Frida Kahlo Self Portrait with Necklace painting

Lupin said they would," said Ron.
There was a pause.
"So?" said Ron in a very low voice, as though he thought the furniture might be listening in. "Did you find one? Did you get it? A - a Horcrux?"
Harry shook his head. All that had taken place around that black lake seemed like an old nightmare now; had it really happened, and only hours ago?
"You didn't get it?" said Ron, looking crestfallen. "It wasn't there?"
"No," said Harry. "Someone had already taken it and left a fake in its place."
"Already taken - ?"
Wordlessly, Harry pulled the fake locket from his pocket, opened it, and passed it to Ron. The full story could wait. ... It did not matter tonight. . . nothing mattered except the end, the end of their pointless adventure, the end of Dumbledore's life. . . .
"R.A.B.," whispered Ron, "but who was that?"