Harry Potter and the Simulacrum Seal

Chapter 14: Slightly Slytherin

Excitement battled pragmatism. Harry could imagine himself running into Hermione's room and jumping up and down on her bed, laughing and whooping. But Hermione might (probably would) hex him, and Ginny would certainly want to know what he was going on about.

So waking Ron was Harry's best option. But he reminded himself that he couldn't get too excited yet; he still didn't know if Regulus Black's middle name started with an 'A'. Everything else fit perfectly; a Death Eater would be in the best possible position to find out about Horcruxes and learn their locations.

And the note fit with what they knew about Regulus. He had tried to escape the life of a Death Eater and had been killed by them. If he'd known he was going to die, it made perfect sense that he'd want to hurt Voldemort as much as possible before he was murdered.

But Harry remembered the information Kingsley had retrieved for the Horcrux search. They were supposed to have checked all the people killed by Voldemort or the Death Eaters already...but now that Harry thought about it Regulus hadn't been listed there.

If Death Eaters hadn't killed Regulas, who had?

First things first: find out Regulus' middle name. Wake Ron. Maybe not in that order. Harry, his heart pounding with the excitement of a Quidditch match, walked quietly up the stairs and to the door of the room he shared with Ron.

When he entered, a rather loud voice whispered, 'And where have you been?'

The voice wasn't Ron's, so Harry held up his wand. But he immediately felt silly when he realized it was Phineas. Phineas Nigellus hadn't been around of late, possibly trying hard not to bother Harry - but there he was, staring sideways at the doorway, barely visible in the dark.

Excitement overtook relief as Harry realized that if anyone knew about Regulus, it would be Phineas. 'Phineas,' said Harry, barely bothering to whisper at all as he moved to kneel on the bed, gazing at Phineas avidly, 'I need to know about Regulus Black. What was his middle name?'

Phineas was galvanized by the subject. He ran his hand through his beard and looked throughful. 'Interested in the old House of Black, are you? Regulus was a fine boy, a true heir to the Black family. Rash like his brother, unfortunately, but never gave his parents any trouble, unlike a certain other Black I could mention -'

'Yes, yes, but what about his middle name?' asked Harry impatiently.

'Alphard,' said Phineas dismissively. 'I'm sure his mother would have liked to change it after all that business with -'

Phineas stopped; his audience had gone off to the other bed to shake Ron. 'Youth today,' he scoffed before leaving his chair and walking off to Hogwarts.

Ron tried to fend Harry off and go back to sleep, but once Harry's discovery made it through to his sleep-soggy brain, Ron and Harry nearly fell over each other getting downstairs again to tell Hermione.

Harry turned the doorknob to Hermione's room with aching slowness, Ron watching intently, and pushed the door open. But the door groaned loudly, and within seconds someone in the room shot a bolt of blue light toward them. Harry managed to cast a Shield Charm, and it bounced off harmlessly - but the next bolt was directed at Ron, who hadn't brought his wand.

'YEEARGH!' yelled Ron. In twos, small bats flew out of his nostrils and flapped around his head, biting him on the face. He flailed about and smacked into a wall, and Mrs Black's portrait started bellowing from below.

Ginny turned on the lamp by her bedside. 'Ron!' she said, slipping out of bed and moving past Harry into the hall. 'Hold still!' Meanwhile, Hermione pushed herself up groggily, staring into the doorway at Harry with an unamused look on her face.

'Harry!' said Remus crouching on the landing with his wand raised. 'What -'

Remus stopped as Ginny cast the spell to relieve her brother of the Bat-Bogey Hex. 'What are you two doing?!' she demanded.

As Ron was still holding his nose in shock, Harry felt obliged to reply. 'We, erm, wanted to talk to Hermione.'

'At this hour?' Ginny demanded. It was only then that both she and Harry came to realize that she was wearing a rather short, silky summer nightgown; Ginny crossed her arms; her face flushed just like Harry's.

'Erm...uhmmm...'

'Oh, never mind, Ginny,' said Hermione, coming out of the room wearing a dressing gown. 'I assume they have a good reason.' She glared.

'Indeed,' said Remus tiredly. 'But if you wouldn't mind closing off Mrs Black's portrait before you get to talking...?'

'M'kay,' said Ron nasally, still holding his nostrils together. As he and Harry walked downstairs, he commented, 'Bloody subtle.' Harry wasn't sure if he meant them or Ginny.

