Search for the Broken Soul

Nightmares had prevented him from sleeping well and the next day Harry woke feeling as though his head was stuffed full of Bubotuber Pus. He groaned loudly as the early morning sunlight streamed in through the window and hit him across his closed eyelids.

"Bad night?" mumbled Ron from his bed across the room, sounding half-asleep himself. Next moment, however, both Harry and Ron jerked fully awake as a loud crack! split the air. Hermione had appeared in the room, a disorientated-looking Ginny clinging to her arm and giggling. Harry and Ron both jumped and instinctively clutched their bedcovers around themselves, which only made Ginny laugh harder.

"Shy, boys?" she teased. "We decided to come and say good morning."

"Couldn't you have just knocked, like, the normal way?" muttered Ron, his ears slightly red.

"I thought I'd practise Side-Along Apparition," said Hermione briskly, settling herself comfortably on Ron's bed. "It might come in useful one of these days. Which reminds me, Harry, you can take your test now. Ron's going to, too."

Ron sat up carefully, keeping the bedcovers wrapped around him so only the collar of his paisley pajamas showed. "Yeah, I think Mum's booked us in for sometime next week. You'll have no trouble though, mate, blimey, you've already Apparated, er - a lot..." he trailed off, looking suddenly awkward. Harry knew that Ron had been about to mention Dumbledore, and shrugged.

"You can talk about Dumbledore, you know," he said lightly. "We can't just avoid it. Besides, I think we need to talk about him. What did you think of Aberforth?"

"I never realised!" said Hermione, and they all looked at her. "Oh, come on, didn't you recognise him?" When Ginny and Ron shook their heads, she sighed impatiently. "Harry? Please don't tell me you didn't know who he was - you've seen him enough times."

"I thought I did," said Harry slowly. "But then I reckoned it must've just been that he looked like Dumbledore. The goat smell was familiar, though."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I should think so - The Hog's Head reeks of goats."

"Oh," said Harry, realisation dawning. "You don't mean - not the barman?"

But he didn't really need to ask - now that he thought of it, the tall, thin man behind the bar with his straggly grey beard and deep eyes did bear a vague resemblance to Albus Dumbledore. And Harry wondered why he had never noticed it before.

Harry sat there digesting this surprising piece of information, and as he sat, he began to think what an idiot he'd been. He'd seen Aberforth that day of the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army, not to mention seeing him again the next year talking with Mundungus in Hogsmeade. And now, he thought, mentally kicking himself, hadn't Mad-Eye Moody pointed Aberforth out to him in the old photo of the original Order of the Phoenix? He ought to have recognised the barman the first time he set eyes on him. He supposed he had been too disturbed by the shock of seeing his parents in the picture to think much of it.

"The barman?" Harry heard Ron saying, sounding confused. "That stinky old barman's Dumbledore's brother?"

And Harry had a sudden thought. "He could have been spying on us," he said slowly. "Dumbledore used to get information from him - I saw, in the Pensieve - Dumbledore said he was friendly with the local barman, that's how he knew all Voldemort's followers were waiting for him in the bar, that time he went to ask for a job at Hogwarts."

"We need to go and speak to him," said Hermione as soon as she heard this, and Ron and Harry nodded in agreement. Dumbledore might have given his brother some information about the Horcruxes - hadn't Lupin said only last night, Aberforth knew more than he let on?

Ginny was looking completely lost. "Harry, I don't understand - why do you need to talk to Dumbledore's brother?"

Harry chewed his bottom lip as he looked at her, Dumbledore's warnings to him ringing clearly in his mind. "I am going to ask you to ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else..." Harry knew he could trust Ginny with his life. But would this put her life at risk? Was it safe for her to know?

"Look, Ginny," began Harry, taking a deep breath. "There's - there's something I haven't told you. Well, there's quite a lot of things I haven't told you...sorry...but I don't think I can. It's because I don't want to put you in danger, honestly. Dumbledore told me to keep this to myself - and Ron and Hermione - because it might be the only chance of destroying Voldemort we get." Harry stopped there because the frustrated look on Ginny's face was more than he could handle at that moment.

"Harry!" she burst out. "Do you think I would go around telling everybody - "

"No, Ginny," Harry interrupted her quickly (he knew that, as with her mother, it was dangerous to let Ginny work herself into a rage) "I know you wouldn't ever, not deliberately. But we're talking about Death Eaters here, and about Voldemort. If you know what we know, it could - it could kill you. I'm pretty sure one other person has died because of it already," he added, thinking of R.A.B.

