A Promise Kept - Chapter 54 - A New Administration

A New Administration

He watched as Harry inspected every inch of greenhouse three, almost resembling a bloodhound as he crawled on his hands and knees and even sniffed around the tables laden with various plants.

With a frown, he stood, and ran his fingers along the leaves of one of the baby Mandrakes the second years were working on.

“Here,” he murmured. “He used this to subdue her. She likely didn’t even know he was here. Did she come often?”

Pomona nodded.

“A few times a week. Are you certain, Mr Potter?”

The woman had been taken aback by Harry’s appearance this evening, as would any other they might come across, though the students were strictly being kept in the common rooms until Sirius was assured of their safety.

“I’m certain. The only magic used was to prepare her to be transported. A shrinking charm, a disillusionment charm, and a levitation charm. There are two pairs of earmuffs missing from the box, so he took the ones he was wearing along with Hannah Abbott’s.”

Before any could question him further, his frown deepened as he left the greenhouse and began making his way towards the quidditch pitch, and more specifically, the changing rooms.

“Here,” he announced. “He took one of them from here, after he had taken the girl from the greenhouse. I can feel her magic, but more faintly. Malfoy’s is stronger. He used the same spells to transport this one but stunned him. He then took them towards the gates and didn’t come back. No, these were the last two. The other three were first, and I felt his presence nearer to the library as we passed it on the way down.”

Once more, Sirius, Pomona, Minerva, and Horace followed him. And he entered the castle, stopping only briefly in the entrance hall before proceeding up the moving staircases.

Entering the library, he paused again, and inspected a few of the tables in the far corner that the Ravenclaws would frequent.

“He used a powder of sorts, asphodel, to put someone to sleep.”

“That would be Mr Boot,” Filius confirmed. “He was often in the library.”

“And Mr Smith plays for the Quidditch team,” Pomona pointed out.

Harry hummed as he nodded.

“Their movements were easy to predict, but he was somewhere else too.”

Again, upon taking his leave of the library he used the staircases to ascend, and stepped off on the sixth floor, entering a disused classroom further along the corridor.

“He got two of them here, stunned them, before he went to the library, but not before going up to the next floor.”

“There is nothing on the seventh floor,” Minerva explained.

“Well, that’s where he took these two, and Boot, and when he left to go to the greenhouses, they weren’t with him.”

“So, they might still be up there,” Minerva whispered, hurrying form the room.

It was as though they’d rushed to and from just about every corner of the school, but finally, it seemed that there was some good news.

Sirius, along with James, Remus, and Peter, had inspected every inch of the Hogwarts when they’d created the map. Of course, there were things they’d missed, but he knew that there was nothing on the seventh floor except for portraits, paintings, and a few windows that overlooked the grounds.

“There’s no one here,” Minerva announced as they reached the corridor. “Homenum Revelio!”

The spell identified no other outside the five of them, and Sirius looked towards Harry.

“They were definitely here, but they disappeared. They weren’t apparated, nor portkeyed away, so…”

He broke off as he inspected one of the windows before shaking his head and paused as he reached a blank stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas Barnaby teaching a group of trolls in tutus to dance.

“They disappeared from this spot,” he continued, running his fingers along the wall.

“So, they’re not here?” Pomona asked.

“No, they’re not here, and they were definitely taken by Draco Malfoy.”

He checked the map once more for any sign of the students that had been taken, and as expected, there was nothing.

Sirius had spent the better part of a day questioning portraits and ghosts about anything they may have seen, but all he’d learned was that Draco had spent time all over the castle, seemingly planning his escape with the five others.

Of course, the first thing Sirius had done was send urgent messages to the student’s families, and he’d received no response, not even from Amelia Bones, which meant they had already been informed of what had happened and warned to do nothing.

It was frustrating to say the least, but Sirius was convinced that Harry was right.

The disappearances were linked to Fudge’s murder, and the moment the Wizengamot gathered, a new Minister would be installed quickly out of fear of what would happen to any loved ones that had been taken.

