3,102Chapter 56: The Past Affects the Future
A/N: For soon-to-be obvious reasons, this chapter contains quite a few direct lines from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
As they are somewhat unavoidable, credit for those goes to JKR.
Monday, 7th August 1995.
"And last, but most certainly not least," Albus noted, pouring in the seventh memory that the group had viewed in a row, "I found this one to be most illuminating."
The others gathered around matched those present at Slughorn's viewing, but they were seeming less and less impressed with his work with each passing memory. While Albus had secluded himself away at the school over the weekend and dug through every memory at his disposal, they had directly dealt with the single largest number of attacks since Riddle's first rise to power.
He knew that the entire Bones family were presently homeless, staying with the Longbottoms for the time being, as that well-protected home had been the only one to survive an attempted assault. And yet, Amelia looked as resolved as ever to find and destroy Riddle and his anchors.
Even Cornelius seemed to have a fire in him to figure out the mystery and put an end to this for good. His home had been significantly reinforced. A dozen Aurors now stood permanent guard and the goblins had been engaged to improve the defenses on the home. It would not do for the Minister to be harmed now. Such a thing would be disastrous for public morale.
"Please, we should continue," Albus said.
None of those present actually groaned at the idea of another memory, but he could feel they were starting to grow weary with the idea. Memories did not make for the most riveting viewing experience. They meandered like human thought often did. And could not be rushed or slowed by the user while inside the pensieve. Such was outside the abilities of the magic of those magical bowls which allowed users to explore other people's memories first-hand. Only when viewing externally could one use their magic to direct the flow of the memory beyond its original flow.
Regardless, the reluctant group dipped into the memory that Albus had found most important of those he had collated. The others they had viewed dealt with where Riddle might have concealed his last anchors. While this, Albus was almost certain, revealed the identity of those vessels.
When the five landed inside, the room they were in felt somewhat crowded.
There was the immensely fat old lady, that Albus well knew to be the late Hepzibah Smith, taking up most of a two-seater couch by herself. She was dressed in an elaborate ginger wig and brilliant pink robes that flowed all around her, giving her the look of a melting iced cake. Standing next to her was the poor house-elf Hokey, whose papery skin hung off her frame just like the crisp linen sheet she wore draped like a toga. Albus well-remembered his brief conversation with the elf, whose memory this was. She had not lasted very long after that short meeting.
But mostly, it was the cabinets full of little lacquered boxes, cases full of gold-embossed books, shelves of orbs and celestial globes, and many flourishing potted plants in brass containers that the viewers found themselves dotted about that truly had the room feeling overfull. It was like a cross between a magical antique shop and a conservatory.
And sitting opposite the large woman was the young Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was dressed plainly in a black suit, his hair somewhat longer than it had been at school, but not nearly as long as young Harry kept his. His cheeks had hollowed, and even though it suited him and made the man even more handsome than ever, Albus was left wondering if he had already begun dabbling in the rituals and spells that would alter his appearance so significantly over the coming decade.
Albus focused himself once more on the memory itself, rather than the environment within it. He already had it memorised, so had no problem following where the memory had progressed to as Riddle spoke.
"Mr Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armour," he offered. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair — "
"Now, now, not so fast," pouted Hepzibah, "or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!"
The poor woman was clearly taken in by Riddle's appearance and smooth demeanour. Smith had no idea that she was soon to depart this world in a truly unfortunate manner. A murder for which Hokey would soon be charged and executed, while Riddle made off with his prizes. Though that would not happen today, not in this memory.
"I am ordered here because of them," Tom replied quietly. "I am only a poor assistant madam, who must do as he is told. Mr Burke wishes me to inquire — "
"Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" said Hepzibah, waving a little hand. "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke!" She paused and leaned forward, a seductive little smile on her features as she eyed the young adult opposite her. "Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it."
"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," Riddle replied still quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle as she leaned back once more.
"I had Hokey bring it out for me… Hokey, where are you?" Hepzibah asked, twisting in her chair to see where her elf had gone. "I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure… In fact, bring both, while you're at it…"
"Here, madam," squeaked the house-elf, as she whisked past Albus's feet. Though all he could really see were the two leather boxes perched one on top of the other that otherwise seemed to be floating across the room, but were simply being held aloft by the wee figure as she wended her way between tables, pouffes, and footstools.