Ginny looked about to argue but Hermione crossed the room and sat down next to her on Harry's bed. "Ginny," she said kindly. "Harry knows what he's doing. It really is best for you to stay out of it. We may be talking life and death here."

"And you think I'll be all right sitting comfortably here, or at Hogwarts, just waiting to hear if one of you has been killed?" said Ginny fiercely. "You don't want me to know anything, so I'll never be able to help you! Surely the more of us, the better? And I couldn't stand it if - if anything happened, to any of you - " She broke off, blinking furiously as she held back tears, and Hermione patted her soothingly on the back.

"Ginny..." Harry began, awkwardly. He never knew what to do when girls started crying. "Look, I can't back down over this, I just can't. How do you think I would feel if you - if you died, because of me? Too many people have already. It's not that I don't want you in my life, that's just stupid. But not yet. Not until the war is over. If you stayed here, safe, I would be much happier than if you came with me, wherever I'm going."

"We dunno what we're getting into," said Ron quietly. "But we do know it'll be dangerous. And besides," he added, trying to lighten the mood, "what would I tell Mum?"

Ginny made a small noise, between and sob and a laugh. "Fine. All right, I'll stay here," she said, looking at the floor. "But Harry, oh Harry - watch your back... and you too, Ron, Hermione... I want you all back here in one piece after you finish off Voldemort," she said, half jokingly, though with a slight shiver.

Harry smiled regretfully, wishing it could be that easy. "Thanks, Ginny," he said simply, relief flooding through him, and he felt another burden drop from his shoulders.

But Ron was looking at his sister with an uncharacteristically shrewd expression on his face. "Promise us, Ginny," he said suddenly. "Swear you won't go following us or anything."

Ginny glared at her brother, twisting her fingers in her lap, and seemed about to retort angrily when she caught Harry's eye, and faltered. "I - oh, all right. I swear, I won't follow you," she said, almost defiantly, throwing her long red hair over her shoulders, and standing up.

"I'm going to have breakfast," she said, walking quickly out of the room, and they heard the sound of her footsteps clattering, not downstairs, but in the direction of her bedroom. Harry felt wretchedly guilty, sure that Ginny had left so they wouldn't see her cry. But it did not shake his resolve. He couldn't, and wouldn't, lead any more people into danger, just for him.

His thoughts were interrupted by Hermione saying gently, "Harry? While Ginny's not here, I think we need to talk. About - about You-Know-What..."

Harry sighed, but got up, and she watched him as he crossed the room and dug out the fake Horcrux from his chest of drawers. Soon, the locket lay innocently on the bed, illuminated by a ray of sunlight sneaking through a crack in the heavy black curtains. Hermione's forehead kinked as she gazed at it thoughtfully. Ron leaned over Harry's arm and prised it open. The note from R.A.B. fluttered out. Harry caught it instinctively, and he and Ron both scanned it again for further clues. But Hermione was still looking at the locket as though she was trying to remember something, and after a while, Ron looked over at her.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Hermione jumped slightly and glanced at him.

"I don't know..." she said slowly. "There is something - but I'm not sure - and I think, I might be right -"

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, before saying irritably, "When you remember us, we're here waiting patiently, as always," and Hermione shook her head slightly, as though trying to clear it.

"It's seeing that locket now, I - I just get a feeling I've seen it here before." Harry and Ron raised their eyebrows at each other.

"No, really," she said, biting her lip. "Harry, what was in all that rubbish we cleared out of the cupboards when you first came here?"

Harry stared at her.

"What, you expect me to remember that? From two years ago? I dunno...er, there was a box of Wartcap powder, er - an Order of Merlin..."

"And a locket?" she prompted eagerly. "Was there a locket?" Harry racked his brains, but he couldn't remember. If there had been...if there had been a Horcrux here, all the time....

"I don't know, Hermione," he said finally. "But I trust you. If you think there was, you're probably right." Ron nodded emphatically in agreement.

"Yes...I don't remember exactly, but I'm almost sure. What did Sirius do with all the stuff?"

With a sinking feeling, Harry remembered the many bin bags they had spent the summer filling with old Dark objects and rubbish from the cupboards.

Beside him, Ron groaned. "It could be anywhere," he said, casting his hands up in a hopeless gesture. "Sirius probably just threw it out."

