CHAPTER SIX.
HAUNTED HOUSE

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         Like Rosalie had said, it didn't take long to reach the empty house. She had walked to the place many times, and knew how to get there quietly and quickly, reaching the place before the sun could shine at all. When they got there, Harry went first with his two friends following, Rosalie taking the back. She could see that Hermione didn't like as she kept glancing at the girl.

         They walk down the main hallway that had many cobwebs and dust. Then, a gust of cold air swept through the house, their tongues curled back into their mouths and something shifts in the shadows at the end of the hallway. Rosalie stepped forward to see the corpse of Dumbledore, it raised its wand towards her and then stopped. The corpse shrunk back and disappeared, like it was never there to begin with.

         "What was that about?" Ron questioned once everything went back to normal.

         "Mad-Eye's doing, I'd guess," Hermione said, "In case Snape decided to come snooping."

         Then, they heard the floorboard creak, causing all of their heads to turn. Hermione lifts her wand, "Homenum revelio."

         Once nothing happened, she lowered her wand and began to explain, "It's a spell to reveal human presence."

         Everything turned back calm. Hermione moved towards Ron, who shuffled closer to the girl, and Rosalie rubbed her arms to stop the chill bumps. She stood back from the group, looking at the walls covered with spiders and other little things to signal how vacant it had been in the two years of Sirius' death.

         "I'm going to head to bed," Hermione announced, "Rosalie and I could share a room and you two could stay together, alright?"

         The three nodded at the statement, Rosalie still searching for the one thing that brought the four of them to the house. "Rosalie?" her attention stopped when she saw Hermione staring at her, "Are you going to come with me?"

         "In a moment," Rosalie answered, "I think I'd like some time to look around."

         She nodded, and everyone left her as they carried themselves up the stairs. Rosalie went to living room, which looked too ghostly for the name, and saw a pile of parchment on the coffee table. She took one of the slips, taking a muggle pen from her pocket (thank Hermione for leaving it there on accident) and started to write.

         Everything's fine. Got out alright with the two I needed to be with. Had to Obliviate two of us to keep my cover, and they don't suspect a thing. Don't worry.

         Rosalie x

         She finished writing before crumbling up the parchment and bringing it close in her hands. It was too dangerous to find a bird, no, and she didn't have one. Rosalie went to the fireplace of the room, bringing some of the Floo Powder and sprinkling some of it onto the letter.

         "Malfoy Manor," she whispered, watching the green flames ignite, engulfing the fireplace before disappearing – the letter gone with it. She sat back into one of the sofas, closing her eyes and taking a breath, letting all the guilt of the day reel in.

         Every day she had to take time to look back on the events of what happened. Letting all of the horrible things that she was connected to override her, letting her subconscious tell her how terrible of a person that she was. Rosalie hated it, but she needed it. She already knew it. It was for reflection, it was to remind herself to never love Voldemort or believe in him.

         "Hey," she heard from behind her, causing the girl to jump slightly, seeing Harry standing in the doorway.

         "Hi," she replied without annoyance, scooting over a little bit so that he could sit down beside her, which he did.

         "I've been thinking a lot lately," he started, "About Dumbledore. I thought I knew him, that we were close, but since his death, I feel I haven't known a thing about him."

         "You knew him," Rosalie told him with furrowed eyebrows, "A version of him – maybe – but you knew him."

         Harry chuckled, "I knew the 'Harry is our best hope' Dumbledore, not the real one. I thought I did, before."

         "Not many people do," she told him truthfully, "I'm not even sure I knew him. All he talked about were horcruxes and ending You-Know-Who's reign. We never really talked about his life."

         It was a lie. They did. He told a lot about his childhood, his adolescence, and the mistakes he had made. It was his way of opening a door, talking about his life so that she would have to open up about her own. But Harry didn't need to know that.

         "I just – I want to know every part of Dumbledore, to feel close to him," Harry sighed in frustration, "Everyone knew him, but nobody knew him. I want to, though, I want to know him."

         Rosalie smiled at him, "Maybe you don't. Sometimes it's better to preserve a memory than to learn enough to ruin it."

         He nodded, "I understand that. But how can I love a memory when I know there were secrets? How can I praise him now when I learn that there was so much more to him?"

         "By looking past it," Rosalie said, "Look, just zone in on a memory about him, ignore the shadows – fill them with light! – and don't let the words or the knowledge that you now have get in the way."

