After careful consideration, the board decided that Hogwarts would remain open, as all students had end of the year exams and their grades could not be finalized without them. Due to the school's amended schedule, Hogwarts was to be let out in approximately three weeks. However, Dumbledore gave the option for students to leave after they'd finished testing. Being 6th years, Ron and Harry would be free of all responsibilities within the week, but there was an unspoken agreement between them that they wouldn't leave Hermione. The teachers expected the days following the incident to run like any other day. They expected the students to forget about the violence that had penetrated their walls, and continue their schooling as if they weren't stressed enough already. Well, these things weren't necessarily expected, but they surely hoped for. While walking down the corridors on the second day, Ron was lucky enough to hear Professor Binns discussing grading on a curve, due to the abundance of low scores he'd already received. Hearing this, Ron got a boost of confidence heading into his Charms final.

He and Harry sat together as usual. Ron dug in his bag for a quill, at the bottom of it he found two. A very grateful Harry took the spare as he'd forgotten to pick his. Unlike the time before most tests, the students were silent. Instead of two houses, all four were mixed, causing an unfamiliar air to the room. For the first time, Ron got a good look at everyone who was in his year. There weren't that many, the group was average at somewhere around 30 students. There were quite the number of Slytherins; nine of them to be exact, almost a third of his graduating class. He shrugged off the useless fact and began tapping on the table. He made up a rhythm of beats using the sound of his nails on wood. Letting his imagination run wild, Ron looked through the top windows and into the trees. He wasn't aware of the annoyance radiating from his table partner until a hand landed on his, slapping it down. He jumped a little at the sudden contact and turned to see Harry's hand on his and Harry's eyes staring him down. Ron pulled his hand away and placed it in his lap. Sorry he mouthed, but the other just rolled his eyes.

"Welcome all to your final Charms exam." McGonagall stood at a podium, addressing the class. "The bad news is, this test is worth quite a deal of your grade. The good news is, it's the last time you have to be in this classroom this year."

"Oh, praise heavens!" One of the Slytherins shouted, and the class chuckled as a whole. Even the commonly stone-faced teacher found it amusing.

"Don't we all?" She commented quietly to herself. "Your test has 200 questions; some of them are multiple choice and some are not. Some are circumstantial questions that require you to write your response in a given situation. This will not only test your understanding of what we have learned inside the classroom, but your preparedness for the real world and your understanding of magical mechanics. You will have three hours to complete this test. Wands must be put away, and all other materials aside from a quill and the parchment I give you will be cleared off the testing area. There will be no talking, passing notes, or communication of any kind. If I catch you cheating, or violating any of the other rules, you will be given an automatic 'T'. Are we clear?" The students gave a nod, and with a wave of her wand test booklets appeared in front of them. "You may now start your test."

Ron fell behind on the first couple of questions; he was still on page one while Harry was halfway down page three. He began mentally cursing at himself, then the test. He even read the test questions to himself in his own vulgar manner. Wait, Ron thought, hold on. He ran the question over and over in his head, wording it a different way every time. He did know this, he was just frightened by the format of the questions. In taking the basic root of the question and rewording it differently in his mind, he was able to quickly bypass Harry halfway through. He pictured himself doing them to remember the exact hand motion certain spells required. He began placing himself at the top of Astronomy tower, then asked himself what charms he could possibly use to do the action McGonagall was asking of him. He had a sudden picture in his mind of a Death Eater standing in front of him, just below a chandelier. How would he make that light fixture fall? Descendo. He thought, quickly circling answer D.

The first person done was a Slytherin girl who popped out of her seat, handed her test in, then sat back down and began reading a book titled "Most Influential People of the Ministry". After two hours students began falling asleep in their seats. Neville was one of them. When no one was looking, Ron used his foot to kick the sleeping Gryffindor in the shin. He woke with a jolt and resumed his test as though he had not been out cold but a second ago.

The end of the test consisted of the circumstantial questions McGonagall spoke of. He usually hated short answer questions, but he had no problem writing a little extra for these. Feeling good, but also feeling like he faked his way through half of it, Ron was the eleventh person to turn in the booklet. Harry followed in being the seventeenth person. The dark haired boy rested his head on his desk while the ginger leaned back, stretching his neck. Sitting there with nothing to do got old real fast.