Sirius suspected the five children were just either the beginning of a much longer list, or one that had been built over the past weeks.

Regardless, he did not relish what would inevitably come and could scarcely predict the fallout that would follow.

No, it was most concerning, and yet, he knew there was almost nothing he could do about it.

Even so, Hogwarts would be safe, for the most part, until the Dark Lord inevitably turned his attention towards the castle.

How long that would take, Sirus did not know, but that too would come, unless someone could provide a miracle to stop the madman and his followers.

Truthfully, he was out of ideas. Politically, his hands were tied, and even the title of Lord Black meant little when so many would be compromised, whether that was by no choice of their own or not.

Dark and dangerous days lay ahead of them, and the only one that seemed to be unsurprised or even not so concerned was Harry, who’d left Hogwarts after assisting him, as though nothing had changed at all.

(Break)

There was something here, something hidden that required a key of sorts, something many others before him had discovered, but something not well known.

Harry could feel the magic concealed behind a barrier of sorts, old magic that reached to him, almost as though it was seeking his desires.

For now, he didn’t have time to explore it further, but he would return to do so and perhaps discover one of the greatest secrets of Hogwarts.

Evidently, Sirius had not found it during his time here and nor had the senior members of staff with him, but somehow, Draco Malfoy had discovered it, and given what Harry knew of the boy, he had not done so without help.

Riddle.

The Dark Lord likely told him about whatever was here, and Malfoy had used it to kidnap two of his fellow students, which begged the question, what had Tom used it for?

Harry knew he’d discovered the Chamber of Secrets during his time here, which he intended to search himself if he could find a way to do so, but this… this was something else entirely, something he’d found during his years at Hogwarts, and perhaps made use of himself.

Harry would find the truth of the matter and perhaps would need to.

Dumbledore had suspected Riddle had perhaps hidden one of his Horcruxes within the school, but it was not an avenue he’d yet been able to explore.

He would, but for now, his mind was occupied with what was happening in Britain, and the stone that rested in the palm of his hand.

If the story of the Three Brothers was true, he could use it to speak with his father, or something resembling James Potter.

It was not lost on Harry what had happened to Cadmus Peverell when he had brought back his lover.

It would be difficult to let go of the one thing he knew he could never truly undo, even if what he ended up with was a facsimile of the father that had been taken from him.

No, as much as he wanted to speak with him, Harry wasn’t ready. Maybe he never would be, but he knew for certain now was not the right moment.

No, he wanted to be able to tell his father that he’d killed Voldemort, that he’d gotten justice for the man that had sacrificed his life for him and his mother.

Even so, he had obtained the stone, the last of the Hallows, and yet, he felt no different for doing so.

“Master of Death, my arse,” he snorted, returning the stone to the holster before flicking his wand towards the wireless.

Fudge’s death had been announced, but no details had been given.

Rumours were circulating, of course, and it didn’t take a genius to work out that Voldemort was involved. Either way, what Harry was anticipating was the call for the meeting of the Wizengamot, which he suspected would not take much longer.

No, Voldemort was not a patient man at the best of times, and with the all so firmly in his favour, there was no reason to wait.

Still, as much as it played on his mind, short of killing Voldemort, that was very much out of Harry’s control, and he chose to shift his focus onto something that wasn’t.

Being placed in Diagon Alley was quite the boon, and something he intended to take advantage of, and before he would look into Dumbledore’s theory of a Horcrux being within Hogwarts, there was one he could retrieve with just a little help from un unwilling volunteer.

After all, Knockturn Alley was crawling with the most unpleasant of people, and those working on behalf of the Dark Lord were not so difficult to differentiate from the rest.

With his course of action being decided upon, Harry saw no reason to delay the inevitable, and maybe, just maybe, with another Horcrux in his possession, he might just feel as though the war was not becoming entirely one-sided in Riddle’s favour.