"Now," said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying them in her lap, and preparing to open the topmost one, "I think you'll like this, Tom… Oh, if my family knew I was showing you… They can't wait to get their hands on this!"
Her face had taken on a red tinge, and Albus believed he well knew the emotions that the doomed woman was experiencing here. Hepzibah was fully taken in by Tom's charm and sharing her secrets with him was almost an erotic experience for the otherwise lonely old woman. She peeled open the lid and Albus stayed back, allowing the others to get a good view inside. What was in these containers was the whole point of this memory, after all.
Albus had long since memorised the item inside. A small golden cup with two finely wrought handles.
"I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good look!" whispered Hepzibah, and Riddle stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings.
Albus focused on the young man's face and noted the momentary red gleam in his dark eyes. Riddle's greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah's face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Tom's handsome features. And yet, she did not seem to notice what Albus saw.
"A badger," murmured Riddle, examining the engraving upon the cup. "Then this was…?"
"Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" said Hepzibah, leaning forward with a loud creaking of her corset and actually pinching his hollow cheek. "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here…"
She hooked the cup back off Tom's long forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Riddle's face as the cup was taken away. Though Albus certainly noticed it. His attention in this viewing was mostly fixed around Riddle's actions and the vague wonderings of whether Albus could have done more to prevent the disasters to come.
"Now then," said Hepzibah happily, "where's Hokey? Oh yes, there you are — take that away now, Hokey."
The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Hepzibah turned her attention to the much flatter box in her lap. One hand rested gently over the surface, almost caressing the wood, but Albus assumed the woman was thinking of caressing something else in its place. She only lacked the courage needed to proposition the boy opposite her truly. Perhaps for the best, he thought, considering how things were to play out soon enough.
"I think you'll like this even more, Tom," she whispered. "Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see… Of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back when I'm gone…"
She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There, upon the smooth crimson velvet, lay a heavy golden locket. Riddle reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it.
"Slytherin's mark," he said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate, serpentine S. Albus did not need to view it directly to know they were made of tiny whole peridot and emeralds.
"That's right!" said Hepzibah, delighted, apparently, at the sight of Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. "I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value — "
There was no mistaking it this time: Riddle's eyes flashed scarlet at the words, and Albus watched his knuckles whiten on the locket's chain. He knew that Riddle had instantly made the connection. By this point, he had already murdered his poor father for the abandonment he felt. And framed his uncle Morfin for the crime. A crime that would see the man die in Azkaban. An undeserved fate, even for someone like Morfin.
But Riddle had always had so little information about his mother. The boy knew that he was named for his father and grandfather and that his mother died giving birth to him in that orphanage. But little else. This locket, however, he knew. At least by reputation. His uncle had made sure the boy knew his mother had stolen it from the family. Though Morfin had not truly understood the relation he shared to the boy that had visited him that day so long ago. Despite all the evidence that was laid before him at the time.
And now, Tom Marvolo Riddle held in his hand the heirloom that confirmed his lineage, the portion he didn't feel insulted to acknowledge beyond the most immediate members of it. His link back to Salazar Slytherin himself.
" — I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you are… Pretty, isn't it? And again, all kinds of powers attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe…"
Riddle seemed entirely unaware the woman was even still speaking, so fixated was he on the locket itself. When Hepzibah reached out to take the locket back, however, for a moment Albus saw the true naked desire in Riddle's gaze. Had he not watched this memory through multiple times in the past few days, Albus might even have thought Voldemort was not going to let go of it. As the true persona of the young man was shining through here at last. The first time that Albus had truly seen it for himself, even second-hand as this was.
However, Riddle allowed the locket to slide through his fingers and within a moment it was back in its red velvet cushion. Disappearing once more behind the wood and leather shield that would not keep him from it for very long.
"So there you are, Tom, clear, and I hope you enjoyed that!" Hepzibah said as she secured the box once more and looked up. She looked him full in the face and for the first time, Albus saw her smitten smile falter. "Are you alright, dear?"
"Oh yes," said Voldemort quietly. It took a moment, but the young man, though entirely still, shook himself back into the mask he now wore. "Yes, I'm very well."