The incident was entirely forgotten, at least by Hermione, when Harry and Ron told her about Harry's find. Ginny had grumpily gone back to bed.

'I know what you're thinking, and I've already thought it,' declared Harry. 'We've already checked the people killed by Voldemort -'

'- but Regulus wasn't there!' she interrupted. 'So how did he die? Maybe the Ministry's records were mistaken? But it doesn't really matter, does it? What matters is where he put the locket.'

Ron frowned. 'If you were Regulus Black and you thought you were about to be offed by Death Eaters, where would you put it?'

'Somewhere safe,' said Harry. 'Where would be safe?'

'No, no,' said Hermione, shaking her head impatiently. 'He was going to destroy it, remember? And he didn't expect Voldemort to be looking for it any time soon. He would have kept it close.'

'Not too close,' added Harry. 'If it was with him when he died, the Death Eaters might have found it.'

'So he would have kept it somewhere other than on his own person, somewhere he had easy access to. Maybe he managed to destroy it, and maybe he didn't. He could have put it in a vault at Gringotts, or a secret hiding place of his own.' Hermione sighed. 'Now it feels like we're no better off than we were before.'

Ron nodded in agreement. 'Seems that way, but at least we can check the obvious places first. Maybe we'll get lucky,' stated Ron. 'So...how about here?'

'Here?' asked Hermione.

'Grimmauld Place,' said Ron. 'He lived here, didn't he? He could have stashed it here.'

Harry waited for Hermione to respond, but she just chewed on her lip. Ron said, 'Erm...maybe he wouldn't have wanted his parents to get in trouble...?'

'No, he was planning on destroying it, and Voldemort had no way of knowing it wasn't where it was supposed to be...so I see no reason why he wouldn't have kept it here. It makes perfect sense, actually...' said Hermione, deep in thought.

A look of horrified realization crossed over Hermione's face. 'Oh no. Oh no,' she said quietly, looking down at her lap, frantically contemplating some mysterious idea.

'What is it?' Harry prompted her.

Hermione looked up. 'Harry, if it was here...we cleaned up everything, didn't we?!' Another thought struck, and this time Hermione looked tearfully at her hands. 'Oh dear...I think we...Harry, it was in the drawing room.'

Harry blinked. 'What?!'

'It was right in all our hands,' she said in almost a whisper, her voice choked. 'W-we were trying to get it open, remember, but we couldn't! It was one of the things we chucked from the drawing room, right here in this house!'

Ron said an extremely nasty curse word, but Hermione didn't even acknowledge it. 'We threw it out,' Harry stated in disbelief.

They'd had the Horcrux, and they'd thrown it out.

'Wait, let's not panic,' said Hermione, breathing in to regain her composure. 'Let's suppose we threw it out. It's either in a dump somewhere covered in two extra years of trash or someone else in the house rescued it.'

Harry realized immediately what Hermione was driving at. 'Kreacher!'

And to everyone's surprise, Kreacher appeared, just like that. His gnarled old body pressed flat to the ground as he snogged the floorboards. 'Kreacher is home, yes, finally home...'

'Kreacher,' said Harry curtly.

Kreacher looked up at Harry with his usual loathing, and snarled as he said, 'Yes, master?' Before Harry could speak again, Kreacher muttered, 'Master is back in the mistress' house, oh, poor mistress, Kreacher is sorry, Kreacher does not want to obey the horrible boy -'

Harry glared. 'Kreacher, shut up.'

Kreacher's mouth slammed shut and stayed that way, as though his jaws were glued together. 'There was a locket in this house, in the drawing room. Did you take it?'

Kreacher said nothing, raising his head triumphantly at Harry and pressing his lips even more firmly together. Harry sighed. 'You can talk now. Tell me if you took the locket.'

Bitterly, Kreacher said, 'Kreacher found mistress' things - the things mistress' ungrateful, horrible son threw out - and hid them away in a hidey-hole place.'

Hermione grinned gleefully. 'That's wonderful, Kreacher! Where is the locket now? Could you bring it here?'

Kreacher scowled and muttered, 'The Mudblood girl thinks she can give Kreacher orders -'

'Kreacher, do what Hermione says,' ordered Harry.

