Chapter 52 - Third Horcrux
Lord Black led us down the stone stairs. The locket floating ahead of him. None of us touched it or even breathed too close to it. Sirius walked behind his grandfather, tense and alert. I stayed between Harry and Dudley, while Kreacher shuffled beside us, sniffling every few steps.
The basement opened into the ritual room. It was a place about which I had only heard whispers. It looked exactly as one would except for a chamber like this. It has old stone walls carved with protective runes, a single iron chandelier burning with steady blue flames, and a floor marked with faded sigils from generations long. The atmosphere felt heavy, thick, as if even the air understood it was not a place for laughter.
Lord Black set the floating locket in the center of the room. "Stay by the door," he ordered, voice firm. "Interference can warp the ritual, and none of you have any protections against it."
We obeyed at once. Even Sirius didn't argue.
"Kreacher," Lord Black called, "bring me the iron chalk. And the silver ash. Quickly."
The house-elf hurried to a side cupboard, still wiping his nose on his arm, and brought out two containers. Lord Black knelt and began drawing circles around the locket. They were intricate ones, sharp-lined, interlocking like chains. He muttered incantations under his breath, words that scraped the edge of hearing. Kreacher placed small silver bowls at the corners of the design, and the air became colder.
Only when the last line was drawn did Lord Black rise.
"This will take time," he said. "Black magic is stubborn. But it bows to stronger hands."
He raised his wand. The circle lit with a dull purple glow.
At once the Horcrux reacted.
The locket jerked violently, as if trying to break free. A thin, high hiss filled the room. It was quiet at first but then sharp enough to sting the ears. Shadows rippled along the walls, far darker than they should have been. Harry grabbed my arm. Dudley flinched. Even Sirius swore under his breath.
A small black mist began to leak from the locket, writhing like something alive.
Temptations started at once, whispers, soft and poisonous.
You are weak…
Let me help you…
Give me your pain…
Harry and Dudley shut their eyes for a moment, and even I felt it coiling near the edges of my mind. But the ritual circle burned brighter, pushing the voice back.
Lord Black did not waver. He kept incantating. His wand finally traced a sharp arc, and the mist was dragged screaming out of the locket. It thrashed like an unseen creature. The air shook with its rage. Harry gasped. Dudley let out a whimper. Kreacher shuddered. Sirius staggered a step.
With a final, ripping cry, the soul-shard tore free.
It hung above the circle, twisting, a shrieking knot of smoke.
Lord Black inhaled deeply, and then roared a spell that made even the walls tremble.
"MORS IGNIS CANIS!"
Fiendfyre erupted from his wand. It was not wild like the cursed blaze as it is said to be. Rather it was controlled, shaped by his old mastery. It curled into the form of a huge black hound, flames rippling like fur, eyes burning white.
The fiery hound leapt towards the soul.
Its jaws closed around the soul-shard.
One second.
Then nothing.
The shard vanished, consumed utterly. No scream remained. No echo. Only silence.
The fiendfyre hound gave a silent howl before it dissolved into sparks that drifted upward and faded.
The locket dropped gently to the stone floor with a soft clink.
A pulse of clean magic washed through the room. I felt the wave move through me again for the third time. It was warm and gave another gift before vanishing. It was like a door opening somewhere deep in my core.
Lord Black felt the response of magic too.
His eyes sharpened, clearer, brighter, alive with a spark that had not been there before.
"It is done," he said quietly, almost reverently. It seemed he had gained some from the blessings of magic.
And the room seemed to breathe again.
We returned upstairs slowly, each step feeling heavier after what we had witnessed in the ritual room. The living room's warm lamps felt strangely distant, as if the house itself was trying to settle after the burst of dark magic.
Kreacher appeared almost at once and served tea for all of us. His hands were shaking slightly, ears low. Lord Black said surprisingly, "Bring one for yourself too, Kreacher. Sit and drink."
Kreacher froze as if struck by lightning. "F–for Kreacher, Master?"
"Yes," Lord Black said firmly. "You are part of this. Sit."
The elf trembled as he poured himself a cup. He looked terrified to drink in our presence, yet so deeply happy that he held the cup with both hands, almost reverently. None of us spoke. The tea was warm, soothing, but our minds were still filled with the echoes of screams and the burning form of the Fiendfyre hound. Even Sirius drank in silence, eyes fixed on nothing, lost in thought.
After a few minutes, Sirius exhaled and stood. "Harry, Dudley… enough for today. You've seen too much. Come on, time for a nap."
Both boys looked exhausted. Harry leaned into Sirius without a word, and Dudley followed. I watched them go, grateful they would get some rest.
Lord Black asked me to follow him afterward so I went along. Kreacher hurried behind us, still clutching his small teacup like a treasure.
We entered Lord Black's study. He sat heavily in his chair and placed the locket on the table. Then he picked it up and examined it from every angle. He turned it over, opened it, shut it, held it to the light. He did every motion carefully and deliberately, like studying a lost relic.
After a long moment, he pushed it forward toward me.
"Arthur. This is for you."
My heart jumped. I had been sure he would keep it. This was not just any object, it was Salazar Slytherin's own locket. A sacred heirloom of an ancient line. The Blacks had deep Slytherin roots. Nearly every Black had been sorted into Slytherin since Hogwarts was established, except for Sirius and a few rare exceptions. To them, this artifact was something like a holy relic.
And yet Lord Black gave it to me.
I bowed my head. "Thank you.. truly. I'll protect it."
I slipped the cleaned locket into my pocket, feeling its faint hum against my palm.
Lord Black turned to Kreacher. "When the healer comes for Sirius's next appointment, you will be examined as well. You said you drank those poisonous potions, and you were exposed to that Horcrux for years. We must see what harm was done. You are not this old naturally."
Kreacher's eyes widened, and he burst into grateful bows. "Master is merciful… Master is wise… Kreacher thanks Master—"
"Enough," Lord Black cut in sharply. "You are the house-elf of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Behave with dignity. You are a steward. Hold yourself properly."
Kreacher straightened at once, spine stiff, ears lifted. "Y–yes, Master. Kreacher will obey."
Lord Black nodded and finally leaned back in his chair. The tiredness on his face mixed with something sharp and calculating—the weight of a family head thinking far beyond the moment.
I hesitated, then asked, "Lord Black as Kreacher told you about Regulus's body, it might still be in that cave. Won't it be better to get his body out? "
Lord Black nodded slowly. "Yes I know. But we will not retrieve him now."
My breath caught. "Why?"
He folded his hands, gaze heavy. "Because the House of Black is watched. Since the trial of Sirius, any move we make will be noticed. If we bring back Regulus's body and have a burial ceremony, there will be questions which we cannot answer without revealing what he fought against."
I stayed quiet. He continued.
"Regulus will have his recognition. That I promise. But not now. Not yet. It is painful, but necessary. If, as you say, this shard belonged to the Dark Lord and was the same in Harry's scar, then he has already torn his soul more than twice. It means he will return one day. And when he does, I do not want his gaze fixed on my family. We will fight when the time comes, but we cannot afford to be his most focused target. His followers destroyed many noble families last time. House Black survived, but barely."
He looked at me with weary clarity.
"For now, we protect what remains. We plan. And we wait."
I nodded slowly, understanding the weight behind every word. Being the head of an ancient house was not just about pride and hollow talk. It was about strategy, sacrifice, and choosing battles that would not destroy the people you swore to protect.
And Lord Black carried all of that on his shoulders.
The room felt quiet again, like the calm before something important.
End of Chapter 52 - Third Horcrux