Sweet Puppy

Chapter 17

The sitting room was dimly lit by a flickering fire. Harry stood staring at the carpet in front of him, trying to imagine seeing Kreacher there, who would no doubt glare up at him with disgust. The feeling would be mutual. Anger still existed inside him over Kreacher’s involvement in Sirius’ murder, but his desperation to find the Horcruxes was stronger than even that. He heard Ron and Hermione catch up to him and he shut his eyes, preparing himself for what was to come.

“So,” said Ron at his side, the caution evident in his voice. “You just call him right? Like you did in sixth year?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. His expression was bleak. “We don’t have a choice. It’s our only lead.”

“You’ll have to forbid him from telling anyone where we are,” Hermione reminded him. “And why we’re looking for the locket. And–”

“I know, Hermione,” said Harry shortly. He took a deep breath.



Harry looked down to see the old elf peering up at him, his lips pulled back and a dark glower on his wrinkled face.

“You called, Master?” he croaked. Then he looked at the floor and muttered rapidly, “Disgrace to my mistress, fouling up her home, oh if she could see these Mudbloods, she’d set them right, despicable–”

“Shut up!” Harry shouted. Hermione grabbed his arm and squeezed. “I mean – be quiet,” he amended through clenched teeth. Hermione squeezed again. “Please.”

Kreacher looked up at him with bleary, hateful eyes, sucking his lips into his mouth.

“Er – thank you,” said Harry. Hermione nodded encouragingly. “Right, listen – I need your help. But first off, you can’t tell anyone you’ve seen us, or talked to us. No one, understand? No speaking, no writing, no signals of any kind.”

Kreacher glared up at him even harder.

“Sorry to sound so harsh,” Harry muttered. “It’s just that this is important. I need information…about Regulus Black.”

Suddenly, the house-elf’s eyes widened, and his toothless mouth gaped. “Regulus?” he whispered, his wheezy voice wobbling.

“Er, yeah. You knew him right?’

“Knew him!” The house-elf’s knees buckled and he sat down hard on the floor. His thin chest began to heave and he made great gasping noises like a broken vacuum cleaner.

“It’s alright!” Hermione cooed, dropping to her knees beside him and putting her arm around his thin shoulders.

Immediately the elf shot to his feet and backed away, howling, “She touched Kreacher, the Mudblood, she put her filthy traitor hands on–”

“That’s enough of that!” Harry yelled as Ron shouted, “Don’t call her that!”

“It’s okay,” said Hermione uncertainly, getting off the floor and looking embarrassed while Kreacher continued to mutter silently and pull at his ears. “I forgot – I mean, it’s not his fault, that’s what he was taught….”

“Kreacher, I forbid you to call anyone a Mudblood…or to call anyone bad names from now on. Now tell me - do you know if Regulus had a locket? A big gold one?”

The elf began to tremble, still tugging at his ears. “Y-yes, Master.”

Harry’s heart started to race in excitement. “Do you know what he did with it?”

Kreacher started to shake his head back and forth, his big ears whipping against the air. “Yes,” he moaned.

“Okay, so…,” Harry continued, starting to get frustrated with the one word answers. “Where is it then?”

Kreacher’s body was trembling so hard that Harry thought he might be having a seizure, but then the elf suddenly wailed and threw himself to the floor. “He stole it, that bad man, that bad Mundungus Fletcher stole it from Kreacher!


* * *


It took almost the whole afternoon to calm Kreacher down, but in the end, Harry was able to extract the horrible tale of Regulus’ death and the house-elf’s failed attempts to destroy the locket. He was furious to find out that Mundungus had stolen the Horcrux, and even angrier that the Aurors had done nothing to stop him from filching Sirius’ belongings, even after he had told Tonks about it, but now wasn’t the time to seek revenge. What he needed was more information from the source.

Kreacher needed very little encouragement from Harry to track down Mundungus Fletcher for them. His eyes burned with hatred at the very name and he immediately nodded when Harry requested he bring the man to Grimmauld Place.

