Contents had been turned over recently, the dust disturbed, but there was nothing of value

there: old quills, out-of-date textbooks that bore evidence of being roughly handled, a

Recently smashed ink bottle, its sticky residue covering the contents of the drawer.

“There’s an easier way,” said Hermione, as Harry wiped his inky fingers on his

jeans. She raised her wand and said, “Accio Locket!”

Nothing happened. Ron, who had been searching the folds of the faded curtains,

Looked disappointed.

“Is that it, then? It’s not here?”

“Oh, it could still be here, but under counter-enchantments,” said Hermione.

“Charms to prevent it from being summoned magically, you know.”

“Like Voldemort put on the stone basin in the cave,” said Harry, remembering

How he had been unable to Summon the fake locket.

“How are we supposed to find it then?” asked Ron.

“We search manually,” said Hermione.

“That’s a good idea,” said Ron, rolling his eyes, and he resumed his examination

Of the curtains.

They combed every inch of the room for more than an hour, but were forced,

Finally, to conclude that the locket was not there.

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 Harry and Ron 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 Ron.

“There was a locket.”

“What?” said Harry and Ron together.

“In the cabinet in the drawing room. Nobody could open it. And we … we … “

Harry felt as though a brick had slid down through his chest into his stomach. He

Remembered. He had even handled the thing as they passed it around, each trying in turn

To pry it open. It had been tossed into a sack of rubbish, along with the snuffbox of

Wartcap powder and the music box that had made everyone sleepy …”

“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 two thundering along

in his wake. 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

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 837