McGonagall remained in her desk chair, the sound of her flipping through papers was a tell-tale sign that she was already grading them. Only the slight click of the door cause the professor to look up. She locked eyes with Colin Creevy, who apologized silently before tip-toeing deeper into her classroom. She decided to ignore him. It wasn't till a short time later, after she heard a chair being slid back, that she looked up again. A tall, ginger boy was now on his feet and gathering things in his bag. She looked at him in shock.

"Mr. Weasley, what do you think you're doing?" She asked, dumbfounded that he would do such a thing. Ron turned towards her with the most innocent look on his face.

"Oh, sorry; I was going to go up and tell you. But Hermione's awake, and I was going to go see her." He explained as though it were 'just that simple'. She set her quill down on her desk, then adjusted her glasses.

"Sit down, the test isn't finished."

"But I'm done." Ron stated, more like a question than anything. "And she's been in a coma for three days-"

Now very irritated and feeling disrespected in front of her class, the woman raised her voice. "You can see her after the break, now sit down!"

By that point, all of the students rested their quill to watch the scene. Harry looked dead at the desk and pretended to draw on a piece of parchment he didn't have. Ron could tell by his friend's wide eyes, and the way his bottom lip disappeared under his teeth, that he didn't think Ron would win the fight. Gazing up at Ron, Harry could tell that his friend was in no mood to back down. It came across his mind that he might have not one, but two friends recovering from serious injuries within the hour. He hid his face when Ron pivoted on his heel and began to walk in the direction of the door. McGonagall stood up.

"Ronald Weasley, if you walk out that door, you are getting a zero one your grade for this class!" She threatened. Ron stopped, knowing full well she'd do it too. "The only reasonable excuse you could possibly have that would allow me to dismiss you from this class, would be running blood or the risk of death." He turned to look at her, and he did for a moment. Suddenly, he moved to face the wall and placed his hands to steady himself before plunging into it. Harry jumped at hearing the noise it made. The ginger doubled back, holding his nose. He removed the hand to reveal a steady stream of blood running down his chin. Some of it had already coated his fingers, so he flicked the droplets off to the side.

McGonagall's rage suddenly disappeared and was replaced with several emotions that did not correlate what-so-ever. She was astonished, she was in denial of what just transpired, she was concerned, but oddly (and most of all) she felt proud. As frustrated as it made her, he had found a way to use her words in his favor. It was clever, and if she were a student instead of a teacher, she could congratulate him on it.

"This is bleeding pretty bad." Ron said, spitting tainted saliva to the side of him. "I think I need to go to the hospital wing. I can't see with my hand in front of my face, Harry, why don't you come with to make sure I don't run into anything?"

Harry shuffled his papers awkwardly before looking up at his teacher for approval. She sighed and waved her hand, rolling her eyes as she sat down. She was too embarrassed about being outwitted by a student to look up and watch them leave.

"Are you mad?" Harry yelled in his ear, beating every area of him he could reach. Ron held up his spare arm in defence even if his hits weren't excruciatingly hard ones. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I needed to get some nerve!" Ron answered, slightly irritated with his friend's response. "Maybe it's time you got some."

"I fought Voldemort, but never in my life would I ever even attempt to pull that!" Harry let out an exasperated sigh, and nearly began running to keep up with his friend's long-legged strides. "You're damn mental."

Ron didn't care about Harry's opinion; he just wanted to get to the infirmary.

The blood flow decreased significantly as they made their way across the castle. By the time the entered the hospital wing, Ron wasn't even sure if it was still bleeding. Harry stopped him just outside the door to check his suspicions. He pulled Ron's hands away from his face, and when the ginger tried to put them up again he slapped them away. The trickle was slow, but continuous none the less. Harry wondered if Seamus' face looked similar after he was hit.

"It's still going, but you're fine. I don't think you broke anything." Harry voiced.

"Even if I did, my nose was crooked anyway from when Charlie chucked a quaffed at my face when I was 10." Ron tried to wipe the mess off his lip with his sleeve, but he only succeeded in smearing it and staining his shirt. He continued walking.

