Wednesday March 17
"If I ever see your face again I'll kill you!"
Barty landed in a heap on the dirty pavement in Knockturn Alley and winced as he got back on his feet.
"As if I'd want to see your greasy face again!" Barty yelled towards the shop, ignoring the bemused looks of passerby's. He turned on his heel, his very sore heel now, and attempted to stride away with some sense of dignity.
Borgin was just as unpleasant now as he'd been before Barty was in Azkaban. Except now he was unpleasant and able to throw off the imperius curse.
"Hateful old man," he muttered.
It had been going so well too.
Barty had shown up at the shop, his now quite infamous looks hidden with Polyjuice, and tried the 'nice method' of interrogating Borgin. Then Borgin refused to say a word about his ex-employee Tom Riddle so Barty moved to what was meant to be a perfect plan B, the imperio.
Barty commanded Borgin lock the shop and tell him all he knows about Riddle and the man complied. He spoke about a charming, handsome, charismatic young man. One with power and ideas. An indispensable employee who talked customers out of their beloved heirlooms for bottom of the cauldron prices.
He bragged to Borgin about his discovery of the lost diadem of Ravenclaw. Borgin said Riddle's eyes were hungry when customers claimed to have other artifacts from the Hogwarts founders. Riddle was possessive, obsessive. Borgin thought Riddle was a thief though. Borgin suspected he was stealing clients and their goods for himself.
Before he could prove it though, Riddle quit. No notice, no explanation.
And two days later Hepzibah Smith was found dead. Poisoned by her house-elf. Hufflepuff's Goblet and Slytherin's Locket, the very items Borgin sent Riddle to acquire, were discovered missing.
Tom Riddle was never heard from again.
Then, because Barty was an unlucky son of a bitch, as soon as he commanded Borgin to tell him if he had any contact with Lord Voldemort, the man broke his spell and threw him out on his arse.
Barty pulled out his parchment, making note of Ravenclaw's diadem, Hufflepuff's cup, and Slytherin's locket. He glanced at his wristwatch and sighed. He still had six hours until the potion he needed to for his tracking spell would be ready. Which meant the second interview he needed to complete soon would have to wait until after supper.
He turned on the spot and disapparated for home with a soft pop.
"Mister Barty! You is being home early!" Mavis was stirring something on the stove, something that smelled heavenly, and paused long enough to give Barty a smile. "Supper isn't being finished yet, but Mavis can be making you a snack?"
"Don't worry about it Mavis," Barty waved him off and poured himself a glass of water. "I can wait. Thank you though."
Barty wasn't good with people, but he had a knack for house-elves. It probably stemmed from being raised by them, though he'd save any psychoanalysis for Remus. Even without accounting for his knack, Mavis was uncommonly easy to get along with. Barty was glad that Potter only called on him occasionally, he would be quite lonely at Spinner's End without him.
"Did your secret appointment go bad?" Mavis asked curiously, turning his round yellow eyes back to the stove. "Mavis is being happy to help if Mister Barty is needing him."
"That's okay, thanks anyway Mavis." Barty conjured a vial and removed a copy of his memory from today to store in it. "Could you just yell for me when you're ready for supper? I might take another crack at that project."
Mavis agreed, though he did mutter a lot under his breath about Barty's 'secret project'. Which, was fair. Because it was a secret and Barty had no intention of exposing the peculiar little elf to the kind of magic he was throwing around in the basement.
Barty put up as many wards as he could before he unearthed the box he had hidden within his belongings.
"Let's see if we can't figure you out before Friday," Barty murmured. He pulled on his thick dragonhide gloves before grabbing the obstinate ring from its place within the box.
Barty held the ring up, watching as the light in the room sparkled off the innocent looking silver. For something so incomprehensibly evil, it looked so inconspicuous. Just a ring, a thick silver band with a heavy onyx ring in the center, and a silver carving in the jewel. It was heavy, ancient, expensive, disgusting, and was hard won.
It had been an unexpected discovery though. Barty had went to Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton to try and find any information on Timmy's past. He'd crept around the empty manor, making copies of photos of the Riddle family and any scraps of news articles he could find. He hadn't found much. He discovered that when Timmy had been Tom Riddle, he looked much like his father, also Tom Riddle.
