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Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived
By Khrys

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Category: Post-HBP
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley
Genres: General
Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 28
Summary: This is my version of Book Seven. It picks up where Book Six left off, and follows Harry and his friends through their trials and tribulations. Everyone know that Harry has to defeat Voldemort, but does he have to do it alone, without love? All of your favorite characters are here. This story follows canon closely. H/G, R/Hr, and other pairings are included.
Hitcount: Story Total: 86740; Chapter Total: 4418





Author's Notes:
Author’s Note: J.K. Rowling created the world in which I work. Everything Harry is hers alone.




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Chapter Six: End of the Order Era


Harry and Ginny reached the house moments before Ron and Hermione. Upon entering the house, Hermione found Ginny and pulled her into a crushing hug. Harry could hear her whispering into Ginny’s ear, but he could not make out what they were saying. Ginny’s eyes were completely bloodshot. Although there had not been one tear shed, she looked to be on the verge of hysteria. She nodded bravely at Hermione and smiled weakly at Harry

“I’m sorry,” she apologized simply.

“So am I. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I hate to see you upset,” he replied quietly.

“Did you mean what you said?” she asked him, her tears threatening to cascade down her cheeks.

“Yes, I meant every word,” Harry spoke clearly, his words ringing with passion.

“Good. I love you too.”

“I hope so,” Harry responded jokingly, sensing that it was the time to lighten the situation. “It would be pretty awful to be bonded to you if you thought I was as annoying as Peeves, or as ugly as Filch for that matter.”

Ginny smiled and the tension ebbed from the room. Harry knew that it was time to start packing the few supplies they would need for their impending trip. He and Ron trudged up the stairs to gather a few essential items. Since they were only going to be gone for a few days, they chose to pack everything into two small duffel bags. It was Ron’s idea, as he thought it would be too cumbersome to carry around a trunk. Harry included his invisibility cloak in the bag that he and Ron were sharing. Harry watched as Ron packed his Chudley Cannon blanket and hat. He put his foot down, however, when Ron tried to pack his Chudley Cannon Fact Encyclopedia. “It’s bad enough that the bag is bright orange, but we don’t need a Chudley Cannon Fact Book,” Harry grumbled. Ron was still sulking as he descended the stairs, carrying the bag, to Ginny’s room where the girls were packing their shared bag.

By the time they reached the room, Ginny and Hermione were resting on the bed with the small, purple duffel bag sitting between them. Harry grabbed their bag and tossed it unceremoniously into the hallway where it landed next to the orange one. They lay there, clashing horribly, until Hermione pulled out her wand and transfigured them. She turned them both into small silver amulets. After conjuring two thick black cords, she threaded the loop at the top of each amulet onto the separate cords. She placed one of the amulets on the pale blue comforter on Ginny’s bed. She beckoned to Harry and placed the smooth cord bearing the Phoenix amulet around his neck, securing it with a complex spell. Harry, Ginny and Ron looked at each other in surprise. None of them knew the spell that Hermione had used.

“Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six, Chapter twenty-seven,” she bragged with a smug look.

She picked up the second amulet, an Eagle, and placed it around Ron’s neck. “So I will be close to your heart the entire trip,” she whispered as she performed her modified version of the sticking charm. She felt his hand brush the exposed skin on her stomach as she reached up to link the ends of the cord.

Ginny smirked, “Ahem, Ahem,” she said in her best Umbridge impersonation. Hermione and Ron broke apart, interrupting the tender moment that was building between them. “Harry, where is our exact destination?”

Harry hesitated before answering. At least a million different responses were running through his head. He was careful to shield the thought of going ‘home,’ away from the other’s reach. Instead, he told them the exact location of their destination. “We are going to number twelve Grimmauld Place,” he told them. He was trying to keep the situation light, and there was no way he was going to be able to do that if he couldn’t control his emotions. He berated himself silently as Hermione, Ginny, and Ron looked at him with great curiosity.

“Right then,” Harry blurted, “is everyone ready to go?”

“We should probably pack some food before we go,” Ron offered helpfully, “just in case we get hungry.”