'Harry, no!' protested Hermione. 'I don't want Kreacher to obey me just because he has to. It's barbaric!'

'Oh for - just get the locket from wherever you put it and bring it here, now.'

Kreacher's face took on a very twisted look that Harry thought might be as close as he could come to a smile. 'Kreacher's very sorry that Kreacher can't get master the locket now.'

'Why not?' asked Harry darkly, ready to throttle Kreacher by this point, as he didn't sound sorry at all.

'Beca-ause,' he began in a sing-song voice, rocking back and forth on his gnarled feet, 'Kreacher doesn't have the locket now. Kreacher saved the most important things - let him have the linens and the silverware and the young masters' things, kept the mistress' robes hidden...couldn't lose those...'

'YOU WHAT?!'

'Harry, shush!' said Hermione. 'It's still very early.'

'Let who have the locket?' demanded Ron.

'Mundungus!' said Harry loudly and with vitriol. 'I'll kill him.'

'At least it's not in the trash!' pressed Hermione. 'Calm down. We can still find it. Thank you for your help, Kreacher.'

'Yeah, now sod off - but stay inside the house!' he amended, remembering Sirius' sad, fatal mistake. Kreacher hissed with displeasure, but scuttled away. 'We need to talk to Mundungus.'

'It does seem that way.' Hermione sighed. 'I'm going back to bed. We may as well, Harry,' she said, forestalling any argument. 'Mundungus certainly won't be awake now, and we'll have to ask Remus about where to find him.'

'Fine, fine,' said Harry. 'We're just so close!'

'It'll wait a few hours,' replied Hermione wisely. 'Goodnight.'

'Do you seriously expect to sleep?' asked Ron, disbelieving.

Hermione paused and looked uncomfortable. 'Well, not really, but Ginny's probably still awake, and it will only look stranger if I don't go back.'

'Invite her out here, then,' offered Harry. 'We'll play Exploding Snap or something.'

'Well...' Harry could tell she was tempted. '...All right.'

At that point Luna wandered into the room. 'Good morning,' she said. 'I wouldn't mind playing too.'

'What're you doing up?' asked Ron.

Luna smiled, bare toes curling up against the cold floor. 'Oh, I don't sleep very much.' She sat down on the side of Harry's bed and swung her feet. 'What are you three up to?'

'Nothing,' they all objected at once.

Not suspicious at all, thought Harry sarcastically.

***

Remus was sceptical about their fabricated, flimsy reason for wanting to find Mundungus, and rightfully so, but he was more worried about their insistence on going alone. Ultimately he could only warn them that Mundungus floated around and would be hard to locate - he hadn't been in frequent contact with the Order since Dumbledore's death. 'Don't let yourselves be seen, and be careful,' said Remus.

'We will be, thanks!' called Harry, already on his way out the door, Ron and Hermione close on his heels.

'So how are we going to get there?' asked Hermione. 'We can't Apparate anywhere if we can't visualize the location, and we've never been to Mundungus' house.'

'Er.' Harry hadn't thought of that, and he'd feel like an idiot going back inside to ask Remus to help them out.

'Why are we going to his house anyway?' asked Ron.

Hermione frowned. 'What do you mean?'

Smirking, Ron said, 'Come on, this is Mundungus we're talking about. He doesn't seem like the sort to hang around at home. If I were Mundungus Fletcher, I know where I'd be at this time of day.'

'Really?' asked Hermione curiously. 'Where?'

'Diagon Alley,' Ron replied. 'Dad,' - Ron skipped a beat, but continued quickly - 'he said he caught Mundungus down there sometimes trying to hawk fake protectives. With any luck he'll be there today. Or someone down there'll know where he could be.'

It seemed to Harry as good a place to start as any, so the three of them Apparated (Ron hesitantly) to Diagon Alley.

***

Looking out at the new face of Diagon Alley, Harry felt a tug on his heart as he remembered how it had looked when he'd first seen it: full of activity, commotion, and all sorts of amazing magical things. Now it was worse than it had been the year before. There was not another soul in Diagon Alley aside from the three of them for as far as Harry could see, and some of the shops were boarded up - but at least the boards covered parts of the worn posters of Death Eaters plastered everywhere.

'It's gloomy,' said Hermione quietly, likely feeling the same about it as Harry.

'We - we should stop by the joke shop before we go,' said Ron, looking down the alley. 'Fred and George say it's still doing well - except they're selling more of their important stuff now.'