The only thing of note, the thing that led him to the ring, was a small stack of deeds. They were dusty, hidden in a jewelry box in the master bedroom, and they listed 'the Gaunt shack' as a nearby property the Riddle's attempted to purchase to drive out the sole occupant, Morfin Gaunt.
So Barty wandered down the lane in to the woods, his eyes peeled for anything resembling a shack. He had walked past it three times, the hairs on the back of his neck urging him to move quickly and keep his eyes on the dirt road. It was only the goosebumps on his arms that cleared away those unnatural urges and allowed him to see the shack.
Of course, once he'd detected the heady presence of dark magic his interest tripled in what secrets that little beaten down, grungy, shack had hidden inside of it.
It took him a few days of hard, meticulous work, but it was worth unraveling the many tendrils of dark magic to discover the ring, the horcrux.
And then the experiments began.
He based his early experiments on basilisk venom. Potter had wrote to him, at his carefully worded request, and talked a little bit about his encounter with the odd wraith Tom Riddle in his second year.
Potter signed the letter with: 'I'm not describing it right. Watch the memory.'
And Barty had. He'd watched Potter enter the actual honest to Merlin fabled Slytherin's Chamber, and then choked on the air in his throat as Potter taunted Riddle.
'You have no name and I'm a national hero.'
'We could work together you know, if you wanted to be partners. Kill Dumbledore, reshape the Wixen world.'
'That's a real riddle to me...'
'Riddle me this, Tim, where's the basilisk?'
Potter had bollocks, Barty had to give it to him.
And Potter looked like he stabbed the diary that had possessed Ginny Weasley in a fit of rage, almost a childish tantrum, but it was an excellent choice. Everything Barty had read, everything he understood about horcruxes, screamed that the diary had been one.
So he tried to mimic Potter's actions to a lesser extent. He dripped basilisk venom, technically stolen from Sev's private stores, on the ring, but it simply evaporated to smoke and left the ring as perfect as it had been before.
It had been the first of many trials and failures, trying to kill the horcrux without damaging the ring.
Barty pulled the parchment out of the box and refreshed his mind on the many methods he'd used to try and kill the horcrux, separate it from the ring, move it to a different object, anything. Anything at all that could kill this fragment of Timmy's soul without 'destroying the ring beyond magical repair'.
Because if he couldn't accomplish it with this ring, then he'd never accomplish it with Potter. And he didn't know how he felt about that just yet.
He knew their meeting was coming this weekend, and Potter would want to know what he had come up with in regards to Timmy's immortality. And Barty had originally been eager to tell him of his discoveries, prove his loyalty and secure his place within this inner circle. But the more he's experimented... his eyes trailed down his extensive (and much less than legal) experiments... the less he desired to inform Potter about it.
Potter was a fighter. Barty once thought, when Potter returned from the graveyard mostly uninjured, that Potter would outlive every last one of them. It was sobering to see that in order for Potter to continue fighting and surviving, Barty had to find a way to separate a horcrux from its host. Otherwise...
Otherwise Potter had to decide between dying for the cause, or living in a world while his enemy hunted him forever.
Barty knew Potter had plans. Plans that didn't include death or evading Timmy for eternity.
The more he tested though, the more he experimented... the less confident he was in Potter's bright future.
Which was both depressing and terribly stressful.
If Barty didn't find the solution to remove the horcrux from Potter; then he might as well embrace death because he was certain Potter's rage would be gloriously bloody.
Barty kept careful track of his current experiment, an Animism ritual based on a group of ancient Wixen from Anatolia. This group of Wixen believed that objects carried souls, an idea mocked by the general society, which led it to become both obscure and rarely discussed.
Barty didn't mock it. How could he when he held in his hands proof of an object with a soul imbedded in it?
He carefully rearranged the candles to their precise locations, the largest candle in the western most position, before placing the horcrux ring and the normal ring in the center of the circle.
Barty pulled his wand out and checked the translated ritual spell once more.
"Obyektin ruhu. Ruhla obyekt.
Mən səni görürəm. səni eşidirəm. sənə hörmət edirəm.
Mən ruhun obyektdən ayrılmasını xahiş edirəm.
Obyektin ruhu, ondan imtina edin.
Özünüzü yeni bir evə köçürün."