“You’re always hungry, Ron,” Harry insisted, laughing at his best friend’s offended expression. “I didn’t get a chance to eat at the wedding, so I agree with Ron. We should pack some food for the trip.”

“You might not be so hungry if you hadn’t run off with Fred and George,” Ginny reminded him saucily, “and left us to fend for ourselves.”

“Yeah,” Ron added quickly, “what were you doing?” He looked incredibly jealous that Fred and George would share something with Harry and leave him out. “What did they show you?” he demanded with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“They were showing me a new idea they have for Quidditch gear,” Harry explained vaguely.

“Did they invent a Golden Snitch that explodes upon contact?” Ginny asked excitedly.

“No,” Harry answered honestly, “they haven’t.” He looked around at their shining faces and decided he’d better give them more information than that. “They have discovered a way to make it possible to play a game of Quidditch wherever and whenever you want.” He grinned at Ron and Ginny. He didn’t think this would be spectacular news to Hermione, but she clapped her hands together in excitement. Harry was surprised at her enthusiastic response.

“When will they be available for people to buy?” she asked.

“I just tried out a prototype,” Harry informed them. “I didn’t get to keep it or anything.”

“You got to try it out?” Ron asked jealously.

“You really got to try it?” Ginny echoed the same trace of the green-eyed monster apparent in her voice.

“Yes,” Harry said as he hung his head in mock shame. “We really should talk about this another time. We still have to pack food and we really have to get out of here before Mrs. Weasley shows up.”

Before departing, they made their way to the kitchen for one last preparatory task. Ron and Harry threw some food into a hamper, while Ginny and Hermione grabbed a few butterbeers for each of them. Hermione transfigured the lot into one more amulet. She secured the Unicorn around Ginny’s neck and attached the ends as she had previously.

“The sticking charm can only be removed by the wand that cast them,” she forewarned Ginny.

Ginny smiled to herself as the weight settled onto her chest comfortably. The position of the necklace gave her a thought and turned to Hermione for an answer. “Hermione, these necklaces are long enough to slip over our heads,” she noted. “What difference does it make if we can’t pull the ends apart?”

“Try it,” Hermione instructed knowingly.

As Ginny attempted to tug the necklace over her head, it shrunk. It got stuck at her nose. It looked like Ginny had a Unicorn dangling from her nose, which now resembled a pig’s snout. She tried to pull it off her nose, but the harder she tugged; the tighter it squeezed her nose. Finally, she gave up. She pulled the necklace down, back to where it belonged. She was grateful for the immediate relief of the pain in her nose. Ginny understood then, that Hermione’s spells were just as powerful as her own angry outbursts. She rubbed the red marks left on her cheeks by the cord as she pondered what that meant. “Hermione’s power is as strong as mine,” she reasoned. “If Hermione and I are this powerful, how powerful are Ron and Harry?” The thought made her quiver with the anticipation of seeing such a display of power.

With their packing completed, Harry left first. Concentrating on finding him, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny disappeared together shortly thereafter.

They appeared on the walkway in front of a vacant lot. Harry instructed everyone to concentrate on the address of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Feeling a twinge of sadness, Harry scrunched his eyes closed in an effort to recall the piece of parchment from his fifth year. In his mind, he could hear Moody’s voice as he read the neatly slanted writing.

He stared in amazement as the building began to nudge its way between the two Muggle buildings on either side. The ground rumbled and the street shook, as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny watched in fascination as Black Manor appeared. The old, battered door looked even more decrepit that it had the last time they had been there. The windows still appeared grimy, and the moldy curtains that hung in the windows blocked any view of the inside of the Manor. They approached the front steps and Harry allowed the grief to wash over him. He felt the waves of sadness pound against him as he tapped the door with his wand. The door opened creakily, and they prepared themselves to enter the Manor.

Hermione had been worried about making number twelve Grimmauld Place their first stop. She was concerned that the Order would become aware of their bond, and consequently their new powers. Harry put her doubts to rest.

“Hermione, the Order no longer uses Grimmauld Place as their headquarters,” he informed her.