"Really?" Harry squinted. "I never heard that story. I just thought that was your face."

"Ha ha," Ron smirked sarcastically, "Very funny."

Harry chuckled a bit as they entered the door of Madam Pomfrey's station. Once she saw them she made an exasperated gasp and halted her bed-making to assist them. Reluctantly, Ron went with her to the other side of the room. Harry smiled while watching him go, and then he turned to Hermione. She hadn't heard someone come in, for it seemed she was too immersed in the book she was reading. Laying on her back with the text above her, she turned the page. He couldn't help but think how that was probably the most uncomfortable position to read, but stopped himself once he realized she really had no other choice. She turned her head too see origin of movement when he began his walk towards her.

"Harry?" She questioned, a smile coming to her lips. She marked her page and rest the book on her stomach. A sharp pain rushed through her and she remembered how and why that movement wasn't the best idea. Wincing, she reached to place it on the table beside her. "You're okay! How are you here, I thought it was class time still?"

"That's because it is." He grinned back at her, standing a little ways away from her with his bag still slung over his shoulder.

"Well then, how did you get out?" She asked, genuinely curious as to know how they managed to let any of the teachers let them roam the halls not only during finals, but so shortly after the battle. Hearing footsteps behind Harry, Hermione moved her head slightly to try and get a glimpse of who was coming from behind him. She had her suspicions, but when they were confirmed by a short glimpse of ginger hair. An uncomfortable and warm feeling causing her to take a large breath radiated from her middle, having nothing to do with her injury.

"Because daft-nuts here," He started to explain, his voice raising a considerable amount for no reason apparent to Hermione, when Ron took his place next to him and interjected, tissue at his nose and all.

"-tripped and fell into McGonagall's desk while handing in my test. Horrible bloody sight, really embarrassing-don't talk about it with anyone, please." Ron finished, Harry looked at him oddly and pointed at him for a second before lowering his hand. Ron removed the stained tissue for a moment to place it again at a fresh angle; his face did look astonishingly better. Harry assumed Madam Pomphrey used a cleaning spell on him, a spell either of them could have done easily if Ron hadn't been so adamant about going to the hospital wing. "How are you, Hermione?"

"Fine," she answered, all too quickly. She looked up at him with eyes flooded in confusion and concern, eyes that were a little wider than usual. "I'm getting medication for the pain. Now I just have to rest until it heals completely."

"I'd take that as good news." He said with optimism. "How long did they say until you're back to normal?"

"Normal? Goodness, I don't know. They said I should be able to walk in a few weeks though, probably by the time we get out of school." She explained, rolling her neck and resting her gaze on the ceiling. "I want to test the waters and see what I can do, but I think I'm going to play it safe and wait. I'll sit up though, when it doesn't hurt so bad; I need to take my exams anyway."

"It was Charms today, D.A.D.A yesterday. You'll pass without trying, but I don't think you need me to tell you that." He laughed a little and so did she. He pulled the tissue away and sniffled, then turned to throw it in the trash. Harry watched the two of them, suddenly feeling a little lonely.

Ron took a seat on the bed behind him, and clapped his hands together, sighing. "So, what's the last thing you remember?"

That question evoked a very long discussion for the three of them. Harry forgot that they had not seen the first half of the battle like he had, and that they had no idea how it got started in the first place. He explained his mission with Dumbledore, and about the locket. Upon hearing of this, Hermione demanded to know why she hadn't seen the headmaster at the top of the tower; Harry had no answer to give her as he still hadn't heard from him. Both his friends looked sceptical in their own ways when he assured them of his faith in Dumbledore; this made his heart fall a little in his chest. Ron continued to question Malfoy's motives despite the amount of times Harry explained to him what happened. He understood that Ron was in the right to be cautious, but Harry was getting slightly irritated because he seemed to be rejecting facts out of mere hatred. He had to correct him several times on the events that happened as Ron had developed a habit of fabricating them in his favor to make Malfoy look less trustworthy. The ginger turned his attention to Hermione.

"Do you honestly think we can trust Malfoy, with everything he's done to us?"