He finished his soft chant with a high arc with his wand, the golden sparks trailing behind it proof of his accurate casting. The western candle flared, the fire flashed green, yellow, and...
Black.
"I DID IT CORRECTLY!" Barty yanked on his hair in distress at his failure. The candle was meant to flash purple before spreading to the unlit candles, a symbol of warm flames welcoming the soul to its new home. It wasn't supposed to turn black and extinguish itself.
He snatched the onyx ring up and glared at it. "I will find a way to destroy you," he said in a harsh whisper. "I will dig this soul from your center and kill it myself."
The sunlight shimmered harmlessly off the ring, giving the impression of Barty going quite mad.
"Mister Barty can quit talking at himself, supper is being ready!" Mavis called from the other side of the door, only adding to the sense of Barty's impending madness.
"To be continued," Barty warned the ring before locking it all back up and warding the box in his hiding spot.
The horcrux situation was tricky, a true puzzle to drive him mad, but surely it couldn't be impossible. Potter couldn't be so unlucky to be cursed in such a way.
After enjoying his meal with Mavis, Barty went back downstairs to check on the location potion he'd been brewing.
He wouldn't have had to if Horace Slughorn hadn't apparently disappeared last May. His house was boarded up, his owls were rerouted, and nobody had heard from him in months.
Which was peculiar, considering the Slughorn Barty remembers was a big fan of being juuuust behind the spotlight.
Never the actor, always the director.
Regardless, if Slughorn was alive (which Barty reverently hoped he was as one of the few former professors of Tom Riddle he had access to), then this potion would find him.
He poured a ladle of the potion on a parchment before tapping it with his wand.
"Locus Horace Slughorn."
As if the Gods above knew they owed Barty a favor, an address appeared on the parchment.
Barty raced back upstairs, informing Mavis that he'd be home in a couple of hours, then immediately drank bis customary polyjuice and popped away to the current home of Horace Slughorn.
Barty stood outside the atrocious, painfully bright, yellow house in the center of a muggle town on the outskirts of Essex and frowned.
What, on earth, was Slughorn doing in such a clichéd area of muggle-ness? Barty had never been an overt fan of the man, but certainly many of his peers had. Slughorn was a relatively well-known and well-liked former professor.
This made no sense.
Barty didn't like the uncertainty behind Slughorn's behavior, and he didn't think Slughorn had any information on Timmy he hadn't uncovered, but as his experiments had been consistently failing, it didn't hurt to mark this off his original checklist.
Barty drew himself up tall, put an eager smile on his face, and strode confidently to Slughorn's front door.
Knock, knock.
Barty waited patiently, an innocently bright smile still firmly on his face. He thought he saw a curtain twitch in one of the windows, but he never let his eyes wander that direction. Slughorn had to be here, the potion would have sent him elsewhere if not.
It took a few more minutes, but finally Barty heard a chain rattling on the inside of the door and it creeped open.
"Yes?"
Slughorn looked just as he had when Barty was a student, if not perhaps a bit rounder and balder. He was much shorter than the muggle that Barty was polyjuiced as, and his height was diminished greatly by his rounded stomach. His eyes were wary though, wary in a way that they never had been as a professor.
"Hello, my name is Charles Rutger, assistant editor of the Daily Prophet." Barty offered his hand to Slughorn with a forced expression of glee. "It's excellent to meet you sir! I've heard a lot about the famous Professor Slughorn from my coworkers, shame you left before we met."
"Oh." Slughorn straightened himself up, a smile gracing his lips now at the flattery. He pulled the door a bit wider and accepted Barty's handshake. "You were at Hogwarts then? A Slytherin perhaps?"
"Afraid I wasn't. I was a Ravenclaw myself," Barty said. He knew Slughorn had favored his own students, a trait that he's heard Sev carried on with, but he was afraid he'd falter in his story if he had to come up with more lies than necessary.
A good lie, a good cover story, had as many truths in it as possible, it made it trickier to discover the one lie.
"Well, no shame in that!" Slughorn said with a chuckle. "What can I do for you today, Mister Rutger?"
Barty pulled a parchment and quick-quotes quill from his bag, appearing bashfully excited. "Sir, we at the Daily Prophet heard that you taught the Dark Lord Barty, wondered if you wouldn't mind giving us a story?"
