Harry opened his eyes to find he was in his pajamas, in his bed, in his room in 12 Grimmauld Place. It was what had happened every day for more than two years, and he enjoyed a quiet peace of not remembering everything that had transpired the last time he held consciousness. Light was streaming in through the window and though his muscles complained, Harry reached to the table next to him for his glasses. When he put them on he saw Remus sitting in an armchair in the corner.

"Remus?" he said. His voice was so quiet and scratchy he barely expected to be heard.

Remus did hear, however. He jumped up and came to Harry's bedside. He took a glass of water from the end table and offered it to him as Harry worked his way stiffly into a sitting position. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Harry took a gulp of water, coughed, then slowly drank the rest. "Like I've been run over by a bus," he replied after a minute. "What happened, Remus?"

"I don't know all the details, Harry, you'll have to wait for Dumbledore-"

"I don't want to wait," he protested. "Dumbledore is barely around anymore, anyway, just tell me, please, Remus."

Remus smiled slightly. "I think you'll find Dumbledore will make a special appearance this time. He's asked us to contact him as soon as you wake-"

"Us?"

"We've been taking in turns to watch you. So we know as soon as you wake up. It's been almost a week, you know.

"A week?"

"Yes. Just a moment, Harry, I must let Professor Dumbledore know..."

Remus left the room and Harry could hear him conversing quietly with a voice he recognized as Phineas. Remus came back in the room before long and settled back into the armchair. "He should be here within minutes, Harry."

Harry scoffed. "I suppose I should get grievously injured more often, if that's what all it takes. Though I suppose he'll just come and make sure I'm still alive and he'll pop off again-"

"Oh, I don't think you give the Headmaster much credit," Remus interrupted. "He cares about you a great deal, Harry. And I think he might be able to answer many of your questions today."

Harry rolled his eyes. Why should today be any different? He'd almost died many times and Dumbledore had never confided in him before. "Can you at least tell me how I ended up like this?"

"That, Harry, is probably the thing I am least able to speak on." Remus shook his head. "I am no expert on the subject of Horcruxes."

"What's a horcrux?"

Remus just shook his head again. "Professor Dumbledore should be here any moment. Are you in any pain? Would you like more water?"

"No, thanks," he said. His head was starting to ache a bit, but it wasn't too bad. He didn't want painkillers. He wanted answers. His most recent memories seemed a bit fuzzy and unreal. Luckily it wasn't more than a minute later that Dumbledore himself appeared in the doorway.

"Good to see you awake, Harry. I'm sure there is much you wish to discuss. Good afternoon, Remus," he said briskly.

"Oh," Remus said. "Well, I'll be downstairs when you're done, Harry, if you need anything." He left, and Dumbledore pulled the now-vacant armchair up to the side of Harry's bed and sat.

"There are some things we will discuss that you might feel more comfortable hearing in private," he explained. He pulled out his wand Harry flinched, although he wasn't sure why. Dumbledore lowered his wand immediately. "It's alright, Harry. I just want to do some diagnostic spells on you. They won't do anything to you. Just like taking your temperature or checking your vision. Just monitoring." After a moment, Harry warily nodded his permission and Dumbledore cast the spell. It wasn't one that he had ever heard before, but Dumbledore was satisfied with the results. "You seem to be coming along just fine, Harry."

"Sir, what happened?" Harry asked. "What's going on?"

Dumbledore cocked his head to the side and assessed him. He felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "I think first, Harry, you should tell me. You sustained a very serious injury and some amnesia concerning the incident would not be surprising. How much can you remember?"

Harry took a deep breath and tried to get his thoughts in order. They didn't seem to make any sense at all. "Snape and I were practicing dueling. I think he was angry at me for some reason... he was working me really hard. Even for him. I remember because he took his robes off, he was sweating so much. We finished, and he told me off for not being any good at Defense, but I think... he had written me a letter, I think. And he was upset with me because I didn't want to read it." This seemed so strange that Harry stopped and looked up at Dumbledore for confirmation. He didn't receive any, just a polite silence as he waited for Harry to continue. "He put his robes back on and we went upstairs when we were done. Everyone was in the kitchen. Something was going on, I don't remember exactly... oh! But then you arrived, sir, and you said something about, I dunno, what did you say?"

