Clara woke early next morning, wrapped in a thin blanket on the drawing room floor. A chink of sky was visible between the heavy curtains. It was the cool, clear blue of watered ink, somewhere between night and dawn, and everything was quiet except for everyone else's slow, deep breathing. Clara glanced over at the dark shapes Ron and Hermione made on the floor beside her. Ron had had a fit of gallantry and insisted that Hermione sleep on the cushions from the sofa, so that her silhouette was raised above his. Her arm curved to the floor, her fingers inches from Ron's. Clara thought they had fallen asleep holding hands. She smiled at the idea.
She turned her head to her side, where Harry slept with his back turned to her. Her smile faded slowly. Suddenly, the idea of Ron and Hermione's romance made her feel strangely lonely.
Clara tiptoed out of the room. She wandered the halls for awhile. She came across an empty room and stood in shock. It was the room she had coaxed Harry out of during the holidays. She looked around at the dim room. Everything was the same except it was now very chilly.
The windows were open, blowing in small gusts of wind that caused Clara to shiver. She rushed over to them and closed them. She stayed in the room a moment, letting the past wash over her like a warm wave of sweetness.
"Clara!" shouted Ron. Clara ran out of the room towards his voice.
"What?"
"Godric!" said Ron from the bottom of the closest flight of stairs. "I've found her!" He called downwards.
"Tell her she's an idiot!" called Harry. Clara rolled her eyes.
"We thought you were kidnapped or something."
Clara walked towards Ron. "I was just exploring."
"Ron! Get Clara and come down here, now!" said Hermione. The pair ran down the stairs. They finally reached Hermione and Harry a moment later. Ron's wand was in his hand, aimed and ready to cast whatever spell came to his mind.
"What's up? If it's massive spiders again I want breakfast before I— " Ron frowned at the sign on Regulus's door, in which Hermione was silently pointing. "What? That was Sirius's brother, wasn't it? Regulus Arcturus . . . Regulus . . . R.A.B.! The locket—you don't reckon—?"
"Let's find out," said Harry. He pushed the door: It was locked. Clara pointed her wand at the handle and said, "Alohamora."There was a click, and the door swung open.
They moved over the threshold together, gazing around. Regulus's bedroom was slightly smaller than Sirius's, though it had the same sense of former grandeur. Whereas Sirius had sought to advertise his diffidence from the rest of the family, Regulus had striven to emphasize the opposite. The Slytherin colors of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bead, the walls, and the windows. It reminded Clara of Draco's room, only more established.
The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto, Toujours Pur. Beneath this was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage. Hermione crossed the room to examine them.
"They're all about Voldemort," she said. "Regulus seems to have been a fan for a few years before he joined the DeathEaters . . . " A little puff of dust rose from the bedcovers as she sat down to read the clippings. Clara, meanwhile, had noticed another photograph: a Hogwarts Quidditch team was smiling and waving out of the frame. She moved closer and saw the snakes emblazoned on their chests: Slytherins. Regulus was instantly recognizable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller and slighter than Sirius had been.
"He played Seeker," said Clara.
"What?" said Hermione vaguely; she was still immersed in Voldemort's press clippings. Clara looked behind her and noticed that no one was paying attention to her. Ron was on his hands and knees, searching under the wardrobe. Harry looked around the room for likely hiding places and approached the desk.
"Well, the locket's not here." said Harry, "Where d'you suppose it went?"
"Could be anywhere," said Ron, glumly.
They searched the two rooms nearest to Regulus' and still had found nothing. It was an hour later and the sun had risen now; its light dazzled them even through the grimy landing windows.
"It could be somewhere else in the house, though," said Hermione in a rallying tone as they walked back downstairs. As the rest of the group had become more discouraged, she seemed to have become more determined. "Whether he'd manage to destroy it or not, he'd want to keep it hidden from Voldemort, wouldn't he? Remember all those awful things we had to get rid of when we were here last time? That clock that shot bolts at everyone and those old robes that tried to strangle Ron; Regulus might have put them there to protect the locket's hiding place, even though we didn't realize it at . . . at . . . "
Harry and Ron looked at her. She was standing with one foot in midair, with the dumbstruck look of one who had just been Obliviated: her eyes had even drifted out of focus.
" . . . at the time," she finished in a whisper.
"Something wrong?" asked Clara.
"There was a locket."
"What?" said Harry and Ron together.
"In the cabinet in the drawing room. Nobody could open it. And we . . . we . . . "
"Kreacher nicked loads of things back from us," said Harry. It was the only chance, the only slender hope left to them, and he was going to cling to it until forced to let go. "He had a whole stash of stuff in his cupboard in the kitchen. C'mon. "He ran down the stairs taking two steps at a time, the other three thundering along in his wake. Clara took the back of the group and just hoped she wouldn't slip and accidentally create a domino effect. They made so much noise that they woke the portrait of Sirius's mother as they passed through the hall. "Filth! Mudbloods! Scum!" she screamed after them as they dashed down into the basement kitchen and slammed the door behind them.
