Unofficial Portkey Archive

Harry woke the next morning to find Hedwig was still gone and concluded that she had been unsuccessful at her hunting trip. He was surprised that she managed to get away when the window hadn't been open.

Despite the perplexing mystery of his snowy owl's great escape, Harry could not find it within himself to stay mad at her. Sure he hadn't been able to tell her about his discovery or what had happened between him and Daniel, which was disappointing, but all of that could easily wait until her return.

Besides if he was brutally honest with himself, he was jealous of her escape. He couldn't wait to leave and be back at Hogwarts and see Hermione again. Life at number twelve Grimmauld Place was dull and, frankly, even more disillusioning than his first seventeen years had been.

Even as he counted down the days until the holiday was over, Harry comforted himself by acknowledging that this would be the last time he saw his family, willingly or unwillingly, ever again. He was going to graduate from Hogwarts and venture out on his own into wizarding society.

He had hopes to scout a lofty apartment in downtown magical London, just a few blocks from Diagon Alley. The cushy job would come from years of hard work and several promotions; unless he landed a tryout for a league. His hopes of being a professional Quidditch player were nicely trampled on by Cornfoot but not necessarily over. He would have to work harder if that's what he still wanted.

Harry sighed and sat up, reminding himself that, his long term plans aside, he still had to make it through the rest of this holiday. His plans for the day were small, involving a little practicing on his own and reading his book. He wanted to try out a few of Snape's audible spells and perhaps locate the silent spells he had done one of the remaining books in the Black library. He also wanted to try his hand again at Occlumency, namely following those red lights and start work on his protections.

As Harry dressed, he glanced at the Parselmouth book on his nightstand, noting eagerly that he was nearly done with the large tome. He had retrieved it late last night or technically early this morning. Lucky for him, Dumbledore hadn't gone snooping when the wizard had made his departure around midnight last night.

But before he did any of those things, he was going to destroy Voldemort's note lest someone stumble across it. He'd reached his decision the other night about catching glory on the other wizard's robe-hems, and he knew he couldn't leave it around any longer. Harry didn't know how Voldemort would contact him or when, but keeping the evidence of the first contact was just plain dumb, especially now that he wasn't riddling out the undertones behind the gesture.

Harry crawled beneath the floorboards and released the wards guarding the letter. He had to dig around for it a little bit but eventually his hand hit it and he was able to pull it free. Little bits of dust, thankfully the nonmagical kind, floated up out of the hidey hole. Harry stared at the crinkled letter, smoothing out the paper as he reread Voldemort's offer.

It was crap, but at least it acknowledged what Dumbledore hadn't yet, at least not completely. Harry was powerful, more so than his brother and he was his own man. Of course Voldemort wanted to control him, to gather another weapon for his disposal, but not anymore so than Dumbledore for his little Order. Granted though, Voldemort's group was a little more nefarious. In taking Voldemort up he would only be trading one cage for another, just for the illusion of power and recognition when in the end he would be more of a puppet than before.

Harry fired off an incendio at the paper and watched with satisfaction as it burned. He banished the ashes and levered himself up off the floor. He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth staring at his reflection all the while. His stripe of red hair taunted him with the knowledge of his gift but also his inability to pursue his form until he could access the Chamber. There was no way he could hide the largeness of his form in a house the size of Grimmauld Place. Harry put down his toothbrush and left his room.

He ventured down into the kitchens, skirting around the merry group involved with the intricacies of present exchange. The only present exchange he worried about was his own with Hermione. He still hadn't a clue what to do for her. He didn't have a lot of money and he wasn't sure what to make. He was also afraid that the magic wouldn't hold on a gift he might create for her. His only saving grace was that they had agreed to do the exchanging at the end of the holidays so he still had a week.

Harry hummed a little Christmas diddy as he strolled into the kitchen. Kreacher was sitting in his chair by the stove for once instead of bustling around. Harry waved hello and opened the icebox to grab a glass of the eggnog and some ingredients for a ham and cheese omelet. Kreacher watched him the entire time he was making his breakfast, making Harry uncomfortable.

"What is it Kreacher?"

"Snake boy's wards were tampered with last night before snake boy went to bed," the house elf said bluntly.