         Harry nodded. The two sat for only a short moment or two before he yawned, and Rosalie couldn't help but smile.

         "I guess I should get some sleep now," Harry sat up, "See you in the morning, Rosalie. Goodnight."

         "Goodnight," she replied, watching him leave before sighing and hitting herself in the head.

         She shouldn't get attached. Everything would be ruined when he learned the truth, they would only get hurt more. Rosalie was so foolish to let the conversation happen. They could never be friends – they could never be anything!

         She was only fooling herself.

         To clear her head, Rosalie left the dim-lighted living room, opting to go to the study upstairs. She made sure to make no noise as she crept up the stairs, sliding her hand on the wooden rail as she walked. Rosalie was sure that Ron and Hermione were asleep, but Harry was awake.

         Rosalie tip-toed down the hall, going to the last door. The door, already open, allowed her to quietly walk in, looking at the dark, dust covered room of the house. She traced her finger along the desk, collecting dust before brushing it onto her jeans.

         "Hello?" she quietly called, looking at the empty portrait, hoping that the man in it would appear soon.

         And to her surprise, the old Headmaster of Hogwarts appeared. "Child," he started, "What are you doing here? Oh, if Severus was in his officer right now!"

         Rosalie was quiet to quiet him, "I'm not alone, so please lower your voice. And what Sna – Severus – doesn't know won't hurt him."

         "I am supposed to help guild the Headmasters of Hogwarts," he said, "And telling him where one of his students is would be a great help."

         She gave him a frown, "But I thought we were friends, really, and friends wouldn't turn each other in. I could get in lots of trouble."

         "Fine," he said to her, "What is it you want?"

         "Give Severus a message from me," Rosalie told him, "Tell him that the reason does not save the intention...tell him that from me."

         "My child," he furrowed his eyebrows, "What on earth does it mean?"

         "He will know..." she nodded her head, "He will know..."

         And she left the room, quietly walking down the hallway and stairs, going back to the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place, where the journal of the late Albus Dumbledore laid on the coffee table.

_____________

         It was morning then. She woke up with a groan, her back hurting from the night spent on the sofa of the Black house. Her hair was all over her face as she spat it out, looking around at the grim house before stretching.

         Rosalie looked around, seeing a small ball of parchment in the fireplace. She raced to it before anyone else could get into the room and pick it up.

         Everything's alright here as well. Voldemort figured out what you had done before the letter, but he knew better than to think that you would betray him. Obviously. Don't worry about anything here, though, he's been praising you for being so loyal since the letter arrived. Be safe.

         Draco x

         "Harry! Harry!" she heard Hermione yell, and immediately Rosalie tore up the piece of parchment and hid it in the old ashes of the fireplace.

         Running out of the living room, she saw Harry step out from another room and Hermione dashing up the stairs. The girl let out a sigh of relief when she saw him.

         "Ron! I've found him!" Hermione yelled, and Rosalie rolled her eyes. Of course they would look for him without thinking about her. But she couldn't blame him, not really.

         "Good! Tell him from me he's a git!" they heard Ron yell from another place in the house.

         "Harry, you can't just disappear. We thought –" Hermione was cut off as Harry handed a letter, that she read, "It's from your mum. To Sirius. Bathilda Bagshot...?"

         "Yeah. They knew her. She wrote A History of Magic, you know," Harry told her, and Rosalie couldn't help but roll her eyes.

         "Did she now?" Hermione asked with irony, rolling her eyes as well.

         "I'm thinking maybe we should go talk to her. She still lives in Godric's Hollow," Harry informed Hermione, "I'm thinking maybe she could help us."

         Hermione looked up with a saddened expression, "Harry. I can imagine why you'd want to go there, but...I don't think Bathilda Bagshot is going to know where Voldemort hid his horcruxes."

         Harry didn't have a chance to respond as they heard Ron yell, "Hey! I think you two better come down here."

         They went to the living room, seeing Ron at the curtain, peering out as the three of them joined him. There were two dark figures standing by a tree, looking at the house while another sat on a bench.

         "The two clinging to the tree are Death Eaters for sure. Dunno 'bout the bloke on the bench," Ron said to them.

         "We need to get out of here...and fast," Harry said to them before turning to Rosalie, "You said the locket was here?"

         "Yeah, come on," she led them to the dining room, looking at the cabinet. There were many fancy glasses on display and other treasured and valuable items of the Black family.