It wasn't a terrible lie to tell. And if Barty got to solve the decades old mystery of why he had never been invited to the 'Slug Club' despite being top of his year in grades, then so the better.
"Well..." Slughorn pulled on the collar of his tweed jacket as he leaned out the door and glanced up and down the sidewalk quickly. "Alright then, come in, come in."
Barty stepped smartly over the threshold, following Slughorn in to the obviously muggle household.
He didn't know a practicing witch or wizard alive with this many electronics.
"Have a seat," Slughorn pointed towards the sleekly designed sitting room as the whistle of a kettle sounded. "Can I get you some tea?"
"That would be lovely, thank you."
Barty made himself comfortable in the plush chair situated in front of the muggle telly. He carefully, and purposefully, rearranged his parchment on his lap, intending to play the part of eager reporter to the best of his abilities. He also palmed the enchanted dropper of veritaserum carefully to ensure none leaked out too soon.
He wasn't taking any chances on Slughorn resisting as Borgin eventually had.
"Well! What questions did you have for me?" Slughorn smiled indulgently as he returned to the sitting room. He cheerily levitated the tea tray to the coffee table and sat himself on the floral sofa across from Barty. "Filius was Crouch's head of house, as I'm sure you know, so I may be as unhelpful as dragonpox!"
Queer thing to say considering dragonpox was considered a sure fire way to boost a wixen's immune system and strengthen them against a various amount of diseases... but no matter.
"Nonsense," Barty smiled disarmingly, careful with his flattery, "Filius said you were the one who kept a close eye on any up and coming students. Helped guide them along, he said. Surely a young man destined to the level of infamy Crouch reached was at least a blip on your radar?"
"I wouldn't say that," Slughorn chuckled, a nervous hint to it, as he poured Barty a cup of tea. "Crouch wasn't someone I can say I ever saw becoming so powerful, dark and disturbing of course," he said hastily, "but this level of fame and power? No, no I didn't see this coming at all."
"Hmm." Barty sipped his tea, allowing Slughorn time to pour himself a cup as he processed the blatant insults. "There weren't any signs then? No hint of the wizard he'd become?"
"None," Slughorn said, frowning in thought. "I'm afraid I must have been quite off the mark that year. Severus Snape was in Barty's year, they were good friends you know, and he's become quite the idol hasn't he? And darn if I ever saw past the quiet kid with the dark inclinations and penchant for fights."
"Really?" Barty leaned forward, hoping to appear eager. "Could I get a quote from you about the friendship between the two boys then? Just something to add some interest to my article."
"I dunno..." Slughorn chuckled nervously again, his dark eyes tightening around the edges. "I wouldn't want to upset Severus or put myself on Crouch's radar, I've heard he's working with a group of Death Eater's now."
"Oh of course sir," Barty agreed sagely, sensing the Dark Lord Barty angle was a missed topic with the man. "Maybe something simple then? Or perhaps a note saying that Professor Horace Slughorn was Severus Snape's Head of House and believes he's become quite successful? Between you and me," Barty leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "I'd rather just write about Snape anyway. Maybe if I had some good quotes to share then my editor won't push for the Crouch article."
"Wonderful!" Slughorn sat his teacup down and smiled, eager to paint himself in a good light to the now popular pupil he didn't care for when Severus and Barty were his students. "Yes that sounds like just the ticket then Rutger! I could tell you all about Severus' talent for potions, his friendship with Harry Potter's mother Lily, and his creativity! That boy revolutionized wolfsbane you know!"
"Perfect." Barty returned his smile, reaching over Slughorn's teacup for his parchment as he spoke with a sense of excitement. "Would you say Severus was an average student? A promising one?"
Barty squeezed the dropper as his hand passed Slughorn's cup, successfully dropping three drops in the teacup with the man none the wiser.
Barty had to patiently wait as Slughorn weaved poets about Severus, what an excellent student he was, how intelligent, how creative... as if he had not just minutes ago called him a 'quiet kid with dark inclinations'. He dutifully made notes, encouraging Slughorn to share as much as he wanted.
Finally, finally, when Barty thought he may have an aneurysm from the blatant lies Slughorn told him ('top of his year', as if. Barty beat Severus in every NEWT aside from potions), Slughorn paused his ravings long enough to sip his tea.
The effect was instantaneous.