"I will tell you, Harry, but first tell me what you remember of what I said," Dumbledore answered.

Harry frowned. "You said... you said that you were, you were doing, um, something... I really don't remember," he said.

"Alright, Harry. Do you remember anything after that?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know, sir. It like I can feel it waiting there, but I just can't see it," he said regretfully. "Maybe you could draw it out to a pensieve?"

"I don't think having your memories removed by magic is a good idea so soon after your injury. And it wouldn't be necessary, Harry, I know what happened and I can tell you. But first, I must tell you what a horcrux is, and the mission I have been on to find them."

Dumbledore looked very old suddenly in the pale light streaming in through the window. He heaved a sigh and he began to speak. He told Harry that he had researched Tom Riddle's life, had scoured every fact and every movement he could find for information. He told him about the horcruxes and his theory that there would be six. It seemed incredibly far-fetched to Harry until he heard how difficult it was to destroy these seemingly innocent objects; a locket, a ring, a diadem, a cup. The diary from the Chamber of Secrets. And destroy them Dumbledore had. He felt a little remorse for the unkind thoughts he'd had over the past few years about the Professor. He had had his work cut out for him, it seemed.

"So, is there one more? If he made six like he was trying to?"

"He did indeed make another one. While hidden away in Albania he made Nagini into a horcrux."

"You can make a living thing into a horcrux?" Harry asked. He almost felt bad for the snake, carrying about a bit of Voldemort all the time.

"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore replied. "Just as easily as making anything else into one. Some small amount of evidence would suggest it might even be easier. The soul might prefer to be in a living vessel. Though I don't believe that is why he used Nagini. I doubt he knows of a soul's preference at all. He never cared to learn about the properties of the soul, just how to use it to accomplish his ends. And in fact Nagini was probably the most useful horcrux he made. By placing part of his soul there he was able to impress some sort of influence over her. It wasn't just his parseltongue that made Nagini so responsive to her master. From the dreams that you had during your fifth year, specifically the one where Nagini attacked Arthur Weasley, I believe he could also see through her eyes at times and control her from a distance."

There was a heavy silence for a few minutes as Harry turned all this over in his mind.

"So I suppose we have to kill the snake, then? To destroy the horcrux?"

"The snake is dead, Harry, but that is not the only way," Dumbledore said quietly. "It is certainly easier, but we have in fact managed to remove a piece of Voldemort's soul from a living host without killing it."

Harry frowned. "I thought he only made six?"

"He did. He made six. And one other was made by accident." Harry made to interrupt but Dumbledore held up his hand. "Ripping your soul into pieces makes it very unstable. It's like a mirror that gets cracked - it is now much more susceptible to breaking. And so unstable was Voldemort's soul that when the Killing Curse that was meant for you rebounded upon him, the soul still in his body broke again and was ejected from his body. It is unlikely that he was in any position to notice this happening at the time."

"I suppose he was a bit busy," Harry said hollowly. He thought he had a good idea now how this conversation related to him.

"Quite," Dumbledore's eyes sparkled at the joke but Harry couldn't bring himself to smile back. He knew what the headmaster was going to say and it was terrible. "Being outside a vessel is a tenuous place for a soul to be. Indeed, being inside a cup or a locket is not such a good place for a soul. A soul craves life, even a soul belonging to one such as Tom Riddle. And it went to the closest life at hand. You, Harry."

Harry said nothing.

"We have got it out, now. Professor Snape took you back into the basement and performed a spell on you, one I had devised myself. It took the soul fragment from you and contained it safely in an ordinary object, in this case a jewelry box. The jewelry box has since been destroyed as well." Dumbledore paused. "I had thought to keep it until you woke and give you Godric's sword to do it yourself, but it seemed prudent to get rid of it as soon as possible."

"Right. Good. Yes. I'm glad you did." Harry stared straight ahead. He didn't think he could look at Dumbledore without breaking down. Which was silly, really. The danger had already passed. The horcrux was out, destroyed. But Harry still felt like he would never be clean again.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "So, with all that said, Harry, I just wanted to apologize."