Harry paused with a bite of omelet half-way to his mouth. "Are you sure?"

Kreacher nodded. "Kreacher is sitting here against Mistress' wishes because nasty traitor of a son seeks to punish him."

"For what?"

"Kreacher caught stealing the sapphire snake boy found in office cabinets out of sack."

Harry looked at Kreacher thoughtfully. "Do you still have it?"

The old elf nodded, pointing to cupboard under the sink. Harry opened it and smelled disgusting amounts of mold, which on second look appeared to be growing over the damp dirty blankets that made up Kreacher's bed. The bed was located beneath a slightly leaking water tank, which explained the mold, but Harry didn't understand why Kreacher didn't patch it. Remembering the compulsion charms and hexes layered all over the gem, Harry conjured a pair of gloves and put them on also kept the mold off his skin.

"Kreacher, why don't you patch the leak and clean your blankets?" Harry queried, echoing his thoughts as he shifted through the nest of moldy cloth for the sapphire.

"Kreacher has not been given permission by Mistress or nasty blood-traitor."

"Can you not ask?" Harry asked looking over his shoulder at the solemn elf.

Kreacher glared, crossing his arms in an affronted manner. "Kreacher is a proper house elf."

Harry could debate that one, considering the state of the house, which was still suffering from a decade of being unused. Still, he said nothing, and proceeded to shift around all the knickknacks until he found the sapphire. He pulled it free from deep within the crude nest and held it out on his palm. The jewel winked in the flickering light of the kitchen.

"It's heavier than I remember," he said, holding it aloft.

Kreacher watched Harry beadily, his snout-like nose turned up in a sneer. "Mistress told Kreacher to remove the feather-light charm. Kreacher did as told."

Harry nodded, weighing it in his hand. "Did Mrs. Black ask you to steal it in the first place?"

The elf nodded, his bat-like ears flapping wildly. "Mistress told Kreacher that snake boy would need it so Kreacher took it."

"Why would I need a cursed sapphire?"

Kreacher looked at him like he was stupid and Harry certainly felt dim-witted at the moment under the elf's scrutiny. "Snake boy will need cursed sapphire for monetary purposes as snake boy is without means or funds. Mistress says curses can be removed. She will tell you how if you would meet with her."

"The portrait?"

"Kreacher tires of snake boy's brainless utterings."

"Excuse me," Harry said dryly, tucking the sapphire into his robe's pockets and picking up his omelet again.

He took a large bite of it and stared into the crackling fire. Kreacher wobbled back and forth slowly by the stove muttering to himself. Harry ignored him and thought furiously about the generosity of Mrs. Black's offer. He could buy Hermione a present if he could pawn the sapphire. He would meet with the painted lady if he could avoid eating humble pie in the presence of his girlfriend.

But what could a portrait want, he pondered. Perhaps she wanted to be removed from the wall and asking him would ensure she wasn't destroyed. Or maybe she wanted to divulge some scandalous family secret to use against his Uncle Sirius. Though if the latter were the case, why on earth would she tell him of all people?

Harry finished his omelet and cleared away the dishes. He waved a goodbye to Kreacher and headed back upstairs to find out. On the main floor of the house beyond the drawing and common rooms Harry found Mrs. Black's moth-eaten curtains. Carefully he pulled on the cord to open them, holding his wand aloft with a silencing charm ready to fire.

He met the steely glint of Walburga's angry eyes. Her messed up hair sneaking out from under her white woolen cap only added to the crazed look on her wizened face. She was so much older than Sirius is was hard to picture her as his mother and not as his grandmother with her yellowing skin looking like a muggle map.

In either case, the strain between mother and son could not get more intense than it already was. Sirius hated his mother with unholy relish and would joyfully go at it verbally with her to prove he was no longer under her thumb. The mutt especially liked to taunt her with the presence of his muddy and half-breed friends.

"You're the one they call Harry," Walburga said in a dry raspy voice. It was raspy, Harry decided because she was always screaming her lungs off. "Well boy, are you or are you not? I do not have the patience to deal with a town thickhead."

Harry scowled at her and muttered, "Aren't you pleasant."

"It is Christmas, I thought I should try," she responded, showing slightly pointed yellow teeth in a grimace of a smile.

