Harry Potter and the Rest of the Story

Harry Potter and the Rest of the Story

Chapter 2 - Lockets and Legacies

Thu, 10-Jul-1997 continued

The first change Harry noticed in the empty, propped-up portrait was the distant sound of phoenix song, which was followed by the image of Fawkes flying into view and landing on his perch. Though the phoenix song was not as powerful in portrait-life as in real-life, it still had the ability to lighten his heart, ease the pain, just a little. Then came the change he both hoped for and almost feared ... the figure of Albus Dumbledore stepped into view and sat behind the headmaster's desk he had called his own for so many years. It seemed that Dumbledore was also hesitant about this meeting, because he didn't immediately meet Harry's eyes. Then, he did.

"Hello, Harry," he said softly, trying to ignore the evidence of Harry's tears, which hurt him to see ... strange, how even as a portrait he still hurt to see the boy's grief. "Are you well? All things considered, that is ..."

It was strange, seeing Dumbledore again like this. "It's odd, sir. The first time I ever saw you, it was on a Chocolate Frog card, and now things feel like they've come full circle. I suppose I am well, all things considered. Is it appropriate to ask you the same?" Harry's voice was quiet, slightly roughened from his earlier bout of tears.

A soft chuckle answered him, "Funny you should ask. I was just observing that, at least to my perceptions, I still feel emotions in my portrait existence that seem no different than those I felt while alive. So, yes, I am also well, all things considered. And Minerva sends her regards as well."

"Oh," Harry looked chagrined, "were you two busy? I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I just received the package and ..."

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted. "Calm down. Minerva knew you would call soon, as she was the one to dispatch the owl. I have far fewer responsibilities now than I did before. I am no longer headmaster, nor chief warlock, nor supreme mugwump, nor leader of the Order of the Phoenix. I am only a portrait who will occasionally advise my successors, or gossip with my predecessors for the rest of my portrait's existence. In particular, I am a portrait who specifically planned to be available for you, for as long as you have the need, for as long as you wish, as often as you wish ... or not, as you wish. Only a crisis will prompt Minerva to call me away when I am in this frame. You, child, are my highest priority."

Harry didn't know what to say. There was too much to say, to ask. His hand fidgeted nervously in his pocket, where he kept the locket they had recovered just before Dumbledore was ... "Did you know that the locket was a fake, sir?" he asked suddenly.

The stunned look on the face of the former headmaster answered that question. "Tell me," he finally said.

"There's no mark of Slytherin on the outside, and there was a note inside, signed with the initials R.A.B." he said, pulling the locket out of his pocket. He dangled the locket on its chain in front of the portrait, so Dumbledore could see it. Then he opened the locket to remove the note. "He expected to die, but planned to destroy the Horcrux first. But we have no way of knowing if he did ... or she did," he amended, thinking of Hermione's insistence that the Half-Blood Prince might be a 'she'. No ... don't go there now ... He opened the note, holding it up for the portrait to read.

Dumbledore's eye grew wide. "It has been many years, my boy, but I have seen that handwriting before. And the content ... I believe that the only possible identity of R.A.B. is Regulus Aquila Black."

Memories assaulted Harry ... memories from his summer at Grimmauld Place. A tapestry with a burn mark where the name 'Sirius Orion' should be ... his godfather's voice, telling Harry about his younger brother Regulus, a Death Eater who reconsidered his choice ... and didn't survive long. Then a quick shift to the long hours spent housecleaning with his friends ... the image of a heavy gold locket that none of them could open ... "Kreacher!" he summoned with a cold voice.

A loud crack was followed by a screech from the decrepit old house-elf. "Kreacher wants nothing to do with the Potter brat. Kreacher wants Mistress Bellatrix or Master Draco. Kreacher wants ..."

"Quiet!" Harry yelled, then glanced at the portrait. "Sorry." Standing up and crossing his arms across his chest, Harry glared at his unwanted 'property' and snapped, "I don't care what you think, but you will keep it to yourself, do you hear me? You are forbidden to speak your opinion in my presence unless, one, I specifically ask for it, or two, you ask permission to offer your opinion." The old house-elf appeared to be trying to mutter his usual epithets, but no sound came out. "Good, I found just the right command that time. Now, I have a question and you will answer it with the shortest, factual answer possible ... no insults to anyone."

Harry took a deep breath, relaxed slightly, and sat down again. "The summer I spent at Grimmauld Place two years ago, when Sirius was still alive ..." He paused, seeing that the elf wanted badly to malign his former master, but couldn't. "When we were cleaning, I remember seeing a heavy gold locket. It may have been brought to the house by Regulus Black. Do you know where that locket is?"

