Omnia Mors Perimit

Bobby had announced a visitor, with the most disapproving expression, but being asked who it was, he stated that the man hadn't given his name. Narcissa braced herself to throw another one of these insolent journalists out of her house and marched over to the visitor's parlour, irritated with what she saw. That guy surely was no writer, or one of the very unprofitable sort. His hair was light red and matted, with a bald patch on top, his robes were fairly ragged, and he had an air of overall scruffiness that couldn't but make her frown.

"Madam Malfoy," he beamed at her when noticing her entrance. "Such a pleasure!"

He headed towards her with his hand outstretched, but Narcissa didn't shake it. "Who are you, and what do you want from me?"

"My name is Mundungus Fletcher - you may have heard from me - I am dealing with antiques -"

She pointedly looked at his overcoat and pursed her lips. "I believe that at once, Mr Fletcher, though I have certainly never heard of you!"

"Never mind that now! I have come to you because I've lately come into the possession of a couple of items that might be of great interest to you -"

"One look around should suffice to see that we already have all the antiques we could want, Mr Fletcher, I -"

He didn't let her finish, but cried with a conspiratorial grin, "You will surely be interested in these though, Madam! I understand that you set great store by family values!"

"Family values?"

"Yes, indeed! It so happens that I have been trusted with the management of the late Sirius Black's legacy. I've found a number of objects that you -"

"Who trusted you with that?" she asked suspiciously. This man was a crook if there ever was one!

"His heir, Mr Harry Potter. I am sure you have heard of him!"

"Oh, yes," she sneered. "Him I have heard of. Let us shorten this procedure, Mr Fletcher - I have no interest whatsoever in my cousin's properties and must ask you to leave at once. Be so good and -"

He didn't stop smiling, producing a silver goblet from his inside pocket. "Not so fast, Madam Malfoy! Why don't you at least take a look at the pieces - finest goblin-made silver, equipped with the family crest -"

He put the goblet onto the nearest table, and went on to rummage through his pockets. Somehow he had managed to store no less than six solid silver goblets in his cloak, a complete set of silver cutlery for six persons, slightly stained, a signet ring that she recognised on first sight to have once belonged to her uncle, Sirius' gold-trimmed quill case -

"Mr Fletcher," she said icily, pointing at the last object. "You have not been trusted with selling these things. At least not by Sirius' heir. I strongly doubt that he would have authorised you to sell his godfather's personal effects!"

He gave her a stupid look, glancing at the quill case next, and hurriedly crying, "Now how did this get here? Of course you are very right, Madam, and thank you for pointing it out, or I might accidentally have sold Harry's dearest -"

"These objects are stolen, Mr Fletcher, don't you fool around with me! I will under no circumstances buy any of these things, perhaps you will bear in mind that only recently my husband has been arrested, and I will surely endure no further raids on this house for possessing stolen goods!"

"Now, now, Madam, don't be so quick in your judgement," he said thoroughly unperturbed, once more reaching into one of his pockets, storing away the quill case, and producing another piece of jewellery. This time however, Narcissa's heart missed a beat. For a second, she stared at the golden locket before her, but instantly got a grip again.

"You will take these things at once and leave, Mr Fletcher, or I see myself compelled to call for one of the Ministry wizards who are surveying this house," she hissed, pointing at the door. That last threat finally did the job; he looked mortified, hastened to put everything back in his cloak and headed for the exit.

Narcissa waited until she had heard the front door, stepped towards the window and watched him, almost running now. She breathed heavily and sat down for a moment. That locket - it had once belonged to her other cousin Regulus, he had got it for his Hogwarts graduation from his parents. That sneaky thief! This -

She wondered whether she shouldn't have purchased at least this one item, out of reverence for Reggie. He had treasured it so much, in fact, he had held it in his hands when he had been found dead. No, she told herself, this could just as well have been a trap to set her up, to make her buy a stolen object and have something against her after all. Perhaps Potter himself was behind this; he thought it was partly her fault that his godfather had died and wanted to get back on her -

Still, the idea was disturbing. Undoubtedly, this Fletcher guy would offer the locket to some random other customer, someone less suspicious, or less scrupled. Some person thoroughly unconnected to him would get Reggie's locket, not knowing, not caring, what this little thing had once meant to its owner. And then, she got an idea. She called for Bobby.

"Pursue that peddler who's just been here. You will tell him that you have been awfully attached to my uncle Orion and my cousin Regulus, and you will buy the golden locket that he is selling, and the signet ring with the Black family crest. In case he's asking - I have no idea about your unauthorised act. But you cannot bear that those personal things should fall into the hands of strangers - be a little creative. Tearful, if you've got to. Take some gold out of the master's usual box, and hurry! I want those two items!"