Johnny kicked the door closed behind him and slammed Hermione against it, causing her to let out a loud moan. Hermione let out a squeal as Johnny grabbed her arse and lifted her up. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning as she felt Johnny's hands roam her body.

"Muffliato!" Hermione moaned, aiming her wand at the door behind her before letting it drop to the floor.

"Johnny" Hermione moaned, her eyes shut tight as her and Johnny grinded against each other, also while Johnny's lips trailed from her neck down to her exposed cleavage.

"Fuck, you don't know what you do to me, baby," Johnny groaned, pressing himself harder against Hermione's entrance.

"John, please" Hermione begged, not really knowing what she was begging him to do. She had lost all control over her thoughts as soon as Johnny asserted his dominance.

"Whatever you want, babygirl," Johnny moaned as his free hand slid down Hermione's stomach. His fingers rubbed Hermione's entrance slowly at first, before he slowly pushed two fingers into her.

"Oh fuck, yes!" Hermione cried, tangling her fingers in Johnny's hair as Johnny began to finger her faster and harder. Hermione's back arched from the door as Johnny left a large love bite on her breast. Hermione came around Johnny's fingers, and turned red as Johnny smirked at her.

"So fucking sexy," Johnny moaned and sucked his two fingers clean of Hermione's juices, keeping eye contact as he done so. Clothes flew everywhere as the two werewolves stripped each other down to nothing. Johnny's lips trailed down Hermione's neck, to her cleavage and down her stomach. Hermione tried to cross her legs to tease her fiancé, but Johnny forcefully pulled them back open. "No. Tonight this is may be my last meal," he husked as Johnny dipped his head and latched into Hermione's sensitive clit.

"Oh fuck, Johnny!" Hermione screamed once more, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the pillow with force."Oh yes, Johnny! Oh! I'm cumming!" Hermione screamed as Johnny inserted two fingers in her once more. Hermione's back arched off of the bed but Johnny held her stomach down using his free hand. 

"Fuck, you look amazing," Johnny said softly as come closer and kissed her, making Hermione taste herself. 

"You're amazing" Hermione said between her kisses and Johnny smirked. 

"We're only getting started baby," Johnny husked and suddenly he pushed his hard cock inside of Hermione's tight entrance. 

"O-oh fuck!" Hermione screamed and scratched down Johnny's back, leaving scars. 

"Fuck, you're so tight, baby. So wet for me," Johnny moaned as he buried himself deeper inside of Hermione. Hermione kept on moaning and leaving scratches on Johnny's back as a reminder of the sheer pleasure he was giving her. 

"Oh god!" Hermione squealed as Johnny flipped her on all fours, his cock never leaving her once. Johnny sped up his thrusts, going harder and deeper. 

"Fuck, so good," Johnny groaned, taking a firm grip on Hermione's arse as he thrusted upwards. Johnny's left hand reached around Hermione, his fingers quickly rubbing her clit as he continued to fuck her.

"John!" Hermione screamed as she felt her climax coming closer as Johnny continued to fuck her with his cock and left hand, his right hand coming up to choke her slightly.

"Oh Johnny yes! Yes! Please right there!" Hermione screamed, arching her back. 

"Yes, baby. Cum for me. Make my cock wet with you juices," Johnny whispered, his fingers and cock working faster, and that was Hermione's undoing.

"John!" Hermione screamed as her orgasm hit, her body shaking from its intensity, but Johnny didn't stop his thrusts. His movements got even more faster and Hermione could feel Johnny's cock pulsing inside her as she tightened around him.

"Holy fuck, Mione!' Johnny groaned, his seed shooting up into Hermione's uterus. This seemed to tip Hermione over the edge once more, as she let out another scream as another orgasm hit her again, leaving her shaking.

The next morning, Johnny managed to slip from Hermione's grasp and stand up. He smiled down at his fiancé, who continued to snore quietly as she cuddled into her pillow. Once Johnny was dressed, he kissed Hermione lightly on the forehead, and left the bedroom, heading further up the stairs to where there was on,y two doors. The one facing him bore a nameplate reading Sirius. Johnny had never entered his godfather's bedroom before. He pushed open the door, holding his wand high to cast light as widely as possible.

