Chapter 274. Handling the Locket
Moonlight poured like water over the desolate courtyard of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, sheathing the mottled stone walls in silver.
Adrian Wesson picked a flagstone patch overgrown with weeds.
"Sir, what are we to do?" Kreacher stood to one side, unease and expectation warring in his eyes.
"Don't worry," Adrian's voice was especially clear in the still night. "We'll begin at once; the preparations are done. And keep your distance from me."
Kreacher took a step back and saw Adrian produce a small, dark-red wand that glimmered faintly in the darkness.
It was the Flamewood Wand.
Only…
Kreacher's pupils contracted. The aura radiating from that Flamewood Wand made him tremble—this was a shudder and dread that rose from the soul itself, as if the thing within were about to devour him whole.
In truth, he was not mistaken: that Flamewood Wand was no ordinary wand.
Adrian had tried adding a little liquid Fiendfyre—Merlin knew how he'd conceived such a mad idea. Fortunately, Flamewood seemed able to restrain that perilous flame.
Under Kreacher's horrified gaze, Adrian tossed the locket high into the air. The emerald gleamed in the moonlight with a sinister light, like an evil eye.
At the instant before it began to fall, he gave the Flamewood Wand a light flick.
A torrent of flame burst from the wand, pouncing on the locket as though it had found its prey.
In mid-air the fire twisted and warped, taking on the form of a phoenix—only this was nothing like the holy creature people imagined. Faces, warped and contorted, crawled over its wings, each one screaming in silence.
Adrian frowned; at this moment he felt like a Dark wizard.
All right, that didn't matter.
Being able to cast Dark magic didn't make him a Dark wizard. Kreacher, terrified, clapped his hands over his ears and flattened himself to the ground as the phoenix spread its wings and swallowed the locket whole.
"Ahhh—!"
An inhuman howl burst from within the locket.
A twisted human face surfaced on its casing, somewhat like the boy Tom Riddle Adrian had seen in the diary.
The very next second, the howl cut off abruptly, as if some force had throttled it. The phoenix born of Fiendfyre swept back into the Flamewood Wand in Adrian's hand.
The courtyard fell into uncanny silence; even the night breeze ceased to flow.
At the same time, Adrian's pocket grew heavy, as though something had dropped into it.
"It's done, Kreacher," Adrian said, wiping at the nonexistent sweat on his brow. "There's not even ash left."
Shaking, Kreacher pushed himself up from the ground. It had all happened in an instant, but he was utterly terrified—he had thought that flaming monster would swallow him too.
"Master Regulus…" After a moment, he began to sob. "Kreacher has fulfilled his task."
Seeing this, Adrian made to leave at once. In this state, Kreacher might go on for quite a while.
Just then a voice came from behind.
"That phoenix shape is far uglier than Fawkes."
Adrian turned. Dumbledore was standing beneath the courtyard arch, wearing his usual deep-blue dressing gown embroidered with stars and moons, smiling at them.
"Good evening, Adrian," Dumbledore said, striding forward. "It looks like you've dealt with a great trouble."
"Ah, yes," Adrian nodded evenly, slipping the wand into his sleeve without a ripple. "When did you get here?"
Dumbledore smiled a little. "Don't forget I live next door to you. I was asleep, but a little fellow kept butting the wall with his head and making a dreadful racket."
He added a conspiratorial blink. "You cannot expect an old man's sleep to be of very high quality."
"Would you like some Dreamless Sleep Potion?" Adrian offered solicitously. "I promise mine is sweeter than Snape's. What flavour do you fancy—how about lemon sherbet?"
"But Madam Pomfrey has told me not to eat too many sweets," Dumbledore waved it off. "Very well—let's talk business. What you just burned was…"
"Voldemort's Horcrux," Adrian said bluntly. "Like the diary before."
"How curious," Dumbledore looked mildly surprised. "Hidden in Sirius's ancestral home—inside a cupboard."
"I think so too, but there it was." Adrian spread his hands.
"But I recall telling you," Dumbledore's voice turned grave, "that when you find one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, you are to inform me at once. They are very dangerous."
Adrian shrugged and did not answer.
Seeing this, Dumbledore sighed. Young people were truly hard to manage nowadays.
Half an hour later, in the drawing room.
At the cost of an entire bottle of Calming Draught, Adrian had succeeded in settling Kreacher again.
Adrian and Dumbledore sat on the sofa, listening to Kreacher recount the past.
In fact, Adrian had only remembered that the Horcrux had been with Kreacher and that it was tied to Sirius's younger brother, Regulus; he didn't actually know what had happened at the time.
After hearing Kreacher's halting tale, Adrian could not help but feel a measure of respect for the one called Regulus.
A boy who had once fervently followed Voldemort, upon realising the Dark Lord's cruelty, chose to betray him without hesitation. With the house-elf Kreacher, he went to that ghastly cave strewn with Inferi, drank the deadly potion, switched the real locket, and ordered Kreacher to find a way to destroy it.
He paid with his life for a chance to destroy a Horcrux. Adrian did not think it a bargain. But perhaps that is what a hero is.
"Moving," Dumbledore rubbed his eyes and said softly. "As some can fall from the light into darkness, so others can break free of the darkness and return to the light."
After a brief silence, Adrian asked, "What shall we do next, Professor Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore pondered a moment, then turned to Kreacher. "Kreacher, can you take us to that place—the cave where Regulus took you?"
Kreacher shuddered, terror filling his eyes. "Kreacher can show the way, but… but it is very dangerous—there are those dead… pale things…"
"I will be there, Kreacher," Dumbledore comforted him. "We cannot leave Regulus's body lying in that lake. He deserves at least a proper funeral. Can you take us? Right now."
Although old, Kreacher had no trouble using house-elf Apparition.
"Pop!"
He hesitated, then snapped his fingers. A slight crack sounded in the air.
Adrian felt the familiar wrenching pull—house-elf Apparition was always rougher than a wizard's.
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