'I hope they're careful about who buys it,' Hermione replied stiffly.

'Er, yeah,' said Ron, shifting uncomfortably. 'I reckon so.'

Harry took a cursory glance further down the street. 'I don't think Mundungus is here. There aren't any people to sell to.'

'Let's just go,' insisted Hermione. 'I don't want to be here.'

'Fine,' agreed Ron, though he looked a little disappointed. 'Where to next, Harry?'

Ron and Hermione looked at him. Harry tried to think of something. 'How about Hogsmeade? At least we've seen him there before,' he suggested.

Off they were to Hogsmeade. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw people walking about, but also pulled his hood a little more firmly over his head, not wanting to be noticed. 'I suppose we should try the Hog's Head first,' he said, thinking that Mundungus was absolutely the sort of person who would hang around there.

The Hog's Head, in complete contrast to Diagon Alley, was booming - but considering the sort of clientele it attracted, Harry didn't consider this a particularly good sign. There were the usual cloaked and scheming patrons, so they would blend in nicely.

Harry went up to the bar and ordered Butterbeers for himself, Ron, and Hermione. 'Thanks,' he said as he took them. Up to that point, the barman hadn't looked up at him, but Harry realized belatedly that people probably didn't thank him very often in this place.

'Well well,' said the barman in a throaty voice. 'I know who you are. This ain't the place for your sort.'

Harry was bothered about being recognized, but he couldn't leave now. He felt Ron shifting beside him to get to his wand. Trying to sound confident, Harry said, 'I'm looking for someone.'

'You looking for someone's no good for my business.'

'The sooner I find him, the sooner I'll leave,' retorted Harry. He handed Ron and Hermione their Butterbeers and slid up onto a bar stool; then Harry leaned across the bar and, in a deep, threatening tone, said, 'Mundungus Fletcher. Have you seen him?'

The barman didn't act impressed. He took hold of a particularly dirty glass and rubbed at the inside slowly with his long grey beard, and Harry tentatively set his Butterbeer down, not too keen on drinking it anymore.

'Dung's not been round for a while,' the barman said casually. Then he fixed Harry with a stern look. 'You're alone?'

'We're with him,' said Ron.

The man scowled and poured another drink for a hunched fellow insistently tapping on the table. Then he got closer to them and said, 'Tell you what: I see him, I'll send him your way.'

The man who the barman had just served turned to them and, in a familiar voice, said, 'Eh, don't mind it.'

'Mundungus!' said Harry, rather loudly.

Some people in the bar turned to look, and Mundungus made a quieting gesture. 'Don't go making a scene!' he whispered. 'A bloke could get in trouble being seen with you! Whatcha want? Someone send for me? Shouldn't 'ave sent you -'

'No one sent me,' replied Harry. The patrons who had turned to look at them were still looking, and some were moving closer. Harry took out his wand, tried to look casual and unthreatening, and whispered, 'Muffliato.'

Then, confident they couldn't be overheard, Harry grabbed Mundungus' mangy coat and said, 'I need to know what you did with the stuff you nicked from headquarters.'

Mundungus looked down uncomfortably. 'I 'aven't took anything since Dumbledore gave me a talking-to about it. Don't you 'ave more important things to worry about?'

'You're not in any trouble,' said Hermione to reassure him, 'but we really need to know what happened to a certain locket. It's important.'

'Eh? That? Sold it to Borgin and Burkes.'

'Borgin and Burkes,' repeated Harry.

Ron groaned. 'You're joking.'

'Nope. Got ten Galleons for it,' he said proudly.

Hermione sighed. 'How ironic.'

After releasing Mundungus, Harry pushed himself off the stool and walked out, too disgusted to say another word. Once they were outside, he said resignedly, 'Back to London, then.'

None of them were pleased about the prospect of going to Knockturn Alley, particularly since Borgin had seen Hermione before. Furthermore, Ron was obviously a Weasley (and therefore too poor to appear legitimately interested in buying Slytherin's locket), and Harry was, well, Harry Potter.

They approached the entrance to Knockturn Alley with trepidation. 'Way I see it, Borgin'll just chase us out of the shop,' said Ron.

Hermione considered the situation. 'Hmm...maybe we should go by the joke shop first after all,' she said.