Besides, it would serve to distract him the many other things plaguing him, not to mention that only mere days ago, he was all but just another student at Ilvermorny, where most of his friends were still.

Gabrielle was in Europe, far enough away from Riddle’s current ambitions, and Hermione was very much in the firing line. Soon enough, he would check in with the girl to ensure she was holding up as well as she could be.

For now, her parents were safe from Voldemort, but should the man get the sudden urge to change that, their safety could be compromised by him.

No, Harry could not allow that, and he added it to the ever-growing list of things he needed to tend to.

He’d also promised Gabrielle he would visit so that she could see for herself that he was very much alive; just one more thing he needed to do, though not before he’d visited the cave once more, which he would be doing in due course, should he be able to secure the assistance he needed.

With a determined nod, he removed his cloak before taking his leave of the flat his godfather had spent the duration of the last war hiding within, determined to bring himself a step closer to putting an end to the Dark Lord.

(Break)

Having been all but raised at his father’s side, Marcus had come to know when there was something bothering the man. To the outside world, the Van Droombeelds were unshakeable, ruthless businessmen, who did not balk in the face of anything that came their way.

For the most part, that was true, and it took something rather unnerving to become problematic for his father.

He hid it well, better than any, and even during the darker days of his parent’s marriage, or if a venture was not going his way, the man never allowed it to effect his mood. Now, however, something was disturbing him, and though he’d said nothing it was becoming obvious with each passing day, nothing more so than the hiring of a bodyguard, who never spoke.

“You are to visit with the Aldo family to provide them with an in-depth review of their account for the second half of last year,” he instructed, not looking up from the stack of parchment he was working on, sliding another smaller one towards Marcus.

He frowned as he took it, not missing the brief, glance of warning his father sent his way as he opened his mouth to speak. “When that is done, I need you to check on the plantations in Peru. Speak with Miguel. He will escort you to each of them. That is all.”

With only a nod in response, Marcus took the parchment, and left the office, confused, thoughtful, and certain he was missing something.

It was his father who personally handled the Aldo account, and him that tended to the plantations.

One day, that would be Marcus’s responsibility, but that wasn’t supposed to be now, or any time soon.

No, something was deeply amiss.

His father was a smart man, and there had to be a reason he was now acting so strangely.

Returning to his own office, he took a moment to secure the room before taking his leave through the fireplace, arriving in his own home.

“You’re early,” Meredith, his wife greeted him.

Marcus nodded.

“I’m to go to South America on father’s behalf to meet with the Aldo family, and then Peru to inspect the plantations.”

“He’s finally trusting you with that?” Meredith asked with a smile.

Marcus hummed thoughtfully.

“It seems that way.”

“But?”

“I don’t know,” Marcus murmured as he began packing, certain he was missing something that should be obvious to him outside of his father’s odd behaviour. “I don’t know.”

(Break)

He watched the woman scream as the man clumsily subjected her to the Cruciatus Curse, his anger rising as he experienced his joy at seeing her writhe in agony.

Seeing it once was certainly enough to convince him he’d made the right choice, but there were more than two dozen who’d been victimised by the man, who wanted nothing more than to prove himself to the Dark Lord.

He wasn’t yet marked, but it was his innermost desire to be so.

Harry withdrew from the man’s mind and tutted disapprovingly.

“Didn’t your parents teach you that being an evil cunt will come back and bite you on the arse?” he questioned.

“The Dark Lord…”

“Crucio!”

It was crude at best, but this man would not understand the nuance of being punished in any other way besides what was immediately unpleasant.

Besides, he deserved every second of what he was enduring, but Harry made sure not to render him useless.

“The Dark Lord will one day be where you are now,” he said in a little above a whisper, “and I can assure you, he will suffer worse than you will in the coming moments. Coward,” he added as the man began to sob.

“W-where are w-we?”

“Oh, this place, well, this is a place your hero once brought two young children to torture, but it is much more than that now. Come, I will show you.”