Hermione sighed, playing with her fingers and refusing to look at either of them. "I don't know Ron, when you look at it logically-"

"But what does your gut tell you?" He interrupted. He looked at her stomach and made a motion with his hand towards it. "Aside from, you know."

"I'll have you know that my 'gut-feeling' is often derived from what I find logical. So if you hadn't interrupted me, I would have already gotten out that I believe, if what Harry says is true, that it is a possibility." Ron rolled his eyes and sat straighter in annoyance, Hermione tried to sit up. Harry rushed forward to take her by the shoulders and prevent her from doing so. Still, her voice rose several octaves. "Think about it: there was no way he could have known Harry was there, or that the two of us would show up, or the Order for that matter. He probably didn't even think Snape was on his side. There is a large possibility that he did what he did thinking he was the only one going to be fighting."

"Then why would he do it?" Ron questioned. "He could have just been done with it and had a nice, cushiony life with You-Know-Who. If it was a suicide mission, why would he take that chance?"

"It could have been just that." Hermione said quietly. She rubbed her eyes and the boys studied her. "He could have realized that being a Death Eater wasn't as easy or fun as his dad made it out to be, and-after seeing no other way out-just decided it was easier to give up."

"So, you think Malfoy tried to commit suicide?" Ron asked speculatively, scrunching his nose.

"It's not that far fetched." Harry commented, looking at Ron. "I mean, we all saw how he looked this past year. I would hear him crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and from what I'd seen; he looked dead already."

"It's just a theory. Everything is a theory. We'll never know unless we ask." Hermione said.

"If he tells us the truth, and that's a big if." Ron pointed out, going back to his original position of leaning forward with his elbows supporting his weight on his knees. "He could be faking for all we know, still actually with the Death Eaters, and the whole thing was just a ruse to get us to trust him."

"Can you think realistically please?" Though Ron had backed down, it was evident Hermione wasn't going to anytime soon. "Do you really think You-Know-Who would really set up his own Death Eaters to be attacked and killed to get one on the inside, and that person being Malfoy?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I do. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. Besides, what's a few Death Eaters when you can have all the information you need? And Malfoy? It's because he's the most believable. Would you believe it if Lucius Malfoy came in here and said he'd switched sides? How about Bellatrix? Hell no! Yet here we are, discussing whether or not we can trust Malfoy, and so far, Malfoy's winning. So, yes Hermione, I do think that."

Harry nodded. He himself believed they had made a new ally, but Ron made some very good points. It would have been difficult on Voldemort's part, the complexity of the plan, but not so much so that it was impossible. He was red in the face, and for the first time he thanked God that he seemed to be invisible to them; Harry hated being present during their fights, not only did it sadden him to see them so angry with each other, but it was also unbelievably awkward. He turned to face Hermione.

"I am in no place to argue with you right now." And as soon as she'd said it Harry knew Ron had won. Hermione was the brightest person he knew, but she still couldn't match him in that moment, because she knew they were debating the odds of the universe. Ron equal chance of being right as she did.

"I agree." He said, looking at her softly. "But I'm not trying to argue with you. I'm just trying-"

"Yes, you are!" She interjected, her voice loud and piercing. She opened her mouth to say something further but Ron cut her off, just as she did him.

"No, I'm not. Don't tell me what I'm doing or not doing, Hermione." His voice was loud, but not in a threatening way like her's was. She dropped her head back into the pillow. "I never wanted an argument. Ever. I was just trying to understand where you were coming from when you started to arguing with me."

"You rose your voice at me."

"Yeah, but the only time I did that was just now so you could actually hear me over yourself." He explained, shrugging. "You can't expect me to just sit here and let you yell at me."

"And I don't. My problem is that though I have expressed my opinion in all ways I know how, you don't seem to see it as a valid one, and you're trying to push your views down both of our throats." Hermione's voice was lowered down to normal, and Harry and Ron both were very grateful for that. Her voice had matured since first year. Though it still had a hint of bossiness to it, it was a low and steady tone that was actually quite pleasant to listen to. However, the angrier Hermione gets, the louder and higher her voice gets. Often times it's worse than nails on a chalkboard. "You didn't even acknowledge me. You asked, then disregarded my answer the second you found out it wasn't the same as yours."