“Don’t let him see you, and make sure he’s blindfolded or something, so that he can’t see who’s questioning him!” Harry added before Kreacher Disapparated with a crack.

“But Harry, he’ll recognize your voice!” said Hermione.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a grin. “But he won’t recognize Fenrir’s. He can interrogate him; I’ll just tell him what to ask!”

“You sure that’s a good idea, mate?” asked Ron with a doubtful look. “What if he goes overboard?”

Harry’s fists clenched for the briefest of seconds. “He can control himself,” he said as casually as he could. “It’s not like he’s some–”

“Insane killing machine that would maul your face as soon as look at you? No, you’re right. He’s not like that at all,” said Ron with a bit of an edge to his voice.

“Hey, that’s not – he’s not like that anymore–”

“I just don’t want you to forget, that’s all,” Ron muttered, his hands going into his pockets. “It doesn’t help that we have to hear what you get up to with him.”

Harry felt his face go red. “Sorry,” he bit out. “Won’t happen again. But just in case you forgot, we’re at war, and we need all the help we can get. And Bill’s not holding some grudge about what happened, so shove off!”

Before Ron could respond, Harry turned on his heel and stomped back towards the kitchen. Ron didn’t follow him, so he could only assume Hermione held him back.

“Trouble with the werewolf, Potter?”

Harry stopped in his tracks and looked up the narrow staircase to see Draco sneering down at him from the first landing. “No,” he said shortly. “Trouble with you, though.”

Draco looked unimpressed and began to descend the staircase, somehow managing to look elegant despite his worn-down clothes and ashen complexion. “Well get over it, Potter, you’re supposed to be saving the world. Now if you don’t mind,” he drawled, walking past Harry with a mock bow. “I’m getting some tea.”

“Hope it’s rotten,” Harry muttered, not caring how lame he sounded as the kitchen door swung shut behind the blonde.

Harry was about to follow when a loud clatter of breaking china and the sound of something falling to the floor hit Harry’s ears. He rushed in with his wand drawn, his mind jumping to the worst conclusion before he saw that Remus had only dropped a plate and toppled a chair.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, lowering his wand.

“Fine,” Remus muttered with a shaking hand on his chest. “Just – just slipped through my fingers…”

“You don’t look well, darling,” said Tonks, standing up. “Maybe you should go have a lie down upstairs.”

“No!” said Remus quickly. “No, I’m fine and – and he’s not supposed to be in here.”

For a few seconds Harry thought Remus was talking about him and his brow furrowed in confusion and hurt. But then he noticed everyone glaring at Draco, who was standing by the stove. He must have felt their stares because he turned around with questioning eyes.

“Oh hell, I only needed some tea!” he fumed when he noticed them. “Do you expect me to die of dehydration up there? Honestly, I could care less about your little meeting, so go on!”

“Not until you leave,” said Bill coldly.

Draco looked from Bill to Snape before clenching his teeth and turning back to the stove. “I’m leaving. Just let me get this, will you?”

Everyone watched as Draco stiffly poured himself a cup of tea before stalking to the kitchen door. He paused, then turned and gave them one last glare. “You’re all paranoid, the lot of you.” Then with a kick to the door and a turn on his heel, he was gone.

“Snitty little brat, isn’t he?” Fenrir commented after a moment of stunned silence, leaning on the table and picking at his teeth.

“You have no idea,” muttered Harry, coming fully into the room and sitting down at the table. “Listen, I’ve got some news.”

“Oh? And what news is this?”

Harry was too annoyed with Ron and Draco to even bother rising to Snape’s bait. “I called Kreacher, and he said that Mundungus Fletcher stole the locket. He’s gone to fetch him, and he’s going to bring him back here.”