"I thought — but a trick of the light, I suppose — " said Hepzibah, looking unnerved, and Albus felt his heart go out to the poor woman. She had seen the momentary red gleam in Voldemort's eyes. The true dispassionate desire that would soon leave her dead and her treasures stolen and corrupted. "Here, Hokey, take these away and lock them up again… The usual enchantments…"
Unfortunately for them both, Hokey and Hepzibah had revealed their greatest treasures to a man who would stop at nothing to collect them. Of course, he was not so brash as to do so now. When he was known to be attending the woman's home. That would be foolish, and even the aching desire so visible in Riddle was not enough to make him so reckless in his youth. Not while he was still so carefully carving out his protective persona.
"Time to leave," said Dumbledore quietly as the little elf bobbed away bearing the boxes.
He attempted to pull his body out of the memory, but suddenly he had an awful feeling of unsteadiness as the memory warped around him. Albus had seen several corrupted or manipulated memories, and while this felt similar, it was still very different to that experience. In a moment the scenery changed, although the room itself stayed the same.
Suddenly, Riddle was gripping the locket once more and, somehow, at the same time, the box with the cup was back on Hepzibah's lap sitting wide open to view. Two different moments of the memory existing together at once and frozen in place.
Granger stepped forward, her hair pulled back into a thick ponytail so as to keep it out of the other's faces as she joined them in the pensieve. The girl leaned down, giving both of the ancient relics a good look.
"So you believe that these are the final two items we are looking for then." She said, not a question but a statement of fact.
Albus, however, was focused on the fact that the memory was completely still. Not a molecule around them moved and he felt very unsteady standing in such a moment. Never in his one hundred and fourteen years of life had he ever experienced such an odd feeling. Being mobile and active in an entirely frozen environment.
"How are you doing that?" Bones enquired, though she too made the most of the opportunity and moved to look at the now-frozen relics before them. The still memory allowed them to get a very good look from different angles. A true marvel of the way that a memory taken from a single person's perspective played in the magic of a pensieve.
"It's not that hard. You just wrap the magic around you. Our magic is already within it, so taking hold and manipulating it as you want is rather easy. It's not like we're all physically standing inside of this memory, after all. These are just projections of our magic. We're all still up there, face down in the bowl." Hermione noted, pointing above them all. "That is why mum and dad could never use a pensieve. And it is how I got such a good look at the ring last time in Slughorn's memory. It helped to inspect it without having to hear the twaddle coming from the pair of them. It's quite ugly, isn't it." Granger mused as she got within inches of the golden locket and its gleaming S made of gemstones.
"I've never seen anyone pause a pensieve before," Albus murmured as he finally mastered himself in the odd stillness and focused back on the others.
"That's my girl," Harry whispered as he too moved to inspect the items, though he gave them only quick cursory glances before he turned to face Riddle instead.
The younger boy leaned in as he stared up at the face of the man who would try to murder him personally several decades from this moment. The bare face of Lord Voldemort revealed to the world in a frozen instant was chilling to behold. The once handsome features twisted into a visage of endless desire and hatred for the world. Voldemort wanted everything and cared for nothing. A dangerous mixture as he had later proven.
"Poor thing," Harry said as he inspected Riddle at close range. "She had no idea what she was dealing with. We will see to it that she is avenged for his crimes."
"How did he get away with it?" Cornelius asked, the only one to stay in place. He was here solely to remain informed on their progress so that he could properly coordinate the Ministry's response to Voldemort, not actively seek the anchors.
"Hokey, unfortunately," Albus replied. "Two days after this scene, Hepzibah was poisoned via her evening cocoa. An 'accident', of course, but Hokey confessed. The Ministry has no time for a homicidal house-elf. Accident or not. I was barely able to recover this memory from Hokey before her execution."
"You knew?" Harry asked, looking away from Riddle and facing Albus full-on for the first time.
Albus sighed. "Knew, no. If I knew the hard truth, I would have fought to save her from her fate. But when I heard of the death of a woman I had known that Riddle had visited… I investigated. That led me to Hokey just in time for those deaths not to have been entirely in vain."
"How did you know he had visited?" Granger asked, turning away from the relics as well, and now all eyes were focused on Albus.
"I had always suspected Tom. Of poor Myrtle's death all those years ago. Certainly of the death of his own paternal family. I had visited Morfin more than once in the arduous process of recovering vital memories from the man, even finally managing to uncover the truth of the Riddles' deaths from him shortly before his passing. Tom left a trail. It was difficult to follow at times, but I was persistent."
