HP and the Parseltongue Chronicles - Chapter - 13

Life at Hogwarts had become a whirlwind of responsibilities and excitement for Harry. Balancing his schoolwork, Quidditch practices, club meetings, and the ongoing exploration of Godric's Vault was no small feat. Yet, Harry managed it all with determination and a clear sense of purpose.

One evening, after completing his Transfiguration essay, Harry retreated to his secret base. There, stored in a heavily warded chest, was the diadem of Ravenclaw they had found the previous year in Godric's Vault. The diadem, shimmering with an eerie brilliance, had been identified as cursed shortly after they retrieved it.

Harry knew it couldn’t stay in his possession for much longer. He wrote a detailed letter to Sirius explaining its discovery and the precautions he had taken to ensure its safety. He also instructed Sirius to consult the goblins at Gringotts, as their expertise with cursed and magical artifacts was unparalleled

Sirius Black paced the lavish sitting room at Highgarden, the ornate fireplace casting flickering shadows across his face. Resting on the table before him were two seemingly innocuous items: the famous Diadem of Ravenclaw and the Cup of Hufflepuff. Both had been returned to him by the goblins of Gringotts after being cleansed of the vile dark magic that had tainted them.

Sirius muttered to himself, "Two founders’ artifacts, both turned into Horcruxes. What are the odds?" His sharp gray eyes lingered on the diadem. "Rowena Ravenclaw’s wisdom, Helga Hufflepuff’s legacy... What was Voldemort trying to achieve?"

The day before, Sirius had been summoned to Gringotts by Ragnar, the Goblin King. The meeting had been more ceremonial than anything else, with Ragnar presenting the purified artifacts to Sirius with a mixture of respect and curiosity.

"You have impressed us, Lord Black," Ragnar had said, his deep voice echoing in the grand chamber. "Few wizards, even among your kind, would have the resourcefulness—or the gall—to track down and bring us such cursed artifacts."

Sirius, ever the charmer, had replied with a grin, "Well, it’s not every day you get to play scavenger hunt with the Dark Lord’s most prized possessions. But this isn’t just for show, Ragnar. Every Horcrux destroyed brings Voldemort closer to his mortality."

The Goblin King had nodded gravely. "We have seen to it that these artifacts are now cleansed. Their original enchantments are intact, but the pieces of Voldemort’s soul are no more. You are doing the wizarding world a great service."

Back at Highgarden, Remus Lupin entered the room, his face lined with concern. "You’re pushing yourself too hard, Sirius," he said. "First the journal, now these... What’s next? Gryffindor’s sword? Slytherin’s underwear?"

"Now that you mentioned it," Sirius started, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "I think I have something belonged to Salazar Slytherin."

"What is it?" Remus asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

Sirius set the glass down and leaned forward. "While I was cleaning up Grimmauld Place after I got out of Azkaban, I came across something unusual. A necklace. It had the Slytherin emblem on it. Looked ancient, too."

Remus straightened in his chair, his brows furrowing. "Slytherin's emblem? Are you sure?"

Sirius nodded. "Positive. It was heavy, ornate, and practically reeked of dark magic. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, just shoved it into a chest with the other cursed items I found in this house. But now, after what we've learned about Voldemort using the Founders' artifacts for Horcruxes... it’s starting to make sense."

Remus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If that necklace is what we think it is, then it might not just be cursed—it could be a Horcrux. If Voldemort got his hands on it, it would make perfect sense for him to use something connected to Slytherin."

Sirius stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. "We need to check. If it’s still there, we might be holding one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes without even knowing it."

The two Marauders made their way to a hidden storage room in Grimmauld Place, one Sirius had sealed with numerous enchantments. He waved his wand, muttering incantations under his breath, and the heavy iron door creaked open. Inside, the room was filled with dusty trunks, cursed objects, and other remnants of the Black family's dark legacy.

"Here it is," Sirius said, pulling out a blackened chest engraved with intricate silver runes. He placed it carefully on the table and opened it with a flick of his wand. The air inside seemed to shift as if something dark and malevolent stirred.