She looked as if she wanted to ask more questions, but she refrained and kept her mouth closed. Harry was intensely appreciative, since he wasn’t sure how to explain the situation to her, let alone Ginny. How was he to tell them that they had a home, one that they could all share? Ginny and Ron had never known any home other than the Burrow. Hermione had been on many sleepovers before beginning Hogwarts, but had also lived in the same house her whole life. Aside from Hogwarts, none of them had ever been away from home for more than a few nights.

Harry could sense the tension in the room as he asserted his choice. “I don’t want the Manor,” Harry declared. “Keep it. I want you to use it as Headquarters for the Order.”

“Harry, we can’t use it as headquarters,” reported Professor McGonagall.

“Now that Dumbledore is gone,” growled Professor Moody, “we can tell you the last bit of Sirius’ will.”

“I know. I know all about it,” Harry barked impatiently. “I get Black Family Manor. I get everything in it and Kreacher, not that I want him. I don’t want any of it. That’s why I sent Kreacher to Hogwarts to work for Dumbledore. The charms and enchantments that Dumbledore placed are still in effect. The Order can use it.”

“No, Harry,” Lupin corrected gently, “you don’t know everything that was in Sirius’ will. The Order cannot use Grimmauld Place as Headquarters ever again.”

“The will is very clear, Potter,” Professor Moody stated bluntly.

“His will had a specific clause about the Manor in the event of the death of your guardian,” Professor McGonagall informed him.

Harry just shrugged. He had no idea what they were prattling on about.

“When Dumbledore died,” Professor Lupin began slowly, grief still etched into his face, “the clause came into effect.” He looked to Professor McGonagall for reassurance before continuing sadly. “The clause decrees that the Black Family Manor can only be used as a residence. More specifically, it can only be used as your residence, Harry…yours, your family, or your heirs. Sirius wanted to make sure that you had a safe haven should anything happen.”

“Potter, do you understand the power of a magical will?” Professor Moody questioned gruffly. “His will is magically binding. We cannot go against Sirius’ wishes.”

Professor McGonagall launched into an explanation of the different effects this might have at Black Manor. “While this prohibits the Order from using the Manor as the Headquarters, it also prevents the Death Eaters from occupying it,” she explained

Harry’s eyes hardened at the mention of the Death Eaters. Professor Lupin, mistaking the look in Harry’s eyes for disbelief, urged Harry to accept the circumstances. “There’s no denying it, Harry,” Professor Lupin insisted. “Black Family Manor will be your residence. Or it will sit empty and unused.”

“What should I do?” Harry cried in confusion. He turned first to Professor McGonagall, then to Professor Lupin. Getting no response from either of them, he turned to Professor Moody.

“Make a choice, Potter,” he commanded.

“Fine,” Harry retorted snottily, “I will use it as my residence.”

“I would call Kreacher,” Professor McGonagall advised.

“Perhaps Dobby as well,” Professor Lupin added.

“Kreacher, come here,” Harry demanded, not questioning his Professors. “Dobby, if you could come too, that would be great,” Harry softened his tone when he called to Dobby.

Kreacher arrived with a small ‘pop’. “What Master wants now, I wonder,” Kreacher bowed with mock servitude. “Nasty brat.”

A few minutes later, there was still no sign of Dobby.
“What am I suppose to do now?” he wondered. There was no help to be found in Kreacher, who only returned his glance balefully. A sudden ‘pop’ broke the mounting tension.

“Harry Potter,” Dobby exclaimed with enthusiasm. It is so great to see you. Harry Potter called Dobby, are you in need of Dobby’s services?”

“I don’t know Dobby,” Harry replied, feeling like a bit of an idiot. “Professors,” he turned to address Professor McGonagall and Professor Lupin, as they had made the suggestion, “why did I call them?”

“Harry, you have a house now,” Professor Lupin told him seriously. “One that is in total disrepair, to say the very least.” He made a face at Harry that plainly said ‘total disrepair’ was the understatement of the century. “You might want to consider employing a house elf, or two, to fix it up for you,” he suggested, winking at Dobby.