Harry was incredulous. It was one thing for Ron to want to visit his brothers, but Hermione wanting to procrastinate when they had a lead? 'You're not serious?! We're so close!'

'Like Ron said, Borgin won't talk to us,' said Hermione firmly, 'but I suspect he might talk to them.'

Ron blinked. 'Fred and George? Why?'

Hermione looked down, seeming reluctant to speak. 'I...It's just that I know enough about magic to know that not everything Fred and George have done has been completely above-board.' She turned away and started walking toward Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, unwilling to meet Ron's eyes.

Ron, miffed, followed her and asked, 'What do you mean by that?'

'Well...think about all they do. Fake wands, sweets that cause illness, explosives -'

'Fireworks!' insisted Ron.

'They still explode,' said Hermione. 'And what about the Decoy Detonators? The Darkness Powder? Those are just the things we know about.'

'Yeah, but...' Ron trailed off, but his grim face was protest enough.

'But we can't tell them what we're up to,' insisted Harry.

'Of course not,' Hermione conceded. 'They'd do anything for you, Harry. You gave them the money to start their business. Just tell them you need a favour and say you can't explain just now.'

They soon came upon the joke shop. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes seemed as busy as ever, a lone island of activity in the otherwise morose place. But while Harry could still espy U-No-Poo and other gag items through the windows, there was also a Shield Charm Hat on prominent display. 'Looks like they've gone public with those,' said Harry, pointing at the window.

Hermione had gone a little pale. 'They're advertising them?! What if a Death Eater finds out?'

'They're in the Order, so they aren't clueless about who's a Death Eater and who's not, and they've been pickier about who they sell to since Malfoy - look, see?' He gestured to the sign in the window:

ALL ITEMS IN DEFENSE LINE

REQUIRE SORTING BAT IDENTIFICATION!!

'Sorting Bat?' Hermione asked, curious. 'What's a Sorting Bat?'

Ron shrugged. 'I dunno.'

They walked inside. Verity, the Weasleys' assistant, was running the counter, so Harry figured Fred and George must be in the back. The three pushed their way through - but unlike the Hog's Head, people hiding their faces in Diagon Alley weren't normal, and the customers made way for them with some suspicion and whispers.

'Excuse me,' said someone tapping on Ron's shoulder. Ron turned and saw George (or Fred) staring down menacingly at him. 'But you're - hey, Ron!' Loudly, Fred said, 'No one worry, just my little brother!'

The customers, many of whom had been edging toward the door, went back to their shopping. 'You look like a Death Eater!' he hissed, flipping Ron's hood off.

'Do not,' said Ron. 'We're not wearing masks.'

Fred scowled. 'People are jumpy. You don't need to be wearing a mask.' His expression turned to surprise as he flipped Harry's hood off. 'What're you doing here?!' he asked in a low whisper.

'We need to ask a favour,' replied Hermione, removing her own hood.

'Can we talk in back?' Harry asked.

'Of course, my liege.' Fred mock-bowed as much as he could in the crowded store and then led them to the back room. They saw George fiddling with something in the corner. 'Hey George, Harry's here! Actually, it's sort of good you've come,' he said to Harry. 'We've got something to show you.'

'Almost,' remarked George through gritted teeth. 'This bloody thing won't -'

'Aw, just show him the unfinished version, he'll get the idea!' said Fred enthusiastically. As George struggled to pick up something heavy, Fred said, 'We heard about that simulacrum of your mum, and it gave us a brilliant idea. It's nowhere near done yet, of course, but - erm, let me just help get -' Fred helped George to heave the heavy object up, but even with both working together, it refused to budge.

'Maybe you should just come over here,' suggested George.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved to the corner, where a large black box that looked as if it were made of solid metal sat obstinately on the floor. 'It's just a prototype. Watch. Simulo!'

A mist rose up out of a tiny hole at the top of the box. Just as the simulacrum of Harry's mother had done, but slower, it formed the shape of a person - more specifically, of Harry.

Or, at least, it looked a little like Harry. The messy hair and the glasses were there, but the shape of his face was a little distorted. More obviously, it lacked Harry's signature scar on its forehead, and he was sure that he'd never had such a goofy smile on his face...

'We figure you could use it as a decoy - erm, once it's done -'

'And once it doesn't weigh a ton -'

'We're having a heck of a time with the scar -'

'A blood sample would be helpful,' finished George. The twins looked at him hopefully.