A few kicks to the ribs was all the encouragement the man needed to do as he was bid, and instead of sacrificing his own, Harry used his dagger to take some blood from his unwitting accomplice to open the archway.

“Smell that?” he asked. “That is burning flesh. I’m surprised it has lingered for so long, and I expect it is the last thing you will experience before you die, but how that happens depends on you. If you cooperate, I may be inclined to make it quick and painless, but if you don’t…”

He let the sentence hang as he retrieved the boat and bound the man with a flick of his wand.

Placing him inside, he tapped the vessel with the tip of his wand before mounting his broom and flying next to it to ensure he did not attempt to do something stupid, like throw himself overboard.

Harry spotted more than a few of the waiting corpses floating lazily beneath the surface, but from experience, he knew that wouldn’t last. No, as soon as the Horcrux was disturbed, they would come for him once more, but this time, he would not be leaving without what he’d come for.

With a gentle thud, the boat came to a halt on the bank of the small island, and Harry all but dragged the man to where the plinth was waiting for them.

“You’re going to love this,” he snorted. “Well, actually, you’re not, but I would drink it quickly if I were you, because if you don’t, I will ram a pipe down your throat and pour it down.”

“W-what is it?”

“Nothing that will kill you,” Harry assured the man as he took out a goblet and filled it. “Bottoms up.”

The man resistant briefly, but ceased when Harry squeezed his nose tightly, forcing him to open his mouth so that he could pour the liquid down his throat.

At first, it seemed to have no effect, but by the time he’d poured another two into his protesting mouth, the man was sobbing like a babe.

“Please…no more…”

“If you hadn’t been such a shit, you wouldn’t be here. Now, shut up and finish it off.”

He continued to complain and even beg for the death as the remaining brew was administered, and only when the basin was empty did Harry relinquish his hold on him.

As he did so, however, the dead began to emerge from the water, many of them charred from their previous encounter, but no less eager to tear him limb from limb.

“Potter, help me!” the man pleaded as they closed in around him.

Harry merely shook his head in response and snatched up the locket, readying himself for what he knew he needed to do.

“Fiendfyre!”

Immediately, he felt the resistance of the fire as it spewed from the tip of his wand, the fiery griffin as unyielding as the creature itself, perhaps more so with the cursed nature of it.

Harry had been training for months for this moment, to be rid of the corpses lying dormant here, and although it felt like his own skin was being boiled from the bone, he remained unharmed as the fire followed his directions, albeit reluctantly.

The dead did not scream as the y were consumed by it and left nothing except for a streak of ash where they had been ambling towards him.

Unfortunately for the man he’d brought along, he’d doubly suffered in his final moments, being torn to pieces by the inferi before being engulfed in the fire.

Now, all that remained, was the monumental effort Harry knew it would take to snuff it.

The curse fought back with a vengeance when it felt him willing it to dissipate, and the griffin screeched in protest, but Harry remained steadfast, keeping it away from him, and forcing it back on itself until the final sparks crackled from the tip of his wand.

He was sweating from both the heat and exertion, but Harry was pleased that he’d managed to succeed in what he’d set out to do.

There were not so many able to wield such a spell and do so without causing a catastrophe in the process.

Much to his relief, only the dead had been destroyed, along with only a few patches of molten rock being left behind.

Still, it was over now, but there was something else he could not ignore.

The locket.

It did not feel like the other horcruxes.

There was residual magic on the jewellery, but not what he’d been expecting.

Removing it from his pocket, he shook his head.

Although it was a good replica, even made out of gold and emeralds, it wasn’t the original locket that had once belonged to Salazar Slytherin. It was a fake, and as prised it open, only a folded-up piece of parchment greeted him.

Releasing a deep breath of frustration, Harry curiously removed it, and looked upon the unfamiliar, neat scrawl.

To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B

So, someone else had discovered Voldemort’s horcruxes long before either Harry or Dumbledore had, and they had taken the locket to destroy it. Whether or not they had been successful was another matter entirely, and another mystery for Harry to solve.

