Chapter Text
Kreacher was a shockingly tolerable house elf. After years of suffering Dobby’s constant whining, Draco found the grouchy old thing almost amusing. When he was first assigned to receive the elf, he’d been annoyed, envisioning having to converse with another over-eager, high-pitched thing, but Kreacher was bearable. He was constantly mumbling about mudbloods and blood traitors, which was far more entertaining than Dobby's pandering.
It was his mother's idea to start using the elf. Being nee Black herself, she had a claim to some of the Black's house magic and had somehow surmised that Dumbledore’s resistance would take up the old Black family residence. An ironic choice considering the Black household had been a meeting location for Death Eaters not even two decades ago. His family's urgency to undermine Dumbledore led Draco to assume that whatever claims Potter made about the Dark Lord might actually be true despite the Prophet's assurance that it was all a ploy for attention. Draco was just excited to be involved in something important to the family.
His father had given the task to Draco personally. "It will show how devoted the whole family is," he announced after finding that the elf would respond to both his mother and him. Draco's chest swelled as his father spoke. Surely, if the Dark Lord had returned, this was his chance to show his devotion to his greater cause. Who else would his father want to impress so eagerly?
So began Draco's summer of waiting for the elf. Each visit was the same—a crack of apparition, a grumbling about the filth in his family’s home, then Draco would fetch whoever was available. He was never allowed to hear the updates himself, but he was sure it was only a matter of time before he, too, was trusted, and the best part of Kreacher’s visits wasn’t the secrets he told, but the artefacts he brought. Apparently, Kreacher’s beloved home was being invaded by filth and that filth was throwing away anything and everything. With each new artefact grasped in his grubby elf hands, Kreacher’s visits quickly became a highlight.
Today, Kreacher was gathering his stolen load into a pile while murmuring, “Filthy blood, trying to destroy a great house.”
His father was busy with the Ministry, so Nott Senior had come for the elf's information. He looked curiously at the pile of books and trinkets.
“He brings over artefacts whenever he can," Draco explained. "Apparently, someone has started cleaning up his house and is willing to throw away all this! Can you believe it? Kreacher’s been bringing it to me since I’ll likely inherit whatever is left when Sirius Black drops dead.”
Nott hummed thoughtfully. “And what have you been doing with all these heirlooms?”
“Deciding which I want, the rest I’ve started storing in our extra rooms.”
“You should be careful.” Draco rolled his eyes. “I am serious, Draco. The Blacks have some nefarious magic. Darker than the Malfoys. I wouldn’t touch anything he brings unless you can guarantee it is safe.”
“I am not a fool. I know how to spot a cursed object.” He hated how doubtful Nott looked at that statement, but thankfully, he didn’t press the matter.
“Very well. Kreacher.” Kreacher looked up from his stash, first at Nott, then at Draco.
“Go, Kreacher. Tell him whatever it is you have come to say." Draco gave the elf permission, and Nott led Kreacher further into the manor. Draco turned back the pile, commencing his inspection; most looked rubbish, but some of the old books looked promising. Pleased with whatever haul he could get his hands on, Draco started sorting. It didn’t take long for Nott to return, Kreacher noticing Draco’s efforts said, “Finally someone with respect.”
“Leave us, Kreacher,” Nott said, and Draco felt a pang of annoyance; only he could send Kreacher off. All the same, he nodded to the elf, and he was gone.
“Half of that looks rubbish.” Nott was looking back down at the pile.
“It is, but don’t tell him that. Some of it is valuable, I don’t want to scare off the supplier.”
“You know I have experience with such things? I am happy to consult on any objects you are gifted with.”
Nott probably expected some in return. “What’s the price?”
Nott grinned. “Perhaps the artefact room could handle not being as stuffed to the brim.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Draco knew he would be able to spot the more valuable ones. Draco barely had a clue what he was looking at. Nott would be robbing him. “Have a nice day, Heir Nott.”
And so it continued. Kreacher brought his secrets and his treasures, and Draco was finally being recognised for serving a greater purpose. It was the happiest he’d seen his father in years. It was a winning game, as Draco could see. Even Kreacher was showing signs of starting to like him. One night in late July, Kreacher appeared in Draco’s quarters. He had already come earlier in the day, so Draco assumed something important had happened.
“Let me call my father.” He pushed the covers away and started to stand.