"Kreacher told me you wanted to speak with me," he prompted impatiently when she didn't get started.

Walburga nodded. "Yes, I did ask my elf to direct you to me. Have you retrieved the sapphire?" Harry responded positively and she beamed horrifically. "Good. The nasty little elf might actually be worthy to be beheaded and mounted after all."

"I'm sure he'd be thrilled to hear that," Harry said, thinking of the elf's crazy keenness to be placed next to his mother Krittar. "How do I remove the curses?"

She frowned down at him. "You certainly are an impatient lad. We'll get to that in a moment, first I would like to ask of you a little favor."

"What is it?"

She pursed her lips tight enough to hide the fact that she even had them. "You have to destroy it."

"Destroy what?" Harry asked curiously, pulling the curtains back all the way and exposing Walburga.

"The Dark Lord's Horcrux."

Taken aback, Harry stared at her agape. "What do you know about Voldemort's--" Walburga shrieked at him and he amended himself quickly, as he didn't want to draw attention to them, "You-Know-Who's Horcruxes?"

"I didn't know he had more than one," she whispered, her raspy voice laden with regret. "Reggie overheard part of a ritual that he didn't know. Reggie was a good boy, proper and obedient to a fault. He came to me, telling me everything he had heard and seen.

"At that point it was possible for Reggie to continue his service within the Dark Lord's ranks, undetected; no one would know what Reggie had seen. But I knew what it was. Parts of that ritual could not be fabricated or made similar to any other ritual. It was magic at its darkest.

"Making a Horcrux is not something done lightly. It requires sacrifice on two levels; the planned death of a human and a half of one's soul on the caster's part."

"Is it possible to make seven?" Harry inquired, his tone as soft and as solemn as painting's.

"I did not know it was possible to make two," she said, fat crocodile tears welling up in her eyes. "I told Reggie the importance of what the Dark Lord was doing and then foolishly poisoned his ears with the idea of gaining such leverage.

"My dearest Reggie took it to mean holding the Horcrux in our possession and using it gain control over the Dark Lord, his movements and his ever radical steps towards a pureblood nation. It was not that we didn't want it, no, it was more the vision he wielded was sickening. We would not bow before his feet as if he was as powerful as Merlin."

Harry watched two glistening opal tears fall down her cheeks. "So what happened next?"

"I agreed with Regulus' plan and he started sneaking around gathering information. Reggie tracked it down and found it. I went with him and helped him get through the Dark Lord's traps and he had plenty. The hardest task was poisoning my son with the potion of guilty conscience. Reggie believed so thoroughly that he had caused all the deaths of every one of Voldemort's victims that he reverted to a childlike state. I had to do it though!" she shouted at the end wildly.

"I know," Harry soothed, "I know."

"I had to do it!" Walburga said again madly. "The Horcrux was at the bottom of the basin and we couldn't get rid of the potion in any other way. Reggie volunteered because he thought he was young enough, fit enough, strong enough to take it, but he wasn't. He was still a baby. I should have drank it, I was far from innocent. I knew things, did things, I wasn't proud of, but Reggie was pure.

"So he drank it until the basin was empty, but the price hardly seemed worth it anymore. When the locket appeared I snatched it up and quickly replaced it with a duplicate. Regulus was tired by then, the potion clouding his mind. He handed me a note to put in the duplicate. I don't know what it said." She paused, staring at the far wall.

"So Regulus drank the potion and you replaced the Horcrux with a fake, then what?" Harry pressed.

Walburga wrangled her hands, twisting them grotesquely as she recalled, "There were scores of them--inferi--coming out of the water. I can still see their hallow eyes and leering faces. Regulus couldn't do anything, he was shaking so bad, he kept moaning about their eyes haunting him and that he didn't mean to kill them, begging them not to kill him--to forgive him.

"I drove them off with fire and hurried us across the lake. We were trapped by the blood wards from the inside and I had to cut Reggie's arm to open them again. I could hear the shambling steps of the inferi following us, but I didn't spare a moment to look back. We raced across the threshold and the door disappeared. We were safe or so I thought."

"What happened to the Horcrux?" Harry asked when she didn't continue for several moments.

