Several Miles from the Sun

CHAPTER FIVE: PUZZLES

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and stared at the map that had been set before him. It was a rather large map, mostly based on the United Kingdom, and yet there were certain areas that didn't appear on a normal map. A pin with a castle had been placed on the upper area of Scotland, and a green-coloured one in a remote area of England. A second green pin was in the middle of a city; London, by the looks of it.

"We thought we'd try looking for a pattern," Tonks explained. She and Kingsley were the only other people in the room. "Of course, we don't have a lot to base ourselves on, just You-Know-Who's orphanage and the cave Dumbledore took you to."

"I thought it'd be best if we marked Hogwarts, since you said that You-Know-Who had expressed interest in it," Kingsley added.

Harry took another green-coloured pin from a box and placed it in Little Hangleton. "Is there a pattern?" he asked, eyeing the map.

Tonks gave him a brief smile. "Not yet, but let us work on it," she said.

"I'm going to try and see if I can find information about this Smith woman," said Kingsley, peering at the map. "Maybe I can find living relatives. That bloody cup has to be somewhere. Probably right under our noses."

Harry looked doubtful at the prospect. "Ask around for possessions of Ravenclaw, too," he added. "It won't be something in a store, but probably something stolen or that has gone missing. Smith was a distant heir of Hufflepuff, wasn't she? Surely, Ravenclaw left her line something."

"I can ask a friend at the National Library. If we know who Ravenclaw married, it'd be easier to find some records," Tonks said, looking thoughtful. "I don't remember any stories of her getting married. She was always a bit of a wet towel, wasn't she?"

Kingsley shrugged, scrolling up the map and putting on his cloak. "We'll get back to you, Harry."

Harry nodded tersely, pushing his glasses up his nose again. There was something about that Smith woman that he had missed.

*

Regulus had read the newspaper, page by page, picking up everything from Sirius' incarceration, to the Minister of Magic marrying an American music star. It still surprised him that the Mudblood had provided him with something so valuable. And Professor McGonagall had called her the smartest witch in a decade, which was quite a bit of information.

She impressed him, Regulus had to admit as he tucked away his work and stretched, eyeing his mirror. He hated his appearance, he always had. His brother had taken all the good looks from their gene pool, leaving him with skin much too pale, boring brown eyes and a nose that seemed a bit too pointy. His hair was the only thing he appreciated, the way it curled naturally if cut a decent length. He wondered if he'd start aging now. Perhaps age would suit him; some men seemed to look better with the years.

Regulus stepped away from the mirror ("Dear, do you really want to try that maroon shirt?"), and left his room, wondering if there was somewhere he could be without being disturbed. The house was entirely run by the Order, and it seemed impossible to find a peaceful moment outside his room. But if he didn't leave soon, he was going to go mad.

Leave, that's what he wanted to do. He didn't care where he went, but being locked up was getting to him. He hated being under Potter's orders, behaving like the obedient mutt. And that house-elf.... It made him furious.

"Oh, nice to see you up and about." It was Granger, smiling at him nervously.

She was trying very hard to be friends with him, but Regulus couldn't imagine why. He supposed she was worth something, and her looks were not bad, although she definitely lacked the grace and charm Pureblood women had in their veins. Ah, Narcissa Malfoy, that was one beautiful lady.

"It's getting stuffy," Regulus replied.

Hermione followed him. "Yes, I can imagine it must be horrid being cooped up. Have you tried the garden? Mrs Weasley planted some really beautiful flowers. The fresh air might be nice," she said in means of conversation.

"Yes, yes," said Regulus, and waved her away, hurrying into the living room.

Professor McGonagall, who had come to keep an eye on things, was reading a book about some sort of murder on the Nile, looked at him curiously.

"Thank Heavens," he muttered, taking a seat opposite her. "The youth in here is suffocating. I could do a bit with the older peo--er."

"Yes," said McGonagall coldly, "that's me. One foot in the grave, Mr Black."

Regulus cringed. "Sorry, Professor," he muttered. He had always been slightly wary of McGonagall, but who in Slytherin wasn't? She was always yelling at them, handing out detentions and promising them that, if they didn't hand over that poisonous toad now, they wouldn't live to see their seventh year.

"You're quite a youth yourself, don't you think?" she continued, closing her book and eyeing him with a slight distaste that was evident.

"I only look so," Regulus said grumpily. "Not too mention that this isn't my idea of a good crowd."