Albus felt Harry's penetrating gaze digging into him. Analysing his words and their truth. But he had no reason to lie anymore. The Stone was forever beyond his reach, and that was a good thing. Albus was truly thinking clearly for the first time in nearly a century. And it bothered him that he had possessed so many of the clues needed to figure all of this out for so long, but had been unable to connect the pieces until the poor boy before him had become so intrinsically involved.
He was no longer sure if the prophecy was absolute or not. So many facets of it seemed to be true. Riddle had marked the boy, and Harry most certainly possessed powers Riddle knew not. Yet, Granger had been adamant in her argument against the arts of divination. Doubts that Albus had shared for a long time. Doubts that would have seen the subject disappear from the Hogwarts curriculum over a decade prior had the woman not provided that prophecy during her interview.
Another hint that fate would have its due, ensuring that he received it. A man who was so caught up in his own dreams that he could manipulate others to see it come to fruition if necessary. An idea that Albus hated about himself now.
"Perhaps, were I a better man, I'd have solved this puzzle long ago, and Riddle would be but a bad memory to all by now. We all know that I failed, but I did try at least for a time."
The silence that filled the memory at his words was haunting. There was no ambient noise in the frozen moment. Nothing to distract the attention of the four staring up at him as he apologized so poorly for his inaction. Fear of losing the Wand's allegiance had allowed Albus to falter when he should have fought.
He would forever hold the embarrassment of his failures, right to the end. No amount of assertive action now could make up for the many lives that had been lost due to his fear and inaction. However, that would not stop him from trying. To the bitter end now, however long that may be. His final actions will be for the betterment of all once more.
"Fair enough," Harry said, accepting the answer and looking over the frozen scene once again.
The boy stepped away from Riddle and the relics, moving through the narrow gaps in the many cabinets, clearly deep in thought. But what he was thinking remained obscured for the moment.
"They're both very intricate," Granger said, musing aloud as she knelt down and carefully inspected the cup in its open box. "I wonder…"
Amelia carefully inspected the hanging locket and only Albus and Cornelius seemed free of deep thought in the moment. Albus was simply wondering when the pair of extraordinary children would allow the memory to move once more, or to allow them free of it.
"I think…" Harry paused as he turned back towards the others once more, now quite deep in the channels of clear floor, "...we should… check the houses again. The Death Eaters' houses."
Granger turned to look directly at the boy's eyes and some unknown understanding passed between them before she nodded. It was clear that the comment was directed only at the girl, and she clearly understood the deeper meaning he had within the words.
"We can't just order searches of any house we please." Cornelius rebuked. "Valid cause or not, we would need a legal reason to do so. Or my head will be on a platter before nightfall."
"Most of the places we'd need to search have lost their litigious guardians, Fudge." Bones noted.
"Nevertheless, if we are to retain our morality here, I must insist. If you wish to search a home, bring me valid evidence for doing so."
Albus was unsure whether to be proud or annoyed by Cornelius's insistence on the matter. It was good that he was unwilling to break the law in order to further a goal, but in this case that insistence could spell doom for many people. The longer Tom was allowed to survive, the more people would die.
"Ok," Harry said simply, as if he was entirely unfazed by the refusal.
Granger quickly joined him, physically once more as the pair grasped hands. It seemed to be their almost default state when together. It warmed Albus's heart to see that the poor orphaned child had not suffered a cruel life despite everything he had endured.
"I am serious. If anyone is caught snooping without a viable cause, I will not protect you." Cornelius added.
"Understood," Granger said, also sounding as if none of what Cornelius had said was in any way a bother to them in the slightest.
Given what he had seen the pair do, that may very well be true.
"I still think that Riddle gave at least two to his followers," Harry said, continuing as if the interruption had not occurred. "We know that Malfoy had the Diary. So one of these must have gone to another of his Death Eaters."
"Why do you think that?" Amelia asked, carefully watching the pair.
Granger answered again, counting on her fingers as she went. "One he concealed within the school that was so important to his rise and his youth. Where he learned the magic that made him Voldemort. One he concealed within the home that supported that heritage, squalid as it may have been. That is his proven link back to Slytherin and the support of his claims to greatness. One he kept with him in the snake. A companion made of himself in a way, the only person he ever trusted at all. And a constant reminder of his immortality after the disaster that saw his original body destroyed. Though I've no doubt he intended to keep one with him regardless, even if it was not to be Nagini in his original plans."
Harry continued the line of thought as if it were perfectly shared between the two as Granger continued counting.