Her eyes were no longer hard like granite but soft and haunted as she turned them upon him. Harry fought the urge to shy away and waited for her to speak. Walburga's gaze unfocused, memories obviously flashing in her mind of the events that transpired.

"We got home with our prize safe and sound. Reggie was immediately put to bed while I began combing the library for the potions reference book to brew the antidote. Kreacher was enormously helpful, he cooked and cared for Reggie while I was brewing. Reggie wasn't getting better though, but thankfully he wasn't getting worse. Just when I thought he was starting to come out of the stupor the potion put him in, a pain shot up his arm from the Dark Mark.

"I begged him not to go but it was if he suddenly had a purpose again in life. He told me not to worry that he was going to present himself before the Dark Lord and everything would be fine. I told him to wait until the antidote had finished brewing but Reggie wouldn't wait. He said the Dark Lord grew angry when his call was ignored. His last words before he apparated away were that of vengeance. I don't think I cried so hard in my life…"

"So he met up with Vold-You-Know-Who and challenged him to a duel?"

"That is what Bellatrix said when she came to visit us not hours later. She was cold and hard-hearted, in a way I had never seen her be in front of family. She was frightening as she questioned myself and Orion--Reggie's father--on what could have caused such behavior. I didn't tell her the truth and she didn't test our words with a truth serum."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, surprised that he meant it.

Walburga nodded slowly, her woolen cap falling over one eye. She pushed it back up her head. "We tried to destroy the locket, but we failed. Even after all our research and hard work, we failed. First Orion and then me. I had to tell him about the Horcrux, he wanted to know why his son would do something so foolish as to challenge the Dark Lord.

"The library was built up for each attempt. Our first attempt was six months after Reggie's death. When Orion died in the process and the Horcrux remained unharmed, I was beside myself. Distraught perhaps, now that I think about, I was distraught. I died in eighty-five with the second attempt. That is why you must destroy it."

"The locket?" Harry asked, it finally dawning on him why Kreacher's behavior over the wretched jewelry was so fanatical.

"Yes, the one you found with Kreacher in the office. Who knows how it ended up there, but you don't question how magic behaves, you just accept it and move on."

"But if the two of you died trying to destroy it, why do you think I would try to destroy it? I like living thank you very much."

"Kreacher sensed the Dark Lord on you. You must be the one he tried to kill all those years ago. It is possible that you have a certain affinity for their destruction, being marked by him."

Harry let out a bark of laughter. "I see, well the locket is up in my room--"

"There is a spell you could cast on me to allow me to follow you into the empty portrait above your bed. I should like to watch."

Harry stared at her, the laughter falling from his face. "You're serious?"

"No, I'm his mother," Walburga said wryly. Harry groaned. "It's tendora with a circular wand wave and a flick in the direction of where you want the borders to expand; in this case toward your room."

Harry nodded and waved his wand. "Tendora!"

"Well done boy, you got that on your first try," Walburga said, sliding out of the portrait. "What are you waiting for?" her voiced echoed from down the hall. "Let's not wait for the grass to grow."

Harry followed the portrait up to his room and quickly entered. Knowing now to look for it, Harry felt a slight disturbance to the wards. They had been patched fairly well and only somebody with as much skill as Bill would have noticed it immediately. Harry wondered who could have done it because he was sure if it had been Dumbledore the patch would have been perfect and he wouldn't have been able to detect it at all.

Walburga was in the blank portrait above his bed. She had a crazed gleam in her eyes as she looked down upon him. Harry went over to his desk and pushed aside the papers from homework. He found some broken quill nibs and frowning, Harry flipped back through the papers and then opened the desk drawer. Searching the contents showed nothing and he grew worried.

It was possible whoever had broken through the wards had found the Horcrux and had taken it with them. Or maybe they knocked it off the desk, he thought suddenly, bending down to look around for it.

"You misplaced it!" Walburga screeched angrily. "You idiot boy! How daft could you be!"

"Shut up!" Harry shouted back, "You're not helping. Kreacher said somebody broke through my wards. It is possible that they took it."

"You must have left it in plain sight. Have you no sense of security?"

"Accio locket!" Harry muttered, flicking his wand. A disjointed phluff sound signaled it was too far away to be summoned, which meant it could be anywhere outside the house and grounds. "Damn it," he swore.

