The necklace part 2

It was midnight and Harry still couldn't sleep. After separating the two Elves, he ended up ordering Kreattur to leave. The elf reluctantly obeyed and went upstairs. He hadn't seen him since.

He then spent 30 minutes convincing Dobby to let him help clean the vast kitchen. After an afternoon of efforts, the place seemed almost welcoming. More than cleaning, it had been a practical application of Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. Tons of magical pests had invaded the kitchen, and they had to be driven out for Harry to move in. In the end, Dobby had fetched him a mattress, which he placed directly on the kitchen floor, along with books and sandwiches. He wanted to stay, but Harry insisted that he regain his freedom. He was his employee, not his slave. Dobby finally left, promising to return at dawn the next day.

A few seconds after his departure, he regretted having insisted so much for the elf to leave. Despite all their efforts, the place remained gloomy, and now that night had fallen, he was beginning to feel afraid, alone in this vast manor.

But he was not alone. Harry occasionally heard the elf pass by his door, muttering insults at him. Other times he perceived dull noises whose exact origin he could not determine. Harry kept telling himself it was the manor creaking. But who knows what other creature had taken up residence in the vast house. Around 9 p.m., he felt as if something brushed against his feet. He jumped up to find Kreattur holding a huge knife and what looked like a rat, to ask him if he wanted to eat. He hurried to check that Scabbers was okay then yelled at the elf to get out.

Upon opening the door to the elf, he noticed the row of severed heads adorning the hallway and shuddered before quickly closing the door and locking it with a Collaporta. It was a rather poor protection, but he knew no other locking spell. Inwardly, he cursed Dumbledore and his questionable security choices.

He tried to fall back asleep but despite the fatigue, he was now too upset to rest. It was a really unpleasant feeling to be tired but unable to fall back asleep. Unintentionally, he started to dwell on the recent events. He had almost killed his dorm mates. In the end, they had been right last year. He was just a Voldemort in the making. But little by little the guilt was replaced by anger. It was their fault that things had turned out this way. If they hadn't been so stupid, he would never have turned to Dark magic.He deserved to be hurt. Harry tried to calm down, but he was so tired. And then that elf who kept banging against his head. Wait a minute.

Harry woke up with a start, covered in sweat. Panicked, he looked all around him, but he saw only darkness. He didn't know what time it was and for a moment he wondered where he was. And what was that noise? It was like a heartbeat. A regular pulse that prevented him from concentrating. At first, he thought it was his own heart, but after a few minutes of anxiety, he admitted that it wasn't the case. Thank God, he was too young to have a heart attack.

He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but he couldn't. This noise obsessed him. Worse, the more time passed, the more it seemed to increase in intensity. He began to feel as if something was pounding against his temples. He got up to try to determine the origin of this exasperating noise. It seemed to come both from inside him and from outside. One thing was certain. Histhe source did not come from the kitchen. He grabbed his wand and, with a faint lumos, began to venture into the darkness of the house. For the first time since he had arrived, he went upstairs. The severed heads cast unsettling shadows on the rich, dust-covered tapestries that adorned the staircase. Harry did not understand where he found the courage to continue. Nor even why he had decided to go upstairs. After all, it would have been more logical to start his search on the ground floor. But his intuition told him he had to go up.

Once upstairs, he cast the faint glow of his wand into every corner of what seemed to be a large lounge intended to keep guests waiting. The mold hit his throat and made him cough. That's when he discovered a gigantic snake about to attack him. He backed up so violently that he almost fell down the stairs.Then, he sighed with relief upon realizing it was stuffed. He cursed the wizards and their ridiculous disdain for electric lights.

He further examined the room which was filled with glass cabinets containing rusty daggers, snake skins, silver boxes with illegible labels, and a crystal bottle with a stopper inlaid with an opal, containing blood.

He hadn't prayed since his adoptive father had taken him out of catechism. He still remembered his fury after the priest had told them stories about wizards and other demon spawn destined to atone for their sins in the flames of hell. At the time he hadn't laughed, but today he smiled thinking back to the poor priest who must not have understood Vernon's reaction. He just wanted to tell them scary stories before Halloween. Yet he still remembered the "Our Father" and began to recite it frantically while making signs of the cross, as he ventured into the dark corridor facing him.

With each step, the smell of mold became more intense and almost unbearable. He heard the house creak and jumped. But it was nothing. Then finally he saw it. At the end of the hallway was a door. At first glance, it seemed perfectly ordinary. But by staring at it, Harry swore that an aura of intense dark magic was emanating from it. He was sure of it. The source of that intense noise was behind it. He approached slowly, very slowly. Wait, why was he doing this now? He would be better off waiting until morning. A voice then echoed in the hallway:

When will you stop being such a coward? Aren't you tired of letting others die in your place?

Dudley, is that you?!

He was going crazy. He could have sworn it was his voice. Then it was his father's turn. Or rather what he imagined to be his father's voice in his childhood dreams.

I can't believe I died to protect such a coward. It's just a door!

He is not cowardly, he is intelligent. He waits to have shields to sacrifice. It's better for it to be Dobby who dies. After all, he's just a slave. Replied the voice of Jenny Nott.

ENOUGH. Shouted Harry he must still be dreaming. That's it actually. Without realizing it, he had fallen back asleep and none of this was real.

Open the door and you will wake up. Reasoned a disembodied voice with curiously hissing accents.

Yes, that was what he was going to do. After all, it was just a dream. There was no reason to be afraid. He was not a coward. He resumed his cautious advance. Then at theAt the end of a time that seemed like an eternity to him, he touched the handle. A plop sounded behind him followed by a scream.

Kreattur knew it. The filthy spawn wants to steal master Black's treasure. Kreattur will not let it happen. No, Kreattur must (...)

SILENCE VERMIN

As soon as Kreattur's words turned into silent contortions, accompanied by a few spits, so great were his efforts to continue his diatribe. Good. This miserable creature had to learn who its master was. He turned the handle.

Aiiie!

Harry let out a huge cry of pain. Just as he was about to push the door open, Scabbers had bitten his hand until it bled. He suddenly woke up. He had a headache and felt like vomiting. He looked at the house-elf, who seemed to be choking.

Creature. Teleport me to Dumbledore's office. Quickly. That's an order!

The creature made incomprehensible gestures at him. He would swear that among them there was a middle finger.

You can speak. Harry indicated to him.

Kreattur does not know what teleport means and anyway he does not want to obey a thief.

It means to apparate. Can you do that?

The young master must stop insulting Kreattur.

A second later Harry blinked. The horrible presence had vanished. Suddenly he collapsed from exhaustion.

As soon as the old man appeared panicked in his nightshirt. Before fainting, Harry just had time to murmur: "Horcrux, first floor, corridor, door 3"