Reg’s Curse || Self-Para
Sirius took a deep breath as he looked down at the silver locket nestled among his socks. It had been months of hiding and even of moving around, but it was time. With the baby coming, it couldn’t stay here anymore.
Sirius had been putting off dealing with the blasted thing for too long. He’d tried a couple things initially, but he’d given up quickly on his ability to destroy it himself. Sirius’ specialty was transfiguration and defensive spells, not undoing cursed objects. It didn’t help that Reg hadn’t really explained what the locket was, just that it had been stolen from fucking Voldemort himself and that Sirius shouldn’t trust anyone else with it. Tall order when he didn’t have the skill set himself to actually do anything besides try not to let his eyes be drawn to wherever it was hiding.
It had been pure chance that the locket had been at Juniper’s instead of his and Remus’ flat the day everything exploded. He’d brought it over a few days previously to ask her advice about taking it to the Ministry. Sirius didn’t trust the Ministry with it, not farther than he could throw up, but Moody perhaps would know what to do.
Then the flat had blown up, and perhaps Sirius’ paranoia had gotten the best of him. It seemed better not to let it anywhere near the Ministry. He hated having it in the house, though, every once in a while, he had nightmares he couldn’t help tracing back to that little locket and its whispers. He’d felt too guilty to ask Juniper if they gave her the same.
But a baby. Sirius refused to have the thing in the same house his child would be growing up in, and asking Juniper to continue putting up with that negative energy was too much. It had to go.
Sirius carefully wrapped it in brown paper packaging, hoping to make it look non-threatening and flooed to Hogwarts.
He stepped into the Headmaster’s office, a little dazzled by how little it had changed. Then again, Dumbledore had been here a long time without doing much redecorating. It shouldn’t feel as jarring as it did to step back into a place that felt so far away in his memories and see everything the same.
But why shouldn’t it change? a voice whispered in his mind. Everything else has been touched by war. Why should he get to sit hidden away up here never changing, never suffering. Always above it all.
Sirius shoved the package down on the table, and the voice left him, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of distrust that went with it. He hated touching it. It always seemed to put thoughts in his head, and once they were there, he couldn’t wondering if they were from it or from himself.
He couldn’t do this. He had to do this. If there was one person in the world to trust to stand against Voldemort, it was Dumbledore.
“Ah, Sirius,” the man said, standing up from his desk as though Sirius wasn’t acting odd. “I received your owl, but I must admit I’m curious what is it you wish to speak to me about.” His eyes fell to the package, and he looked back up at Sirius with a gentle smile. “I suspect your gift there is related.”
“It’s not a gift,” Sirius snapped, then felt bad about it. He wanted Dumbledore’s help. He didn’t need to be rude about it. “I, ah, got it from Regulus. After he died. It wasn’t his. It was... He stole it from Voldemort.”
Instantly Sirius watched a change come over Dumbledore’s face. He seemed to strand straighter, and as he strode purposefully across the room, Sirius couldn’t help feeling that he’d just watched a transformation from a kindly grandfather to a war general.
“Is it safe to the touch?” Dumbledore’s tone was all business now.
Sirius nodded. “It is, but... Be careful. It puts... thoughts in your head.”
Dumbledore glanced at him curiously as he used his wand to unwrap the paper. Once it was exposed to the office air, the locket seemed to gleam. Dumbledore turned this way and that, examining it from every possible angle without moving it. “Salazar’s locket,” he murmured.
“What?”
Dumbledore looked up, staring at Sirius as if from very far away. Sirius wondered how far into his own mind he’d traveled.
“I knew he’d been collecting objects,” Dumbledore began slowly. He looked toward the little cabinet against one wall, and Sirius wondered what could be inside that was related. “I knew he was searching for a complete collection from the house founders. I’ve never known why he wanted them, but I’ve had my suspicions.”
“What are they?” Sirius asked.
Dumbledore looked at him gravely a moment. “That, my dear boy, is something I don’t need to burden you with.”
His words shrunk Sirius down to an indignant child, a boy back in Grimmauld Place being told he couldn’t do anything at all but exist to follow orders. Sirius’ eyes flashed as he tried to keep the anger off his face, and he knew Dumbledore saw it. Perhaps he could blame the locket on the table. More likely not.
“You may learn in time,” Dumbledore continued, “though I hope the burden never falls on you to need to.”
“What does that mean?” Sirius asked, not caring anymore if he sounded rude. “Look, it it’s something that must be done, I can help. You said there are more. The Order could look.”
“No.” Dumbledore’s voice was firm, and wordlessly he flicked his wand to levitate the locket--back in its brown packaging--into a desk drawer. Sirius couldn’t help wondering if he would move it again after Sirius left.
“Even the Order has its faults, Sirius. Spies are not easily caught, but they are easily suspected.”
“What about my mates then?” Sirius asked. “You know us. We may not have been at this as long as some of the aurors, but we’re a good team. We could help.”
Dumbledore simply watched him for a moment, and Sirius felt his feet slide out from under him. He was momentarily free falling from the doubt sewed, but he refused to believe it.
“No, you’re wrong,” he snapped. “We’re friends. We grew up together, we’re on the same side. I can’t-” He took a deep breath. “I won’t believe it.”
“Sometimes it is not what we believe that affects our choices but what others have pressed upon us.”
“Well, you’re not pressing this.” Sirius rolled his shoulders. “I hope you figure out what to do with whatever the hell it is. Some of us would rather act that sit around and suspect.”
With that, Sirius turned on his heel and leaned back into the floo, with as much a thought of his location as the actual words. He ended up in Juniper’s flat--in their flat--and he collapsed on the ground in front of the fire. He thought he’d feel better. He thought he’d feel lighter having put that damned thing somewhere that it would be taken care of. Instead he felt alone and more shaken than he’d been before.
He stared there until Ringo padded over to see what was wrong. When Juniper came home, it was to find two big black dogs curled up in a heap in front of the fire.