"Kreacher! Kreacher! Come here!" Sirius' mother shrieked, waving her arms frantically.

A low-grinding pop heralded the arrival of the crazy elf. He looked a little confused at first before realizing he was past Harry's wards. He straightened up and tried to look presentable before swinging to face Walburga and bow submissively to her. Harry looked on at the Kreacher's display of kowtowing to his mistress and shook his head. The elf was seriously nuts.

"The boy here lost the Horcrux, Kreacher," she spat, sneering at Harry. Kreacher shot him a disgruntled look. "I charge you to find it. I know that the nasty blood traitor I'm loathed to call my son has placed numerable restrictions on you, but if it's somewhere you can feasibly access, look for it there. Someone took it, find out who and tell both me and the boy."

"Snake boy lost Dark Lord's soul?" Kreacher croaked in derision as his mistress disappeared beyond the frame's boundaries. "Kreacher thought snake boy was protecting it until he could destroy it!"

"I didn't know it was a Horcrux," Harry retorted, running an agitated hand through his hair. "I didn't get zapped by the blasted thing now did I? That's how the other was reacting toward me."

"Snake boy wore gloves," Kreacher murmured to himself, "perhaps that is why snake boy did not feel zing from locket. Mistress will want a full report, Kreacher should start his search soon. If only nasty Black would let me leave the grounds, Kreacher could find it easily."

"I did wear gloves," Harry said running his hand over his face in disbelief. "Then I put it in the pouch and never touched it with my bare hand. Kreacher find out who broke into my room, that'll tell us who to search for the Horcrux."

Kreacher nodded and swept the floor with the tip of his snout-like nose before popping away. Harry flung himself onto the bed and let loose an inarticulate sound of disgruntlement. Voldemort's Horcruxes were all but magnetically drawn to him! They kept cropping up like nifflers! How was he supposed to single-handedlydestroy another one? The first real conscious try killed Serion--who next? Hermione? Hedwig?

Harry sighed but bolted upright when Kreacher popped back into the room. "Merlin's balls, Kreacher you're going to be the death of me!"

"Snake boy has received present through mail room. Your nasty twin was trying to open it as if it was addressed to him. Kreacher stuck him to the wall, serves the repulsing little mudblood right."

Harry plucked the package out of Kreacher's hands and sent the elf away with a shooing motion. He opened the envelope first, bemused by the muggle-style stationary. Pulling out the letter he read:

Harry,

Love,
Hermione

Harry laughed at her zaniness and put the letter aside. Feeling good already, Harry pulled the strings tying the package together and pealed away the brown paper wrapping a thick-papered box. He pulled the top up and off, tossing it gently onto the mattress beside him.

Inside was a brightly colored green sweater. Harry opened it out and saw that in the front she had knitted him a black raven. Smiling, Harry pulled out smaller item which turned out to be a cap. It was a little misshapen but Harry loved it. It was black with a green trim to match his sweater.

Quickly he tried them on and checked out his reflection in the mirror. The sweater was a little tight across the chest, but not uncomfortable. The arms were long but Harry didn't mind, he just rolled up the sleeves and marveled at the fact that he could do something so simple. He was so used to things being too short; it was hard to believe he had something that was made for him to fit him.

The cap hid his messy hair for the most part, but his bangs slipped through. His red hair was highlighted against the blackness of the cap and contrasted nicely with the green of the trimming. He looked good and it touched him that she would spend so much time on a gift for him. He wished fervently for a way to tell her just how much he liked them, envying his brother's communication mirrors in that particular moment.

Harry fingered one of the knitted holes and worried suddenly about getting Hermione her gift. He was without means and without ideas. Harry felt the lump of sapphire in his pocket and pondered how much money he could get for it if he couldn't get the curses off. Places in Knockturn Alley would buy the sketchy artifact, but the Diagon jewelers would pay more for a gem this size.

He decided that if he couldn't get Walburga to give up the secrets on how to cast the anti-charms then he would have to sneak out tomorrow to go shopping. Of course he would be sneaking out anyway, but he'd prefer to be taking with him a harmless gem. Decided, Harry left the room seeking Mrs. Black.

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