“Dobby would be delighted to work for Harry Potter,” he squeaked. “I will take no money from Harry Potter either.”

“Kreacher will do as Master,” he put a subtle, disgusted emphasis on ‘Master’, “requires.”

“Great,” Harry sighed. “Just what I need; a house decorated by Kreacher,” he grumbled under his breath.

“I believe that we are done here,” Professor McGonagall dismissed the house elves with a wave.

Kreacher bowed quickly and left with a ‘pop’ that resonated with rebellion. Dobby lagged behind once Kreacher was gone. Without warning, he threw himself at Harry’s knees and hugged him tightly. “Dobby knows and understands. Dobby will take good care of Harry Potter and the ones he loves.” His voice was so low that Harry had to strain to catch the final words. Before he could fully comprehend what had been said and respond appropriately, Dobby was gone.

Harry turned to Professor McGonagall. “That’s settled,” he stated with conviction. “Are we done here? I don’t want to be late for the funeral.” Harry’s voice quaked as he turned to leave the Headmistresses office.


Harry took Ginny by the hand and they entered the house together. Ron and Hermione followed closely behind. They were following them so closely that Ron walked straight into Harry, who had paused to take in the splendor of the sitting room. Ron’s inattention had caused a domino effect. Ron hit Harry, who knocked into Ginny, who stumbled and crashed into Hermione. Hermione got the better end of the bargain, as she fell into a cushy chair while everyone else ended up on the floor.

Harry, from the floor, looked around the room in amazement. From previous visits, he knew that the Manor had three levels. Two years ago on one particularly boring day during the holiday break; Sirius had described the layout to him. He did not waste time telling Harry how the Manor was currently laid out. He went into the details of the original layout. He wanted Harry to understand his family’s past.

Sirius sighed and lowered his head as he prepared to tell Harry the intricate layout of the Manor he had formerly loved.

“The Manor has three levels. The first level was the most formal. When you entered the house, the sitting room and library were on your left. The library doubled as a study when my grandfather needed some time alone to contemplate the latest spell he was working on. The laundry room, kitchen and dining rooms were to the right. There were many nights when my grandmother would make me hot cocoa and we would sit around the small table in the kitchen talking. The second level was mainly for guests and their needs. There were two bedrooms with a shared bath, a drawing room, and a potion lab. My grandfather believed that spells would always be more important than potions, so he never set foot inside that room. The third floor was a private suite. Much like the ones that you have at Hogwarts. There would be an enormous bedroom, a sitting room, a bathroom and a closet the size of your bedroom at Privet Drive. My grandmother’s favorite room was the drawing room. Everything she could ever need to create was located in that room. My grandfather spent most of his time in the library, researching new ways to hurt people with spells. He invented the spell that amplifies the common cold. He was always looking for a way to make things worse.”


Sirius’ voice faded into obscurity and Harry found himself yanked back to the present.

Harry took a moment to admire Dobby’s handiwork. “I’m sure that Kreacher didn’t help in here,” he chuckled to himself. Harry saw Ginny nodding in approval. They all slowly got to their feet and wandered further into the room to admire the exquisite artwork. The room looked as if it had been prepared for royalty. The furniture was luxurious and reeked of Galleons. Harry suspected that the artwork on the walls was genuine. He also suspected that it was very valuable. He continued to take in the magnificence of the surroundings, forgetting that he still had to tell Ron, Hermione, and Ginny one last thing about the house. He could sense the look of disbelief on Ron’s face. He turned to face him just in time to catch Hermione elbowing him. Ron closed his mouth abruptly when Hermione’s elbow hit his gut. He had been gaping, bug eyed at the lushness of the sitting room.

“This is ours,” Harry attempted to reassure Ron without alerting Hermione and Ginny. Unfortunately, it was Hermione who responded to his assurance.

“Harry, I know that Ron feels the same way I do. This place is yours. Well, yours and Ginny’s,” she explained. “We are more than a little excited to be able to share it with you temporarily,” she teased.