The room was spacious and must once have been handsome. There was a large bed with a carved wooden headboard, a tall window obscured by long velvet curtains and a chandelier thickly coated in dust with candle scrubs still resting in its sockets, solid wax banging in frostlike drips. A fine film of dust covered the pictures on the walls and the bed's headboard; a spiders web stretched between the chandelier and the top of the large wooden wardrobe, and as Johnny moved deeper into the room, he noticed Harry sat on the bed.

"Hey," Harry smiled slightly, as Johnny took a seat next to him. "Thought you and Hermione ran off during the night."

"We'd never," Johnny chuckled, patting his cousin's shoulder. "As I said, I'm with you until the end of the line."

Johnny and Harry sat in silence as they looked around Sirius's old room. The teenage Sirius had plastered the walls with so many posters and pictures that little of the wall's silvery-gray silk was visible. The two boys could only assume that Sirius's parents had been unable to remove the Permanent Sticking Charm that kept them on the wall because they were sure they wouldn't have appreciated their eldest son's taste in decoration. Sirius seemed to have long gone out of his way to annoy his parents. There were several large Gryffindor banners, faded scarlet and gold just to underline his difference from all the rest of the Slytherin family. There were many pictures of Muggle motorcycles, and also (they had to admire Sirius's nerve) several posters of bikini-clad Muggle girls. They could tell that they were Muggles because they remained quite stationary within their pictures, faded smiles and glazed eyes frozen on the paper. This was in contrast the only Wizarding photograph on the walls which was a picture of six Hogwarts students standing arm in arm, laughing at the camera.

With a leap of pleasure, Johnny recognised his uncle, his untidy black hair stuck up at the back like Harry's, and he too wore glasses. Beside him was Sirius, carelessly handsome, his slightly arrogant face so much younger and happier than Johnny had ever seen it alive. In the middle of James and Sirius was Evelyn, her blonde hair shining in the sunlight as she wrapped her arms around Sirius's and James's waists. To Sirius's right stood Pettigrew, more than a head shorter, plump and watery-eyed, flushed with pleasure at his inclusion in this coolest of gangs, with the much-admired rebels that James and Sirius had been. On Pettigrew's right, stood Jakob, grinning ear to ear as he stood with his friends. On James's left was Lupin, even then a little shabby-looking, but he had the same air of delighted surprise at finding himself liked and included. Harry tried to take it from the wall; it was his now, after all, Sirius had left him everything, but it wouldn't budge. Sirius had taken no chances in preventing his parents from redecorating his room.

"Reckon we can find anything else?" Johnny asked, his eyes still set on the younger version of his father as many questions ran through his head.

"Probably," Harry shrugged. The two looked around at the floor. The sky outside was growing brightest. A shaft of light revealed bits of paper, books, and small objects scattered over the carpet. Evidently Sirius's bedroom had been reached too, although its contents seemed to have been judged mostly, if not entirely, worthless. A few of the books had been shaken roughly enough to part company with the covers and sundry pages littered the floor.

Johnny bent down, picked up a few of the pieces of paper, and examined them. He recognised one as a part of an old edition of A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot, and another as belonging to a motorcycle maintenance manual.

"Hey, Johnny," said Harry, smoothing out a piece of paper. "Listen to this."

"Dear Padfoot,

Thank you, thank you, for Harry's birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself. I'm enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). Of course James thought it was so funny, says he's going to be a great Quidditch player but we've had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he gets going.

We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us and old Bathilda who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Harry. We were so sorry you couldn't come, but the Order's got to come first, and Harry's not old enough to know it's his birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell- also Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend. I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the next about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard.

Bathilda drops in most days, she's a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore. I'm not sure he'd be pleased if he knew! I don't know how much to believe, actually because it seems incredible that Dumbledore-"

"That's it," said Harry quietly, still staring at letter as he sat on the bed. "We had a cat..."

Johnny let his cousin ponder the letter for a moment, before saying, "maybe the other half of the letter is here?"