"Funny, cause that's exactly how I feel." Ron said slowly. He staggered in his next words as though he couldn't quite put together his thoughts. "It seemed as though you only believed what you believed, and threw out any kind of idea that conflicted with the main idea of yours. So, I kept trying to 'push mine' because you weren't having even the possibility of it."

"So what you're trying to tell me is, after all that, you believe my theory is a theory, but not the main theory? In your opinion, anyway."

"Yes." He clarified. "And I take it you feel the same way?"

"Yes."

"So it was a big misunderstanding then?"

Hermione shrugged looking tired and defeated, which was very unlike Hermione. "I guess so."

"Alright then."

Harry considered whether or not his desire for death to take him in his shoes was a real feeling, or simply because he wanted out of that room. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index fingers. They'd always bickered in front of him, but it was never anything like what he just transpired. The worst before this was when he walking in on them during the Yule Ball. He then wondered why they had the desire to fight in the first place. Hermione had taken a curse for him that left her half filled with another's blood, and Ron risked his Charms grade and bashed his face on the damned wall not hours ago just to come and see her; even if she didn't know that. He wondered if their visit would have played out the way it did if Ron would have told her the truth about how they came to be there in the first place.

Death hadn't come for him, but God himself in the form of Ginny, Luna, and Neville came to rescue him. Luna was the first to her bedside and gave her an awkward hug that Hermione was not expecting. She then turned to Harry and Ron and gave them individual waves before turning back to Hermione, and asking her questions about her health and he dreams while she was in she coma. Neville waved and smiled at Hermione before turning to the other two boys on the bed.

"Dumbledore wants you Harry." He said, and Harry looked up at the sound of his headmaster's name. Neville then looked at Ron with a much more worried expression. "And McGonagall wants you."

"Shit." Ron swore, gripping his bag harshly then slinging it over his shoulder.

"I still can't believe you did that." Neville added, and Ron was in the middle of shushing him when Ginny chimed in.

"Yeah, I know! I heard about it from Pavati." She exclaimed, seeming more impressed than shocked. "You basically just showed everyone that you have iron balls!"

"Shut up, both of you!" He whispered to them harshly. "Don't talk about it."

"Why not?" Ginny, completely oblivious, asked. "It'll probably still be talked about when our children go here." It was only when Ron nodded in Hermione's direction that his sister's sly grin faded. "Oh."

Neville just looked puzzled when Ron turned and left. Harry waved goodbye to Hermione, then said Ron's goodbye for him before turning and leaving as well. Though they exited the room together, the boys split upon entering the hall, both turning in favor of their predetermined destinations. Harry was excited, but he was also very nervous. He wasn't sure whether Dumbledore would be proud or upset. Though he couldn't think of any possible reason for him to be angry with him, the thought made him shudder. Given Neville hadn't provided him with a new password to get past the gargoyle, he assumed it was the same as the last time he'd visited.

"Lemon drops." He said. The statue bowed its head and began its spiral to reveal the staircase Harry had traveled up one too many times.

It seemed desolate in the office; it was far too quiet. It was dark too. All the windows had curtains pulled over them, the same curtains that used to be so dusty from being tied back for centuries. He walked over to the fabric and held it between his fingers; it was clean. A slight creak came from behind him and he turned; the old man was sitting at his desk with his hand loosely covering his mouth.

"Fancy the curtains, Harry?" He asked in his naturally soothing voice. "I quite like them myself. Can't stop myself from gazing at them from time to time."

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion at the seemingly irrelevant question, but made it seem as though the cause for the action was the darkness. He patted the hanging pieces of fabric one more. "I do, sir. They're different than the others."

"Indeed they are." Dumbledore's hand moved from his mouth to his beard. He slightly stroked the hairs at his chin before resting his arm on the desk. "I think change is needed every now and then; it keeps thing fresh and interesting. It keeps things moving."