At that, Harry turned to look at him, eyes wide.

"I know that these two years since graduation have been long. I know you have often felt perhaps like a dog forever in a kennel. Your friends of a similar age are able to demonstratively help Order goals, activity going on around you but never being a part of it."

He looked so regretful Harry could hardly stand it. "It is hard, sir, but I understand why I have to stay here. It was really hard for a while, but I don't hold me being here against you, sir, you know. Not really."

The headmaster smiled. "Many times I wished to speak with you. Tell you why you couldn't know things. But I could not. Not without risking Voldemort finding out exactly how much we knew about him. I told you after you had those visions of Arthur and the Department of Mysteries that the failed curse was the reason you could dream what Voldemort was doing, that he could possess you so easily. I apologize for that half-truth. You needed some kind of explanation after those events, but I still had horcruxes to find and it was of utmost importance he not know I was hunting them."

"I understand, Professor. I do." Harry's voice was flat. "I think I just have to get used to the idea that Voldemort's soul was in me." He grimaced, attempting to force a smile. "It's pretty gross to think about."

"I can only imagine, my dear boy. I am quite pleased that we may now converse normally. I have always viewed you as a foster, or perhaps surrogate would be-"

"So, I think I'll just need some time, then," Harry interrupted. "I think actually I'd like to go back to sleep for a while. Being unconscious sure is exhausting."

Dumbledore left looking disappointed. Harry couldn't quite care anymore. It had been a long time since Sirius' death. Long enough that when he thought of Sirius he could now keep his thoughts to the good memories, or at the least keep his thoughts from his blunder at the Ministry, his bungling that lead to his Godfather's death. Talking about the events shouldn't hit him this hard anymore. He tried to tell himself this didn't change anything. It was a piece of Voldemort's soul that allowed the bastard to use him instead of a connection forged by a spell. Nothing was different. But for some reason knowing this made his loss seem as fresh as when he had first sat in Dumbledore's office and learned that Voldemort had tricked him.

It was the middle of the night when Harry finally woke up. Snape heard the pattern of his breathing change. A rustle, a mumble, the soft scraping as he dragged his glasses from the side table to his face. A muttered spell lit a candle and Snape closed his eyes against the sudden light. A muffled curse, then, "Snape, what are you doing in here?"

He slowly opened his eyes to see the younger man scoot up to a sitting position. "I am here because a week ago you sustained sever trauma to the head, caused by a spell never before used with effects impossible to foresee, and then spent the next six days in a comparative coma. We usually do not leave such people on their own."

Harry scowled. "Dumbledore seems to think I'm fine."

"Professor Dumbledore," Snape growled, "understands that if there is any brain damage it may take longer than one conversation to manifest itself. He is also," he added quietly, "an incurable optimist."

Harry looked alarmed. "Do you think I might have brain damage? Er, Professor?"

Snape was quiet for a moment. "It is possible," he said finally. "Who could say what really happened in your head when that horcrux ripped out of your skull."

The blood drained from Harry's face. He pushed his glasses back up his nose with a finger and said, "I don't remember. Dumbledore said... he said you pulled it out of me."

Snape gave him an unreadable look. "I did."

"Can you... tell me?"

"Tell you what?" he snapped.

"Er," Harry stuttered. "Just, what happened."

Snape looked down his long nose for a moment, then turned to look out the black window. He had seen and done many disturbing things, both in his service to the Dark Lord and out of it. But the image burned in his mind of what happened that night was by no means something he enjoyed reliving. He deserved to know, though. He wasn't Snape's favorite person by a long shot, but he couldn't ignore that. It came out of his head, after all. "We were in the basement. We sat on the floor-"

"You sat on the floor? The dusty floor in the-"

"Yes, Potter."

"Sorry." Harry grinned a bit. "I just can't imagine you sitting on the ground-"

"Are you going to continue to interrupt? I believe you asked to hear this," Snape snapped.

"Yes sir."

"You will continue to interrupt?" he said sarcastically.

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, sir."