Harry got to his feet and scanned the floor. He seized papers, treating them in his eagerness, with as little consideration as the original searcher, he pulled open drawers, shook out books, stood on a chair to run his hand over the top of the wardrobe, and crawled under the bed and armchair.

Johnny found, lying facedown on the floor, what looked like a torn piece of paper under the chest of drawers. When he pulled it out, it proved to be most of the photograph that Lily had described in her letter. A black-haired baby was zooming in and out of the picture on a tiny broom, roaring with laughter, and a pair of legs that must have belonged to James was chasing after him.

"Here," Johnny smiled sadly, handing the photograph to Harry. Harry tucked the photograph into his pocket with Lily's letter and continued to look for the second sheet.

After another quarter of an hour, however the two boys was forced to conclude that the rest of the letter was gone. Had it simply been lost in the sixteen years that had elapsed since it had been written, or had it been taken by whoever had searched the room? Harry read the first sheet again, this time looking for clues as to what might have made the second sheet valuable.

"Harry? Johnny?"

"We're here!" Johnny called, "What's happened?"

There was a clatter of footsteps outside the door, and Hermione burst inside.

"We woke up and didn't know where you were!" she said breathlessly. She turned and shouted over her shoulder, "Ron! I've found them!"

Ron's annoyed voice echoed distantly from several floors below.

"Good! Tell them from me they're gits!"

"Boys don't just disappear, please, we were terrified!" Hermione sighed.

"Oh, like you and Johnny just disappeared last night?" Harry wiggled his eyebrows, causing both to blush.

"Why did you come up here anyway?" Hermione changed the subject, gazing around the ransacked room. "What have you been doing?"

"Look what we've just found!" Harry held out his mother's letter. Hermione took it out and read it while Harry and Johnny watched her. When she reached the end of the page she looked up at him.

"Oh Harry..."

"And there's this too."

He handed her the torn photograph, and Hermione smiled at the baby zooming in and out of sight on the toy broom.

"Johnny and I've been looking for the rest of the letter," Harry said, "but it's not here."

Hermione glanced around.

"Did you make all this mess, or was some of it done when you got here?"

"Someone had searched before us," said Johnny.

"I thought so. Every room I looked into on the way up had been disturbed, even the one Johnny and I were in. What were they after, do you think?"

"Information on the Order, if it was Snape," Johnny shrugged, leaning against the bedpost.

"But you'd think he'd already have all he needed. I mean was in the Order, wasn't he?"

"Well then," said Harry, keen to discuss the theory, "what about information on Dumbledore? The second page of the letter, for instance. You know this Bathilda my mum mentions, you know who she is?"

"Who?"

"Bathilda Bagshot, the author of-"

"A History of Magic," said Hermione, looking interested. "So your parents knew her? She was an incredible magic historian."

"And she's still alive," said Harry, "and she lives in Godric's Hollow. Ron's Auntie Muriel was talking about her at the wedding. She knew Dumbledore's family too. Be pretty interesting to talk to, wouldn't she?" Harry took back the letter and the photograph and tucked them inside the pouch around his neck, so as not to have to look at her and give himself away.

"I understand why you'd love to talk to her about your mum and dad, and Dumbledore too," said Hermione. "But that wouldn't really help us in our search for the Horcruxes, would it?" Harry didn't answer, and she rushed on, "Harry, I know you really want to go to Godric's Hollow, but I'm scared. I'm scared at how easily those Death Eaters found us yesterday. It just makes me feel more than ever that we ought to avoid the place where your parents are buried, I'm sure they'd be expecting you to visit it."

"It's not just that," Harry said, still avoiding looking at her or Johnny, "Muriel said stuff about Dumbledore at the wedding. I want to know the truth..."

He told Hermione and Johnny everything that Muriel had told him about Dumbledore's fight with Aberforth. When he had finished, Johnny said, "Of course, I can see why that's upset you, mate-"

"I'm not upset," he lied, "I'd just like to know whether or not it's true or-"

"Harry do you really think you'll get the truth from a malicious old woman like Muriel, or from Rita Skeeter? How can you believe them? You knew Dumbledore!" Said Johnny. "Yes, the man was a manipulative bastard, but he had his moments."

