Harry blinked as the sword's shiny blade reflected in his glasses. He was curled up at Hermione's bedside, the family tree at his side and the sword of Gryffindor in his lap. He was crouched on the ground, wedged between the wall and Hermione's bed so that if anyone opened the door they wouldn't see him. He had been studying the map closely, and had indeed found, if he traced Lilly's line many generations back, that he was the unmistakeable heir of Gryffindor.
"Ironic, really" he thought "Voldemort being Slytherin's heir and all." He had researched Gryffindor and Slytherin's fabled duel in the Black's humongous library, but not much was known about it. Seeing as Dumbledore had also been Gryffindor's heir he had read about his duel with Grindelwald, and had confirmed that Grindelwald too had been an heir of Slytherin. He was anxious to find out more about Gryffindor, and had even consulted Hogwarts: a history, much to Ron's exasperation. He looked up at Hermione, smiling as he imagined her beam of triumph and pride if she knew he had been reading the book she had tried to get him and Ron to read for so many years.
She looked so peaceful and gentle as she just lay there, but eerily so, as though she had recently died a happy and painless death. Her skin was paler than usual, and her hair softer than its usual bushiness. It was sprawled out against her pillow, so it framed her face. Her watched as her thin stomach gently rose and fell as she breathed. No-one would have guessed she was suffering inside her own mind, unless they touched her, as her skin seemed to be burning with heart-ache. He wondered what she'd say about Harry's recent discoveries; about him being Gryffindor's heir, about Sirius's letter, about Harry discovering where his sister lived…
Because he had found that out: Rebecca Alison Black was in celebrated foreign Dark wizards and Dark wizard fighters. He had been searching for Grindelwald (who went to Durmstrang) and had found a tiny paragraph on her as a Dark wizard fighter:
Rebecca A. Black, Bulgaria, is known well for her research on the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, her work in capturing rouge dementors and putting them in Azkaban and her dark path of destroying items of greatest evil. She grew up not knowing her father, whose last name she has nether the less, but her Mother, Helga Karkoroff, was sister of Igor Karkaroff, headmaster of Durmstrang institute. She currently lives in South End cottage, Sheffield.
Items of greatest evil…That had to mean Horcruxes, didn't it? The door creaked open, and Harry heard Tonks and Ron's exited voices.
"You've done it? You've actually completed the potion?"
"Yes, yes, a million yeses! Just go and find Harry, will you, I'm sure Hermione will want to speak to both of you when she wakes up."
"I'm here" Harry stood up, forgetting he was revealing his hiding place "you mean Hermione's going to be alright?"
Tonks was holding a steaming goblet, murky white in colour, like slightly off milk. Harry and Ron sat Hermione up and Tonks tipped the potion into Hermione's slightly open mouth. For a while they waited in tension, then Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and she let out a terrible scream.
"NO!" she shrieked, covering her face and thrashing about "Leave them alone! Leave me alone!"
Harry was completely taken aback "Hermione, it's us!"
She peeped a tear filled eye at Ron and Harry, who were staring at her in shock. She recoiled, tears streaming down her face. She looked at them as though she could not believe her eyes. "Ron?" she sobbed "H-Harry? You're alive?"
"Of course we're alive."
"Hermione, it was just a dream" said Ron gently.
"J-just a dream?" he muttered softly, staring at them as though they were ghosts. Her lip trembled, and she curled up into a little ball, shaking with sobs. Harry had never seen her so scared and helpless looking in his life, and he stretched his arms out to comfort her. However, Ron leaped up and engulfed her in an enormous hug.
"Shh, it's all right" Ron whispered soothingly, patting her back. Harry was very off put and slightly hurt that Ron was comforting her all by himself, especially when Hermione buried her head in his chest, and, for a split second, Ron smirked, but hid it very well. Seeing them curled up together left Harry feeling strangely left out.
*
Hermione spent days recovering. Harry would often go and visit her, but she was never predictable when it came to moods. Sometimes she would be curled up, not talking but staring at Harry as though he were back from the dead, sometimes she would jump into his arms and not let go for a long time, and sometimes she would just ask to be left alone, but always she was crying.
Crying, crying, the tears never seemed to end. Harry didn't know what to do, so he talked to Remus.
"I know" he sighed sadly, his eyes filled with compassion "I know she's always upset. Do you know what that spell does?" his eyes pierced Harry's "it traps you inside your own mind, there is no escape while images of death, torture, betrayal and hurt for your loved ones and yourself flash by in your own imagination. It's drove wizards older and wiser than Hermione into insanity" he spoke in a hushed, solemn voice as though he'd experienced it personally.