"One he gave to his silver-tongued lieutenant. With the intention that someday that one would be needed for a greater purpose. Lucius was to hold it until that time and then enact its release onto the school. One he would have concealed in another location important to his rise. The school was where he finally became Lord Voldemort, the twat," Harry added the last in a whisper, "but it was not the beginning of his rise. Something, somewhere earlier feels like it would hold that appeal."
Harry glanced at Albus and he could see the boy was assessing the options he had provided earlier today. The half-dozen other memories all delved into locations that would have been important to Riddle. From the school where he had twice sought to gain 'employment'. To places that had seemed important during the lad's earliest years when he was coming into his abilities but still did not know his true power or lineage.
"Unfortunately, both relics would be equally safe in either situation, so it doesn't help to figure out which might have been which." Granger continued. "But it feels right for another to be given to a follower. Someone truly loyal to him as both reward and mission. They would not know truly what they held, but would know it was important to their Lord and that they are charged with its protection. Someone fanatical enough that they would never question why something was important."
Albus gave their train of thought consideration and it seemed sound so far as he could tell.
"Hence why you believe the homes may provide clues, if not the actual relic itself." Amelia summarised.
"Prove it for me and I'll sign the order right now," Cornelius said, his face showing he was perfectly willing to help, as long as that aid did not cost him his career. As much as the man had been cooperative till now, he was still a consummate politician.
"Leave it to us for now. We'll figure out who and find whatever evidence you need." Harry stated, as if it were so simple.
There was a pause as each of them considered the options before them.
"If everyone has had a good look?" Granger asked, checking them each for confirmation. "Then it seems we have research to be getting on with. The sooner we're done…"
"The sooner Riddle becomes a memory." Harry finished as the memory around them righted and Riddle stood from the couch, heading for the door as a shaken Hepzibah remained in place and Hokey disappeared into the hall, the two boxes once again held over her head.
The sudden movement was jarring and Albus swayed before all of them lifted back out of the finishing memory, landing solidly on the floor of the viewing room.
This time, the children led the way out of the room as Albus stepped forward and gathered the memory back into its vial. Amelia and Cornelius merely nodded to him as they too departed and Albus was left alone once more.
His mind was still trying to shake off the unease it had felt at the stillness of the memory and he tried not to dwell on how unusually powerful those two were. There were more important matters to worry about for now.
Perhaps, it was time to investigate some of the possible locations in person.
ϟ
Tuesday, 8th August 1995.
"Harry, no."
"Harry, yes." He replied to his godfather as the man prepared to leave for his childhood home once again.
Sirius simply glared at the boy for the cheeky reply, but Harry was not moved by the arguments that he had provided.
"Name one person on this planet better at sorting a library than Hermione Granger?" Harry asked, his smug girlfriend standing beside him as always.
"It's too dangerous. My mother was clearly mental by… well, long before the end." Sirius refuted.
"So we will be extremely careful and not touch anything. But we are coming, Sirius." Hermione said. "Dumbledore and Bones are investigating the locations, so we need to find the best ways to destroy these blasted things now, so we're ready the next time we encounter one."
"We need those books, Sirius. Many hands make light work. And this is how Hermione relaxes." Harry added.
"You don't get it, Harry. My family was insane!" Sirius snapped, and Harry knew that this argument was purely out of concern for his health.
"We know that, Sirius," Harry replied. "And we are very grateful that you're concerned for us both. But we've had this argument so many times now that you should know how it goes."
Harry tried to keep the smile on his face gentle and keep the smugness he was feeling out of it as Hermione continued his thought as always.
"You forbid us to do something that you know we can be extremely efficient and helpful doing, we pretend to let you win, then follow you and do it anyway five minutes later when you're no longer watching." She finished.
Harry knew his godfather had no way to argue that. Several times now the adults had voiced their extreme discomfort with Harry and Hermione going anywhere near anything to do with Riddle. But they had already destroyed two of the anchors personally and had been part of the attempts to destroy the other two. With Sirius tied with Riddle himself at one kill each, Harry and Hermione had proven twice as effective at destroying Horcruxes so far. And that was with no real knowledge of how to do it.
Once they had proper information, they could probably finish off the rest without breaking a sweat, unlike their previous attempts. Be it from exertion or sheer heat in the area of the more recent attempts.
"Sirius, they can help," Remus added, standing by his childhood friend.