Talk immediately broke out at the table, but Harry said loudly, “Don’t worry, I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh, thank Merlin. Nothing to fear, Potter’s got an idea,” said Snape, throwing his arms up in frustration. “Have you gone completely mad, Potter? Don’t you know that by bringing him here, you are exposing–”

“Shut it, Snape,” said Harry. “I’ve thought of that already. Kreacher is going to make sure Mundungus can’t see anything, and he won’t hear any of our voices. Well – except for Fenrir. That is, if you agree?” Harry added, meeting Fenrir’s eyes.

“Agree to what?” Fenrir asked gruffly.

Harry suddenly wished he could ask for the favor in private. He wasn’t above bribery after all…

“Well I was hoping you’d agree to help. You would only be asking questions for us, questions that I’d tell you to ask. He doesn’t know your voice! That way, Mundungus won’t know who we are, or get too suspicious about why we want the locket. And then one of us can Obliviate him anyway, just in case, and Kreacher can send him back to wherever he was. And if he has the locket – well, we’ll get to that if it comes.”

“Harry, we can’t just go around kidnapping and Obliviating Order members,” said Bill with a dubious expression.

“And why not?” asked Harry. “This is war. And it’s not like we’re going to hurt him – not that he doesn’t deserve it,” he finished angrily. “He’s stolen from me. He should pay me back somehow.”

Silence met this pronouncement and the gathered group looked around at each other. The quiet annoyed Harry and he stood up, glaring at Remus in particular for his lackluster response. He hadn’t even said anything about his quick thinking! The plan was brilliant, they were getting something accomplished!

Harry pushed away from the table. “Well it doesn’t matter if you don’t like the plan because I already sent Kreacher and we’re doing it. Are you going to help me, Fenrir?”

Fenrir stood up too, meeting Harry’s determined eyes. “Just tell me what to say.”

“Good. Let’s go rehearse this then. If the rest of you feel like winning this war anytime soon, let me know.”

As soon as the pair was gone from the room, Snape allowed a sly smirk to reach his lips, and he glanced over at Remus. “What do you think, Lupin? The werewolf must be – oh, how do you say it – rubbing off on him, hmm?

“Not now, Snape,” said Tonks, putting her hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Are you sure you’re alright? You still look a bit–”

“I said I was fine!” Remus snapped. Tonks pulled her hand back as if she had been burnt.

Away from the kitchen and Remus’ deteriorating state, Harry and Fenrir had entered the sitting room. Harry sat down on the lumpy old couch, noting that Ron and Hermione were no where to be seen. ‘Probably talking about me somewhere,’ he thought bitterly. The couch dipped next to him and he looked over to see Fenrir watching him.

“So you have a plan?” the werewolf asked, his voice low and gravelly. He almost sounded cautious.

“Of course,” said Harry, turning towards the man and crossing his legs. “You need to ask Mundungus Fletcher about the locket. But you can’t let on that you’re with me… and you can’t even let him know it’s you. And it couldn’t hurt to lower your voice or something.”

“Sounds good,” said Fenrir with a gleam in his eye. “What if I need to convince him a little?”

Harry shook his head. “You can’t hurt him. You can… intimidate him if you have to. Maybe threaten him or….” Harry was starting to feel awkward. It was one thing to ask for Fenrir’s help, but quite another to tell him it was alright to threaten someone. “Look, just ask him if he has the locket, and if he does, ask him for it. If he doesn’t, then keep pushing until we know where he put it. If you have to say something not so nice, then do it. We don’t have time to be polite.”

Fenrir nodded. “Because if we wait, Voldemort could get it, right?”

“Right,” said Harry. “And that would be very, very bad.”

Fenrir sat up straighter, already looking excited at the thought of interrogating someone. “So when is he getting here?”

Harry shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “Whenever Kreacher shows up I guess. We have to be ready. He could show up at any time.

“So what do we do while we wait?”

Harry shrugged again and leaned back into the couch. “Dunno. Ron and Hermione are avoiding me… and I’m not going back in there with Snape.”

Fenrir leered over at him. “I guess you’re stuck with me then.”