Sirius reached in and pulled out a necklace. The chain was thick and twisted, made of some dark metal, and the pendant bore a green gem shaped like a serpent, with the Slytherin emblem etched into the back.

Remus stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he observed the artifact. "That... definitely has dark magic radiating off it. We need to be careful."

Sirius set the necklace down and stepped back. "The goblins at Gringotts have a process for identifying and destroying Horcruxes. We should take it to them."

Remus nodded. "Agreed. If this is a Horcrux, then we need to act quickly. Voldemort might not have a body right now, but his influence is still out there."

Sirius sealed the necklace back in the chest and placed it under several enchantments to prevent anyone from tampering with it. He turned to Remus with a determined expression. "Tomorrow, we take this to Gringotts. If it is a Horcrux, we’ll make sure it’s destroyed."

Remus placed a reassuring hand on Sirius' shoulder. "We’ll see this through, Sirius. One step at a time, we’re dismantling Voldemort’s plans."

Sirius Black had always been known for his charm and wit, but over the past few months, his reputation among the goblins had soared to unprecedented heights. Not only had he managed to uncover three Horcruxes—a feat that even seasoned wizards would have struggled with—but his keen suggestion for the goblins to inspect their own vaults had led to the discovery of another one.

Goblin King Ragnar himself had presided over the cleansing ritual for the locket. When the process was complete, and the Horcrux’s malevolent essence was destroyed, Ragnar handed the locket to Sirius with a slight bow of acknowledgment. “You have proven yourself not only resourceful, Sirius Black, but also a valuable ally to the goblin nation,” Ragnar said, his tone formal yet genuine. “Few wizards earn such respect from us.”

Sirius smirked but kept his words diplomatic. “It’s not every day I get to rid the world of Voldemort’s filth and make some new friends along the way.”

The goblins exchanged nods of approval, their appreciation evident. Ragnar added, “Should you ever need our assistance, the doors of Gringotts will remain open to you. And know this: your family’s vaults will forever be guarded with the utmost care.”

Returning to Highgarden, Sirius couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He had achieved something monumental, not just for himself, but for Harry. He carefully placed the Slytherin Locket alongside the other Horcrux artifacts he had collected—the Hufflepuff Cup and Diadem of Ravenclaw.

The display shelf he had commissioned for Highgarden was made of enchanted black oak, intricately carved with protective runes that both preserved the artifacts and ensured they couldn’t be tampered with. Above the shelf hung a plaque that read:

"Artifacts of the Founders"

Remus, who had been helping Sirius organize the shelf, stepped back to admire their handiwork. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “this is more than just a collection. It’s a reminder that even the darkest magic can be undone.”

Sirius nodded, a rare moment of solemnity passing between them. “It’s also a reminder that we can’t let our guard down. Voldemort’s not finished yet, but with every Horcrux destroyed, we weaken him.”


Harry was seated at the Gryffindor table during breakfast, enjoying a plate of toast and eggs, when an unfamiliar owl swooped down, dropping a letter into his lap. The handwriting on the parchment was unmistakable—Hagrid's big, bold scrawl.

Curious, Harry opened the letter and read:

Dear Harry,

Norberta’s been actin’ strangely. She’s refusin’ to fly over one part o’ the Forbidden Forest. It’s like she’s scared o’ somethin’. A dragon scared, Harry. That’s not somethin’ you see every day.
If yeh can spare a moment, come ter see me. Could use yer help figurin’ this out.

Hagrid

Harry reread the letter, his stomach twisting into knots. Norberta, a Norwegian Ridgeback, scared? What could possibly cause such fear in a creature as fierce as her?

He quickly shared the letter with Neville, Fred, and George during their morning break.

"Norberta? Scared?" George said, raising an eyebrow. "That doesn’t sound right."

"Yeah," Fred added. "I thought dragons were supposed to be fearless. What’s out there that’s scarier than a dragon?"