Sirius swung on Remus and waved his index finger precariously back and forth in front of the werewolf. He looked as if he wanted to head off on a tirade at the man, but instead, he just looked rather lost as the finger movement continued for far longer than seemed normal.
"Ffff…fine!" Sirius yelled at long last. "You will not touch anything without my say-so. Got it!?"
He whirled back to face Harry as he said the last, finger still extended.
"Of course, Sirius. We're here to help, not hinder."
The elder man just glared at him for a moment and Harry kept his face as neutral as he could manage.
"Give us a minute to get everything unlocked. Then come to me and only me." Sirius added, stressing the accuracy to Harry.
"I'll be underfoot in no time, Padfoot," Harry said, smiling once more.
Sirius seemed as if he still wanted to argue the matter, but as they had pointed out, he couldn't really keep Harry away without turning the house's many wards against the boy. And knowing the Blacks, that was as likely to kill Harry as he passed through them as keep him out. And pass through them he would. Harry had not yet encountered anything that could turn away his ability to pop in and out of a location. Except for his own foolishness.
"Come on," Sirius said to Remus over his shoulder as he turned in on himself and apparated away.
Remus quickly followed suit and Harry felt Hermione's soft hand slip into his own.
"I don't like arguing with him like that." She offered.
"Neither do I, but he can be so damned stubborn sometimes. He forgets how grown up we are and just wants to keep us wrapped up so much."
"Can we blame him?" Hermione asked, leaning into Harry as they stood waiting for the timer to run out.
"No. He's been through a lot. I think we need to do something nice for him once all this stuff with the house is done. I can feel how much he hates it there. That's why I want us to help out. So that he can turn his back on the place for good and never look back. It will go much faster with us helping."
Hermione just smiled as she leaned her chin on his shoulder. "No argument here, Harry."
They waited silently for a little longer before Harry noticed a wide smirk growing on his girlfriend's face.
"What? What are you planning?" He asked, turning his head to look at her directly.
"Nothing bad. Just going to give him a bit of a jump."
"Hermione." Harry chided as he felt the signal in his magic from the two Marauders. But he was curious enough not to argue any further.
Instead, he allowed Hermione to pull him along as the pair vanished from the Manor and reappeared in a dark musty entryway with a loud crack of air. Harry couldn't help the spike of mirth that ran through him as he appeared inches behind Sirius's back and the man indeed jumped a few inches off the floor at the sound.
"NO!" He hissed before the sound was drowned out by an even louder screeching yell from nearby. "Why did you do that?" Sirius moaned.
"FILTH! MUDBLOODS! SCUM!" The nearby painting screamed as Remus and Sirius rushed over and began trying to shove the curtains on either side closed around it.
Harry glared at the howling woman within and stepped over in front of the painting. He snapped his fingers in anger as he stared at the now silent figure and Sirius and Remus both let go of their respective curtains immediately.
"How did you do that?" Sirius asked, gobsmacked at the silence despite the woman's repeated attempts to continue her tirade.
"Practice," Harry growled, glaring at the woman. "OI! Shut up!" He said, staring her down as she finally seemed to realise that none of them were reacting to her screeching.
Hermione stepped up next to Harry and she shared his anger at the foul things the woman had managed to get out in the short time she'd still had her voice available.
"I really don't like that word," Hermione said, pulling her wand out of the air.
"Who is this foul bitch?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes from her as she continued to yell. Shuffling forwards on her chair and shaking back and forth as if trying to force her voice out of the canvas.
"Uh… my birth mother," Sirius said dumbfounded at how easily Harry had silenced the woman. Something Harry had learned to do with paintings many years earlier. Surely his mother had told Sirius about that particular skill.
It was quite easy with elf magic, their natural manner of staying unnoticed led to many skills that silenced or concealed actions or sounds. Not that it had been remotely intentional the first time Harry had done so. He just wanted his mum to stop nagging him about bringing Hermione to the Manor.
"The one you hate?" Harry asked, saying the statement right to her face and sending it bright red in response.
Sirius just nodded.
"She's had it put in place with a permanent sticking charm though," Remus added, "so we couldn't pull it down or shut her up. We just hung the curtains because they muffle her nonsense when they're in place."
Harry finally turned away from the woman and glanced at his honourary uncle. Then he turned to his godfather and noticed that even through the shock, he bore a look of hatred when he beheld the woman in the painting. Throughout she had not stopped trying to scream and berate them all.