Harry scooted back against the pillows, correctly reading Fenrir’s expression. “No way. That’s what got Ron all upset in the first place.”

Fenrir’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “Oh?”

“Yeah. He heard us this morning and didn’t like it much. And apparently I’m a traitor to Bill for forgiving what you did to him.”

Fenrir scoffed. “He’s just jealous that you’re getting some while the Muggle-born girl is blocking him.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I see. So it couldn’t have anything to do with what you did to Bill.”

Fenrir waved his hand. “Nah.”

The sound of approaching footsteps caused both of them to sit up straight and look towards the doorway. Remus came into view, looking both wary and exhausted.

“Hello Harry. Do you mind if I come in?”

Harry shook his head.

Remus took a shaky breath and stepped into the room, then walked forward and sat in a worn armchair. Harry noticed the man’s slow movements and frowned. Remus was walking as though a strong wind was pushing him back.

“Look, Harry,” he began, looking down at his hands. “I’m sorry if I seemed judgmental in there. I know how important it is that we get the locket. I was just concerned with your methods. We don’t want anyone involved who doesn’t have to be.”

Harry nodded. “I understand. But like I said, we’ll Obliviate him. He won’t even know he was involved.”

Remus looked slightly placated by that fact. “Yes. We will have to take that precaution.”

“And maybe Malfoy can help with Kreacher,” said Harry with new enthusiasm, remembering how much Kreacher had wanted Draco as a master instead of him. “He doesn’t like me very much and he said before that he’d rather serve Malfoy, and we need all the help we can–”


Harry stopped, his mouth open in shock; Remus rarely spoke to him like that. “Er – no?”

Remus shook his head sharply, his hands clutching the arms of his chair. “No, no, you will not bring him into this, do you understand me?”

“Er – I wasn’t… he would only help with Kreacher… we wouldn’t tell him anything–”

“He will not be involved!” Remus practically snarled, startling Harry into silence. “Find some other way to gain Kreacher’s trust! The boy is only with us because he has no where to go. He was responsible for the plot that ended in Albus’ death, you must not forget that, Harry!”

“I haven’t!” Harry said back angrily, hurt by Remus’ words. “But he can’t just sit up in his room forever! He’ll go crazy! That’s what led to Sirius’ death, so don’t you forget that!”

Remus stood up so fast and his face was so contorted with emotion that Harry shrank back in alarm and Fenrir sprang to his feet, crouched defensively.

“I will do whatever you ask of me, Harry,” said Remus quietly, ignoring Fenrir’s growls. “But I will not be disrespected. I am asking you not to involve Draco Malfoy, and you will do as I ask.”

Harry stared up at Remus, not knowing what to feel. He’d never seen Remus like this; he’d never seen such anger and… fear?

“Alright,” he finally said.

Remus seemed to visibly deflate. The tension in his body was gone and he stumbled backwards, his fierce expression completely erased from his face. “Good, good,” he was muttering, lifting a shaking hand to cover his eyes. “Well then… I need to go speak with Tonks. Tell me when Kreacher arrives, will you?” And he walked out of the room, not seeing the perplexed expression on Harry’s face, or the suspicious stare from Fenrir.

“What was that?” asked Harry, staring at the doorway. “I – I’ve never seen him like that.”

“Mood swings,” Fenrir muttered under his breath.

“Huh?” asked Harry, turning to look at Fenrir. The werewolf was facing the fire, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

Harry pushed up off the couch and walked over to him. “Thinking what?”

Fenrir shook his head. “I guess he really hates that boy. He got us into the castle and Snape killed Dumbledore, so Lupin hates him, doesn’t trust him, and doesn’t want him involved. Makes sense to me.”

“But – well Snape actually killed Dumbledore, and Remus doesn’t hate him. And you were there too, and – well he doesn’t like you very much, but he doesn’t react like that whenever I mention you.”