“R.A.B,” he murmured.

The initials would certainly mean something to Voldemort if he were to discover the man’s note, but it was lost on Harry, though there was something niggling the back of his mind, telling him he knew more than he believed.

“R.A.B,” he repeated.

It wasn’t until he took his leave of the cave and apparated back to the flat that a fleeting memory of being in Grimmauld Place surfaced, and he immediately left for the home of the Blacks.

Arriving in the room next to the kitchen, he found that only his mother was home, and not wanting to lose his trail of thought, he offered her only a wave as he hurried up the staircase, pausing as he reached the door he was thinking about.

“Regulus Arcturus Black,” he whispered. “Kreacher!”

The elf appeared almost immediately, and Harry held up the note.

“Did Regulus write this?”

Kreacher’s eyes all but bulged from their sockets as he looked upon the piece of parchment almost reverently, and even an errant tear slipped down his cheek as he choked back a sob.

“Yes, Master Harry. Master Regulus wrote that.”

Harry cursed under his breath as he removed the locket.

“And did Master Regulus have something like this?”

Unable to speak, Kreacher nodded.

“Harry, what is going on?”  his mother asked as she approached from top of the staircase.

He gave Kreacher a subtle shake of his head, and the elf vanished.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his mother. He did, more than any other, but he could not bring himself to tell her of the horcruxes, not when there was still so much work to do pertaining to them.

“I just needed to ask Kreacher about some of my things I thought I’d lost while I was here. He’s going to gather them up for me.”

She eyed him speculatively for a minute, and Harry knew wasn’t fooled, but she chose not to press the matter, for now, at least.

“Well, I was going to make some dinner, if you’d like to stay.”

Harry nodded appreciatively.

“I would,” he answered, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“Don’t you think you should shower first?” his mother urged. “You stink.”

“Charming.”

She paused and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Harry James Potter, have you been playing with fire?”

“Would you believe me if I said I hadn’t?”

Fortunately, before she could answer or press him further, Sirius arrived, his expression rather grave as he went about the task of securing the home.

“I’ve just been summoned for an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot,” he informed them. “I do not know what is going to happen, but better be as safe as we can. Harry…”

“I’m already staying for dinner.”

Sirius nodded his approval.

“You know what to do if anything goes amiss.”

“Burn the country to the ground, and make sure your mother’s painting doesn’t escape.”

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of Sirius’s mouth as he shook his head.

“Exactly that,” he agreed. “I’m not expecting this to take long.”

“If it is so dangerous, why are you going?” Lily asked.

“Because I need to see for myself just how bad it is now. Up until a month ago, the political field was split quite evenly. I need to know what it is we are up against. Besides, it’s not as though I don’t have a contingency plan in place.”

“Burn the Ministry to the ground, and make sure no one escapes?” Harry chuckled.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

With that, he was gone, and Harry could sense the nervousness of his mother. Wrapping a reassuring arm around her shoulder, he steered her towards the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, Mum. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

“That makes me worry even more, Harry. Where are you going?”

“Don’t ask questions you won’t like the answer to.”

Removing his cloak, he wrapped it around himself and hurried from Grimmauld Place.

He had a most unsettling feeling about what was to come this evening, even more so than his venture in the cave, which remained unsolved, though if he was right, Kreacher would be able to provide him with what he needed.

For now, however, Harry’s focus was on the meeting of the Wizengamot, and what it would mean for Britain.

(Break)

She frowned as the thin gold necklace fell into the palm of her hand from the unsigned roll of parchment that had arrived, and Amelia swallowed deeply as she recognised it.

It had belonged to Susan’s mother, and she had gifted it to the girl before she’d gone off to Hogwarts for her first year. It had not left her neck since, until now.

With a sense of trepidation, she took in the unfamiliar scrawl, the dread and anger that filled her upon doing so unable to be put into words.