"Back to Square One," Harry said grimly, already casting around for ideas, but Hermione was shaking her head, a gleam in her eye.

"I don't think so," she said, in a low voice quivering with suppressed excitement, and Harry and Ron stared at her. "R.A.B." she said quietly.

Harry frowned, not seeing where she was going with this.

"Where are we?" Hermione said excitedly, and Ron gave a half-laugh.

"Er, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, remember? Or had you forgotten?"

"Oh, don't be stupid," she snapped. "We're in the house of one of the darkest wizarding families - 'The Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black.' Well, what if R.A.B was a Black? 'B' would be the initial of his surname, right? So, what if he brought the locket back here?" And Harry gazed at her, mouth slightly open, marvelling at her brilliant mind.

"Hermione, you're a genius," he said sincerely. Ron was simply gaping at her. Hermione smiled, blushing slightly, and stood up.

"Where're you going?" said Ron, finding his voice.

"To look at something that will tell me exactly who this R.A.B. is, if he really was a Black - the tapestry. The family tapestry with all the names of the Blacks on it," she clarified, as Ron looked blank. Harry stood up too, excitement coursing through his veins.

"Let's go," he said, striding across the bare boards and opening the door, and together they made their way to the tapestry room.

They all paused outside the room when they reached it, memories of Sirius and house-cleaning flooding back to them.

"God, he hated this house so much," muttered Harry, as he surveyed the bare room before him, still smelling of damp and mould even after all Mrs Weasley's efforts to ventilate it. The dusty cupboards were empty, stripped of all their dark objects, and Harry glanced at them, trying to remember if there really had been a locket in them. But his mind was blank. Ron, on the other hand, suddenly let out a sigh of remembrance and Harry turned his head quickly, questioning Ron with a look.

"Yeah, I remember," said Ron, nodding. "There was a locket. Great heavy gold thing, we tried to open it, remember? But it was like, stuck. And," he added, looking amazed at his own brilliance, "I've just realised - Kreacher!"

"Kreacher?" repeated Harry, perplexed, but beside him, Hermione breathed a sigh of comprehension.

"Yes... yes!" she whispered, and suddenly turned to Ron and hugged him, hard. He went purple - either from embarrassment or because she'd cut off his air supply, Harry couldn't tell which. When she let go, after giving him a quick kiss, Ron reeled backwards, cheeks aflame and a mixture of shock and bliss stamped on his face. As he seemed incapable of normal speech, she continued, looking slightly amused.

"Kreacher came in, remember? And he took some of Sirius' things from the waste bags. So, what if he took the locket? Ron, you're wonderful." He flushed even more, his face clashing dreadfully with his hair. But Harry was still skeptical.

"What if he didn't? Sirius threw him out before he had a chance to nick anything." Hermione's face fell, but Ron punched him playfully on the shoulder.

"Don't be too optimistic, mate, I'm drowning in all that hope. We might as well ask Kreacher, just in case. There's a chance he could've sneaked some stuff out later."

"But for now," said Hermione briskly, "Let's have a look at that tapestry."

Together they crossed the dusty floorboards to the other side of the room where the ancient tapestry hung, faded and somehow strangely sinister. More memories came surging through Harry's mind... here Sirius had told him about his childhood, how he hated his pureblood family. How he'd run away from home.

Harry stared at the yellowed cloth, running his fingers over the embroidered names, and could almost hear Sirius' brooding voice in his mind as his gaze flicked from one name to another.

Elladora Black...Aunt Elladora, the house-elf decapitator... Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's mother... next to that, a small burn mark - all that remained of Andromeda, the shameful wife of a Muggle.

Bellatrix Lestrange... Harry's fists clenched as her stared at that particular name - Sirius' murderer. Harry was busy swearing to himself that one day, he would kill her in the slowest, most painful way his imagination could provide him with when Hermione's voice interrupted his dark thoughts.

"Harry!" she gasped. "Harry, look -" He had rarely heard her so excited, and he and Ron leant over quickly to read the name she was pointing to.

Regulus Black.

Harry's heart missed a beat. Regulus Black, Sirius' brother... what had Sirius said about him? His parents preferred Regulus because he was far more Slytherin than Sirius could even pretend to be.

Harry looked at the numbers beside Regulus' name for more clues and saw the date of death. So young to die... a memory was nagging at Harry's mind. And then it hit him. A realisation so strong he felt dizzy. And Harry's own words came back to him from that summer only two years ago, "Was he killed by an Auror?" "No, he was murdered by Voldemort...he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out."