The professor looked like she was biting back a scathing retort. Instead she gave a stiff nod and returned to her book, a signal she did not wish to continue speaking with him, and Regulus took it as an excuse to leave.

It pained him to know that there was no one he could be with within the entire house, excepting Kreacher, who had specific instructions to avoid Regulus. He had tried holding his mother's conversations, but she had been too busy yelling up and down about blood traitors, Mudbloods, convicts and werewolves to realise that her son was back from the dead. And then--

Then there was Granger, who, like an annoying insect, was hovering outside the living room.

"May I help you?" snapped Regulus. He wanted company, someone to talk to, someone who didn't have a completely biased opinion of him. So what, if he wasn't the smartest of the bunch? He had accomplished many things!

"I was wondering if you'd like to ask me anything about Sirius," Hermione said, looking taken back. "I can't promise to answer a lot, but I'll try. I can't imagine how horrible it is to lose a brother."

Regulus refrained from rolling his eyes. A brother? Sirius was anything but a brother. He eyed the girl.

Hrm, she is a pretty thing, he mused, and wondered what the best way to push Potter's buttons was.

*

Hermione studied the book in front of her carefully. It was so hard to find information about Horcruxes, and even the darker volumes in the library of Chadwick were of little help. The one she was currently holding held only a page worth of information, most of which was repetitive.

Horcruxes have long carried the controversy of whether or not they can be considered as homicidal objects. The removal of a part of the soul, while not damaging the body per se, is seen as a violation of the act of God, if not nature itself.

And so on.

Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes to take the exhaustion away. She agreed with the book; it was a violation, religion involved or not. To separate one's self like that--especially considering what Voldemort had done it for--was abominable.

It is important to note that a Horcruxes do not always work. In 1856, Andrew Isaacs used a Horcrux as an anchor to keep part of him on the Earth plane while he travelled Purgatory for research, she continued reading. However, as his wife and Isaacs's assistant report, upon sending himself to Purgatory the Horcrux--embedded in the couple's wedding album--blew up. As a consequence, Isaacs was stuck in Purgatory and never seen again.

Unfortunately she had finished the brief page and there was little real information about Horcruxes. It worried her. There had to be information somewhere, otherwise even Voldemort wouldn't have managed to accomplish one, let alone seven. She was looking in the wrong places.

But where was the correct place?

*

"Are you really leaving?" Ron groaned, sprawled across Hermione's bed.

Hermione looked up from her packing. "Don't play with that, you'll break it," she scolded teasingly.

Harry, who had been helping Hermione pack by unpacking her things instead, moved away before she could slap him.

"Honestly!" she snapped. "I need to see my parents for a few days. I'll return by the end of the week. Ron, pass me those books, will you?"

Ron obliged, commenting, "Are you taking half the library with you?"

"Don't be silly," said Hermione. "I want to do a bit of research. They're some very good books on the history of the Dark Arts. Some are a bit before Voldemort's times, but perhaps there might be clues to objects he would be interested in."

"Something of Gryffindor's?" Ron asked.

"No, there's only one left, and that's the sword," Harry said.

"Which is kept safely at Hogwarts, isn't it?" Ron said, trying to remember.

Harry nodded. "We need to find out the location of that cup," he continued.

"Is Lupin spending the night?" Hermione asked, deciding to change the sour subject.

"No, he has a meeting underground." Harry's face darkened. It was no secret that Harry had tried to persuade Remus to stop his goings with Greyback, but Remus had said he was closing in on something, and only needed to go for a few more days. "Bill and Fleur will be coming."

"I don't understand why we need the adults," Ron said. "We're all overage, aren't we? And Ginny doesn't spend the nights."

"They want to make sure we don't do anything stupid again," Hermione answered. "And I think I feel safer that they're here, don't you?"

Ron shrugged.

There was a brief knock on the door, and Mrs Weasley's voice caused the door to tremble slightly, "Hermione, dear, when you're ready, Arthur is here to escort you home!"

Hermione called back a quick answer and turned to zip up her bag. She gave a slight groan as she saw her belongings thrown onto the bed, and the cheeky faces of Ron and Harry as they made a quick dash for safety.

It was when Hermione was putting back her books into the bag, Ron and Harry had opted to wait downstairs, she came to a startling realisation that, yes, R.B. was more than just Regulus Black to them. Hurrying to the library, she ignored the pile of books that needed to be re-shelved, and searched for the volumes she had seen a few days ago.

There was a book on the noble and ancient history of the Blacks, updated by magic until the line ended, and that was what she needed in order to solve this puzzle.

R.B. was missing an initial.