         Rosalie began searching around, going to the spot she knew where the locket was, only to find that it wasn't there. She continued looking, moving items around as her eyes widened. "No," she whispered.

         "What? What do you mean 'no'?" Hermione asked frantically as Rosalie continued to look around.

         "I mean," she sighed before sharing the information, "I can't it. It's not here anymore."

         "Great! You lied to us!" Ron roared, "I bet you never even knew the location of the locket in the first place!"

         Rosalie rolled her eyes, going to stand up, "I did. I was here – I remember it being here when I went here for brief meetings with Dumbledore. He – he said it was right here. It was supposed to be here!"

         "How do we know you're telling the truth?" Hermione asked, "Give me a good reason to trust you or I will Obliviate you!"

         "Like you did to those Death Eaters last night?" she watched Hermione recoil, and the girl took a breath, "I'm sorry, alright? I just get snappy when people keep asking me the same question over and over again."

         "Well maybe there's a reason for it," Ron added.

         Rosalie scoffed and rolled your eyes, "Yeah? People like you just place some in a category without even getting to know them first. You've never spoken to me before this summer, and because I'm not your friend, you automatically think I'm your enemy."

         Ron flinched from her words before making a comeback, "Even Lupin doesn't trust you."

         "Do you trust the judgement of someone else so much you don't begin to think for yourself?" Rosalie asked, "You can have your own opinions of a person, you know."

         Harry took a step back, looking around to see a shadow trembling on the wall outside the kitchen. The shadow scrambled up and ran out of sight, but Harry began to walk after it, "Stop! I order you!"

         The boy dragged the shadow, that appeared to be Kreacher, who was mumbling horrible things under his breath.

         "Kreacher..." Ron muttered before Harry continued, "Been spying on us, have you?"

         "Kreacher has been...watching," the house elf said, "Kreacher always watches."

         "Maybe he knows the truth," Hermione suggested to her friends, sending a sharp look to Rosalie.

         Harry glanced at Hermione, realizing what she meant before taking the fake locket and dangling it before the house elf's eyes, "Ever seen this before?"

         The house elf grumbled something. "Kreacher, I own this place. Sirius left it to me. Which means I own you too," Harry told him.

         Rosalie rolled her eyes, "Don't say you own him, Harry, that's incredibly rude and controlling. I thought we stopped owning people in the 1800s."

         Hermione glanced at her with pride before returning to look at the house elf. Said house elf grimaced, "That was Master Regulus' locket."

         "That's right," Harry agreed with him, "But there were two, weren't there?"

         Kreacher's eyes widened again, nodding.

         "Where's the other one?" Harry asked the house elf, and Rosalie stepped the tiniest bit closer.

         Kreacher doesn't know where the other locket is," the house elf told them unwillingly, and Rosalie frowned slightly.

         "But was it here?" Hermione changed the question, "Did you ever see it?"

         Kreacher spun to look at her, his tone turning cold and ugly, "Filthy mudblood – the Death Eaters will soon be coming for you!"

         Ron snatched the house elf by the neck, shaking him for the words he said to Hermione, but the house moved on to Ron, "Blood-traitor Weasley –"

         "Ron! Ron!" Hermione yelled at him to stop, and reluctantly, Ron released Kreacher.

         "Answer her," Harry told the house elf after Ron let go of him, and Rosalie couldn't help but want to walk away.

         It was too close to home – the violence. She felt like she was a little girl again after she just lost her mother and her father had gone off the rail. Rosalie shuttered at the way her father used to handle her.

         "Yes. It was here, in this house," Kreacher told them with disgust for the blood-traitor and muggleborn, "A most evil object..."

         "How do you mean?" Harry inquired.

         "Before he died, Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to destroy it. It was the last thing he asked Kreacher. But no matter how Kreacher tried, he could not..."

         "Where is it now? Did someone take it, Kreacher?" Harry asked quickly.

         The house nodded, "He came in the night. He took many things, including the locket."

         "Who, Kreacher? Who was it?" Harry asked him.

         "Mundungus. Mundungus Fletcher," Kreacher answered and the wizards looked around at each other.

         Then, Harry turned back to Kreacher, looking him dead in the eye, "Find him."

         And the house elf vanished, going to please his master by bringing him the thief.

______________

         It had only been hours. Day had passed and night reigned as Rosalie continued to read the journal that Dumbledore gave her. The passages were either short or cut off suddenly, as if the younger version of her old headmaster was afraid to give any more detail.