“Because he has no choice about that,” rumbled Fenrir, looking down at Harry and grinning. “No amount of that man’s hatred could keep me from you.”

Harry felt his face heating. “That was almost romantic,” he muttered, looking away.

“Do you like that?” asked Fenrir, moving closer and bringing his hands to Harry’s waist.

Harry blushed, moving into the larger man’s embrace. “Maybe a little,” he admitted. Fenrir’s hands tightened and he felt his breath catch. “It’s reassuring, I guess. At least I know someone approves of me,” he continued bitterly, thinking of Ron and Remus’ sudden temper. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them….”

“Hush,” Fenrir commanded, grabbing Harry’s chin and tilting his face up. Harry shivered when he felt Fenrir’s tongue against his lips, and he sighed into the kiss, grateful for Fenrir’s ability to know what he needed. The werewolf groaned against his lips and Harry slid his arms up and around the man’s neck, standing on the tips of his feet. He knew this probably wasn’t such a good idea, but then Fenrir’s tongue was pushing into his mouth and not much else mattered at the moment.

The next three days passed much in the same way. Harry and Fenrir secluded themselves from the others except during meals, practicing what to say to Mundungus. Harry also reminded Fenrir numerous times of the ‘no violence’ rule, which he only half-heartedly agreed with. The rest of their time was spent in each other’s arms.

Ron and Hermione also seemed to be spending most of their time together, which was just fine with Harry. Ron had given him an apology with Hermione standing supportively between them, and Harry had accepted, but he couldn’t bring himself to seek the two of them out, instead focusing on the impending search for the locket.

During their first dinner at Grimmauld place, Harry asked for them to stand by him during the questioning of Mundungus, just in case any trouble occurred, and he asked Tonks to perform the Memory charm after they were through. He didn’t trust his own ability with the complicated charm, especially when he was so emotionally involved.    

Despite the locket weighing on his mind, Ron and Hermione’s closeness, and Fenrir’s attention, Harry couldn’t help but find time to notice Remus. At every meal, he looked positively gaunt. He assured everyone that he was fine. Harry wondered if staying at Grimmauld Place was making him grieve for Sirius, or if the lunar cycle was wearing him down. He couldn’t figure it out. He asked Fenrir one night if he thought something was wrong, but the man just shrugged, his brow furrowed. Harry had a feeling that the werewolf might know more than he was letting on, but decided not to push it just now. There was more than enough to think about.  

It was the fourth day since Harry had sent Kreacher after Mundungus Fletcher before anything happened. He was sitting on the tattered couch once more, one of Regulus’ old journals that he’d found in his hand. It seemed to have a powerful anti-snooping charm on it, and Harry was prodding at it with his wand, wondering if he should seek out Hermione. She was probably cooped up somewhere with Ron….   


Harry leapt to his feet, throwing the journal to the floor and running to the foyer, hearing the grunts and curses from Mundungus Fletcher. He skidded to a stop at the sight of the blindfolded, struggling man on the dirty floor and he felt malicious triumph bloom in his chest. The entire household, save for Draco, came running towards them from various rooms, wands drawn and faces pinched with apprehension. Mundungus was cursing profusely and looking towards the sounds of their feet, unable to see them.

“Fenrir!” Harry hissed, motioning the werewolf towards him. The sound caused Mundungus to pause in his efforts and he turned towards Harry, his mouth gaping.

“Who’s that? Who’re you?” the man demanded. “An’ why can’t I Apparate?” Fenrir sneered down at the man and stepped closer. Mundungus resumed his frantic movements, unaware that Kreacher’s magic would never allow him to escape. He hollered in frustration and shouted, “Get your bleedin’ hands off me, whoever you are!”

“No,” Fenrir barked.

The effect of Fenrir’s voice was instantaneous. Mundungus froze and his lip quivered. “Who are you? Where’re you at?” he asked, his body beginning to tremble.