But what if Sirius had been wrong? So few knew Voldemort's secret. If Regulus had been killed by Voldemort, could it not have been for a deeper, more sinister reason? "I know I will be dead long before you read this..." If Regulus had known, perhaps he had not been a Death Eater after all. Could he have been a spy?

"Harry," said a loud and impatient voice in his ear. "You're turning into Hermione. You going to tell us what you're thinking, or just keep sitting there looking enlightened?"

"Wha-? Oh - yeah, sorry," said Harry, focusing on Ron and Hermione. He'd almost forgotten they were there. Quickly he told them everything he could remember about Regulus, Hermione's eyes widening with every sentence.

"Oh, Harry, if he was - if he was really a good person! Do you think so? Yes, it fits, it all fits," she answered herself, and she began muttering inaudibly under her breath, forehead furrowed and eyes tight shut. Harry and Ron waited, not wanting to interrupt her train of thought. And after waiting patiently for five minutes, they were rewarded. Hemione looked up at them, the satisfied gleam in her eyes that she always got after completing a puzzle.

"Yes. He's got to be R.A.B. He was killed for finding out Voldemort's secret, he found the Horcrux but must have hidden it here before Voldemort hunted him down. Regulus was either always on our side, as a spy, and didn't tell his parents, or he was a Deatheater but turned traitor to Voldemort. I'm sure of it." Harry and Ron nodded all the way through her speech. Harry was still marvelling that the mysterious R.A.B. who had plagued him all summer was actually his dead goadfather's brother, but then his spirits sank as he thought again of the locket.

"Well, it's great we've worked it out, but I still think it's unlikely the locket's still here," he said, standing up and brushing some old, dry Doxy droppings off his robes. "We may as well have a look in Kreacher's room now, though, just in case."

Kreacher's old room, the little space in the kitchen that enclosed the boiler, looked much the same as ever, though with a forlorn, disused feel about it. The same filthy nest of tattered sheets covered the floor - Hermione's face fell as she looked in vain for the patchwork quilt she had given the elf - and tucked away behind a bundle of dirt-smeared rags which seemed to have served as a pillow, lay some small objects. Part of a wooden photo-frame stuck out, a silver watch-strap, and something else - gleaming gold Harry heard Hermione's excited gasp in his ear as he reached out quickly, heart thumping, and pushed aside the pillow to reveal the items entirely.

There was no locket.

All three groaned quietly in disappointment. The gold object was just an ordinary brooch, stamped with the Black crest. Ron pushed aside a silver music box, an Order of Merlin, and the photograph, searching in vain.

"Accio locket!" said Hermione firmly, pointing her wand inside the den. Nothing happened.

Harry shut his eyes, concentrated on the locket as hard as he could, and waved his wand to the house in general, "Accio locket!" They all strained their ears, hoping against hope to hear an object come zooming out of one of the rooms. But after a few minutes of tense silence, all three had to admit defeat.

"Okay, so the locket's not here," said Harry resignedly. "Well, where do we try next?" But before anyone could answer, they were interrupted.

"What are you doing?" said a suspicious voice at the doorway, and they looked all jumped and glanced round guiltily. Ginny was standing there, still in her nightdress, looking at them all as though they had lost their minds. Harry and Hermione both had their wands drawn from the Summoning Spells and Ron had been leaning back on his haunches, staring gloomily into Kreacher's den. Mrs Weasley appeared behind her, peering curiously into the kitchen. Ron slammed shut the door of Kreacher's den and Harry and Hermione hastily pocketed their wands, as Ginny and her mother entered the kitchen.

"Nothing, Ginny, nothing," said Ron evasively. "I just, um, got the wrong door, Mum, I, er - I thought it was the pantry," he added lamely, for his mother was looking at him shrewdly.

"I hope you three aren't up to anything dangerous again," Mrs Weasley said, hands on hips, and Harry could see she hadn't swallowed Ron's lame story for one minute. "Because I know you lot, can't stay out of trouble for five minutes, you're worse than Fred and George for making me worry sometimes!"

"Aw, Mum, we're all right," said Ron vaguely. "Just messing around, you know. Want to go to your room, Harry? Um, we could learn some magic from Hermione's books!" he said, glancing at Mrs Weasley who was now looking even more suspicious, and the three of them hurried out before she could ask any more questions.