Bones,

Your niece is enjoying the accommodations of the Dark Lord and will continue to do so to ensure your cooperation. Fudge is dead, and soon enough, a replacement must be named.

You will vote for who best suits the needs of the Dark Lord or the next missive you receive will be a part of your niece you cannot replace.

The more you defy us, the more she will suffer.

What happens next is entirely your choice.

Choose wisely.

There was no signature but having worked as an Auror during the first war, Amelia did not doubt the provenance of the threat laid against Susan.

Should she do anything to give them a reason to, they would harm her.

She watched as Thicknesse took to his podium, and her attention shifted to the last of the Lords to arrive. Among them was Sirius Black, whom she had received an urgent request to meet shortly after the first letter had arrived.

Amelia knew what he needed to discuss with her, and now, she found she could not meet his gaze.

She could not, under any circumstances, allow Susan to be harmed, and if that meant doing as she was bid, so be it.

The girl was the very last of her family, and if there was even the slightest of chance she would see her alive again, she would do what was necessary, as would Black if he was in her position.

Even so, she could not ignore the shame she felt.

She had pledged to do all she could to fight against the Dark Lord the first time around, and this time, she was in charge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which meant she was the Ministry of Magic had been all but neutered.

That would inevitably only become more apparent in the coming moments, and Britain would soon fall entirely if Voldemort had his way.

Truthfully, Amelia could see no light at the end of the very dark tunnel she found herself in, and though she knew there were those that would not be cowed, she could no longer claim to be one of them.

The Dark Lord had exposed her one weakness and would undoubtedly use it against her until there was nothing else he could take.

For Amelia, this was it.

No matter what happened now, there was nothing more she could do, not unless she wished to bury her niece as she had Susan’s mother and father.

(Break)

He managed to squeeze into the room before the door was closed, and Harry felt the tension within. Even those sitting next to one another were pointedly ignoring their neighbours, and it did not escape his notice that those he knew supported the Dark Lord were not present.

The observation elicited a frown from him, and he looked towards Pius Thicknesse as he tapped his podium with a gavel.

The man was everything he expected him to be; well-groomed, unpleasant to look upon, and the look of concern as fake as the sad smile he greeted those gathered with.

“It is with a heavy heart that we gather, and I would honour Minister Cornelius Oswald Fudge with a minute of silence before we begin.”

The Lords and Ladies did indeed remain silent, but Harry suspected it wasn’t out of a love or even respect for a man like Cornelius Fudge, but in mourning for the very body they were a part of.

He knew what was coming, as did most within the room, but there were those that seemed to be clinging to a thread of hope that all would be well, that someone desirable would succeed the fallen Fudge.

Harry knew better.

There was a reason the likes of Lucius Malfoy and his cohorts were absent, and when just a suitable amount of time had passed, Thicknesse cleared his throat.

“Of course, we are gathered to discuss replacing our late Minister, and given the predicament Britain finds itself in, it is something we must do swiftly. The investigation into what happened to Cornelius is ongoing, and in that vein, I have received several missives from many of those that are not in attendance,” he informed the room. “Lucius Malfoy, along with Lord’s Nott, Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, and Selwyn have excused themselves from these proceedings as they are in mourning, and uncertain of their own safety, given their closeness to Cornelius. I have, however, received a letter from Lord Malfoy expressing his beliefs, and those he is certain that Cornelius would agree with.”

He cleared his throat once more and put a pair of glasses on to read.

“To my fellow Lords and Ladies, I apologise that I am not there with you, but I am in spirit. I find myself heartbroken at the loss of Cornelius, and will mourn for him as a friend, and colleague. Having discussed it with several of my peers, I would nominate Corban Yaxley to replace Cornelius as our next Minister of Magic. His exemplary service these past decades to the people of Britain is not negligible, and I am certain he will do the post justice.”

Thicknesse folded up the letter carefully and placed it in front of them before picking up a sizeable stack of envelopes with their seals broken; all for show, of course.