"I thought I did," he muttered.

"But you know how much truth there was in everything Rita wrote about you! Doge is right, how can you let these people tarnish your memories of Dumbledore?" Said Hermione, standing next to Johnny.

"Shall we go down to the kitchen?" Hermione suggested after a little pause. "Find something for breakfast?"

"Hermione, Johnny," Harry said, when the two were a flight of stairs below him. "Come back up here."

"What's the matter?"

"R.A.B. I think I've found him."

There was a gasp, and then Hermione and Johnny ran back up the stairs.

Harry pointed at Regulus's sign. They read it, then Hermione clutched Johnny's arm so tightly that he winced.

"Sirius's brother?" Hermione whispered.

"He was a Death Eater," said Harry. "Sirius told me about him, he joined up when he was really young and then got cold feet and tried to leave- so they killed him."

"That fits!" gasped Johnny, thumping Harry on the back. "If he was a Death Eater he had access to Voldemort, and if he became disenchanted, then he would have wanted to bring Voldemort down!"

Hermione released Johnny, leaned over the banister, and screamed, "Ron! RON! Get up here, quick!"

Ron appeared, panting, a minute later, his wand ready in his hand.

"What's up? If it's massive spiders again I want breakfast before I-"

He frowned at the sign on Regulus's door, in which Hermione was silently pointing.

"What? That was Sirius's brother, wasn't it? Regulus Arcturus ... Regulus ... R.A.B.! The locket- you don't reckon-?"

"Let's find out," said Johnny, getting his wand out. He pushed the door: It was locked. Hermione pointed her wand at the handle and said, "Alohamora." There was a click, and the door swung open.

The four moved over the threshold together, gazing around. Regulus's bedroom was slightly smaller than Sirius's, though it had the same sense of former grandeur. Whereas Sirius had sought to advertise his diffidence from the rest of the family, Regulus had striven to emphasise the opposite. The Slytherin colors of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bed, the walls, and the windows. The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto, TOUJOURS PUR. Beneath this was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage. Hermione crossed the room to examine them.

"They're all about Voldemort," she said. "Regulus seems to have been a fan for a few years before he joined the Death Eaters ..."

A little puff of dust rose from the bedcovers as she sat down to read the clippings. Johnny, meanwhile, had noticed another photograph: a Hogwarts Quidditch team was smiling and waving out of the frame. He moved closer and saw the snakes emblazoned on their chests: Slytherins. Regulus was instantly recognisable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller, slighter, and rather less handsome than Sirius had been.

"He played Seeker," said Johnny, thinking about his years on the Slytherin team.

"What?" said Hermione vaguely; she was still immersed in Voldemort's press clippings.

"He's sitting in the middle of the front row, that's where the Seeker ... Never mind," said Johnny, realising that nobody was listening. Ron was on his hands and knees, searching under the wardrobe. Yet again, somebody had searched before them. The drawers' contents had been turned over recently, the dust disturbed, but there was nothing of value there: old quills, out-of-date textbooks that bore evidence of being roughly handled, a recently smashed ink bottle, its sticky residue covering the contents of the drawer.

"There's an easier way," said Hermione, as Harry wiped his inky fingers on his jeans. She raised her wand and said, "Accio Locket!"

Nothing happened. Ron, who had been searching the folds of the faded curtains, looked disappointed.

"Is that it, then? It's not here?"

"Oh, it could still be here, but under counter-enchantments," Johnny pointed out. "Charms to prevent it from being summoned magically, you know."

"Like Voldemort put on the stone basin in the cave," said Harry, remembering how he had been unable to Summon the fake locket.

"How are we supposed to find it then?" asked Ron.

"We search manually," sighed Hermione.

"That's a good idea," said Ron, rolling his eyes, and he resumed his examination of the curtains.

They combed every inch of the room for more than an hour, but were forced, finally, to conclude that the locket was not there.

The sun had risen now; its light dazzled them even through the grimy landing windows.