Slughorn's face flashed with betrayal before his eyes glazed over, his jaw hung slack, and his fingers lost their grip on the tea cup that went crashing to the beige carpet.
"Did you teach Tom Riddle?" Barty asked immediately, testing the hold of the potion with the question Slughorn would be least inclined to answer.
"Yes," Slughorn murmured, his voice free of any affect.
"You were his head of house?"
"Yes."
"Why have you been hiding?" Barty asked curiously.
"I heard whispers that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, I was worried he'd come after me."
Barty couldn't imagine what Timmy would want with his old school teacher, but the man had attempted to murder an infant so perhaps it was a fair worry. He pulled out his parchment, preparing to record Slughorn's responses. "Tell me about Tom Riddle when he was a student."
"He was brilliant," Slughorn said flatly. "I've never had a student as in tune with his magic as Tom. A charming boy with a tragic past, every Professor in Hogwarts, aside from Albus, adored him."
"Were there ever any incidents where Riddle was painted as less than perfect?" Barty pressed, needing any information aside from what he already knew.
"A few." Slughorn's head rolled upwards, his dull eyes meeting Barty's. "Nothing could be proven, I thought at the time that it was jealousy, just rumors to taint the greatest student Hogwarts had ever seen."
"At the time?" Barty asked, his quill ready to transcribe. "When did you change your mind?"
"Tom's seventh year," Slughorn said. "He became immersed in dark magic. He could have been the next Minister of Magic, but I hoped he wouldn't. Something changed. Some fundamental shift."
"What do you think it was?"
"I think Tom damaged his soul."
Barty's head snapped up to meet Slughorn's gaze so quickly he felt a muscle in his neck pull. "Tell me why you think Tom damaged his soul."
He hadn't expected this. Truly, all his recent breaks were lucky ones.
"In Tom's seventh year, he asked me what a horcrux was, if I knew how to make it, and if I thought a person could split their soul seven times."
"Seven?" Barty was flabbergasted.
"He thought seven was the strongest magical number," Slughorn murmured.
"Incredible," Barty breathed.
If it weren't for the continuing glazed look in Slughorn's eyes and the flat way he spoke, Barty would almost consider the man was lying.
He'd assumed Timmy made multiple horcruxes, but seven? To tear your soul even once was a thought so disturbing it churned his stomach, seven times was unthinkable.
It was magic so cursed Barty knew Timmy had to be extraordinarily powerful to achieve it.
Barty interviewed Slughorn for another thirty five minutes, gleaming as much information on Tom Riddle as he could, no matter how innocuous. Right before his time wore out, as a spark of intellect lit in Slughorn's eyes, Barty solved one more mystery.
"Why did you never ask Barty Crouch Junior to join the Slug Club?"
It didn't matter, hadn't mattered since he graduated, but he never understood it when he was a student.
"Barty was smart, but I despised his father. Crouch Senior was a pompous upstart with a large mouth and ignorant ideals."
Yeah. It made sense that Barty hadn't been able to escape his fathers legacy even in that one small aspect of his life.
"You've been very helpful," Barty told him genuinely. "Unfortunately, I can't let you share what you know with anyone else."
Slughorn hardly had time to blink in acknowledgment before Barty obliviated not only his visit with him today, but as many memories of Tom Riddle as Slughorn had. Especially, and most importantly, his knowledge of the seven horcruxes.
"You look tired."
Barty forced a weak grin in the face of Remus' Gryffindor-like bluntness. "It's been a long few days," he admitted.
Truthfully, he had stayed up the entire night last night after returning home, abusing Pepper-Up Potion as he tried in vain to find ways to separate the horcrux from the host.
Potter, Sev, and Theodore would be returning tomorrow, all of them meeting at Invisibility Way for the Easter break and alliance meeting on Saturday.
And Barty was no closer to giving any answers that would end in anything aside from absolute bloodshed.
It had been a relief to get Remus' invite to tea at Moon Lodge. Merlin knew that Barty needed a break from the horcrux problem. And Remus was good company, especially without Sirius' constant smile and looks, so similar to Reg's to twinge Barty's heart, popping in every so often with a joke or a question.
Remus currently had parchments spread across the dining table, his attention diverted from the budgeting he was implementing within the wolf house as they chatted.
"Anything I can help you with?" Remus asked politely.