Snape ignored him and continued speaking, he wanted to get it over with. "I placed a jewelry box on the ground to house the horcrux after it had left you. Around it I drew a rudimentary rune to guide the horcrux to its new vessel. I informed you I would be casting a spell on you and that I would tell you what it was when it was over. You argued with me for about ten minutes before you finally shut your mouth and allowed me to continue. The spell Professor Dumbledore devised was long, but halfway through the incantation I could tell something was happening. Your scar was bothering you, you kept rubbing it. As I continued to incant it got stronger until you started screaming. Then your... your head, well," Snape coughed, "your head literally broke open at the scar. It seemed that the piece of soul pushed through your skull and skin, breaking it open somewhat like a bird emerging from an egg."

"Like a bird -!" Harry sputtered.

Snape didn't slow his speech. "The horcrux then entered the jewelry box and the spell was complete. I performed healing spells on your bone and skin. Safely contained in the box, Dumbledore was able to destroy it and you remained unconscious." Snape paused here and cast an appraising look at Harry. "You seem to be your annoying self. But I would be remiss if I did not check up on your mental health after casting a spell like that."

Harry gave him a strange look. "Remiss? You could just ask someone else to look after me. Remus or Madam Pomfrey-"

"Or," Snape said, "I could check myself and leave nothing to the fatuity of others. Believe me, Potter, I'm not looking after you. There are others who can get you cups of tea. I am here to make sure the Boy Who Lived still has the limited mental faculties he came here with."

"Well, I'm fine, thanks," Harry huffed.

"I'll be the judge of that," he said darkly. He settled into his chair and crossed his arms.

"You're just going to watch me?" Harry asked. He didn't reply. "Well, I'm not doing this. I'm going downstairs," Harry announced. He swung his legs around to the floor and tried to stand up. His body, as expected, was much too weak and he ended up in a lump on the floor. Snape heard a strangled cry and sighed.

"Excellent work, Potter," he drawled. He could not, however, leave the Savior of the Wizarding World lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Awkwardly, and with more touching than he was exactly comfortable with, he helped him back into the bed. "I trust you won't be trying that again soon?" Harry said nothing. Snape sighed again and clapped his hands together twice. Kreatcher appeared with a loud crack.

"Why's he listening to you?" Harry asked accusingly.

"He is a house elf, Potter. Really," Snape said, "you should educate yourself now that you own one. It's the way of their magic. While his master is sick or impaired, he must obey anyone who is taking care of-" Snape stumbled momentarily, "of the house, and the estate, and everything." He glared over at Harry as though daring him to contradict what he said. "Regardless, you haven't eaten in days and you are clearly weak. That is not good for healing. Order food."

Harry asked Kreatcher for soup and ate it in silence as Snape pulled what looked like a briefcase out from beside the chair. He extracted several sheets of parchment and a quill and began to read them.

"Are those student essays, sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes," he responded shortly. He continued to read and make notations (I feel exceedingly bad for the victims of your pepper-up potions if you think a Unicorn horn could be substituted for a Bicorn) with the continuous uncomfortable feeling that Harry was going to ask more questions. He was right. After ten minutes of silence, Harry spoke again.

"What did it look like?" he asked quietly.

Snape stopped reading. "What did what look like, Potter?"

"The horcrux," he answered. "What did his soul look like?"

Snape put his quill down and looked at Harry. His eyes were wide and staring right into his. He had to stop himself from a small gasp at the pure depth of disgust and hatred in those eyes. He knew it was due to the thought of a piece of Voldemort riding around in him for two decades, but he couldn't help but be slightly taken aback by being the recipient of such a look.

"It is hard to describe. It was green, or black at times, and it seemed almost like a vapor or a liquid though it was clearly a solid object." Snape was aware that he wasn't making much sense, which upset him. Harry's eyes were narrowing and he was feeling strangely self-conscious. "It shined, or at least it might have sparkled, but it was so dark, it ate the light in the room..." Snape shook his head. "Like I said. It is hard to describe. If you saw it you doubtless wouldn't describe it the way I have. It's... like nothing I have ever seen before," he finished honestly.

Harry seemed to take this in. Snape waited to see if he had any more questions. He didn't.