"Indeed. From what I have heard from my spies, he does not let it out of his sight and has been experimenting with all manner of Dark rituals on it. There is no evidence that he had a familiar before he was vanquished. While he was weak and incorporeal, I can not see him wasting energy binding and strengthening a familiar with no ulterior motive."
"How are we supposed to get close enough to the snake and Voldemort to check?" Sirius hummed. "Could a ghost be able to tell?"
"Hmm, no. There are few things strong enough to sense a foreign soul." She tapped a beat on the armrest, thinking it over.
"We'll figure it out," Harry shrugged. He had faith in his mama to handle that. It would be good stress relief for her, to stalk the Dark Lord and kill his snake. "You mentioned a locket, Professor Dumbledore?"
"Indeed. It was passed down the Slytherin line and last belonged to Tom Riddle's mother. I believe he hid the locket somewhere relevant to his childhood. I have already investigated the orphanage where he was raised and have a couple of leads."
Harry hummed. Wherever Dumbledore thought the locket was, it was inconsequential. They'd already found and destroyed it at Grimmauld Place. But Dumbledore didn't need to know that. Harry could spin this to his advantage if he was smart.
"Would you like some help with that? Mum and Sirius can handle Nagini, and we can find the locket!" Harry said with enthusiasm. The last thing he wanted at the moment was to be stuck with his bickering parents any longer than needed. Giving them a task together might get them to finally make up (or kill each other).
"I am not leaving you alone with - " Mama bristled but Harry huffed and interrupted the impending tirade.
"Nah, I'm sick of being in the middle of your bickering."
Sirius barked out a laugh at Alabasandria's dejected face and Harry turned to him, eyebrow raised. Sirius ducked his head.
Mama and Dumbledore really did not like each other. But Harry trusted him enough. He was annoying, but he was a very moral man. He was not the type to murder a child. From what he'd learned from their sparse lessons on Voldemort's history, the old man had just let all that happen, honestly. Voldemort murdered Moaning Myrtle while he was still in school and Dumbledore didn't think to toss the kid off the edge of the astronomy tower or something?
Maybe that's what Harry would do to Dumbledore. It would serve them right to not have a taller railing. Yes, "helping" Dumbledore would be the perfect opportunity to finally murder the man. He was still embarrassed about how thoroughly Fawkes had foiled their last attempt.
"Ah, the wisdom of youth," Dumbledore said. "Harry is more than welcome to assist me. I assure you, he is safe with me. Now, if we may continue on. What information have you uncovered about the horcruxes? How did you discover the Hufflepuff Cup?"
Sirius launched into a brief explanation of legally (and without any necromancy) digging into Bellatrix's affairs and discovering the Cup within her vault with Andromeda's help. As well as her suggestion of searching the Room of Requirement for the Ravenclaw Diadem.
Then they devised a plan to send Dementors after Nagini to suck out the snake's horcrux fragment. They were confident the Death Eaters were too consumed by darkness to have half a happy memory between them to conjure a Patronus. With only some minor arguing between the adults, they finally left the meeting in high spirits.
Voldemort would be mortal within the month.
...
There was not a feeling worse than melancholy, Sirius decided as his feet carried him against his will up the tight staircase to the plain door at the end of the hall. A door that had stayed closed since the initial exploration of 12 Grimmauld Place.
The room had not changed since Regulus had last entered it, a snapshot of the past frozen in time. Walls cluttered with green and silver, Quidditch paraphernalia on every surface. A bookshelf was stacked with well-loved volumes, a trunk sat under the window bursting with poorly folded clothes, and a robe draped over the back of the desk chair whose surface was topped with loose parchment. He could pretend his brother had gone out for a walk and would be returning shortly.
Sirius sat on the bed. He stared down at his hands and felt profoundly old. Here were the last moments of his brother, still a child. A Death Eater with Quidditch posters on his walls. So many of his family - they'd all died before their times. And here sat Sirius, surviving despite it all.
Rising from his spot, he went to the desk and pulled a few photographs closer. Regulus smiled up at him, waving beside the rest of his team. He would find it ironic that his fun-loving older brother would grow up to be a broken man, more melancholic than mischievous.
An idea struck him.
(A very bad idea, but he was Sirius Black, and there was no one here to tell him no.)
Here sat Sirius, surviving. Yet alone.
Back when he'd first fallen into the job of hobbyist necromancer - when they'd first uncovered the truth of what Regulus had done from Kreacher, Alabasandria had expressly forbidden him from speaking to any dead loved ones. No detail was spared at the cost it would carve from his sanity to fall for the traps of the undead. To covet and crave what could only slip through his fingers as fine mist. He had never felt the urge. The knowledge that Lily and James, at least, were at peace was enough for him.
But damn if he wasn't feeling melancholic and lonely and overwhelmed.
What would Reggie say, that the Dark Arts hating Sirius could whip up a summoning ritual on muscle memory alone?
What remained of Sirius' sanity anyhow? He'd been relying on the killing Voldemort thing to keep him occupied. It wasn't like he had much else. Like friends.
Well, in for a dime, in for a dollar. He didn't need any bones, just the single picture of his brother waving in his quidditch uniform, and his fervent need to see his brother again.