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HP400- Slytherin's Locket!
🕑 Added 2025-03-28 21:03:38 +0000 UTCHarry’s eyes narrowed. “Fake?” he muttered. He unhooked the clasp and flipped it open. A small, crumpled piece of parchment fell into his hand. Unfolding it, he scanned the message inside.
To the Dark Lord,
I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.
Harry frowned. "Black?" He wasn't bothered about the soul piece—if it was dead, too bad. He could use them to strengthen himself, but it wasn’t a big loss even if it was gone. Slytherin’s locket though... He wanted it. And he couldn't be sure if Regulus had managed to destroy the soul within. Horcruxes weren't easy to kill.
Something in Harry’s mind clicked into place. The name—Regulus Arcturus Black—it tugged at a thread buried deep in his memories.
Then it hit him.
The memories he’d torn from Voldemort’s fractured soul fragments, half-forgotten in the chaos of everything else, resurfaced like a sharp blade cutting through fog.
A scene.
Voldemort, standing in the drawing room, asking Regulus to find him someone for a task. And Regulus, stiff-backed, dutiful, replying that Kreacher was the most capable of their house-elves and would serve his master’s needs.
Voldemort had taken Kreacher to the cave. Had forced him to drink the potion from the basin while the Inferi circled below. Kreacher had suffered through it, choking, writhing, screaming—and Voldemort had left him to die. That had always been the plan.
But house-elves didn’t obey the rules Voldemort thought they did. Kreacher had returned, broken and trembling, and told Regulus everything.
That was how Regulus knew.
Harry let out a sharp breath, his fingers tightening around the locket. He hadn’t thought of it before—he’d sifted through Voldemort’s memories too many times, focused on the Horcruxes themselves, not the faces in the background. But now that he had seen the name, everything had slotted into place.
Regulus hadn’t just changed his mind one day.
He’d sent Voldemort his own house-elf.
He’d seen firsthand what Voldemort did to those who trusted him.
That’s what broke him. That’s why he tried to fix it.
"Seems like I have to visit Sirius." Harry groaned. "Dobby!"
With a sharp crack, the excitable house-elf appeared, eyes wide and ears twitching. "Harry calls for Dobby! What does Master need?"
Harry smiled. "Can you take me to Grimmauld Place, please? This place has Anti-Apparition wards, and I'm too lazy to row back. Also, notify Sirius's house-elf that I'm visiting. I'll wait outside the house."
Dobby's ears perked up, and he gave a sharp nod. "Of course, Harry! Dobby will take you right away!"
A moment later, they vanished with a crack, appearing just outside the gloomy, worn-down building that was Number 12, Grimmauld Place. The narrow street was quiet, lined with identical, dingy houses that seemed to blend into one another. The house itself looked like it was trying to hide from the rest of the world, almost as if it didn’t belong there.
Dobby looked around, scanning the area with a quick, paranoid glance. "Dobby will call Kreacher now, Harry," he whispered, as if wary of being overheard.
A second later, Kreacher appeared with his usual miserable expression, looking even more decrepit than the last time Harry had seen him. The old elf’s bloodshot eyes widened slightly as he took in Harry’s presence, but he managed a shaky bow.
"Filthy half-blood..." Kreacher muttered under his breath before Dobby smacked him on the back of the head, making him stumble.
"The Great Harry Potter is not filthy, Kreacher!" Dobby hissed. "You will not insult Harry!"
Kreacher shot him a murderous glare but kept his mouth shut, barely restraining his muttering. Harry raised an eyebrow, amused by the exchange. "I’m here to see Sirius," he said. "Make yourself useful and let him know I’m outside."
Kreacher grumbled something incomprehensible and disappeared with a pop. Dobby stayed put, glaring at the spot where the other elf had been, as if daring him to reappear and say something else.
"You’ve gotten feisty, Dobby," Harry remarked.
Dobby puffed out his chest proudly. "Dobby protects Harry! Filthy Kreacher must not speak badly of Harry!"
Harry chuckled. "Thank you, Dobby, but words are just that—words. You don’t need to mind them." He shook his head. "You can return. Thanks for the help."
Dobby beamed up at him. "No worries, Harry!" With a loud crack, the house-elf vanished.
It didn’t take long for Kreacher to reappear, opening the door with his usual sour expression. Sirius stood just behind him, leaning against the doorframe with a lazy grin.
"Harry!" Sirius greeted, stepping forward and clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Didn’t expect to see you here today. Come on in."
