Chapter 162
"I'm alive…" Pansy took a deep breath of the fresh air, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. After the stale atmosphere inside the old house, she felt she might have fainted if she'd stayed any longer.
She leaned out of the window and looked down at the desolate street below.
Draco walked straight to the ornate fireplace at the front of the room. On either side stood two elegant glass cabinets. One wall was covered by a large tapestry showing the Black family tree, its lineage stretching back to the Middle Ages.
At the very top were the embroidered words:
The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black — Toujours Pur.
"Why are there so many holes in it?" Pansy came up behind him. "If this were in my house, it would've been replaced long ago. I thought the Blacks were rich."
"They removed the names of family members who disgraced their so-called bloodline," Draco said calmly.
Pansy studied it again.
"Oh! Then Sirius must have been erased because he went to Azkaban."
"You might be right," Draco replied, not bothering to correct her.
---
"Step back. Something inside might attack," he warned.
Pansy immediately retreated several steps, watching nervously.
Draco opened the first cabinet.
A silver snuff box suddenly sprang out and snapped at his fingers. With a flick of his wand, it shattered into fragments. A pair of cursed tweezers scrambled up his sleeve toward his throat—he blasted them away, sending them flying out the open window.
He checked the contents carefully.
Rusty daggers. Animal claws. Coiled snakeskin. Antique seals. A crystal vial containing darkened blood.
No locket.
At the bottom sat a dusty music box.
Draco wound it.
A thin, eerie melody filled the room.
"Dra—"
Pansy's voice faded. Her eyes drooped, and she collapsed onto the sofa, fast asleep.
"You should rest," Draco said softly.
He closed the box and removed the earplugs from his own ears.
---
"Kreacher."
With a crack, the house-elf appeared, covered in dust and holding a brush.
"What are your orders, Master Malfoy?"
"Ten years ago, you went to a cave and brought back a box," Draco said directly. "Bring it to me."
Kreacher froze.
"Master Regulus ordered Kreacher never to tell anyone… anyone in the family…"
"I am your master now," Draco said firmly. "His restriction no longer applies."
Kreacher began trembling violently. Then he shrieked and rushed toward the fireplace poker, trying to punish himself.
"I order you to stop."
The elf collapsed, sobbing.
"Bring me the box," Draco said quietly. "I'll finish what Regulus started."
After a moment of resistance, Kreacher screamed:
"It's hidden where Kreacher sleeps!"
---
They hurried downstairs to the basement kitchen.
Kreacher opened a filthy cupboard. Inside was a sink, and beneath it a greasy hole.
"This is where Kreacher sleeps," he said proudly.
From the hole, he pulled out a small golden locket.
Draco called, "Dobby. Watch him."
Then he raised his wand.
"Gryffindor's Sword!"
The silver blade flew into his hand, its tip darkened with basilisk venom.
---
The locket lay on the floor, set with a green serpent in the shape of an S.
As Draco approached, it began to tremble.
The lid snapped open.
Behind the glass, a pair of living eyes blinked—dark, then turning blood-red.
A hissed voice whispered:
"I can give you anything you want…"
Draco didn't hesitate.
The sword rose.
Clang.
The blade pierced straight through the eyes.
The whispering stopped.
Thin smoke curled from the shattered locket as the soul fragment dissolved completely.
Draco looked down at it calmly.
"Empty temptation," he said.
A Horcrux could only lure those who lacked what it offered.
And he did not.