Growling in displeasure that he had to be helpful to his despised master, he growled, "Yes, Kreacher knows where the locket is."

Harry could feel the anxiety growing, the anticipation. "Where is the locket?"

"The locket is with Kreacher's treasures. It belonged to a true Black and Kreacher could not let it be lost."

Harry glared at the elf to keep him from babbling on. "Bring the locket here to me now, Kreacher. That's an order."

"It belongs to Master Regulus and Kreacher keeps it safe. Kreacher will not let a filthy half-blood ..."

"Stop! You will keep your insults to yourself! I inherited you, and that proves I inherited everything in that house. You may not like it but I am your master. Bring me the locket, now!" Harry insisted.

With a loud crack, the old house-elf disappeared. About a minute later, he made an equally noisy reappearance with a small bundle grasped tightly to his chest, something wrapped in a bit of oily rag. He began to whimper and whine, "Kreacher's!"

"Unwrap it and show it to me, Kreacher," Harry ordered.

Hesitantly but reverently, the house-elf unwrapped the locket, catching hold of the chain, letting the locket dangle. He began to extend his hand toward Harry, then stepped back, shaking his head. "Won't, won't, won't!"

Harry could see well enough that there was a stylized S on the locket, what he remembered from the pensieve as the mark of Slytherin. "Kreacher, I want you to give me that locket. I am willing to consider giving you something else in return. Is there something you want?"

Dumbledore smiled in surprise that Harry would consider the house-elf's feelings in this way, and was inordinately pleased by the gesture. Perhaps he really did listen when I or Hermione said Kreacher should be treated more kindly, in spite of his behavior.

Kreacher, in turn, was flabbergasted. "The Potter brat wants to trade instead of take? Not even Mistress ever offered such a thing to Kreacher. Trickster ... it cannot be truth."

"I mean it, Kreacher ... something in return. A new room in the attic at Grimmauld Place, maybe, where you can live and keep your other ... treasures? Would you take that for the locket?" asked Harry.

"Potter brat must swear ... swear as a wizard swears ... Kreacher may have a place in the attic and keep treasures there. Swear!"

"I swear as a wizard and as the heir of Sirius Black that you may keep your treasures in a room in the attic that I will set up when I can use magic, as long as keeping those treasures does no harm to the house or anyone in it ..." Harry left it hanging a moment as he looked at Dumbledore, his glance asking if he had missed a condition he needed. Dumbledore merely smiled and nodded. "That is the trade, Kreacher. Now give me the locket."

Kreacher's ugly old face had an odd expression, then he nodded, stretching out his hand with the locket toward Harry. As Harry grasped the chain, Kreacher jumped back, as though stung, or afraid, then relaxed as no punishment, no betrayal was forthcoming. "May Kreacher leave?" he asked in an unusually quiet voice. At Harry's nod, he made his noisy exit.

Still holding the chain, Harry dangled the locket in front of Dumbledore's portrait. "Is it really the right locket, sir?"

"It truly appears to be, Harry. Can you open it?" he asked.

"None of us could open it last time, not me, Ron, Hermione, or Ginny," he commented as he reached to cup the locket itself in his hand. He almost dropped it as he felt heat and a tingling sensation. The locket, for just a moment, seemed to have a bright green glow, then everything was ordinary again. "That definitely didn't happen last time," he said with a shaky voice.

"And I did not see any evidence of such an effect in any of the memories I collected," confirmed Dumbledore. "Perhaps it is the result of a strengthening of your connection to Voldemort over the past two years, or even a strengthening of your own magic over that time," he mused. "Your 17^th birthday is in a few weeks, is it not? I'm afraid I've lost track of the date."

"Yes, in three weeks. Today is July 10. But what does my birthday have to do with anything?" asked Harry.

"For most wizards and witches, the 17^th birthday is simply the day one is considered a legal adult; for some rare few, it can be the time when one receives a magical legacy," Dumbledore's voice seemed to hold more than a touch of anticipation.

"And that means ..." Harry prompted.

"In some bloodlines, there are rare magical gifts, or other types of rare potential. Not everyone in a bloodline receives a legacy ... there is no guarantee that such magic will not skip one or even many generations. For instance, Tom received the legacy of the Heir of Slytherin, a legacy that apparently skipped Marvolo, Morfin, and Merope entirely."