"She'll be ok, won't she?" said Harry anxiously. He could not bear it if she was never the same.
Remus smiled. "Hopefully she will be fine. It wasn't inflicted on her long enough to be permanent… but don't let her be exposed to the cruciatus curse, Harry, or it might bring back the memories."
Remus's words were true, and gradually, Hermione was returning to herself. She smiled and laughed again, and when Harry told her what he'd found out about R.A.B she couldn't wait to get started. But there were still moments where she would drift off, her eyes misty and tears forming.
Tonks allowed Hermione to go soon, and they packed three rucksacks, disguised themselves as muggle university students with polyjuice potion, and apparated to a small shop in Sheffield that Hermione had been to before. However, they were lost there onwards, as the book was not very detailed. The most obvious thing to do seemed to be to go to the south end of Sheffield, but when they asked if there was a South End Cottage at the local bar, the scruffy old barman was no help.
"Ain't no cottages up here, laddy" he replied, scrubbing the glasses and breathing smoke over Harry through his pipe.
Exhausted and frustrated, Harry joined Ron and Hermione at the table and slumped in his chair. "Nothing" he said, delving his hand into a packet of peanuts Ron had bought "We've asked at almost every shop, every bar and it doesn't seem to exist."
"Well, we are asking at muggle places. We should ask a wizard place."
"There are no wizarding places, Hermione. And if there are they're very well hidden. What do you think we should do Ron? Ron?"
But Ron was staring at a point just past Harry's shoulder. Harry waved a hand in front of his eyes.
"That person's done nothing but stare at us since we got here" he whispered. Harry casually glanced around, seeing the person Ron was referring to. They did indeed look shifty: their face was cast in shadow, so Harry couldn't see if it was a man or woman, by a black hood attached to a trailing black cloak. The person sat in the corner, occasionally lifting a glass of shandy to their hidden lips. Harry would have thought they were a dementor if it wasn't for the shandy and the lack of piercing coldness that filled the air wherever dementors were. Neither did he think the person was a Death Eater. He didn't know why, but they didn't have that aura.
"Harry" Hermione hissed, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands "Harry, lets go, we need to go."
"No, wait" the barman had just passed by them, and Harry tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me; do you know anything about that person in the corner?"
The barman glanced over his shoulder to the shadowy corner, and leaned close. "I don't know `er name, but she comes in `ere most days" he whispered in his thick Yorkshire accent. As he talked the person drained her glass, and the light caught red lipsticked lips that defiantly belong to a woman. "She's very mysterious, always wearin' that cloak thing, an' no-one knows where she lives. `As a chat though sometimes. Sounds a bit foreign to me when she speaks, y'know" he breathed a bit more smoke over them from his pipe and bustled back to the bar.
Harry pondered what he had just been told, staring at the reflection of the woman from his spoon. She certainly looked like a witch… perhaps there was a wizard community here after all, and they might be able to find South End Cottage and Sirius's half-sister.
"Harry, I really think we should go!" hissed Hermione desperately.
"Yeah, come on, Harry, we could go see if there are any other wizards" Ron muttered, eyeing the woman wearily.
"Yeah, just what I was thinking" Harry muttered back. They headed outside, and out of the corner of his eye Harry saw the woman get up too. He quickened his pace.
They wondered around the corner into a quieter street, and as they did, a man in a balaclava and black clothes appeared from a shop doorway. He was looking over his shoulder anxiously and Harry saw him hurriedly stuff a gun in his pocket. Through the open door Harry could see a muggle man face-down on the floor, whimpering slightly.
When the man with the balaclava saw them staring at him he turned on his heel and fled. Harry whipped out his wand.
"Put it away! Do you want to give yourself away?" hissed an angry voice in Harry's ear. He snapped his head around to glimpse red lips, heavily lidded dark eyes and dark, wavy hair under a black hood before the woman turned away and stalked down a dark alleyway.
Harry turned back to the shop. The man in a balaclava had scampered away, and the shopkeeper was on the phone, probably to the police. Scowling, Harry followed the woman, trailed by Ron and Hermione.
"What did you do that for? I could have got that burglar!" he snarled.
"Let the muggles catch muggle burglars. We have bigger issues on our hands" she whispered. Harry recognised her as the woman who had been drinking shandy in the bar, and the barman was right; she did have a faintly foreign accent.
"So you are a witch!"
"And one of you is Harry Potter."
Hermione gasped. "How did you know?"