"It could be somewhere else in the house, though," said Hermione in a rallying tone as they walked back downstairs. As Harry and Ron had become more discouraged, Hermione and Johnny seemed to have become more determined. "Whether he'd manage to destroy it or not, he'd want to keep it hidden from Voldemort, wouldn't he? Remember all those awful things we had to get rid of when we were here last time? That clock that shot bolts at everyone and those old robes that tried to strangle Ron; Regulus might have put them there to protect the locket's hiding place, even though we didn't realise it at ... at ..."

Harry and Ron looked at Hermione and Johnny. They were staring at each other, their eyes unfocused as a look of realisation spread across both their faces.

"... at the time," they finished in a whispered unison.

"Something wrong?" asked Ron.

"There was a locket," said Hermione and Johnny in unison once again,

"What?" said Harry and Ron together.

"In the cabinet in the drawing room. Nobody could open it. And we ... we..." Johnny explained, an exasperated look on his face.

"Kreacher nicked loads of things back from us," said Harry. It was the only chance, the only slender hope left to them. "He had a whole stash of stuff in his cupboard in the kitchen. C'mon."

They ran down the stairs taking two steps at a time. They made so much noise that they woke the portrait of Sirius's mother as they passed through the hall.

"Filth! Half-Breeds! Scum!" she screamed after them as they dashed down into the basement kitchen and slammed the door behind them. Harry ran the length of the room, skidded to a halt at the door of Kreacher's cupboard, and wrenched it open. There was the nest of dirty old blankets in which the house-elf had once slept, but they were not longer glittering with the trinkets Kreacher had salvaged. The only thing there was an old copy of Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. Harry snatched up the blankets and shook them. A dead mouse fell out and rolled dismally across the floor. Ron groaned as he threw himself into a kitchen chair; Hermione closed her eyes and clutched Johnny's hand.

"It's not over yet," said Harry, and he raised his voice and called, "Kreacher!"

There was a loud crack and the house elf that Harry had so reluctantly inherited from Sirius appeared out of nowhere in front of the cold and empty fireplace: tiny, half human-sized, his pale skin hanging off him in folds, white hair sprouting copiously from his batlike ears. He was still wearing the filthy rag in which they had first met him, and the contemptuous look he bent upon Harry showed that his attitude to his change of ownership had altered no more than his outfit.

"Master," croaked Kreacher in his bullfrog's voice, and he bowed low; muttering to his knees, "back in my Mistress's old house with the blood-traitor Weasley and the Half-Breeds..."

"I forbid you to call anyone 'blood traitor' or 'Half-Breeds,'" growled Harry. "I've got a question for you," said Harry, his heart beating rather fast as he looked down at the elf, "and I order you to answer it truthfully. Understand?"

"Yes, Master," said Kreacher, bowing low again. Johnny saw his lips moving soundlessly, undoubtedly framing the insults he was now forbidden to utter.

"Two years ago," said Harry, his heart now hammering against his ribs, "there was a big gold locket in the drawing room upstairs. We threw it out. Did you steal it back?"

There was a moment's silence, during which Kreacher straightened up to look Harry full in the face. Then he said, "Yes."

"Where is it now?" asked Harry jubilantly as Ron, Johnny and Hermione looked gleeful.

Kreacher closed his eyes as though he could not bear to see their reactions to his next word.

"Gone."

"Gone?" echoed Johnny, his eyes turning red as the elation floating out of him, "What do you mean, it's gone?"

The elf shivered. He swayed.

"Kreacher," said Harry fiercely, "I order you-"

"Mundungus Fletcher," croaked the elf, his eyes still tight shut. "Mundungus Fletcher stole it all; Miss Bella's and Miss Cissy's pictures, my Mistress's gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and- and-"

Kreacher was gulping for air: His hollow chest was rising and falling rapidly, then his eyes flew open and he uttered a bloodcurdling scream.

"-and the locket, Master Regulus's locket. Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!"

Harry reacted instinctively: As Kreacher lunged for the poker standing in the grate, he launched himself upon the elf, flattening him. Hermione's scream mingled with Kreacher's but Harry bellowed louder than both of them: "Kreacher, I order you to stay still!"