Harry gave a nod and walked inside, casually glancing around the gloomy hallway. The place looked a little cleaner than before, though the air still carried that musty, neglected scent.
"Didn’t know you were going to swing by," Sirius said, leading him toward the sitting room. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah," Harry replied. "Just needed to check something. Thought you might have a clue."
Sirius raised a brow, looking curious as they settled into the worn-out armchairs. Kreacher skulked by the doorway, muttering something under his breath, but a sharp glare from Sirius sent him scurrying off.
"So," Sirius said, folding his arms. "What’s on your mind?"
Harry didn’t bother with any buildup. "Do you know anything about Regulus Black?"
Sirius blinked, caught off guard. He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. "Regulus? Why the sudden interest?"
Harry shrugged. "I came across the name recently. Just wanted to know if he’s related to you."
Sirius huffed, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah. Regulus Arcturus Black. My little brother." He glanced at the wall, where family tree was printed. "Died young. Stupid git got himself killed trying to impress Voldemort."
Harry gave him a questioning look. "Death Eater, then?"
Sirius scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. Joined up when he was barely out of school. Thought it was some grand family duty. Bloody idiot." He looked away, jaw clenched. "Honestly, he wasn’t a bad kid, just too deep into that pureblood rubbish Mum fed him. Thought serving Voldemort was noble or some shite."
Harry nodded, not saying anything. He noticed how Sirius’s expression had hardened, the old bitterness seeping through.
"He had a change of heart, though," Sirius muttered. "At least, that’s what I figure. Heard from one of the old house elves that he went off on some mission for Voldemort and never came back. Mum went mental when he didn’t return. Pretended he was still alive for years—talk about denial."
Before Harry could ask more, Kreacher appeared out of nowhere with a loud crack, nearly throwing himself at Sirius’s feet. His eyes were bulging, and he looked downright frantic.
"Master Sirius must not speak ill of Master Regulus!" Kreacher croaked, practically trembling. "Master Regulus was brave! Master Regulus was kind! He gave his life for the Noble House of Black!"
Sirius scowled down at the elf. "What the hell are you on about, Kreacher? Since when do you get to decide what I can and can’t say?"
Kreacher’s lip quivered, but he didn’t back down. "Master Regulus was not a fool! Master Regulus was brave! He—" Kreacher hesitated, looking panicked, like he’d just revealed a dangerous secret.
Harry glanced at Kreacher, who looked like he’d just revealed something he wasn’t supposed to. The elf’s hunched form seemed even smaller, his hands twitching as he stared at the ground. Harry considered pressing him for more, but Sirius being there complicated things. His godfather was too close to Dumbledore, and Harry didn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut if it got serious. He needed to tread carefully.
He shut his eyes briefly, activating his Astral Sight. A soft glow flickered in the lower levels of the house—a familiar, sinister presence. Another Horcrux. Regulus must’ve succeeded in stealing it, but it seemed he hadn’t figured out how to destroy it before he died. Harry clicked his tongue softly, considering his options. He could just sneak down there and take it, but getting past Kreacher wouldn’t be simple. House-elves were annoyingly good at protecting things they valued.
Even Voldemort’s cave couldn’t stop house-elves. Mostly because Voldemort didn’t think they were worth worrying about and never accounted for them when setting up his protections. That’s why Dobby had managed to Disapparate him out without a hitch, despite the Anti-Apparition wards. Harry had a hunch Regulus did the same with Kreacher—used the elf to get in and out of the cave without bothering with the boat or dealing with the traps.
Harry then got up, stretching his legs. "Have you eaten, Sirius?"
Sirius gave him a lazy shrug. "Just woke up," he admitted.
Harry smirked. "Figures. Let me whip something up. I'm starving too. I’d ask Kreacher, but he'd probably poison me."
Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "Sounds about right."
Harry made his way to the kitchen with Kreacher trailing behind like a surly shadow, muttering insults under his breath. Harry didn’t bother reacting, just gave him a sideways glance now and then. He could sense how Kreacher’s loyalty to Regulus still ran deep. That was something he could work with.
The kitchen itself was old and grimy, but at least the counters were clear. Harry flicked his wand to summon a few ingredients from the pantry. Eggs, bread, some rashers of bacon that looked a bit dodgy but smelled fine after a quick cleaning charm.
He cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl, whisking them up with some milk and a pinch of salt. The sizzling sound of bacon hitting the pan filled the air, and Kreacher eyed him suspiciously from the corner, as if judging his cooking skills.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Harry commented without looking up. “Got nothing to say while I’m feeding your master?”