“You’re in no position to be asking questions,” snapped Fenrir, a menacing edge creeping into his voice. “Just tell me what I want to know and you’ll escape with your miserable life, got me?”

Mundungus let out a wheezy whimper. “Listen, I’ll tell you anything, just don’t tell anyone I told!”

“Shut up. Tell me: where is the golden locket you stole from Sirius Black’s house? Tell me and you’ll be free.”

“I didn’t steal nothing!”

Kreacher croaked like a bullfrog, tightening his bony grip and Mundungus shouted “Alright! Alright, I took a few things that were lyin’ around, they were just wastin’ in here–”

Fenrir snarled and the man instantly fell silent. “I already know you took it, you fool. Waste my time again and you’ll pay. Tell me where it is!”

“I don’t have it anymore! I swear, I swear on–”

“Swearing is useless. Where is the locket?”

“Some witch wanted it! She was snoopin’ around me and my business! I had to give her something to get her off my back–”

“Tell me her name.”

“Hell if I know! She didn’t tell me!”

Fenrir hissed with impatience. “Then tell me what she looked like.”

“Some dumpy little thing, looked like a toad!” Mundungus shouted.

Harry’s pounding heart froze. His fists clenched. The sudden silence seemed to encourage Mundungus because he plowed on, his voice coming faster.

“Had some ugly pink robes and a frilly bow on her head too! Said she was real important in the Ministry! Took the locket without paying, she did!”

Fenrir looked at Harry, his lips pulled back in a grimace. There was only one person who fit that description, and it seemed as though Fenrir knew who Mundungus was speaking of as well. Harry was satisfied; no one would make up that description unless they had seen the woman. He motioned to Tonks, who walked forward with her wand drawn.

“It’s your lucky day, Fletcher,” Fenrir growled, moving away from the wand.

Harry looked down at the old house-elf, who looked positively furious at the idea of Mundungus having any sort of ‘lucky day’.

“Kreacher,” Harry said calmly. “Take this trash out to the biggest bin you can find. Leave him buried up to his nose.”

Kreacher smiled his toothless grin, his eyes gleaming with cruel delight. “With pleasure, Master,” he croaked.

“Huh? Who–”

Obliviate!” Tonks shouted, her wand swooping down. Blue light shot from the wand and landed squarely between Mundungus’ blind-folded eyes, and then he and Kreacher Disapparated with a sharp CRACK!

There was a long silence as everyone processed what they had just heard. Harry stared at the floor where Kreacher had just been, and he knew that throwing Mundungus Fletcher into a trash bin wasn’t going to be enough to heal the house-elf’s anger. He thought of Regulus’ locket up in his trunk. It really was very lucky that Snape and Malfoy had brought all of their belongings from the cottage to Grimmauld place the night of his foray into the cave. He knew subconsciously that he was stalling, refusing to think about what he’d just heard, but he didn’t care.

“I have to get something,” he muttered, heading for the stairs, ignoring the eyes on his back. A small hand grabbed his.

“Harry,” said Hermione gently. “Are you alright?” Her eyes drifted down to the hand she was holding.

Harry forced a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to get something. For Kreacher, you know… for doing such a good job.”

Hermione smiled at him for the first time since he and Ron had quarreled. “Regulus’ locket?” she asked.

Harry nodded. “How did you know?” he asked with a quirk of his lips.

Hermione let him go and shrugged. “I thought of it after he first told us.”  


* * *


The air in the kitchen was heavy with tension. Harry was still in a state of repressed rage, Regulus’ locket in his pocket, ready to hand off to Kreacher. He couldn’t believe he would have to deal with Umbridge again. Just the thought of her repulsed him, and he could swear that the scar on the back of his hand was tingling.

“So we have to get to Umbridge,” said Bill dryly, breaking the silence.

Snape cleared his throat. Everyone turned to look at him.

“Also, it would be prudent to… ah… take some of her hair.”

Everyone stared. Harry was sickened by the idea of coming into contact with the woman’s hair, let alone seeing her again.