"Hermione," Harry said softly, no effort needed now to be heard over the silent woman. "I think I found what we can give him. Do the honours, please."
Hermione's face immediately took on a demented glee and Remus actually took a step back from her in response. Harry did not need to clarify his meaning to Hermione as he knew she felt the same way about the vile woman howling silently out at them both.
The girl lowered her wand and raised her left hand high, making sure it was very visible to the shaking woman inside the painting.
"Congratulations." She whispered maliciously. "We've been tempted to try this before, but never had cause enough to follow through on family. You get to be the first. Fuck off, you bitch."
She snapped her fingers and Harry pushed his magic into the elven magic spell as it first unravelled the canvas of the painting and then vanished it for good, unmaking it in the process. Unlike the magic they used to contain their wands in a pocket of non-reality, this magic dispersed the molecules that made up the canvas, paint and even the magic that imbued the picture.
It was almost beautiful the way that the paint peeled away and the canvas unwove itself rapidly from the edges as the strands disappeared into the ether, never to be seen again. Harry was sure that Sirius would treasure the look of sheer dread that flared over Walburga's face for the momentary instant when she realized her time was at an end before that portion of the painting vanished.
Within seconds, the painting was gone and all that remained was a gaudy but empty golden frame showing a rather pristine rectangle of the awful green wallpaper underneath.
Walburga Black was gone forever.
"NOOOOO!" A tiny voice howled and Harry was knocked aside by magic as something shot past and began crying at the foot of the empty frame.
Its magic was familiar to him, as he had not only summoned this elf forth to Stonehenge over a month earlier, but he had directly connected to its magic again afterwards as they had tried searching the homes of the Death Eaters through the elves' magic.
The elf had not been in a home at the time, having been sulking around Wiltshire instead.
"Get up you useless rotter," Sirius growled, stepping over and trying to haul the elf to its feet as it howled at the missing painting.
The elf tried to knock Sirius aside as he had the two children, but his magic would not come out. Harry realised exactly who this must be as he pulled himself back up to his feet and saw Remus helping Hermione up over by the base of the stairs. Just behind her, he could see the rest of the elf's family perched along the wall under the stringer of the stairs. Their heads at least.
"Kreacher, stop." He commanded softly and the elf fell silent as it stood defiantly.
Kreacher glared at him for a moment before he spoke. "Bring the mistress back!"
"Even if it were possible, we won't," Hermione said, watching the elf from behind as it stared down Harry.
"Filthy mud…" Kreacher suddenly stopped, his throat constricting harshly around the word in his throat. Harry hadn't even voiced the command and it had apparently worked to instantly prevent the horrid word from coming loose from the elf's lips.
While Harry was glad it couldn't insult Hermione, he still felt the uncomfortable ickiness of forcing another creature to follow his whims.
"Don't ever use that word again. If you wish to refer to any of my family, you will use their proper given name. None of these insults. Understood?" He added to the silent command.
Kreacher clearly wanted to rebel, but Harry could tell the command had settled over it fully. Instead, the elf settled for just glaring daggers at Harry.
Now that the entertainment had ended, Harry relaxed and allowed the odd feeling of the ancient house to wash over him as his magic began to probe the new location.
Hermione locked her eyes on him as he froze when, only a few metres above them, his magic touched something horribly familiar.
"Seriously, Harry?!" She asked with a confused squeak. "Another one, here?"
Sirius looked between the two confused for a moment before realisation washed over his features.
"Really!?" Sirius squeaked, the older man's voice sounding beyond surprised. "He gave one to my brother?"
Kreacher turned to Sirius and tried to verbally attack him for a moment, coughing as if he had a furball every time he tried to speak before he rushed forward and tried swinging at Sirius instead. However, none of the attacks came close. The elf's bond to the head of the Black family forced the blows to go wide. Kreacher was unable to physically or magically harm the head of the family to which he was bound.
"What the hell is going on?" Remus asked, clearly confused at the show before him.
Harry eyed the wee house-elf as it threw itself at the foot of the frame once more and began to beat the floor in anger and frustration.
"Don't speak of Master Regulus. He was a proper son who honoured the name of Black and the dignity of his bloodline. So proud, so happy to serve."
Harry tried to ignore the sickening feeling his magic had in response to the upstairs anchor as he focused instead on the elf. It seemed that there was a story here that Kreacher was privy to.
"Perhaps, we should find somewhere to sit and talk."