Kreacher grumbled something unintelligible, but Harry caught the words “filthy half-blood” and “Master Regulus.” Harry just smirked to himself.
“You were pretty quick to defend Regulus back there,” Harry said casually, tossing the bacon with a practiced flick of his wand. “Why’s that?”
The house-elf’s wrinkled face twisted with indignation. “Master Regulus was noble! Brave! Died for the family honor!”
Harry hummed noncommittally, pouring the beaten eggs into another pan. “Died for honor, huh? Didn’t sound like that from what Sirius said.”
Kreacher bared his yellow teeth, looking like he wanted to lunge at Harry. “Master Sirius never understood! Ungrateful brat, he is! Master Regulus tried to make things right!”
Harry turned the eggs with a flick of his wand, careful to keep his voice calm. “Make what right?”
The elf hesitated, a glint of fear flashing through his eyes. He looked torn, his thin fingers twitching like he was struggling to hold his tongue. Harry noticed but didn’t push. Instead, he grabbed some plates from the cupboard and started piling on the food.
Sirius wandered into the kitchen just as Harry was plating the eggs and bacon. He eyed the food with obvious approval. “Smells good,” he said, sliding into one of the rickety chairs.
“Don’t get too used to it,” Harry shot back with a smirk. “I’m not your personal chef.”
Sirius grinned, grabbing a fork. “If it means I don’t have to eat Kreacher’s attempts at food, I might just chain you to the stove.”
Harry gave him a dry look. “Try it and see how fast your bed turns into a swamp.”
Sirius barked out a laugh and dug in, clearly enjoying the breakfast. Kreacher, meanwhile, was still lingering near the door, clearly agitated. Harry glanced at him and then at the hallway.
“You start,” Harry said casually. “I’ll go take a piss and be back in a minute.”
Sirius just gave him a half-hearted wave, too busy wolfing down his food to notice anything odd. Leaving the kitchen, Harry moved toward the basement, where he’d sensed the Horcrux earlier. He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Kreacher popped up in front of him, blocking the way, his beady eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Bathroom’s that way,” Kreacher grumbled, pointing at the stairs with a gnarled finger.
Harry crouched down to his level, keeping his tone even. “Look, Kreacher, I’ll be honest with you. You can’t tell anyone, especially Sirius. I found the fake locket and Regulus’s note. I know how to destroy it. Will you let me take a look?”
What item Kreacher froze, his bulging eyes widening with something between shock and hope. He wrung his hands together, muttering to himself, and then his shoulders slumped. He seemed torn between loyalty to his long-dead master and his ingrained duty to protect the Black family secrets.
"Master Regulus... Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to hide it... keep it safe..." Kreacher whispered, almost to himself. His grimy hands trembled, and he looked at Harry with something resembling desperation. "Master Regulus tried to destroy it... but it would not break... would not burn... would not yield... Kreacher could not destroy it..."
Harry gave a slow nod. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Horcruxes are nasty pieces of work. But I know how to break it for good. Let me handle it, Kreacher. Your master would’ve wanted it destroyed."
The elf hesitated, his lips quivering, and then finally gave a small, reluctant nod. "Follow Kreacher..." he mumbled, shuffling down the stairs. Harry followed, the air growing colder as they descended into the dank, shadowy basement.
They moved past stacks of old boxes, broken furniture, and layers of dust that looked centuries old. Finally, Kreacher led him to a hidden compartment behind a loose stone in the wall. With a grunt, the elf tugged it free, revealing a small, filthy box wrapped in layers of ragged cloth.
Kreacher pulled it out, cradling it in his hands like it was both precious and cursed. "Master Regulus... he made Kreacher swear to keep it hidden... but Kreacher failed... Master Regulus died... and Kreacher... could not destroy it..."
Harry carefully took the box from Kreacher, peeling back the cloth to reveal Slytherin’s locket, just as ornate and menacing as he remembered. The serpent emblem glinted faintly even in the dim light, and the oppressive feeling of dark magic clung to it like thick smoke.
Harry glanced at the miserable elf. "You did your best, Kreacher. Regulus wouldn’t blame you. Now, I’ll make sure his work is finished."
Kreacher gave a slow, shaky nod, clearly still overwhelmed. "If Master Regulus wished it... Kreacher will obey..."
Harry used Observe on the locket.
[System Message: Item: Salazar Slytherin’s Locket
Forged with ancient Parseltongue magic, the locket amplifies the bearer’s willpower and command over serpentine spells.