“Each of these messages and votes are in agreement with Lucius Malfoy’s recommendation, and this has been verified by Madam Bones herself, confirming there is no foul play.”

Amelia Bones nodded tightly, and Hary did not envy her position.

“Do we have any other nominations?”

So few seemed surprised that no other name was offered, but Augusta Longbottom was among them.

She looked in disbelief towards Amelia Bones, and then to Sirius, who shook his head subtly at the woman.

He too would not risk the lives of the students that were taken, even if it was all but a given they would not last the duration.

No, to Tom, they would eventually become nothing but loose ends, and when the time was right, he would simply dispose of them.

“Well, if there is no other…”

“Are we really going to allow this?” Augusta asked in disbelief. “Are we going to allow the likes of Yaxley to become Minister when we know who it is he serves?”

Many gazes became downcast, none willing to side with the woman.

Harry too wished to protest, but he was not even supposed to be here, not for a number of months yet.

“Unbelievable,” Augusta snorted as she stood and made her way towards the door. “Cowards. I find myself among the cowards of the country who will see it burn rather than do what is right. Britain will not forget the day you handed it to the Dark Lord.”

The door slammed shut behind the woman, yet, the mood within the chambers remained sombre.

Most had either been cajoled, bribed, or blackmailed to not resist what was coming, and those that still stayed silent did so because they carried little to no influence.

No, it was better they said nothing rather than risk their families from Voldemort’s reprisals.

Even so, Harry knew that Augusta Longbottom was right.

When it came down to it, he did find himself amongst cowards. The men and women here may well be worried for the relatives that had been taken, or fearful of the threats made, but most had lived through the first war, and knew better than to believe their loved ones would be spared.

It was all false hope born from false promises, and as Harry looked towards the victorious Corban Yaxley, he knew and expected the changes would come swiftly and without resistance.

Except from him.

He would never concede defeat, nor ever give up on the task Fate had decided should be his.

No.

No matter how high the deck was stacked against him, he would always bet on himself.

He followed the first to leave the chambers of the Wizengamot, ensuring that Sirius was not hindered during his own exit before taking his leave of the Ministry and returning to the flat.

“Kreacher?” he called.

The elf appeared and offered him a low bow.

“The locket, Kreacher, what happened to it?”

He seemed torn on whether or not he should speak further on the matter, and Harry rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I need to destroy the locket to ensure the Dark Lord dies.”

“Just like Master Regulus.”

Harry nodded.

“What happened to Master Regulus?”

Kreacher choked back a sob.

“He was killed in the cave with the dead, Master Harry. The Dark Lord asked to borrow Kreacher, and Master Regulus didn’t want to, but he had no choice. Kreacher escaped the dead and told Master Regulus what happened…”

“And Regulus went to the cave.”

Kreacher nodded.

“He called for Kreacher, forced Kreacher to leave with the locket, and told him to destroy it, but Kreacher couldn’t. Kreacher tried and tried…”

“I know,” Harry comforted. “Regulus would not have known you’d be unable to, but I can and will do it for you.”

“You will?”

“You have my word, Kreacher, that when the time is right, I will destroy it, and you can even keep this one,” he offered, removing the locket he’d retrieved from the cave from within his pocket.

The elf eyed it reverently before vanishing and returning a moment later, and Harry immediately felt the presence of the magic within the Horcrux.

This was indeed the real one, and as Kreacher handed it to him, he grimaced as that unpleasant feeling washed over him more so.

“Dark Lord is a very bad man,” Kreacher whispered. “Master Regulus said so.”

“He is, and I will be the one to kill him.”

Kreacher offered him something resembling a smile.

“Thank you, Master Harry,” he said sincerely, hanging the new locket around his neck before vanishing once more, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

For the most part, they were maudlin, and though there would be considerable setbacks to come, he remained as steadfast in his need to rid the world of Tom Riddle.

The road ahead had only become more difficult, but he would traverse it, nonetheless, until the Dark Lord was at his mercy.

There was no other way it would end, after all.