Halfway up the stairs, Harry felt rather than heard someone close behind him, and turned to see Ginny stealthily following him, a determined look on her face. He sighed, knowing a confrontation was coming, but didn't try to stop her coming into his room.

"What were you really doing?" she demanded, the minute the door closed and they were out of range of Mrs Weasley's hearing.

Harry sighed. "Look, Ginny, it's to do with what I told you about earlier - "

"What you didn't tell me, you mean!" she shot back, hair looking redder that ever and her dark brown eyes flashing. She looks so beautiful when she's angry, thought Harry for a second, before concentrating on the matter at hand.

"Well, yeah - Ginny, look - "

"No, I've changed my mind," she said, her chin up defiantly. "You're not keeping me in the dark any longer, I mean it. Either you tell me, right now, or our relationship's over. Spill it." Ron and Hermione glanced at each other nervously, while Harry swallowed. She didn't mean that - she couldn't mean it! Ginny stood there, adamant, glaring at him, and suddenly he laughed. She looked startled, as if that wasn't quite the reaction she had been expecting.

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" he said lightly. "You've got me. Sit down, I'll tell you everything."

Ginny sat, her face still stunned, but beginning to show signs of excitement. As Harry told her the story of the Prophecy, the memories Dumbledore had shown him, and finally the Horcruxes and the task he had to complete, her expression changed from horror, to fear, and finally to determination as he finished. She didn't speak after he ended, rather lamely, " - and, well, that's it really." She looked up into his face, the old wonderful blaze in her eyes, and simply hugged him, hard.

Then she whispered in his ear, for only him to hear, "That's it, really... and I'll be with you all the way."

Hermione and Ron had been watching silently, Ron already looking anxious about, Harry guessed, the battle with Mrs Weasley later when they told him her daughter wasn't going back to Hogwarts, but was going with them to places even they didn't yet know. Hermione was smiling slightly - Harry knew she had never been entirely happy about his keeping Ginny in the dark. Well, what other choice did he have? But some part of him was proud to have such a brave, determined girl by his side, ready to fight for him, and Harry smiled too. It looked like he couldn't have stopped her anyway.

"Well, I'm glad to see you change your mind, Harry," said Hermione gently. She understood their feelings on both sides, Harry knew.

"But now we've sorted that out, we'd better not waste any more time. We know what we have to do next. Ask Kreacher - Harry, call him here, he might be able to tell us something."

"Do I have to see that wretched little elf again?" muttered Harry darkly. Part of him still blamed Kreacher for Sirius' death. The foul creature had lied to him...it had been his fault Harry had gone to the Ministry in the first place. But Hermione gave him a stern look, and Harry gave in, throwing up his hands. "Fine, fine...Kreacher!" he said firmly, focusing his mind on the elf, and the next moment there was a loud Crack! and Kreacher appeared, filthy as ever, bent low and glaring up at Harry through his yellowed eyeballs in greatest loathing.

"Master called?" he whined, bowing ridiculously deeply, his face mutinous.

"Yeah, I did," said Harry, looking down at Kreacher in distaste. "We want you to tell us everything you know about a golden locket that was in one of the cupboards upstairs."

Kreacher bowed again, his snout-like nose now scraping the floor, and began muttering to himself. "Master wants to know about the locket, yes he does, the locket that was mine, I kept it, I saved it for my mistress and young dead master, and now it's gone, he stole it he did, yes, and he had no right to touch young dead master's property, filthy tramp of a Mudblood that he was, oh if my mistress knew, she'd be furious - "

"Yeah, yeah, we don't need to know about Sirius' mum thanks, Kreacher, we hear enough from her portrait as it is," said Ron, cutting across the elf's rambling. "So who took it?"

Kreacher stared at Ron in utmost detestation and began muttering again, "The blood-traitor is trying to order Kreacher around, Kreacher will not answer, no, my mistress would be ashamed to see Kreacher talk to such a blood-traitor, oh she would...."

"All right, Kreacher, enough!" said Harry loudly, ignoring Hermione's reproachful glance. "Who took the locket?"

The elf tried rebelliously to keep his mouth shut, ears quivering in effort, but then as though he couldn't help himself, reluctant words came tumbling out. "That Mudblood took it he did, the filthy thief of a half-blooded traitor..."

Then Harry realised, and, knowing the 'filthy thief' to be out of their reach in Azkaban, breathed out the name in dismay, "Oh, God...Mundungus."