Dumbledore's words as they entered the cave to retrieve the locket rang in Harry's ears: 'Your blood is more important than mine,' he had said. Harry's brows furrowed unconsciously, and the twins noticed, for George said, 'Just a little.'

'A few drops,' said Fred.

'Well...' Harry's instinct was to say 'no', but he trusted Fred and George, and it seemed ungrateful to refuse to help them help him. 'All right.'

'Great! I'll get a knife,' said Fred too enthusiastically.

'Don't bother,' said George. He took Harry's hand and pressed his wand to Harry's finger. 'There.'

He moved his wand away, and Harry saw a drip of blood at the tip of his finger. It didn't hurt at all. 'That'll do. Fred?'

Fred produced a beaker and shook a few drops of blood from Harry's hand into it. 'Got it. Thanks. Hopefully we'll have this working in a few weeks -'

'Or months,' said George, not sounding too optimistic. 'It's a tricky bit of magic. Your mum must've been a whiz.'

Harry didn't have anything to say to that, but Hermione saved him from any awkwardness. 'What is a Sorting Bat?' she asked. 'It says in your window -'

'Ah, that!' George and Fred grinned at each other with a mischievous gleam. 'It took us ages to work out, but we think we got the hang of some of the magic that went into the Sorting Hat.'

Hermione's eyes widened; she looked extremely impressed. 'Really? That's amazing!'

'Yeah, it kind of is, isn't it? Anyway, instead of a Sorting Hat, we've got a Sorting Bat,' explained Fred.

George continued, 'Based on what we know of how the Sorting Hat sorts students, we trained the Bat to figure out which house a person ought to belong to.'

'You mean it reads minds?' asked Hermione.

'Yeah. That part wasn't too hard, actually. The Sorting bit was the trouble, but we got it sorted out,' said George.

'But the best part' - and here Fred and George grins widened - 'is that it's trained to take a swing at the head of any Slytherin who tries to buy our Dark Arts stuff!'

Ron's eyes gleamed. 'Brilliant!' he said.

'That's - that's horrible!' Hermione protested, her expression stormy. 'It's discrimination! Not all Slytherins are Death Eaters!'

The twins shrugged. 'Close enough. Besides, how many Slytherins have you heard of You Know Who offing?' said Fred.

'The rest of us need protection more than them,' added George.

'But not all Death Eaters are Slytherins, either,' Hermione pointed out, a note of triumph in her voice. 'Remember Wormtail?'

Fred gave her a dirty look. 'Yeah, we remember. What of it? So he's an exception.'

'Besides,' said George, 'just because he wasn't a Slytherin when the Sorting Hat sorted him doesn't mean he's not one now. People change, and he's definitely turned into a slimeball. The Sorting Bat judges based on how people are now, not based on what they were.'

'It's still unfair!' Hermione protested. 'And what if the Death Eaters use the Imperius Curse to get someone else to buy for them?'

'We can't cover everything!' said Fred angrily. 'We're doing the best we can! Would you rather us not sell to anyone at all? Then we'd go broke, and no one would be protected!'

'I'd rather you use your own judgement instead of relying on some stupid, irrelevant criteria like house!'

'We didn't come here to criticise,' said Harry to Hermione. He gave her a look, one that he hoped said, we need them, so don't get them angry with us! She seemed to get the message, but she still scowled furiously. 'We need your help, actually.'

'Anything at all, sir!' said George. Fred and George saluted, not entirely jokingly, and Harry explained their situation without mentioning Horcruxes or Voldemort specifically - saying that he needed to find out if Borgin had a locket once belonging to Salazar Slytherin and, if not, who he sold it to.

'Sure, we've been in there before - but, erm, don't tell Mum,' said Fred, lowering his voice as if she were there to overhear him.

'We'll ask about it after work and get back to you tonight,' said George.

Harry wanted to urge them to do it sooner - he wanted to tell them that it was really important - but he didn't want to give anything else away. So, with a hesitant smile, he said, 'That'll be great, thanks.'

'Anything for the Chosen One,' said Fred.

'And for the person who gave us our big break,' said George seriously. 'And before you go, tell Verity to grab you a few behind-the-counter items, free of charge -

'- and if you try to pay, I'll clock you with the Sorting Bat myself,' Fred threatened.