Enhances charisma and influence when dealing with magical beings, especially serpents and dark-aligned creatures.
Contains a mnemonic enchantment: allows bearer to delve into selective ancestral memories from Slytherin’s bloodline.
Secondary effect: Protection against subtle mental manipulation and enchantments.
Status: Corrupted — A fragment of a fractured soul anchors itself within, distorting the locket’s powers and projecting oppressive emotions onto the wearer.]
Harry smiled faintly. "Good item," he muttered to himself. Slytherin’s magic was always impressive. Too bad Voldemort had tainted it with his pathetic soul fragment.
Closing his eyes, Harry entered the Astral Dimension. His senses expanded as his body stayed grounded, but his consciousness stretched beyond, weaving through the tangled web of dark magic wrapped around the locket. The soul fragment pulsed like a festering wound, sending ripples of corrupted energy through the air.
Fifteen minutes later, when Harry opened his eyes, the locket was free of the soul fragment, but sweat was beading on his forehead. Voldemort hadn't picked his Horcruxes at random. While the Diary and Head Boy badge had sentimental value more than anything else, some of the others had clearly been chosen for their magical properties.
The diary and badge were simple—sentimental attachments with barely any deeper magic, just raw hatred and anger clinging to them. Helga Hufflepuff's Cup had made the soul piece inside it more resilient, feeding off the cup's magic to grow stronger through life force, making it the most durable one he'd encountered. The Diadem of Ravenclaw, on the other hand, had been crafty as hell—cunning and sharp, no doubt thanks to Rowena’s innate wisdom and magical insight. The fragment trapped in it was practically a schemer in itself.
But this one? The locket was something different altogether. The soul piece was stubborn, fiercely holding on, bolstered by the locket’s will-enhancing nature. It made the soul stronger, almost like it fought back when Harry tried to unravel it. Worse still, the locket had protection against mental manipulation, giving the fragment some resistance even against Astral Soul Power. It had been a real pain in the arse, but it was done.
Harry slumped against the stone wall, still catching his breath, and tossed the locket at Kreacher. The elf scrambled back, startled, then hesitantly holding, turning it over in his hands.
“You can see for yourself,” Harry said, wiping the sweat off his brow. “The nasty spell’s gone.”
Kreacher looked like he couldn’t quite believe it. He cradled the locket like it was something precious, his gnarled fingers tracing the serpent engraving. “Master Regulus... He... he would be so proud...”
Harry pushed himself up from the ground, stretching his stiff shoulders.
"You can keep the fake your master left in the cave," he said, pulling the fake locket from his pocket and tossing it at Kreacher. The elf caught it with shaky hands, staring down at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "But I need that one," Harry added, pointing at the real locket Kreacher still held.
Kreacher hesitated, his hands trembling as he glanced between the two lockets. Finally, he bowed his head and held the real one out to Harry with a slow, reluctant movement.
Harry took it, turning the heavy piece over in his hand. The snake motif glinted dully in the dim light, and he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of twisted satisfaction Voldemort got from his obsession with Slytherin’s legacy.
"You did well, Kreacher," he said, pocketing the locket. "Regulus would have appreciated it."
Kreacher didn’t respond at first, just gave a weak, miserable nod. "Master Regulus... was noble... Kreacher... failed him..."
Harry shook his head and gave Kreacher’s shoulder a light pat. “No. You did good. You kept it safe. And if not for you, I couldn't do what Regulus died for.”
Kreacher looked up, his shoulders a little straighter than before. “Yes, Master Potter,” he whispered, voice almost steady for once. For the first time in years, Kreacher actually looked free.
Harry nodded, satisfied that the old elf seemed to take some comfort in it. He glanced up the stairs, realizing he’d been gone longer than he’d intended. Sirius wasn’t the most perceptive bloke when it came to subtlety, but even he’d start wondering where Harry had wandered off to.
As Harry climbed back up, he could still hear Kreacher muttering to himself about Regulus, pride mixed with grief. He ignored it and pushed the door open, slipping back into the kitchen. Sirius was halfway through his second plate, clearly enjoying the food.
“About time,” Sirius said around a mouthful of eggs. “Thought you’d gotten lost or decided to redecorate the place.”
Harry snorted, dropping into his chair. “If I did, I’d start with throwing out that screaming portrait of your mum.”
Sirius grimaced, but he couldn’t hide his grin. “Merlin, if you could get rid of it, I’d kiss your boots. That bloody thing’s got lungs like a Banshee.”
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