Chapter One:
"Harry, wake up!" A female voice harhsly cut through the morning mist of Harry's sleepy mind. He opened his eyes in an instant, taking a moment to realize his heart was beating too fast and he was covered in cold sweat. Hermione sat beside him. "You dreamt about him again, right?" Harry nodded. Unlike most dreams you forget as soon as you wake up, the dreams about Voldemort always seemed to burn themselves into his brain like acid.
While Hermione was getting him some water, Harry tried to calm himself. He ran a hand through his sweat-dampened curls, making them stand up all spiky. He could still hear Voldemort's cold voice in his head, could still feel his presence. He shuddered. Voldemort had killed someone. Again. How many was that now? Hundreds? Thousands? How many had to give their lives in this pointless battle before he could put an end to it? In the end, they didn't even matter. None of their names would make it into the history books. They were just casualties. That thought made Harry sick. If they all died, who was left to mourn for them? He couldn't worry about everybody. There was not enough worry left in him. He felt like an old sponge, just all wrung out. He shook his head. He had to stay positive. If he didn't think they were going to win this, he had nothing to fight for. Harry stood up and went to Hermione and Ron for breakfast trying to shut up the nagging voice in his head that told him he didn't stand a chance.
"Breakfast" turned out to be old mushroom soup and some berries Hermione had found nearby. Harry ate without complaint, knowing Hermione had done her best. He didn't want to start a fight now. Even Ron didn't say anything, although he grimaced in disgust.
"I've been thinking..." Harry began, although he knew he didn't really have anything new to say, "about the Horcruxes." "You didn't think anything", Ron interrupted harshly, "We already know. We destroyed the locket, the cup, the diadem. Dumbledore destroyed the ring. You destroyed the diary. He can't have anything of Gryffindor's. It has to be something that means something to him, that he has a relation to, blah blah blah. And it's really hard to find something that means anything to him, because in case you haven't noticed, You-know-who is not exactly big on the whole human-emotions-thing", his voice rose, "He doesn't love. Nothing has ever been close to him! He doesn't care for anything or anyone! We're about as far in finding the last Horcrux as Neville is to be elected as Minister of Magic!"
Hermione's spoon hit the ground. "What did you just say?", she said slowly. Ron shrugged. "Face it, Hermione. All your tutoring couldn't save his arse in transfiguration and he still stutters in front of the class." "Not that", Hermione said impatiently. "About nobody being close to him." Ron just stared at her, not getting it. "Wait a second", Harry said. He looked at Hermione. "Of course. You're brilliant." She nodded. "We have to find Professor Quirrell."