Barty sighed, giving him a more genuine smile of appreciation. "I'm afraid not," he said. "I'm just caught up in my mission, I'm sure you can understand."
"Oh can I," Remus chuckled. "Some days I think you might have gotten the easy job from Harry. Managing a household without Sirius' help on top of school and everything else? It's a lot."
"Tell me about it," Barty smirked. He was certain Remus wouldn't want to trade lots with him if he knew of the difficulties Barty faced.
There were possibilities of rewards so insurmountably high if he could figure it out, but the risk of not finding a solution was much higher.
He almost resented his mission. He would for sure if it weren't the most complex and intriguing puzzle he'd ever been handed.
The two of them chatted amicably, discussing various articles in recent papers, political changes within the ministry. Remus shared his recent engagement, assuring Barty that he would be invited to the wedding in the upcoming summer. Barty talked a little about his newfound appreciation for the muggle electronics within the libraries he frequented when Spinner's End became too stifled.
Some of the occupants of Wolf Lodge popped in occasionally, all of them long used to Barty's presence and greeted him kindly. Most of them appeared tired, reminding Barty that the full moon had only been a few days ago.
"Where do you run during the full moon?" Barty asked Remus curiously as the overtly-friendly house-elf Dobby brought them warm biscuits.
"We stay in the forest around Easky Lough," Remus told him after thanking Dobby kindly. "The younger cubs are more comfortable there and there's plenty of room for us all to run and stretch. The wolfsbane keeps us from wandering too close to any muggle villages."
"Incredible," Barty said. "And the baby? Still no idea of her future?"
"None." Remus shrugged lightly. "We are all just watching and waiting."
They discussed more of the pack for a while, Remus had gotten to know them all quite well and they seemed to look up to him as a leader. Though, Ricardo Lobo, little Tony's father, was the official leader of his pack.
An earned title as apparently Ricardo allowed his son to bite him, inviting the lycanthropy in to himself, in an effort to give his son a father who was able to understand his life.
It was unconventional, but from the look in Remus' eyes when he shared that, Barty wasn't alone in wishing he had a father half as dedicated to him as little Tony had.
After the two of them cleared their second tray of biscuits, Barty reluctantly got to his feet with a heavy yawn.
"Thanks for the invite Remus, but I should get going," he said. "I've got a lot of work to do before this weekend..."
"Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?" Remus offered again, his amber eyes soft.
"If you happen to find the lost diadem of Ravenclaw or Slytherin's locket then just let me know," Barty said with a wry smile. "Other than that—,"
Clang!
Remus and Barty both turned towards the kitchen doorway, the metallic noise drawing their immediate attention.
"Dobby? Everything okay?" Remus called.
Dobby poked his head out and shook his head at Remus. "Kreacher is being clumsy," he squeaked out. "Kreacher is spilling an entire bowl of squash and Dobby is thinking Kreacher did it on purposes."
"Kreacher is not doing it on purpose," Kreacher snarled, joining Dobby in the doorway. Kreacher glared out at Barty, apparently still unhappy with him for 'betraying Master Regulus for nasty Master Sirius'.
An unfair and terribly hurtful accusation he slung at Barty the second time he'd came for dinner with the pack.
"That's alright Kreacher, thank you for helping Dobby make supper," Remus said with an admirable amount of patience considering Kreacher spends his free time slinging insults at Remus.
Sure enough...
"Kreacher is not wanting the disgusting half-breed to speak at him," he muttered. "Kreacher is being ready to be beheaded if he must continue to serve the half-breeds."
"SUPPER WILL BE BEING DONE SOON," Dobby yelled, attempting to cover Kreacher's dark words with his own cheer. "Will Barty be staying?"
"I can't, thank you though."
Dobby was a weird elf, but Barty liked him nearly as much as he liked Mavis. And he liked him equally to how much he used to like Kreacher.
"I better be going," he said again. He pulled his cloak on and nodded at Remus. "Thanks for the tea and conversation, suppose I'll see you Saturday?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Remus chuckled. "Try and get some sleep Barty."
Barty tilted his head in acknowledgment of his words, if not compliance. He wouldn't be sleeping with a deadline this close; Potter expected answers by Saturday and he still had the worst question unanswered.
"Goodbye Dobby, Kreacher."