“Why?” he demanded. “All we have to do is get the locket from her, why–”

“If you’ll let me finish, I shall explain,” Snape sneered at him. Harry fell silent, glaring at him. “We will need her hair in order to impersonate her.”

“Polyjuice potion,” said Hermione, catching on.

“Yes,” said Snape, his chin raising and his voice adopting his lecturing drawl. “She would be a suitable disguise in order to enter Hogwarts unchallenged.”

“And why do we need to go back there?” asked Harry.

We will not be going anywhere. I will be disguising myself as Umbridge in order to enter the Headmaster’s office. Ah – Dumbledore requested something of me...”

Harry couldn’t help but clench his fists at the idea of Snape in Dumbledore’s office.

“And what was it he requested?” asked Remus, his expression clear that vague answers would not suffice. 

“He wanted me to hide the sword of Gryffindor behind a portrait, and to leave a replica in the glass case where it is normally kept. He said that you,” he turned his dark eyes to Harry, “would need it in the end. I assumed at the time that he meant for you to kill the Dark Lord with it. But now I believe he meant for you to use it in some other capacity.”

“Are you ever going to get to the point?” asked Ron impatiently.

“You think Harry is supposed to use it to get rid of the Horcruxes!” Hermione gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Of course!”

“Of course what?” asked Ron, his head turning rapidly back and forth between them.

“Harry stabbed the Basilisk with that sword, Ron!” said Hermione excitedly. “I bet the sword imbibed the poison somehow!”


“Taken in. Absorbed. Soaked up, if you will,” droned Snape.

“Swords can do that?” asked Ron, looking perplexed.

“It’s a magic sword, Ron,” said Hermione with an exasperated sigh.

“Yes,” said Snape. “And none of us can enter Hogwarts in order to get it. But Umbridge could. If Potter is correct when he stated that the Basilisk fang destroyed Riddle’s diary, then that sword would be able to destroy the other Horcruxes.”

“Of course I’m correct,” said Harry, his expression tight. “And what are we supposed to do with her while you’re running off to Hogwarts?”

Snape raised an eyebrow, and sneered. “Surely you can come up with something, Potter. Cudgel that tiny brain of yours and inspiration is bound to strike – eventually.”

Fenrir growled low in his throat.

“So we’re going to need Polyjuice ingredients,” said Remus hurriedly, obviously hoping to prevent an argument. Harry looked over at him and frowned; the man still appeared to be completely exhausted, even after sleeping for most of the day before. The Full Moon wasn’t near, was it?

“Couldn’t Kreacher get the ingredients?” asked Ron, ignoring Hermione’s pursed lips. “Harry would ask him nicely,” he added, glancing at her.

“Yeah, and I’ll give him money to leave in the register too, so we won’t be stealing,” said Harry.

Snape scoffed at the ceiling, the phrase, “Gryffindor nonsense,” loud enough for Harry to hear.

“So what are we supposed to do while you’re off, Snape? Just twiddle our thumbs?” asked Charlie. 

Snape raised an eyebrow at him. “Missing your dragons, Weasley?”

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I’m not used to sitting back.”

“We’ll make the Wolfsbane and Polyjuice potions,” said Hermione briskly. “And it couldn’t hurt to practice defensive spells.”

“You lot need all the practice you can get,” said Tonks. “That was way too close in the cave for my liking.”

“Hey, we did all right,” Ron protested.

“If it hadn’t been for us showing up, who knows what would have happened.”

“So,” Charlie interrupted loudly before the disagreement grew. “We need to get the locket from Umbridge. How exactly are we going to do that? Any brilliant plans?”

Everyone looked around at each other. Fenrir grinned, showing all of his teeth. The feral gleam in his eye was as good of an answer as any.

“Don’t know about the locket,” he said with a smirk. “But I can think of a few ways to get her.” 


Chapter 16 ~~~~~~~~ Back to Fenrir/Harry ~~~~~~~~                


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