Dumbledore decided he needed to backtrack a bit. "Normally, a legacy is conferred, if at all, on a person's 17^th birthday, though it can happen as early as the 17^th anniversary of conception. In Tom's case, I believe he received his legacy at the approximate age of 16 years, 3 months, though his Parselmouth gift was an exception, as it manifested in childhood. He created his diary-Horcrux not long after that." The image in the portrait stood up and began pacing behind the desk. "Some legacies consist of an unusual increase in magical strength; some are simpler gifts. Nymphadora's gift as a Metamorphmagus is a legacy gift, one that had not appeared in the Black family for seven generations. A magical heir, such as those of the Hogwarts Founders, Merlin, or other unusually gifted spellcasters, will often develop one or more rare magical talents as well as experience a great influx of power, a sudden utilization of dormant potential."

Harry watched Dumbledore with a little irritation. "Are you trying to say that I may have a legacy and you never said anything? Sir?"

"Legacies are rarely spoken of," soothed Dumbledore, "because of their rarity and because there is no way to predict them, to prepare for them, or to prematurely trigger them. They happen or they don't."

"But you suspect the possibility of a legacy in my future, don't you?" Harry challenged.

"A possibility, yes. Being a descendent of a legacy bloodline does not guarantee a legacy gift. Quite the contrary. Such gifts remain forever dormant in a person far more often than not. It was best not to raise anyone's hopes." He finally stopped pacing and sat again, gazing over his half-moon glasses so intently that Harry almost saw the old twinkle again. "Do you recall what I said to you about a certain sword three years ago?"

Harry paled. "You said that only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat. I had assumed you meant Gryffindor House. Are you saying I'm one of Godric Gryffindor's descendents?" Dumbledore's image merely nodded. "Do you know what possible legacy occurs in Gryffindor's line?"

"One or more of the following, Harry: extreme magical strength, wandless magic, a magical animagus form, unusually strong will power. There may be others, but those are the more obvious, known legacy gifts of the Heirs of Gryffindor," he finished quietly. "But your birthday may pass with no change in your powers to speak of."

"But you don't believe that, do you?"

Trying to put his instincts into words, Dumbledore hesitated. "In most areas, your magic is no more than a bit above average, yet in others, you show isolated cases of unusual ability. You were 13 when you produced a Patronus strong enough to drive away well over one hundred Dementors, and before you minimize that, the fact you did it from a distance only gave you a small advantage. I know of no adult wizard who could have done the same. Also, you have shown unusual force of will in resisting the Imperius curse, not only against Crouch Jr., but Voldemort himself. And during the Priori Incantatem you won a battle of pure will power against Voldemort. Before you say that he was weakened from his recent resurrection, I will point out that his will never diminished during the time he was disembodied. Only his physical form was probably weaker than normal for him."

Dumbledore smiled as he asked, seemingly out of nowhere, "Have you ever heard of any of your classmates experiencing accidental magic incidents after they begin school? It doesn't happen, you see. Once a student has a wand, once he has spent time during first year under the Hogwarts wards, accidental magic is a thing of the past. That is why underage magic is monitored as it is ... it is assumed to be deliberate. Yet you inflated your aunt that one summer without deliberate intent and without your wand. I have seen a few cases, when your emotions are running rampant, that magic flows wildly around you. Have you ever done any wandless spells since you began school?"

Harry thought back to the night of Umbridge's Dementors. "Well, there was one time I had dropped my wand, when the Dementors were after me and Dudley. I couldn't find it in the dark, and I called Lumos without thinking, and my wand lit up a couple feet away."

He grew nervous as Dumbledore's eyes widened at that. "Ah, I don't believe you mentioned that tidbit, my boy. Well, to bring this conversation around to where it started," he said, pointing at the locket in Harry's hand, "there is growing evidence that you will have some sort of legacy, and that your increasing powers, and possibly your link to Voldemort, may enable you to invoke some of the inherent magic in Salazar's talisman. If you recall, Hepzibah Smith commented that the artifact was said to have powers ... magic embedded in it. How that may affect its function as a Horcrux, I do not yet know. We must tread carefully, as I would not have you or anyone else risk their lives or worse to destroy that."

Harry thought awhile, staring at the locket, wondering how to open it. He fidgeted with it, then, staring at Slytherin's mark, a stylized 'S' that reminded him of the snake images at the Chamber of Secrets, he tried, in Parseltongue, a hissing, "Open!"

The locket popped open, engulfed in a green fire that burned brightly, but with no heat. He dropped it in panic. Tendrils of oily smoke writhed above the open locket, a noxious-smelling acid-green smoke that formed into the shape of a very large runespoor. Some instinct within him told him what to do. He reached both hands towards the smoky serpent, palms out. The smoke that had not coalesced into the runespoor collected around his hands, glowing green, but shifted in color from acid green to a brilliant emerald that matched the fire in his eyes. Again in Parseltongue, he snapped, "Begone!" The emerald green light around his hands erupted in a shower of sparks and miniature lightning that shredded the runespoor, which emitted an eerie shriek as it faded from sight.