Kreacher startled everyone as he abruptly lunged forward, grabbing Barty's cloak and pulling himself up to Barty's side.
"Kreacher will be showing Barty to the door as a proper house-elf is doing," he said in his raspy croak.
Barty and Remus exchanged a surprised look, but Barty just smiled down at Kreacher's bald and wrinkled head. "Thank you Kreacher," he said genuinely. "Lead the way then."
Kreacher shot a last glare at Remus and Dobby before leading Barty to the front door and pulling it open for him.
"Well... thanks again Kreacher," Barty said, lingering in the open doorway. "I'll see you again soon, okay?"
If he was expecting a verbal response, he was doomed to disappointment. Instead of saying anything, Kreacher just shoved him unceremoniously out to the front steps before stepping on the steps himself and pulling the door shut behind them.
"Kreacher is not trusting Barty since he is betraying the Dark Lord," Kreacher said in a harsh whisper. "But Kreacher is hearing that Barty is being the new Dark Lord."
"Well... that is what some people say," Barty said, weighing his words with care. His interest was undeniably captured by Kreacher's curious behavior. He wasn't sure which angle was best to play, which meant it was safer to remain ambiguous for now.
Kreacher twisted his fingers, his eyes narrowing as he glared up distrustfully at Barty.
"Barty is still being a friend to my Master Regulus?" he finally whispered.
"I am," Barty assured him. It didn't matter if Reg had left them, Barty forgave Sev and he would do the same for Reg if he were still here.
Kreacher stared in Barty's eyes a long time before he finally nodded. "Kreacher is knowing where the locket you is wanting is," he said. "Kreacher is knowing whose locket it is and knowing it is dark magic."
Barty wondered if he'd recently, unknowingly, ingested Felix Felicis. He couldn't imagine how else he's stumbled on to so many lucky breaks otherwise.
Not that he'd admit they were lucky when he informed Potter of his discoveries though. If he wanted to move up in the ranks then he would present all of this information as due reward of his own diligence.
... if he found a way to remove the horcrux from Potter or kill it without killing the young man.
He quite enjoyed living.
"Kreacher, can you tell me everything you know about that locket?" Barty asked the elf. "It's very important. Please?"
"Mister Barty is needing to promise Kreacher something first, he is needing to swear it," Kreacher demanded. "Mister Barty is needing to swear that he will be killing the locket as soon as he can, he will be needing to swear to finish Master Regulus' work."
Barty looked down in Kreacher's bulbous eyes and nodded curtly.
"I swear. I will kill it."
Kreacher glanced around them, ensuring their privacy, then pulled Barty to the floor in a sitting position.
"Kreacher was minding his business one day, cleaning my Mistresses house, and then Master Regulus comes to him, and he says, 'the Dark Lord is needing an elf'..."
An hour later, Barty was back in Spinner's End, his mind whirling as he frantically dug through crates of cursed artifacts in Sev's office.
Regulus sacrificed himself in an effort to bring down Timmy.
He'd been a traitor, turned his back on Timmy, just as they'd been told... but took the horcrux as one final 'fuck you'.
It was heartbreaking.
Inspiring.
And the horcrux had been here the whole time. 'Stolen', according to Kreacher's point of view, from Grimmauld Place by Sirius last summer and sent along to Barty.
He shuddered to imagine where it might be had he not complained of books being destroyed as Dumbledore took over the Black family home.
Once he found the locket, looking as equally innocent as the ring hidden within his room did, he noticed his hand was shaking badly enough to rattle the thick silver chain.
This locket represented so much:
Regulus, turning his back on Timmy and doing it alone. Discovering the secret alone. Dying alone.
Timmy's desire to evade death and his blatant lack of regard for house-elves leading to one step of his downfall.
It also represented the ring hidden away, the ring with the uncrackable code. A code that could save Potter's life if Barty could uncover it.
But Barty had made a swear, and he intended on keeping it.
He placed the locket on Sev's desk and took a few steps backwards. His voice was tight, his vocal chords strained as he sent the green light directly at the center of the locket.
"Avada Kedavra."
Barty was breathing harshly as he stared down at the smoldering locket. He didn't have to run any spells to know that the horcrux was gone. The silver locket was blackened, dead, destroyed beyond magical repair.
He didn't feel any sense of relief.
He couldn't.
What was he going to tell Potter this weekend?