. I opened the door to see if anything was outside, and I smelled burning flesh.” His voice cracked.

Hermione said nothing.

“I ran to the kitchen as fast as I could, thinking maybe someone had burned themselves on the stove, or something. I passed Ron, asked him what was happening…

“Ron, what in Merlin's name is going on?”

Ron sank to the floor.

“I'm sorry Harry, I can't…you have to help her…please…”

Harry rushed past him, down the stairs, into the kitchen, and saw…

“You were there, surrounded by green fire. I don't know what happened then, all I remember thinking is that I had to save you.”

Hermione knew he was telling the truth. She remembered now.

A figure, glowing with purest white light, came to her. It snatched the locket from her hand, and the pain stopped. Her last conscious thought before the darkness enfolded her was. “He left me. He abandoned me…”

The locket imploded in Harry's left hand, black fire spreading from its center. A wispy form rose from the midst, a scream of rage echoed around the kitchen. Harry fell to the floor as the skin on his hand blistered. He looked across the floor to Hermione. She was breathing. Relief washed through him, and with it what energy he had left deserted him. He was so tired, and the floor was so near. If he just lay down for a moment…

Harry's head hit the floor. In the moments before he lost consciousness, he looked again at Hermione. His mind flashed to Ron running away from the kitchen, and rage leapt within him at his betrayal, before being chased away by sorrow. Hermione would forgive Ron, he knew, but she would forever be hurt by what he had, or rather, hadn't done.

The merciful blackness closed in on him as he murmured to her. “I'm sorry Hermione. I'm so sorry.”

Hermione kept quiet as he finished speaking.

“I talked to him you know. When Mrs. Weasley was bandaging my hand, after she'd done yours. Screamed at him is closer to the truth. I asked him what kind of…well, what he was thinking, abandoning you like that.”

“What did he say?”

“I think,” Harry looked levelly at her, “that you should ask him that yourself.”

Ron tried unsuccessfully to melt into the wall as Harry paused for breath. He had just endured several minutes' worth of angry tirade from his friend. Worse, he knew he deserved it.

“Harry, I didn't mean to abandon her. I just…couldn't stay.”

“WHY?” Harry roared.

Ron took a breath.

“What did he say?”

“I told you; you should ask him yourself.”

Hermione shook her head. “I don't want to see him.”

“Hermione…”

“How would you feel, Harry, if he just abandoned you?”

“I felt awful,” Harry said plainly.

Hermione looked away. “Right. I forgot he'd already done it to you.”

“I don't think there's any real comparison, though,” Harry said softly.

She looked at the bedspread. Tears welled in her eyes again. She looked around for a tissue, anything so Harry wouldn't see her cry anymore…

“Um, Hermione?”

She didn't answer, just kept looking anywhere but at Harry, letting her hair swing forward to hide her face.

“I can offer you a clean sleeve.”

Still nothing.

“It's okay, Hermione.”

Silence.

Harry sighed. “All right, I get it; you want to be left alone.”

She heard him stand. Before he could step away she reached out and grabbed his sleeve. He looked down at her bowed head.

“This isn't clean,” she said softly.

“Sirius was chewing on it earlier. I meant higher up.”

He sat down next to her again and she let him hold her. They sat in silence for several minutes.

It was Harry who spoke first.

“Hermione, about Ron…”

She stiffened.

“Look, just listen when he comes to talk to you all right? He's…well, he's in a real bad state. Not physically, just…”

Hermione sighed. “All right, I suppose if you think he still has the right to see me, I'll trust your judgment.”

Harry rubbed her back in slow circles, partly for her comfort, and partly for his own. He'd been so scared…

“He told me he had a crush on me,” Hermione said suddenly.

“What? When?” Harry said quickly. No need to tell her he already knew that.

“Yesterday when I'd left you in the tomb to read your parents letters, I joined him outside, and we talked.”

Harry nodded slowly, pretending this was all new to him. “And what did you tell him?”

“I asked him if his feelings were real, or if he just wanted me to be another Lavender for him. I suppose I know the answer to that now,” she laughed hollowly.

“I wouldn't be so quick to assume that,” Harry said, thinking of Ron's earlier answer to him. “Hermione, Ron does care about you, I know that, and I know you know that. You'll understand when you talk to him, I promise.”

Hermione put her arms around Harry, hugging him tightly. Harry hissed in pain, and Hermione drew away guiltily.

“Sorry, I forgot you were burned worse than I was.”

Harry merely smiled.

“Don't worry.” His expression changed imperceptibly. “It was worth it.”

Hermione's heart skipped a beat.