         Gellert asked me to meet him later. I have an idea of what he wants, probably to talk about his progression. He wants to make wizards rule over muggles. At first, I too disagreed with him, but after hearing him speak and seeing him for myself, I can't help but agree. Gellert is correct, muggles belong under us as we are greater than them with our magical abilities while they have nothing.

         Though, I can't help but wish he would talk about something else. My foolish fantasies want him to

         And then the entry ended. Every so suddenly, it all stopped and Rosalie wanted so much more. She wanted to know – to understand. The next pages were blank, flipping through five before seeing the passage about his sister, skipping another two before finding one with ink.

         I was wrong. I was so incredibly wrong about Gellert and I can't believe I let myself believe him. Everything is lost. Ariana is dead, all because of me, and Aberforth won't even talk to me. The last thing he told me was to leave home and never return. So that is what I have done, checking into a room in The Three Broomsticks.

         I was so foolish to allow myself to

         It ended. Rosalie huffed in anger, hating how the pages ended mid-sentence when she only wanted to learn more. There was no more detail, and she couldn't help but think Dumbledore was writing something that would only get him a ticket to Azkaban.

         "They have flesh memories," she heard Hermione say. Looking up, she saw Harry holding the Snitch he had received and Hermione looking at him. "Snitches. They're never touched by bare skin until the Seeker captures it. Even the wizard who fabricates it wears gloves. That way, if there's a dispute, the Snitch can identify who first touched it."

         "You mean...it remembers me?" Harry asked, surprised by the new information Hermione had given him.

         She nodded, "When Scrimgeour first gave it to you, I thought it might open at your touch – that Dumbledore had hidden something in it."

         There was silence after that until they heard it. Crack! The sound echoed throughout the hall, and the three of them ran into the kitchen. Rosalie saw a small figure that was wet and dressed in rags tumble into view, staring up at Harry.

         "Harry Potter! So long it's been –" the house elf was cut off when another hand dragged and pulled him away.

         The two house elves and Mundungus tumble from one side of the small kitchen to the other. "Expelliarmus!" Hermione cried at Mundungus' wand flew to her.

         "As requested, Kreacher has returned with the thief Mundungus Fletcher!" Kreacher said.

         "Dobby has also returned with the thief Mundungus Fletcher!" the house elf – Dobby – looked up with pride at Harry.

         "What are you playing at – setting a pair of bleedin' 'ouse-elves on me!" the man said.

         "Dobby was only trying to help! Dobby saw Kreacher in Diagon Alley, which Dobby thought was curious. And then Dobby saw that Kreacher was talking to the thief Mundungus Fletcher, which Dobby thought was very, very –"

         "I'm no thief, you foul little git," the man said, "I'm a purveyor of rare and wondrous objects –"

         "You're a thief, Dung. Everyone knows it," Ron cut him off, turning as red as his hair.

         Everyone turned to see him, as he had just appeared in the doorway. Dobby smiled, "Master Weasley! So good to see you again!"

         Rosalie looked at him, seeing the slight frown. It seemed that he had felt left out as everyone had gathered without his knowledge. She knew the feeling.

         "Listen, I panicked that night, all right?" Mundungus said to them, "I never volunteered to die for you, mate. Can I help it if Mad-Eye fell off his broom –"

         "Stop lying!" Hermione screamed at him. She began to move closer to the thief, but stopped when she felt Ron's hand on her shoulder.

         "Piece of advice. Let's not rehash old times. Got it...mate?" Ron said in a cool tone.

         "When you turned this place over – don't deny it! – you found a locket, am I right?" Harry asked the wizard.

         "Why?" Mundungus asked. He then leaned forward, "Was it valuable?"

         "No," Ron said, turning to explain, "He's worried he should have got more money for it."

         "Wouldn't be difficult, would it?" Mundungus rhetorically asked, "Bleedin' gave it away, din' I? There I was, pitching me wares in Diagon Alley when some ministry hag comes up and asks to see my license. Says she's of a mind to lock me up and would've, too, she hadn't taken a fancy to that locket."

         "Who was she?" Harry immediately asked the man, "This witch."

         "Well, she's right there, isn't she? Bleedin' bow an' all," Mundungus pointed to an issue of The Daily Prophet with Dolores Umbridge on the front.

         Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other while Rosalie rested her hand on a chair to steady herself. "You have got to be kidding me."