The house was utterly silent.
The day's Muggle news concluded swiftly, and the wireless automatically switched to the wizarding frequency. Celestina Warbeck's voice drifted out, her peculiar melodies something Orli had never quite grown accustomed to.
"Your emerald sleeves bring all my joy—your emerald sleeves set my heart racing—yet you have forsaken me—those emerald sleeves drift ever distant—but still my heart holds you dear—awaiting your return—when you shall love me once more—"
Suddenly, a sharp crack split the air, and a house-elf materialized from nowhere, tumbling onto the Persian rug.
"Dobby? What's happened to you?"
Orli rushed to help him up. Thankfully, he appeared uninjured.
"Dobby is perfectly fine, Miss! Dobby has finally retrieved it!" Despite his disheveled appearance, Dobby practically glowed with triumph. From his tiny rucksack, he produced a black cloth pouch—the very bag Orli had given him to contain dark magic. Something square and weighty bulged from one corner.
"Slytherin's locket?"
Orli peered into the opened pouch for confirmation. A chain of pure gold gleamed within, suspending an ornate square pendant. The lid was crafted from translucent amber, encircled by intricate silver filigree, with a serpent motif at its center—every scale of the snake painstakingly inlaid with emeralds. More unsettling still, the artifact seemed almost alive—Orli could sense an irregular pulsing, like a malevolent heartbeat. Yet she knew that whatever dark secrets it contained, only a Parselmouth could unlock them. That ability was far beyond her reach.
"Yes, Miss Orli! Dobby spent ages lurking near Number 12, Grimmauld Place as you instructed. The old Black residence has been abandoned far too long—vermin everywhere! And there's a mad old house-elf, but Dobby stayed hidden from him. Recently, though, many wizards have been coming and going. They hold meetings, argue terribly, share meals! But Dobby persevered and found the locket at last!"
"Many wizards?" Orli's pulse quickened. "Who exactly?"
"So many faces, Dobby doesn't know them all. The regular residents are Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with their children, Miss Hermione, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black. Others come only for meetings."
"Did you see Professor Snape—the man who visited us last year? Or Harry Potter?"
Dobby's enormous ears drooped. "Dobby saw neither of them, Miss."
Orli's heart sank, though she managed to keep her voice steady. "You've done brilliantly, Dobby."
As she comforted the house-elf, her mind raced through possibilities. She recalled that Harry had spoken Parseltongue to open the locket before Ron destroyed it with Gryffindor's sword. Unlike Ravenclaw's diadem, perhaps this Horcrux could only be destroyed once opened? She couldn't risk using basilisk venom—precious little remained after destroying the diadem, and she needed to preserve it for Hufflepuff's cup. That left one option: Fiendfyre.
"Dobby, I need you to Apparate us somewhere," she said decisively. "Find me a desert—somewhere completely isolated."
Dobby looked puzzled but nodded obediently.
Seconds later, they materialized hand-in-hand atop a towering sand dune. Orli surveyed their surroundings with satisfaction. In every direction, the desert stretched endlessly toward the horizon, an ocean of golden emptiness beneath the blazing sun.
Perfect. No innocent lives to endanger when she unleashed the cursed fire.
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