Harry sensed an underlying message pertaining to the issue at hand. If there was one thing about Dumbledore, it was that he liked every message disguised. He liked the trustee to have to figure out what he was saying, but Harry had no tolerance for the riddle's being provided. He rushed forward. "Professor-"

Dumbledore rose his hand to halt him, and Harry did as he commanded, not only stopping in his tracks but his speech. "I know what you're going to say, and if you'll allow me to please explain."

"Why did you leave the tower?" Harry's lips disobeyed his mind, and voiced what everyone had in their minds. He had to know, he had to find out; for Ron, Hermione, McGonagall, not just himself.

"Voldemort sent them that night for me." He said, causing Harry to squint. It didn't make sense, not really. He saw everything that had transpired at the top of the tower, but he just assumed they were on their way to capture him, and killing Dumbledore was just an opportunity they'd stumbled upon. Not once had Voldemort been concerned with Dumbledore, he only wanted him. In all the years he'd been back, his only move had been against Harry. "I thought if I could get them away from the school if I left. I left traceable evidence so they would be able to follow me, but they didn't."

"Why didn't you come back then?" He pressed, becoming angry. All the reactions and looks from his friends had gotten to him, even if he wasn't aware of it until now. Their speculation, their doubt, he began to feel it too. "You waited days to show up! No one knew where you were, the school has been being managed by Professor Spout this whole time."

"I was too weak." The headmaster's voice did not rise with Harry's. He merely looked at him with soft eyes, and hoped they would cool the fire burning in the boy. Even more confusion broke out on the boy's angered face.

"What?" He whispered. Dumbledore's gaze fell to the hand in his lap before he raised it for every object in the room to see. It was grey, dead-like. The skin had become ashy and dry, his fingers thin and nails blue, even the tendons of his hand were distinguishable when he moved his fingers. Harry swallowed and stepped forward to get a better look; he'd seen this before, and the most concerning part of it was that instead of it covering his hand, the diseased skin was halfway up his forearm.

"Severus' potions and handmade ointments have kept it at bay for some time, but there are some things you can't delay forever." His elbows shook as he lifted himself from the chair. Harry grabbed his arm in an attempt to aid him, but with the wave of a darkened hand, his help was dismissed. Flowing robes behind him, looking no different than usual, Dumbledore strode around his office looking into old paintings. Harry watched him, solid in his place at the desk, unravel a sweet and place it in his mouth. "I'm dying, Harry."

It didn't quite hit Harry as hard as he thought it would. Somewhere, deep down, he knew this was coming; he knew it from the first moment he saw grey peeking out of his headmaster's sleeve. Still, Harry's eyelids went heavy. It felt for a second as though he's lost balance, as his center of gravity was thrown off when his heart abandoned its post, and stepped into the dark depths of his middle. "W-what?"

"Death is nothing to be afraid of." He assured, shrugging. "It is only the next step in the great adventure of life."

"I-but," Harry stammered. His shoulders slumped, and despite suddenly feeling very tired, his eyes widened.

"It's alright, I still have time. I don't know how much, but I'm a firm believer one shouldn't know such things." He was in the midst of opening another candy when he offered one to Harry. Harry shook his head. "I heard Miss Granger was gravely injured in the battle? I'm sorry to hear that; I know you two are close."

"Yes, and thank you. No disrespect Professor, but can we please get back to you saying that you're dying?" He said in urgency.

"There's nothing left to discuss about it." He replied, striding over to Harry. "Not when there are more important things to talk about."

"Like what?" Harry asked. "What could be more important than you dying? Especially right now?"

"You can defeat him, Harry. You can defeat Voldemort. It will be hard, and it will take everything you have, but you can do it." His eyes looked strenuously in Harry's, and he gripped the boy's shoulder. "You need to leave Hogwarts. After this year, you mustn't come back. Take Granger and Weasley with you, they are in far too deep with you to pull back now. Not that they would, they would follow you to your death if that's what you needed."

Harry had the sudden image of his best friends dying in place of him, and he felt sick just thinking about it. The worst part was the reality of the statement; Harry knew they would. Hell, they pretty much had on several occasions.

"What do we need to do?" Harry asked dryly.

Dumbledore walked passed him and dug in his desk drawer. He threw Slytherin's locket on the top of the desk. Harry picked up the horcrux and turned it over in his hands. "It's a fake. A man who calls, or called, himself R.A.B stole the real one. Look inside."