“No,” the elf rasped at him. “I don’t have anything for him.” That was new.
“Then what is it? I am not here for you to pop by and entertain yourself when you get bored with housing the blood traitors.” Draco sneered at the elf; it was far too late for nonsense.
“That woman. That blood traitor is destroying the house! I can’t keep anything safe.” His voice was leaking with remorse. “I have brought a ring for safekeeping.” And Kreacher pulled out a thick dark band. It reflected soft moonlight, showing some inscription on it.
Immediately soothed by the prospect of a new heirloom, Draco asked, “It isn’t cursed, is it?”
“It is. But only a good curse.” That was not comforting. “Please, Master Malfoy. Master Regulus loved this ring.” Kreacher held his arm out straight, the ring pinched between his knobby fingers.
Regulus? That was a bit odd. Regulus Black had died before Draco was born, and he only knew his name because it was in his family's histories. No one talked about him. “Fine, I’ll watch the ring.”
“Thank you, Master Malfoy, Thank you.” Draco extended his hand, and Kreacher dropped the ring into his palm. The moment the cold metal touched him, Draco saw a flash out of the corner of his eye. He jolted, almost dropping the ring, but on second glance, there was nothing there.
Kreacher looked a little wary after his strange reaction, but after nodding at Draco and mumbling another thank you, he disappeared. Looking closer at it, the ring was unlike any Draco had seen before. Part of him had hoped that the elf was stupid enough to bring the Black Heir ring, but this ring was unfortunately not that. It was heavy, dark silver, and thick. Simple on the outside, yet somehow still beautiful. There was a series of intricately carved runes inside the band. Draco recognised a few. Protection. Preservation. Absorption. He figured it must have been made to ward off dark curses, or more accurately, absorb them.
Grimacing at the possibility that Kreacher had brought him a ring stored with decades of curses. He set it on his side table, crawled into bed, and fell into an uneasy sleep. All he remembered in the morning about his dreams was that they were cold.
Draco spent the next day analysing the ruins against his school book. He felt confident that his suspicions were correct. Every single rune was aimed at protecting the wearer. He felt nothing evil about the ring, so he decided to slip it onto his finger.
He thought nothing of it, even taking a relieved breath when the ring didn’t turn his organs inside out until he looked up and spotted a grown man standing on the opposite side of his desk, peering down at his notes about runes. He threw himself backwards, wordless but with an audible grasp. The man looked up.
A handsome face stared back at him. He was young, maybe 20, with wavy black hair, and he wore a puzzled expression.
“Who are you? Where am I?”
Draco ripped the ring off his finger, and the figure disappeared. It was hard to get a proper breath. Who was that? Maybe he should have taken more precautions before putting a knowingly cursed object on his finger.
“Sir, I have something to ask of you before you take your leave.” The next day, Draco couldn't keep his mind off the ring. It was a unique piece of magic, and when he was lucky enough to receive Kreacher in the afternoon, he didn’t even bother trying to contact his father. Nott would be far more useful in shedding light on the ring.
“Speak, Draco.”
“Kreacher gave me this ring.” Draco gestured to the mahogany side table he had placed it on. “I believe it’s been cursed, but it's covered in runes that don't seem dangerous. I haven’t seen anything like it. Would you share your thoughts?”
Nott knelt in front of the table eying the ring. He cast a spell, and deeming it safe, he picked it up. “This is quite the combination.” He spun it slowly. Cast another spell, this one causing a white mist to appear around the ring.
“There is a well of magic trapped inside. Some of it is dark. I am not sure what to tell you. It looks like it could absorb any spell short of the killing curse. But it’s been used, and those spells are likely trapped inside now. If they get unleashed…”
“Is it safe?”
Nott shrugged. “Safe? Definitely not. But I think the chances of it killing you are slim.”
Draco nodded, but his stomach turned, and his throat felt tight. Nott continued, “I wouldn’t advise wearing it if that’s what you are considering.” Draco just nodded again. “If that’s all?”
“Thank you, sir,” Draco dismissed him unsatisfied.
Nott’s warning of 'I wouldn’t advise wearing it' felt pointless to Draco, considering he’d already done so without any major after-effects. On top of that, it didn’t seem like enough information to be worth the top pick of Kreacher’s next haul. He should have trusted his gut and never told Nott about it in the first place. Desperately wanting to crack the code of whatever apparition was in the ring, he decided to investigate his family's histories. Regulus Black was the only other clue he had.