Harry thanked them again, and the three walked back into the store. Harry got quite a few looks on his way to the counter; by the time he reached Verity, he was certain he could sense people whispering around him. 'Erm, Verity, is it?' The young witch stared right through him. 'Right, Fred and George told me -'

Before he could finish, she ducked down under the counter and started rifling through whatever was back there. He heard more than one unladylike curse word before she stood back up and pressed a cardboard box into his arms.

Harry was just turning to go when an explosive pain slogged his forehead. He was knocked back, jarred by the impact, and stumbled into Ron, who steadied him. 'What was that?' he asked, swaying from dizziness.

'Stop it!' said Verity. The Sorting Bat, which was positioning itself for a second swing, froze and laid itself across the counter. Verity stammered, 'I'm very sorry, sir - it's never malfunctioned before -'

'As far as you know,' said Hermione scathingly, taking the box from Harry.

'I'll take it back to Mr Weasley and Mr Weasley,' said Verity, flitting into the back room with the Sorting Bat.

They left hurriedly and Apparated back to Grimmauld Place; Hermione Apparated with Harry, since he was still feeling a little out of sorts.

As soon as they walked in the door, Ginny pounced on them. 'There you are! They left over an hour ago!'

'Who left? What's happening?' Harry asked, the expression on Ginny's face telling him it was something serious.

In a rush, Ginny said, 'An attack somewhere in the Muggle world. The Order is backing up the Ministry. He, I mean Remus, sent Neville off to look for you - they tried to send a Patronus to get you, but -'

'Where?' demanded Harry.

Ginny groaned. 'I don't know! He wouldn't say! He thought I'd try to follow them! He just said, 'Let Neville handle it.''

'Of all the rotten luck,' muttered Ron.

'We've had nothing but rotten luck today,' said Harry, collapsing onto the couch beside Luna, who was reading an old issue of The Quibbler, 'but at least you didn't get called a Slytherin.'

Ginny seemed curious for a brief moment, but her interest was fixed on the recent attack. 'Where were you anyway? Why couldn't the Patronus find you?'

'Well, we were Apparating around quite a lot,' said Hermione. 'Even a Patronus can't Apparate. Anyway, it's probably too late now.'

The door slammed open at that moment, and Mrs Black howled. Harry and the others ran to the entrance and saw a fraught Neville kicking off his shoes. 'There you are,' said Neville breathlessly. Remus followed close behind, then Bill, Tonks, and, of all people, Cormac McLaggen.

All asked Harry some variation of, 'Where have you been?' McLaggen was rudest, shouting over Mrs Black that Harry had 'chickened out'.

'I can't believe he got to go!' Ron griped.

'You could have if you'd been around,' said Tonks, sounding very put out, 'but as you were off looking for Mundungus of all people...'

Remus, very pale and exhausted, said nothing, but he looked at Harry unhappily - almost disappointedly. Harry, feeling the need to do something, took it upon himself to struggle with Mrs Black's curtains for the second time that day.

'So this is headquarters,' said McLaggen, eyebrows raised in disbelief. 'Doesn't look like much.'

'What are you here for?' asked Ron, glaring.

'I'm part of the Order - that's all you need to know,' replied McLaggen in snobbish tones. 'Potter recommended me, remember? Good thing too, since you're so useless.'

'Let's move to the drawing room,' said Bill, noticing that Ron looked ready to jump McLaggen. 'We'll brief you on what happened.'

It had been more than a minor skirmish - at least two giants, Bill said (McLaggen insisted it was four) and several Death Eaters besides - but there had been no sighting of Lord Voldemort. A few Muggles were dead, but heavy casualties had been averted by a swift Ministry response. 'Thankfully a wizard who lives in the area notified the right people in time,' said Tonks.

'Yes,' said Remus. 'Someone you know, Harry: Horace Slughorn.'

'Slughorn?!' said Ron. He looked like he'd smelled rotten eggs.

'See!' said Hermione. 'There are good Slytherins out there!' The rest of the room looked at Hermione with variations of bemusement, confusion, and annoyance (the latter came mostly from McLaggen and Ron).

'I'm not sure how disinterested his motives were,' said Bill dryly. 'He was in as much danger as anyone else.'

'He could have Apparated away!' argued Hermione.

'He did - how else do you think he told the Ministry?' replied Bill. 'And he didn't go back to help.'