"Shh!" she looked round. Two muggle boys were playing football around the corner. "Not here." She darted further down the alley, beckoning for them to follow.
"Harry, how can we trust her? We don't even know her name."
"We have to if we want to get anywhere. There aren't any other wizards." Wands out, they cautiously followed her. She let them through a brick wall, and they found they were in a small, but comfortable little garden. It was just short cut grass, with a couple of weeds scattered here and there. A trailing path led to a small redbrick cottage that looked out of place in between two three storey flats. The black door had paint peeling, and there was a brass knocker in the shape of a gargoyle. There was no keyhole.
"What you staring at?" sneered the gargoyle.
"The muggles can't see it" said the woman to Hermione, who was looking at the flats confusedly. The woman ran a long fingernail down a crack in the door, much like the goblins at Gringotts, and the lock clicked.
They stepped inside a living room. It seemed very humble: Two sofas, a simple coffee table, burgundy carpet and pale peach walls. Harry didn't think this house belonged to the woman, who seemed so dark and mysterious, while the house seemed cosy and humble.
"Err… nice house" said Ron uncomfortably.
She stared at him. "I like my home comforts."
"Now, I know one of you is Harry Potter through these" she held up a pair of Fred and George's extendable ears. "You shouldn't talk so loudly. This probably means the other one of you" she pointed at the two boys "is Ronald Weasley and you" she nodded to Hermione "must be Hermione Granger."
"Wait, you were eavesdropping on us?"
"I eavesdrop on all wizards that pass through this area. You can't be too careful these days."
"Why did you bring us here?"
"I want to talk business." She sat at the coffee table, telling them to do the same. "Now, you are up to something, plotting against You-know-who, are you not?"
"It's really none of your business" said Harry coldly.
"It's someone's business if they can help you."
"We can't trust you, we don't know anything about you" said Ron "you won't even take off your hood."
The woman sighed, and slowly pulled her hood back. Harry's eyes widened. She had eyes and long dark hair that distinctly resembled Sirius, but her skin tone was a shade darker.
"What?" she raised an eyebrow, as they were staring at her.
"Who are you?" Hermione breathed softly. The woman shifted her gaze from Harry to Hermione to Ron uncomfortably.
"My name" she said, painstakingly slowly "is Rebecca Black."
They gasped, staring avidly, and she looked taken aback.
"As in Rebecca Alison Black? As in Sirius Black's half-sister?"
"Yes" she looked shocked "how do you know him?"
But Harry had given and almighty whoop and Hermione had shouted "Yes!" Rebecca was staring at them as though they were mad.
"How do you know my brother?" she asked again.
"He was my godfather" said Harry, still ecstatic they had found R.A.B.
"Yes, he said he had a god- wait, what do you mean was?"
"Oh" Harry's happiness faded instantly "he died two years ago." There was a shocked pause following this sentence.
"I see" she sounded sombre. She looked down, her face drained of emotion.
"I'm sorry" said Harry, his throat dry. Rebecca shook her head.
"No, I should be saying sorry to you. When my mother found out she was pregnant she ran off to Bulgaria. I only met him once, you obviously knew him longer." There was silence again, Rebecca not looking at anyone. "What about that other one… Regulus, was it?" she finally lifted her head up.
"Dead too. He died long ago, when he backed out of being a Death Eater." There was a sour expression on Rebecca's face for a second. "But we need your help in fighting their master. Tell me, do you know anything about…horcruxes?"
Rebecca's eyes shot up, and she gaped at him, her mouth moving but no words coming out. She regained herself and said coldly "I know nothing of the sort. You may leave now."
She stood up, signalling them to do the same. Hermione made a reluctant move to get up, but Harry pulled her back down, staring at Rebecca defiantly.
"I don't believe you."
"I have nothing more to discuss with you, Mr. Potter. Good day" she said formally, opening the door.
"No, you have one of Voldemort's horcruxes. You must tell us where it is!"
"Good day, Mr. Harry Potter!" She spat, and legs suddenly sprouted from the sofa they were sitting on. Harry, Ron and Hermione clutched their seats as it scuttled to the door, and, as though someone had pressed an ejector button, one by one Harry, Ron and Hermione were flung outside, landing face down. Staring at them coldly, Rebecca Black slammed the door shut.
"No!" said Harry furiously, flinging himself at the door.
"Watch it!" the gargoyle snarled. Harry saw one of the blinds being shut.
"Rebecca!" he yelled, knocking the glass "Let us in!"
"Get off my property!" she hissed through the open window, before closing it.