That's how he found himself cornered in one of the family studies.
“What are you doing?” He jumped at his mother's sharp tone.
“I was just refreshing my understanding of the histories.” He had come to confirm if his suspicions of the man being Regulus Black were accurate. It couldn’t be a coincidence that it was his ring, right?
“So you’ve grown a certain interest in your heritage?” She gave him a knowing smile. “Come now, Draco. Why are you here?”
Draco scrambled. He wasn’t ready to fess up about the ring, and therefore the extent of Kreacher’s little treasures. “I wanted to make sure no one else had a claim over Kreacher.”
Narcissa let out a small laugh. “We are not imbeciles, Draco. That is the first thing we confirmed.”
“Oh.” He really should’ve known that.
“But it was wise of you to think of it, even if it is a few months late.”
Draco’s face flushed. His mother seemed in a good mood, and that seemed like a genuine compliment. At least as genuine as he would get from his parents. Maybe he should test his luck. “What about Regulus?”
“Regulus Black?” His mother's face turned downwards. “He died.”
“How? There isn’t a record I could find.”
“It was in service to the Dark Lord. A secret mission. No one knows.”
“But then how do you know he died? Was there a body?”
His mother sighed and pulled an album out from the shelf. Each page was dedicated to a member of the family. “See the gold outline?” She flipped to his page. A picture of him was lined with an intricate gold pattern. She flipped to her page. Then, his father's. All lined with gold.
Then she turned to his grandfather, Arabaxus, who had died of dragon pox when he was five. The page was grey. “See? The page turns dull when the magic signature is gone.”
Regulus’s page was opened. It was just as grey as his grandfather’s, but the face staring out at him was familiar. It was the same man who had appeared when he tried on the ring.
“I understand mother,” Draco said, trying to keep a straight face despite the revelation.
“Don’t worry about this anymore. I would not allow you to uphold a task you would not be ready for.”
Feeling emboldened by his correct guess about the ring’s apparition, Draco asked his mother, “May I ask another question?”
She seemed mildly exacerbated, but Draco figured his mother had a higher chance of being truthful than his father. “What is the question?”
“Am I serving the Dark Lord?”
She sighed. “I suppose it was wishful thinking to think you didn’t know. Yes, Draco. Kreacher is acting on our orders, and we are serving the Dark Lord. He has returned.”
Draco couldn’t contain the smile tugging at his lips. “I knew it!”
His mother returned a smile of her own. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Dinner will be ready soon; we mustn’t keep your father waiting.”
Draco couldn’t help himself. Now that he knew that the ring did not pose an imminent danger and that the apparition had been Regulus Black, he had only one mystery left - What was the magic behind it? It didn’t seem like a ghost. Could it be a possession? Most likely, it was an afterimage of the wearer, much like portraits captured the essence of a person, but not the actual person. He needed to try the ring again to confirm.
Regulus Black looked the same as the first time. His eyes were wide, but his face was neutral. He quickly scanned the room, and once he determined no one else was there other than Draco, he asked, “Where am I?”
“Malfoy Manor.”
“Who are you?”
“Draco Malfoy. Are you Regulus Black?”
“Yes.” Black was suspicious. “Draco? Where is Lucius?”
“Not here.” Black's eyes scanned the room. They fell to the ring on Draco’s hand.
“Where did you get that?” he snarled, and he sounded pissed. He started to walk forward, reaching up his sleeve for his wand. “Where is my-” He growled and turned on Draco. He reached for his collar, and Draco was barely able to think. His wand was uselessly sitting on the desk he was actively backing away from, so he had no defence. He should've been more careful; a wizard should never leave his wand out of reach.
Black’s hand went straight through Draco's neck. Instinctively, Draco pulled further back despite not feeling anything. Black was just as surprised. He reached for Draco’s throat again, but his fingers went right through Draco again. He turned, going for the wand Draco had left on the desk. His hand fumbled uselessly against the wand and table, unable to pinch it.
“What did you do? What is happening?”
“I didn’t do anything! You’re dead. Of course, you can’t touch anything,” Draco exclaimed, poised to rip the ring off his finger again if Black tried anything else.
He eyed Draco, eyed the ring in a death grip between Draco’s fingers and closed his eyes. He mumbled something under his breath, but Draco couldn’t quite catch what.
“Tell me everything.”