He felt the elf freeze and released him. Kreacher lay flat on the cold stone floor, tears gushing from his sagging eyes.

"Harry, let him up!" Hermione whispered, her knuckles turning white.

"So he can beat himself up with the poker?" snorted Harry, kneeling beside the elf. "I don't think so. Right. Kreacher, I want the truth: How do you know Mundungus Fletcher stole the locket?"

"Kreacher saw him!" gasped the elf as tears poured over his snout and into his mouth full of graying teeth. "Kreacher saw him coming out of Kreacher's cupboard with his hands full of Kreacher's treasures. Kreacher told the sneak thief to stop, but Mundungus Fletcher laughed and r-ran..."

"You called the locket 'Master Regulus's,'" said Harry. "Why? Where did it come from? What did Regulus have to do with it? Kreacher, sit up and tell me everything you know about that locket, and everything Regulus had to do with it!"

The elf sat up, curled into a ball, placed his wet face between his knees, and began to rock backward and forward. When he spoke, his voice was muffled but quite distinct in the silent, echoing kitchen.

"Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress's heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper order; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns... and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve ...

And one day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said... he said..."

The old elf rocked faster than ever.

"... he said that the Dark Lord required an elf."

"Voldemort needed an elf?" Johnny repeated, glancing at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who looked just as puzzled as he did.

"Oh yes," moaned Kreacher. "And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do... and then to c-come home."

Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath coming in sobs.

"So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake... There was a boat..."

"There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it..."

The elf quaked from head to foot.

"Kreacher drank, and as he drank he saw terrible thing... Kreacher's insides burned... Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed... He made Kreacher drink all the potion... He dropped a locket into the empty basin... He filled it with more potion."

"And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island..."

"Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake... and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface..."

"How did you get away?" Harry asked, just as Hermione buried her face in his neck, a small sob leaving her lips.

Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked Harry with his great, bloodshot eyes.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he said.

"I know- but how did you escape the Inferi?"

Kreacher didn't seem to understand.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he repeated.

"I know, but-"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it, Harry?" said Ron. "He Disapparated!"

"But ... you couldn't Apparate in and out of that cave," said Harry, "otherwise Dumbledore-"

"Elf magic isn't like wizard's magic, is it?" said Ron, "I mean, they can Apparate and Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts when we can't."

"Of course, Voldemort would have considered the ways of house-elves far beneath his notice ... It would never have occurred to him that they might have magic that he didn't," said Hermione coldly.

"The house-elf's highest law is his Master's bidding," intoned Kreacher. "Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home ..."

"Well, then, you did what you were told, didn't you?" said Hermione kindly. "You didn't disobey orders at all!"

Kreacher shook his head, rocking as fast as ever.

"So what happened when you got back?" Harry asked. "What did Regulus say when you told him what happened?"

"Master Regulus was very worried, very worried," croaked Kreacher. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then... it was a little while later... Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell... and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord..."

"And he made you drink the poison?" said Johnny, disgusted.

But Kreacher shook his head and wept. Hermione's hands leapt to her mouth: She seemed to have understood something.

"M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had," said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snoutlike nose. "And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets..."

Kreacher's sobs came in great rasps now; They had to concentrate hard to understand him.

"And he order- Kreacher to leave- without him. And he told Kreacher- to go home- and never to tell my Mistress- what he had done- but to destroy- the first locket. And he drank- all the potion- and Kreacher swapped the lockets- and watched ... as Master Regulus... was dragged beneath the water... and..."

"Oh, Kreacher!" wailed Hermione, who was crying. She dropped to her knees beside the elf and tried to hug him. At once he was on his feet, cringing away from her, quite obviously repulsed.

"The Mudblood Half-Breed touched Kreacher, he will not allow it, what would his Mistress say?"

"I told you not to call her that!" snarled Harry, but the elf was already punishing himself. He fell to the ground and banged his forehead on the floor.

"Stop him- stop him!" Hermione cried. "Oh, don't you see now how sick it is, the way they've got to obey?"