"You said you could help!" Harry roared "Well you can! Show us where the horcrux is!"
"Do you know how your brothers died?" Ron yelled through the letter box "They died at the hands of Voldemort! Do you want them to have died in vain? Because without that horcrux, they can't be avenged. And you know that" Ron practically whispered the last part, but she seemed to have heard it, as there was a long pause, but she finally opened the door a fraction. Harry was impressed: not only had Ron managed to get her out, but that was the first time he'd said Voldemort.
"You can't destroy it" she whispered, her eyes wide in fear "I've tried everything, It's driving me crazy."
Harry once again stepped inside the house. "Please, just tell us where it is."
Rebecca's eyes nervously darted to a painting on the wall. Harry walked over to it, and lifted it slightly. Sure enough, there was a steel safe underneath, in the wall. "Well, that's original" Harry couldn't help but think.
Unwillingly, Rebecca ran her finger along a line, like she had with the door, and the lock clicked. She pulled it open, and with a hiss, steam issued from the steel door. The inside looked like a freezer, icicles hung from the top and frost covered the rest. It was especially frosty in the area around a small black locket with an emerald encrusted snake in the centre.
"It's the horcrux" said Rebecca, her dark eyes terrified. "It's so cold."
Harry took it out, and dropped it as the penetrating cold instantly numbed his fingers. His scar began burning.
"Harry…Potter" A chilling voice, almost as cold as the locket whispered. "You cannot defeat me…"
They had bought several books containing spells that might destroy the horcrux, but Harry could not concentrate as the same words repeated in his head.
"Finete incantartem!" Hermione's voice floated through his mind.
"Harry…Potter"
"Corrumpo maximus!" This was Ron.
"You cannot defeat me…"
"Iuguolo persona!" Hermione again.
"You cannot defeat me!"
"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Harry screamed, and with a schwing! noise, he whipped Gryffindor's sword, which they had taken just in case, from its scabbard and drove it in the centre of the locket. There was a blinding flash of light, and a terrible scream that sounded like Voldemort rang in Harry's ears. Then, it was gone; all that was left were two pieces of the locket, sending off foul-smelling smoke.
Panting, Harry looked up at Ron, Hermione and Rebecca, who were pale and deathly silent. It was Rebecca who spoke first.
"When I first met Sirius and Regulus" she croaked "I got a peek of Regulus's Dark Mark. I followed him to the Death Eater's secret meeting place, and that's where I saw him." She shivered. "I'd studied people who make horcruxes, but he… he was…" she shivered again.
"That's because he's made more than one" said Harry. Rebecca looked sickened. "It's our job to find them, but we need help. We need you."
After a long time thinking, Rebecca slowly nodded.
*
Back at Grimmuald, Harry was overjoyed. They had already uncovered the first horcrux, and Harry felt he deserved at least a pat on the back.
"Phew!" he grinned, slumping down on the sofa, letting the Sword of Gryffindor drop to the floor. "Well, I think we deserve a treat. I wonder if the takeaway's still open?"
"Harry, you can't let your guard down. There are still three more horcruxes out there" Hermione sounded stern.
"Oh, come on, Hermione, give me a break!"
"No, mate, Hermione's right. We have work to do!" Ron said seriously. Harry was shocked. He was sure Ron would side with him on this one.
"Thank you Ron!" Hermione beamed at him, and Ron beamed back. "Harry, go and get one of those books Rebecca lent us."
Grumbling, Harry stalked out of the room to get the books. He couldn't help but feel a tad jealous. "Stupid Ron, he's only agreeing with her because he fancies her."
When he got back, carrying a load of books, he saw Ron and Hermione sitting huddled up together, his eyes closed and hers staring at him in shock. At first Harry thought he was whispering something to her, but he realized his lips were not inches from her ear, but her lips.
They had been kissing!
Harry felt his stomach lurch and something sour tasting slip up his throat. He forced it back down and, dropping the books, ran to his room and slammed the door. His heart was thudding so hard against his chest he thought it might rip out. Ron and Hermione… his two best friends…were kissing…there was only one word to describe it…EW!
Harry took a deep breath and pulled himself together. Wait a minuet, why was he so bothered? He himself had predicted this. He had known for a long time they liked each other, he wanted his best friends to be happy. This was what he wanted, wasn't it?
Wasn't it?!
Something in his mind, which might have been the chest monster's evil twin screamed "No you fool, go and rip them apart! RIP!" But he ignored it. He curled up on his bed, wondering what was wrong with him.
*
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