Ron’s jaw had hit the floor when Hermione had mentioned Ginny’s name. “She gets to stay here and I’m stuck under the ghoul for the rest of my life.” His cheeks flamed with embarrassment at the selfish thought. “She’s right, Mate,” Ron admitted regretfully. “This is all yours.” He noticed Harry’s pathetic look and continued quickly. “Don’t worry about us. Things will work out. We’ll worry about finding a place when this is all over.” Ron trailed off thinking about having a house elf to do the laundry and worrying that he had offended Harry.

Harry completely understood what it was like to see someone with something you wanted. All his life Ron had been placed last, not by choice, but by birth. Since he was the last born boy, he always wore hand-me-downs. He never had anything new of his own until recently. Harry remembered the first time he had met Ron and the corned beef sandwiches. “He will never feel that way again,” Harry vowed. He was trying to think of a solution when it hit him. Harry’s concerned look disappeared and he gave a great shout of joy. “No!” he roared with zeal. “Lupin definitely said,” he sputtered in an effort to get his works out quickly, “that Black Manor must be used as my family’s residence.” He looked at them expectantly, tapping his foot impatiently, waiting for their reaction. “Your enthusiasm overwhelms me,” he cracked, sarcasm dripping from every word. “How quickly you forget. Hermione, I thought you would catch on. Do I need to spell it out for you?”

Ginny looked confused as Hermione’s face lit up. “We are your family. Not just Ginny, Ron and I are too. Ever since…”

“Ginny just said that to Mum so she wouldn’t act like a nutter,” Ron interrupted rudely.

“No, you git,” Ginny retorted, “I did not.” She glared at him for a few seconds before continuing. “We are family in more than just name now. Or did you spend the entire time we were bonding staring at Hermione’s eyes?”

“I…” Ron sputtered. He gave a strangled gasp and turned his head to look at Harry.

Harry, who was settled comfortably on one of the three plush sofas, just smiled knowingly. He looked so much like Hermione, that Ron could have strangled him for his audacity. “Alright then...who is fixing up our house?” Ron asked, still a little irked at Harry’s cheek.

“I asked Kreacher and Dobby to help us out. I assume that they were in the middle of getting the Manor ready for us when something came up. I am also assuming that Dobby is in charge of the decoration. Maybe we should ask him.” The expression on Harry’s face was light, but beneath the surface something was troubling him deeply. “Where was Dobby? He always greets me immediately and enthusiastically, I wonder where he is?” Harry did not allow his forehead to wrinkle with concern as he considered where Dobby could be. He didn’t want to alarm the others.

In a small house, the only place she considered secure, Narcissa Malfoy slumped wearily against the firmness of the wall. The roughness pressed into her back as she wept for her lost family. “My husband and son are lost to me. It is only a matter of time before I am called to serve,” she whimpered into an empty room.

An owl arrived bearing a dirty piece of parchment. She hastened to relieve the owl of its burden. Sinking into an imposing black leather chair that had once held her husband, she pressed the parchment onto the surface of a small table. She methodically smoothed the paper, attempting to remove the wrinkles. Once the parchment was worn smooth and she could barely make out what had been written; her eyes focused on the words. She gasped. Her heart skipped a beat. A ‘pop’ sounded in the sparsely furnished house, and she was gone.

For Kreacher, the timing could not have been worse. He arrived at Narcissa’s safe house to find it silent and desolate. She had left only seconds before. Kreacher’s luck continued to worsen. The room echoed with two blended ‘pops’. Dobby and Winky appeared on either side of Kreacher.

For the first time in his life, Kreacher showed fear on his face. Dobby bound himself to Kreacher, blocking him from leaving the house. No sooner had he done so, than the room filled with house elves. The other house elves gave Kreacher a wide berth. Soon, the ‘pops’ of appearing house elves faded and Kreacher stood alone in the center of a circle. He was surrounded by hundreds of his peers. Knowing what protocol demanded of him, Kreacher dropped to his knees.