The wind in Hermione's pro-Slytherin sails dissipated. 'Well...he did help just by saying something.'

'That he did,' acknowledged Remus. 'The Death Eaters left with the giants in the end; none seemed keen on confrontation. They were just looking for an easy target. There's been a lot of that lately - it's hardly newsworthy anymore, at least to us.'

'The Muggles are reporting it like mad,' added Tonks, 'but only as accidents and natural disasters.'

'I don't understand it,' said Remus, frowning. 'I was expecting more out of this attack. You Know Who has gained a great advantage since his attack on the Ministry' - he nodded to Bill, and it was understood as a quiet gesture of respect for Arthur Weasley - 'let alone since Dumbledore's death generally, yet he hasn't pressed it. It's as if he's waiting for something.'

'It feels more like lurking,' said Tonks darkly.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Whatever Voldemort was waiting for, it most likely had something to do with Harry himself. But he couldn't imagine what...did he just want Harry dead first and foremost? Yet Voldemort had been dragging his feet on that for a while too.

'Maybe -' Harry stopped, surprised by the sudden, focused attention of the room shifting to him. 'Erm, maybe he's got something else to do.'

Remus frowned. 'What do you mean?'

Hermione continued where Harry left off. 'He doesn't have as many followers as he used to, does he? Maybe he's taking time to build up his forces. Or maybe he wants to besiege the wizarding world using fear until it caves in.'

'That didn't work too well last time, did it?' Bill remarked.

Remus wasn't as sceptical. 'It might have, if not for Harry. And it's a low-risk strategy for hi As long as the Death Eaters keep people watching their backs with a small attack here and there, he hardly needs to do anything more himself - especially after making a mockery of the Ministry's security.'

'We should get Mad Eye's opinion too,' said Bill. 'He was an Auror back in the first war.'

'He said he'd stay behind a while to help clean up - and to investigate,' said Remus.

'Investigate what?' asked Ron. 'It was giants and Death Eaters, right?'

Remus sighed. 'You know Moody. Anyway, this speculation does us little good; the best we can do is try to find You Know Who's location so we can plan an attack. Unless we get on the offensive, we'll spend our time trailing Death Eaters across Great Britain and never quite making it in time.'

'Erm...maybe that's not such a good idea,' said Ron. He shot Harry a pointed look, and Harry understood at once. They couldn't attack Voldemort until they found and destroyed the Horcruxes - but Remus, unlike Dumbledore, didn't know that.

'I think what Ron means is that I'm not nearly ready to face him yet,' said Harry baldly. 'We all know it. I couldn't even fight Snape.'

'Training you is our first priority, Harry,' replied Remus firmly. Leaning over, he added, 'I hope you realize we have no intention of forcing you to fight him. There are certainly a lot of high expectations of you, but only you will decide when - or even if - you face Voldemort.

'But speaking of training, you had best get back to studying. You've wasted the whole day searching for Mundungus on shaky ground. I hope you don't intend to shirk Occlumency.' Remus eyed him carefully.

'I won't,' Harry assured him honestly. 'I'll get to it right now.'

And he did, though he couldn't concentrate well: two things took precedence over Occlumency in his mind. The first was the locket: regardless of who had it now, Harry would have to get it back. He doubted that even the fortune in his vault was enough to purchase it, so he'd have to steal it. He shrewdly tried to think of a way to snatch the locket unseen from Borgin and Burkes. Surely there were protections against Apparition...maybe Fred and George would have some ideas, and they were clever enough to keep their mouths shut about it...

The second worry on Harry's mind was a silly, stupid, old one, but it wouldn't go away. What if the Sorting Bat was right? The Sorting Hat had wanted to put Harry in Slytherin, but Dumbledore had said, long ago, that Harry's choice to be a Gryffindor overrode that.

But if Harry was still Slytherin at heart - as Fred and George's invention seemed to think - had his choices made a difference? Regardless of how much red and gold Harry wore and how many basilisks he slew, he would always be a Parselmouth, and that was Slytherin's signature trait, so there would always be some amount of Slytherin in him. Perhaps Harry would have been even more like a Slytherin if he hadn't chosen to be a Gryffindor...maybe he was only slightly Slytherin now...

Yet the Sorting Bat thought he was Slytherin enough to whack, and that bothered Harry to no end.