"Kreacher- stop, stop!" shouted Harry.

The elf lay on the floor, panting and shivering, green mucus glistening around his snot, a bruise already blooming on his pallid forehead where he had struck himself, his eyes swollen and bloodshot and swimming in tears. Johnny had never seen anything so pitiful.

"So you brought the locket home," Johnny said relentlessly, for he was determined to know the full story. "And you tried to destroy it?"

"Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it," moaned the elf. "Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work... So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open... Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave..."

Kreacher began to sob so hard that there were no more coherent words. Tears flowed down Hermione's cheeks as she watched Kreacher, but she didn't dare touch him again. Even Ron, who was no fan of Kreacher's, looked troubled.

"I don't understand you, Kreacher," Harry said finally. "Voldemort tried to kill you, Regulus died to bring Voldemort down, but you were still happy to betray Sirius to Voldemort? You were happy to go to Narcissa and Bellatrix, and pass information to Voldemort through them..."

"Harry, Kreacher doesn't think like that," said Hermione, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "He's a slave; house-elves are used to bad, even brutal treatment; what Voldemort did to Kreacher wasn't that far out of the common way. What do wizard wars mean to an elf like Kreacher? He's loyal to people who are kind to him, and Mrs. Black must have been, and Regulus certainly was, so he served them willingly and parroted their beliefs. I know what you're going to say," she went on as Harry began to protest, "that Regulus changed his mind... but he doesn't seem to have explained that to Kreacher, does he? And I think I know why. Kreacher and Regulus's family were all safest if they kept to the old pure-blood line. Regulus was trying to protect them all."

"Sirius-"

"Sirius and Dani was an arsehole to Kreacher, Harry, and it's no good looking like that, you know it's true," said Johnny stern;t. "Kreacher had been alone for such a long time when Sirius and his family came to live here, and he was probably starving for a bit of affection. I'm sure 'Miss Cissy' and 'Miss Bella' were perfectly lovely to Kreacher when he turned up, so he did them a favor and told them everything they wanted to know. Hermione said all along that wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did... and so did Sirius."

"Kreacher," said Harry after a while, "when you feel up to it, er... please sit up."

It was several minutes before Kreacher hiccupped himself into silence. Then he pushed himself into a sitting position again, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes like a small child.

"Kreacher, I am going to ask you to do something," said Harry. He glanced at Hermione for assistance. He wanted to give the order kindly, but at the same time, he couldn't pretend that it wasn't an order. However, the change in his tone seemed to have gained her approval: She smiled encouragingly.

"Kreacher, I want you, please, to go and find Mundungus Fletcher. We need to find out where the locket- where Master Regulus's locket it. It's really important. We want to finish the work Master Regulus started, we want to- er- ensure that he didn't die in vain."

Kreacher dropped his fists and looked up at Harry.

"Find Mundungus Fletcher?" he croaked.

"And bring him here, to Grimmauld Place," said Harry. "Do you think you could do that for us?"

As Kreacher nodded and got to his feet, Harry had a sudden inspiration. He pulled out Hagrid's purse and took out the fake Horcrux, the substitute locket in which Regulus had placed the note to Voldemort.

"Kreacher, I'd, er, like you to have this," he said, pressing the locket into the elf's hand. "This belonged to Regulus and I'm sure he'd want you to have it as a token of gratitude for what you-"

"Overkill, mate," said Ron as the elf took one look at the locket, let out a howl of shock and misery, and threw himself back onto the ground. Johnny punched Ron in the jaw, sending Ron crumbling to the floor.

It took them nearly half an hour to calm down Kreacher, who was so overcome to be presented with a Black family heirloom for his very own that he was too weak at the knees to stand properly. When finally he was able to totter a few steps they all (minus Ron, who was still on the floor out cold) accompanied him to his cupboard, watched him tuck up the locket safely in his dirty blankets, and assured him that they would make its protection their first priority while he was away. He then made two low bows to Harry and Ron, and even gave a funny little spasm in Hermione's and Johnny's direction that might have been an attempt at a respectful salute, before Disapparating with the usual loud crack.