“You dare betray your Master?” demanded an ancient house elf. The speaker wore a toga made of a tea towel stamped with an initial and a family crest. The towel was so old that the crest had faded, but the letter ‘B’ was still obvious. Dobby, who had only been exposed to house elves who worked for dark families, had no idea which family the Elder served. “Elder must serve a very good wizard family,” Dobby thought.

“He is not my Master,” spat Kreacher.

“Harry Potter is your Master,” bellowed Dobby.

“I serve the House of Black,” Kreacher insisted, “I am the most loyal servant of the House of Black.”

At this, Dobby exploded. “You dare speak of loyalty?” His diminutive body was vibrating with rage. “Your Master is Harry Potter and you came here to betray him.” Dobby moved away from the edge of the circle to approach Kreacher.

Several house elves squeaked in fear. Others gasped in astonishment. The majority, however, just nodded in agreement.

The house elf that had spoken first identified himself as an elder. “The Council has deliberated, and found you guilty of high treason,” he intoned.

“Guilty of high treason,” Kreacher mimicked in a singsong voice.

“Do not mock the seriousness of your crimes,” roared the elder.

“I have committed no treason,” Kreacher shrieked. “I have saved precious family heirlooms from destruction. I have relayed messages for my mistress. I have protected the noble House of Black from mudbloods and blood traitors.”

The eyes of every house elf glinted with anger. Kreacher fell silent as the mob closed in on him.

Harry and Ron wandered to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Ron felt a strange queasiness and he turned to Harry. “Hey Mate, you okay?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled absently. “Does it bother you that Dobby was not here to greet us? Why would he leave the house? He doesn’t have anywhere else to go, does he?” Harry rattled off the questions that were bothering him without pausing for an answer from Ron.

There was a small ‘pop’ and Dobby appeared next to Harry in the kitchen. Ron acknowledged his presence and the turned back to Harry. “I think we have a bigger problem right now,” Ron announced. Harry frowned questioningly at Ron, but told Dobby to remain in the kitchen.

“We should go back to the sitting room and find out who Hermione just stunned,” Ron reported. Harry’s jaw dropped and he disappeared. Ron chuckled at Harry’s reaction and also vanished.

Hermione stood over the rigid body of Mundungus Fletcher, her wand drawn and her eyes hard. Ginny was crumpled on the floor in the opposite corner of the sitting room. Her still body lay in a heap, slouched against the silver clawed foot of an ornate table.

Harry was surprised at his reaction to the situation. He felt immediate and overwhelming concern for Ginny. He waited for his anger to rise as he knelt beside her to revive her. His anger never surfaced as he pulled his wand from his pocket. “Ennervate,” Harry commanded.

Ginny rose to her feet shakily, with some assistance from Harry. He put his arm around her waist and Ron put his arm around her shoulders to steady her. When Ginny’s entire weight was supported by Ron’s arm, Harry slipped his arm away.

He crossed the room and placed his hand on Hermione’s wand arm. Her arm dropped to her side, her wand dangling limply between her fingers. She visibly relaxed and patted Harry’s hand reassuringly. She left Harry’s side to join Ron in the corner to help support Ginny. She would need a great deal of support as her brain strove to emerge from the fog that the spell had created.

“Ennervate,” Harry drawled, this time speaking as if he had all the time and not a care in the world. Mundungus stirred and tried to reach for his wand. Harry stepped on the wand viciously and kicked the shattered piece into the center of the room. Harry was unconcerned that Mundungus would be able to Apparate out of the Manor. He knew that Hermione would have taken care of that after she stunned him.

Mundungus struggled to sit up. He faced Harry, with his back to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. He glared at the powerful young wizard he had stolen from previously. He had been caught red-handed, and he knew it. He was sullen as he considered what consequences he might have to pay.

“Why are you here?” Harry asked evenly.

“I wanted to return those things I stole from you,” he told Harry dully.

“What did you being to return?” Harry asked patiently.

“I brought back everything I took,” Mundungus chanted in a monotone voice.

“Show me,” Harry commanded, his voice betraying no hint of the excitement he felt.