Harry opened the locket and took out the small folded piece of parchment inside. He peered up at his professor before reading aloud:

"To the Dark Lord,

I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.

-RAB"

It had been for nothing; all of it. They didn't have to go to that cave, Dumbledore didn't have to drink that potion, no one had to have a brush with death because of the inferi. Dumbledore wouldn't have been at the top of that tower when the Death Eaters attacked. If only they would have known, things might have been different. Maybe Hermione wouldn't have to be recovering... But what was done was done, and there was nothing they could do to change it. They'd gone in having hope, and they had such a sense of accomplishment when they'd returned with that locket. Now, that hope was gone, along with several other things.

Harry inhaled loudly, then let it out, setting the object back on the desk. "We need to find the real one."

"And the others." Dumbledore added. "There are six of them we thought, do you remember?" Harry nodded, hands plastered to his sides. "The horcrux you destroyed during your second year was Tom's diary, and now this horcrux is a locket from his mother. I have all reason to believe that the rest of these horcruxes will be of sentimental value, making them easier to find."

"So one down, five to go." Harry commented with fake simplicity. Dumbledore made it sound as though it was an easy task, even when it'd taken him years to locate the locket, which turned out to be fake anyway.

"No, four." He placed another piece of jewelry on the tabletop. Harry examined it from his post. It was a ring, quite small, but it had a black stone in the middle. It was quite boring to him if he were to be honest. He wondered why Voldemort would want the said ring. Harry looked up at him.

I found that about a month ago. I was able to trace it back to Tom's grandfather; it contributes to my theory about sentiment. Three of the six meant something to him, why wouldn't the others?" He explained, moving forward. "Voldemort is very consistent. He has his own rules, and he does not break them."

"But, when we do find them, if we find them, how do we destroy them?" Harry asked.

"Carefully, and without doubt." Dumbledore raised his hand to his eyes and motioned it around as if he were flaunting it. "I was desperate. I wasn't certain. It takes a very special kind of destruction to kill a horcrux. You must damage it's container beyond magical repair, and that is very hard to do. Not only do you have to find the rest of the horcruxes, but you must find something to destroy them. Remember Harry, horcruxes can be deadly. You will need to be very careful."

"Well, do you have any ideas on what kind of things I would need?"

"I do, but I think it's important to take the time to figure that for yourself." The professor began to hike up the stairs to his hovering bedchambers. Harry opened his mouth in protest. How could Dumbledore send him off on a mission and not give him the necessary clues to fulfill it? This is madness. He thought. Only a squeak was able to come from his throat before he was cut off. "I believe it's about time for dinner. You should probably attend if you don't want to go hungry. Goodnight."

The door to the headmaster's quarters slammed shut, and suddenly Harry was standing alone in the dark room, the only light coming in from the top windows Dumbledore had been too lazy to close.


Edit: I would like to address a comment left on my fic as of a couple hours ago. I don't want to come off as an author who cannot take criticism, or one who cannot handle when someone isn't a fan of their fic, (I get it, everyone has their tastes; that's completely normal and I embrace individuality) but I wanted to clear up a few things up so it doesn't spoil the experience for other readers.

Hermione is not defending Draco, when she was arguing with Ron she was defending her idea behind Draco's motives. In my perception of Hermione, she the kind of person who wants to be heard and her conclusions accepted, when Ron did not agree she began to argue. Hermione was defending herself and her perception of reality, not Draco. She does not like him, respect him, or trust him on a personal level. Later in this fic, she will explain the differences between liking someone as a person, and having them as an ally in the war.

Also, though I am not a fan of Draco Malfoy, I do believe he deserves the redemption Snape was given. A portion of this fic will be about Malfoy trying to get that redemption. I want to build on the character, and show a side to him that the readers of Harry Potter could not see because of the angle the story was being told from (Harry's POV). This is just a warning for those who might not be interested in that.

Thank you for the follows, favorites, and nice comments! I want you to know I appreciate them greatly, and I always get a huge smile on my face when I discover another person enjoys what I write. So once again, thank you.

See you next chapter,
Sarah