Neville, ever the voice of reason, said, “If Norberta’s scared, it must be something big. We should find out what’s going on.”

Later that afternoon, Harry and his friends arrived at Hagrid’s hut. Hagrid was outside, tending to Fang, but his expression lit up when he saw them.

“Ah, Harry! I knew yeh’d come,” Hagrid said, patting Fang on the head. “C’mon in. Got somethin’ ter show yeh.”

Inside, Hagrid pulled out a large map of the Forbidden Forest and pointed to a specific area. “It’s this patch here. Every time Norberta flies near it, she turns tail and flees. Won’t go near it, no matter what I do.”

Fred frowned. “Have you seen what’s in that area?”

Hagrid shook his head. “Not yet. Been meanin’ ter take a look, but thought I’d better let yeh know first, Harry. Figured yeh might wanna come along.”

Harry exchanged glances with Neville and the twins. “We’ll help you, Hagrid,” he said. “But we need to be careful. If it’s scaring Norberta, it’s not something to take lightly.”

As Harry, Neville, and the Weasley twins followed Hagrid deeper into the Forbidden Forest, the dense foliage above blocked much of the sunlight, casting eerie shadows along the path. The air grew cooler, and the silence of the forest was broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves and chirping of distant birds. They were on their way to check on Noberta, the dragon Harry and the Stars Club had helped raise during their first year at Hogwarts.

When they reached the cave, Noberta instantly recognized them. She raised her head and let out a deep, resonant growl that sounded more like a purr. Hagrid grinned proudly, patting her scaly side. “Ain’t she a beauty?” he said, his voice full of affection.

Noberta flapped her wings slightly and sniffed at the group. She seemed to have grown since the last time they saw her, her scales shimmering in the faint light that seeped through the trees. Harry stepped forward and held out a piece of raw meat they’d brought along. Noberta leaned in, sniffed it, and gently snatched it from his hand.

“She remembers us!” Neville exclaimed, his excitement cutting through the stillness.

“Course she does,” Hagrid said with a chuckle. “She’s smart, Noberta is. I’ve been trainin’ her to do a few tricks.”

As if to prove Hagrid’s words, Noberta tilted her head and, at his command, let out a small spout of fire into the air. The group laughed and clapped, impressed by her newfound skills.

The thick canopy above cast shadows on the forest floor as Harry, Hagrid, Neville, and the Weasley twins ventured deeper into the Forbidden Forest. Noberta, the young dragon they had raised from an egg, circled overhead, her massive wings slicing through the air. The tension in the group was palpable.

"She’s been acting strange since we got to this part of the forest," Hagrid said, craning his neck to watch the dragon.

"Strange how?" George asked, his tone wary.

Before anyone could respond, Noberta suddenly let out a piercing screech and dove sharply from above, landing directly in their path. Dust and leaves flew everywhere as her talons dug into the ground. She spread her wings wide and roared, her eyes fixed on the group.

Hagrid stepped forward, his voice steady but cautious. "Easy there, Noberta. What’s gotten into yeh, girl?"

Harry, who had been standing close to the dragon, felt an odd sensation as Noberta let out another screech. It wasn’t just noise—it was words.

"Scary," the voice said in Harry’s ears, clear as day.

Harry froze, looking at Noberta in shock. "What did you just say?"

The group turned to him, confused. Hagrid frowned. "She didn’t say anything, Harry. Dragons don’t talk."

"But she did," Harry insisted, his voice firm. "I heard her say ‘scary.’ Clear as anything."

Neville and the twins exchanged uneasy glances. "You’re hearing things, mate," George said, though his tone lacked conviction.

Noberta screeched again, and Harry heard it once more. "Scary."

This time, he knelt in front of her and looked her straight in the eye. "What is scaring you?" he asked.

Noberta blinked at him, her large golden eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and determination. She let out another screech, and Harry instinctively turned to face the others.

Fred and George were staring at him, their faces pale.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"You—you were hissing at her," Neville said, his voice trembling.