Harry had frequently found himself wondering if he had seen the locket that had been in the cave before he knew what it was. There had been a large heavy locket at Grimmauld Place when they had been ‘cleaning’ the Manor. “Was it the same locket,” he wondered. His suspicions had only multiplied over time as he thought about the initials R.A.B. He had pictured the place on the Black Family Tree next to Sirius. Could Sirius’ brother have regretted his decision to become a Death Eater? Had he been the one to steal the locket and try to redeem himself? Had he brought the locket back to Grimmauld place? “If Voldemort discovered his treachery, it would be the last place he would search for the locket,” Harry muttered to himself. The questions ran through his head, threatening to drive him insane.

Mundungus turned out his pockets. Ron pointed out the heavy gold ring with the Black family crest on it. They had all seen that ring before. Hermione nudged Ginny, who called across the room to Harry. “Harry, he has something behind his back,” she indicated the hand that Harry could not see.

“What do you have?” Harry demanded.

Mundungus hunched forward as he brought his arm forward, protecting his treasure. He held his hand out in front of his body, his fist closed tightly.

“Open it,” Harry ordered. Mundungus slowly uncurled his fingers and revealed the locket Harry remembered.

“Hand it over,” Harry blurted, staring at the locket with hope and trepidation. Mundungus didn’t move. His fingers twitched around the locket, but he said nothing.

“Give it to me,” Harry screamed. He could not wait any longer. He bent down and grabbed the locket out of Mundungus’ hand. Mundungus reacted the instant the locket left his grasp. Mundungus snatched the locket from Harry’s fingers and screeched in anguish.

Mundungus began to try and pry the locket open. He managed to force one of his grimy fingernails between the two halves of the locket. He forced it to open a fraction of a millimeter. The sound was sucked from the room and a sense of dread descended upon Harry.

The locket emitted a flash of green light from the crevice Mundungus had created. The sound that had vanished from the room rushed at Mundungus.

There was a soft thud as Mundungus slumped on the floor. Hermione screamed and Ginny sunk to the floor in shock. Ron was the only one who seemed unfazed, but he had not moved a muscle. Harry just stared in confusion. There was not a single mark on the body. “He’s dead,” Harry thought as he tried to come to terms with the finality of it all.

There were two distinct ‘pops’ that startled Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Fawkes appeared on Hermione’s shoulder as Dobby rushed to Harry’s side. Dobby stood in front of Harry protectively, as if daring anything to try and harm Harry Potter. Fawkes, on the other had, simply cocked his head and stared at Hermione out of one eye.

Hermione nodded at Fawkes and he was gone with a soft ‘pop’. “Harry,” Hermione called to him softly, “Mundungus tried to force the locket open, right?”

“Yes,” Harry responded without emotion.

“What if we asked it nicely?” she ventured.

“What?” Ron thundered. “That is the most insane thing I have ever heard.”

“She’s right, Harry,” Ginny added as she tried to rise from the floor for a second time that night. “Tom would probably think it was a hysterical joke to make someone ask politely to access one of his Horcruxes.”

“I think it means that he had no intention of ever seeing them again,” Hermione added.

“It’s worth a try, Mate,” Ron grudgingly agreed.

Harry stared at the locket for a moment that felt like an eternity. He stooped down and scooped up the locket. He held it in the palm of his hand, letting it rock gently from side to side.

“Would you please open up?” he asked it politely, feeling rather silly.

Nothing happened. Hermione frowned at Harry. “Try again,” she instructed. “This time, try asking the question properly.”

“I would very much appreciate it if you would open up for me,” Harry told the locket sarcastically before turning to Hermione. “This is ridiculous, it’s not going to work.”

“I didn’t mean how you were asking the question, Harry,” she huffed. “I meant that you were speaking in the wrong language. It is SLYTHERAN’S LOCKET.”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Hermione had just yelled at him. “Does she really think that will solve anything?” he fumed.

The locket gleamed in the light of the magical fires lining the wall of the room. Harry looked at it hard, one final time, before trying to destroy it for the second time. “Please open,” Harry cajoled in Parseltongue.

To Harry’s surprise, the locket opened.

Chapter Seven: The Talk


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