Harry ran the length of the room, skidded to a halt at the door of Kreacher's cupboard, and wrenched it open. There was the nest of dirty old blankets in which the house-elf had once slept, but they were not longer glittering with the trinkets Kreacher had salvaged. The only thing there was an old copy of Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. Harry snatched up the blankets and shook them. A dead mouse fell out and rolled dismally across the floor. Ron groaned as he threw himself into a kitchen chair; Hermione closed her eyes. Clara kicked it away and it ran towards the door, scurrying to its freedom.
"It's not over yet," said Harry, and he raised his voice and called, "Kreacher!"
There was a loud crack and the house elf that Harry had so reluctantly inherited from Sirius appeared out of nowhere in front of the cold and empty fireplace: tiny, half human-sized, his pale skin hanging off him in folds, white hair sprouting copiously from his bat like ears. He was still wearing the filthy rag in which they had first met him, and the contemptuous look he bent upon Harry showed that his attitude to his change of ownership had altered no more than his outfit.
"Master," croaked Kreacher in his bullfrog's voice, and he bowed low; muttering to his knees, "back in my Mistress's old house with the blood-traitors and the Mudblood— "
"I forbid you to call anyone 'blood traitor' or 'Mudblood,'" growled Harry. "I've got a question for you, and I order you to answer it truthfully. Understand?"
"Yes, Master," said Kreacher, bowing low again.
"Two years ago," said Harry, his heart now hammering against his ribs, "there was a big gold locket in the drawing room upstairs.We threw it out. Did you steal it back?"
There was a moment's silence, during which Kreacher straightened up to look Harry full in the face. Then he said, "Yes."
"Where is it now?" asked Harry jubilantly as Ron and Hermione looked gleeful. Clara leaned in to hear the elf's quiet mumbles better. Kreacher closed his eyes as though he could not bear to see their reactions to his next word."Gone."
Clara's heart dropped for what seemed like the hundredth time today.
"Gone?" echoed Harry, elation floating out of him, "What do you mean, it's gone?"
The elf shivered. He swayed."Kreacher," said Harry fiercely, "I order you— "
"Mundungus Fletcher," croaked the elf, his eyes still tight shut. "Mundungus Fletcher stole it all; Miss Bella's and Miss Cissy's pictures, my Mistress's gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and— and—" Kreacher was gulping for air. His hollow chest was rising and falling rapidly, then his eyes flew open and he uttered a bloodcurdling scream." —and the locket, Master Regulus's locket. Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!"
"It's okay, Kreacher-" said Clara, reaching to put a hand on the small elf's shoulders. His agony reminded her of Dobby, and a part of her heart ached for him.
"Traitor!" Kreacher screamed in her face, "Filthy traitor! I've heard all about you from Miss Cissy. Disgusting, revolting... an embarrassment to-"
"That's enough." said Harry, stepping between Clara and the elf. Clara stepped back in shock. Was she a topic amongst her father's friends? Were they discussing her in the Death Eater meetings? Clara gulped and turned her back on the group. She pushed herself towards a window and stuck her head out of it, trying to drown out her surroundings.
By the time Clara had composed her mind of the rush of emotions Kreacher's remarks had brought forth, Harry was talking to the elf gently, "Kreacher, I want you, please, to go and find Mundungus Fletcher. We need to find out where the locket—where Master Regulus's locket is. It's really important. We want to finish the work Master Regulus started, we want to—er—ensure that he didn't die in vain."
Kreacher dropped his fists and looked up at Harry. "Find Mundungus Fletcher?" he croaked.
"And bring him here, to Grimmauld Place," said Harry. "Do you think you could do that for us?"
As Kreacher nodded and got to his feet, Harry pulled out Hagrid's purse and took out the fake Horcrux, the substitute locket in which Regulus had placed the note to Voldemort. "Kreacher, I'd, er, like you to have this," he said, pressing the locket into the elf's hand. "This belonged to Regulus and I'm sure he'd want you to have it as a token of gratitude for what you— "
"Overkill, mate," said Ron as the elf took one look at the locket, let out a howl of shock and misery, and threw himself back onto the ground. It took them nearly half an hour to calm down Kreacher, who was so overcome to be presented with a Black family heirloom fo rhis very own that he was too weak at the knees to stand properly. When finally he was able to totter a few steps they all accompanied him to his cupboard, watched him tuck up the locket safely in his dirty blankets, and assured him that they would make its protection their first priority while he was away. He then made two low bows to Harry and Ron. He gave a funny little spasm in Hermione's direction that might have been an attempt at a respectful salute and nodded his head sideways at Clara before Disapparating with the usual loud crack.