And then there was quiet, with no evidence that anything had happened but a dissipating tendril of smoke and a faint, emerald glow around the locket, which faded to white, then disappeared.

Harry was trembling violently as his knees folded, as his eyes begged his mentor for answers. In a rough voice, Dumbledore whispered, "I need to arrange with Minerva and Filius to perform the Heritage Ritual on you. That was not remotely any part of Gryffindor's legacy."

As Harry awoke, he had a few moments where he wondered why he had been asleep so late in the day, and why he had such a monstrous headache. Then he remembered Dumbledore's portrait, Kreacher and the lockets. He had apparently been in shock, because he only vaguely recalled Dumbledore calling his name, then leaving the portrait, then returning. He thought someone had Apparated into his room, cajoling him into taking at least two potions, then leading him to bed. Probably Madam Pomfrey, if I had to guess. He glanced to his nightstand, retrieved his glasses, and saw another potion waiting with a note. "Take this if you wake with a headache. If the portrait is empty, call. P.P."

Looking around, he saw the portrait over on his desk chair, showing Fawkes, but not Dumbledore. As though noticing he was awake, Fawkes trilled then flew off. About a minute later, Fawkes led Dumbledore back into his 'office'. "Hello, sir," Harry greeted quietly. "How long was I out?"

"Due to your fatigue and the potions that Poppy poured into you," he commented with a grin, "you have slept eight hours, which is not much at all, considering you destroyed the soul fragment utterly, without damage to the locket or yourself." Dumbledore peeked over his half-moon glasses, watching Harry's response to that statement, letting it sink in. "Yes, when you destroyed the runespoor, the soul fragment was destroyed. When I dealt with the ring, the soul manifested as a salamander, which resulted in my injury before I could complete the job. Aside from being strained and drained, you seem to have had no adverse effects to using some type of Parseltongue magic to deal with the Horcrux. The locket, by the way, is over here behind my portrait. I asked Poppy to place it out of sight, though she only touched the chain, not the locket itself."

"I vaguely remember you saying something about a legacy that wasn't Gryffindor," Harry asked, sitting up now that his headache was gone.

"Yes, while you slept I asked Minerva to arrange for a Heritage Ritual at Hogwarts. She called in Horace Slughorn for me and he should be just completing the Potion component. You, Minerva and Filius will enact the Ritual. It is a complex combination of potion, transfiguration, and charms. Because it utilizes a sample of your blood, it falls in that area that Hagrid would call 'dodgy' ... not exactly dark or illegal, but frowned upon by many. I personally have no problem with blood magic when the blood is given voluntarily and for a non-trivial, non-damaging purpose."

Dumbledore hesitated, then continued. "I hope you don't mind that I went ahead with such arrangements without explicitly asking you first, but I thought that you would want to understand what happened as soon as possible. Mapping your heritage can identify significant ancestors and any legacies that have manifested among them. It will confirm your Gryffindor heritage and may determine if the powers you just utilized are your own or somehow related to your curse scar and/or Slytherin's locket. If you truly do not want to proceed, we can cancel the plans for tonight."

"No, sir, don't cancel." He paused for a deep breath. "I need to know, and you know me well enough to realize that," he said with a crooked smile at the headmaster who had once kept so many secrets from him. "It was ... weird ... I just seemed to know what to do by instinct. Something so very strong seemed to rise up inside the moment I began to speak Parseltongue, though I don't know that I could reach it now. Like the time I produced that one Patronus ... I normally can't do something that strong, but some instinct said I could, so I did. Is that why you think this also might be some kind of legacy?"

"Exactly. Now, I think you should get something light to eat, and if you're still tired, another nap wouldn't be amiss. Someone will come for you shortly before sunset at Hogwarts. Please let your relatives know you will be away for the night," Dumbledore finished.

"Not that they'd care," Harry muttered, as he rose to head for the kitchen.

"Oh, one last thing, Harry. That was very kind of you to negotiate with Kreacher for the locket, rather than simply order him to hand it over," commented Dumbledore with a proud glint in his eyes. "When you are ready to do that remodeling, I can suggest some spells to simplify matters, if you like."

Harry actually blushed a bit, touched by the fact that someone was proud of him, even if it was just for being tolerant of a nasty house-elf. "I'd appreciate that, sir." Just as he was about to leave the room, he realized, "You once told me that the Ministry didn't track the wand or the person, but the location where magic occurs. With Grimmauld Place being unplottable, would they know if I did magic there now, before my birthday?"

A broad grin on Dumbledore's face confirmed his guess, but the answer he received was only, "I couldn't say, Harry. I just couldn't say."

to be continued