A/N – Thanks to those of you who reviewed the last chapter – it makes me very pleased to see that you were happy about the return of this story. Let's get straight back into it.

Room of Requirement, 2nd January, 10:00 pm

Harry stood there for a minute, immobile. She had never considered the possibility that Voldemort would hide a Horcrux inside the Room of Requirement, but then, that was probably because, like all those who use the Room, Voldemort presumably included, she had assumed she and her friends were the only students who knew about it. It really was almost the perfect hiding place, since you could only find it if you already knew what you were looking for – once you knew, it would be easy. Harry picked up her stuff, and exited the Room, since the Horcrux clearly wasn't in this iteration of it – if it was, it would have been motionless on the map, not jumping around. She faced the wall, and began pacing. I need the place where Tom Riddle hid a Horcrux. I need the place where Tom Riddle hid a Horcrux. She opened her eyes, and pulled open the door, stepped in, and abruptly stopped. What greeted her was a very familiar room, one that she had been in less than a year ago, hiding the Half-Blood Prince's potions textbook. Back then, she hadn't realised that this room held such a dark object, but now, being more attuned to their aura through her exposure to the locket, there was something palpable in the air, telling her this was the right place. It was almost as if it was calling to her, and Harry was more than willing to follow that call. She made her way through the paths formed around the piles of junk, weaving this way and that, until she came to something that, yet again, was very familiar. There was the cupboard that they'd hidden the textbook in, and on a table in front of it, the marker they'd left so they knew where it was, a rusty old tiara. Harry reached for it, picking it up. The malice she could feel emanating from it was unmistakeable – there was no doubt that she was holding another piece of Voldemort's soul in her hands.

Under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry made her way through the halls of Hogwarts. She'd passed both McGonagall and Flitwick leading their students towards the exits, so she knew that so far, the evacuation was going well. Reaching the second-floor girls bathroom, she opened the door. The ghost sitting on the sink perked up, alerted by the sound.

"Who's there?"

Harry removed the cloak, smiling at the image of the dead girl.

"Hello Myrtle. It's good to see you again."

Myrtle pouted, not looking particularly thrilled, and when she spoke, Harry realised why.

"Oh, it's you, Harry's friend. I haven't seen you around here in years, is Harry with you? I still miss that boy."

Harry winced; she had forgotten that Hermione and Myrtle hadn't known each other as well as Harry and Myrtle had.

"No, he's not here, but I'm doing a job for him."

"Well don't let me disturb you. Just get on with it, and leave me alone!"

With that, Myrtle swooped off, splashing down a toilet. 'She never changes' thought Harry wryly to herself, before approaching the sink. A doubt suddenly hit her. Would she be able to open the Chamber anymore? Harry hadn't tried speaking Parseltongue since the change, she had no idea if she'd be able to. Focusing on the snake on the tap handle, she gave it a go.

"Open."

Nothing happened. Clearly, that had been plain English. Gathering herself, she tried again, more forcefully this time.

"OPEN!"

Again, there was nothing. Harry deflated. It made sense, she supposed. Hermione had never been able to speak Parseltongue – why should she be able to do it now? Pulling out her wand, Harry took the only other avenue that was open to her.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

The sink unit exploded in a shower of debris, Harry shielding her face with her arm. Coughing from the dust, she surveyed the results. The tunnel to the Chamber was now exposed, and quite possibly would remain that way for some time. That explosion would certainly have drawn the attention of anyone nearby, so without a moment of pause, Harry strode forward, and jumped down the hole.

Proceeding down the long hallway with caution, Harry found the view breath-taking. Now that she wasn't in the immediate danger from an enormous basilisk, she could appreciate the majesty of the Chamber, complete with its awe-inspiring statue at the end. Speaking of the basilisk, it's corpse was exactly where Harry had left it five years ago. The only difference was that it had started rotting in that time, resulting in one of the most unpleasant smells Harry ever had the misfortune to encounter. Doing her best to ignore it, she walked up to the body, and, gritting her teeth, pulled a fang from the open mouth of the giant serpent. She laid the diadem on the floor, and stabbed it, hard, with the fang. Black smoke erupted from it, and Harry reeled back, gagging. The fang crumbled to nothing in her hand, rendered to nothing by the power of what it had just defeated. The aftershock of a high scream could be heard echoing around the chamber, despite its beginning being inaudible, but Harry knew that this meant the Horcrux had been destroyed. It had been remarkably easy, she thought. Almost too easy.

Retrieving the locket from her bag, Harry grabbed another fang. Two Horcruxes in one would not be a bad day's work. The only problem was, how to open it? She doubted that the solution she had used for the Chamber entrance would work on this. It was worth a go, though.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

The locket flew up into the air, and returned to the ground with a clatter. Nope. It was completely untouched, as Harry had expected. It was time to change tack. She lifted the locket into the air, and turned to face the statue. She didn't think this would help either, but again, she tried.

"This is Salazar Slytherin's Chamber. By his power, I ask you, his heir, to open his secrets to me."

The language was perhaps a bit more archaic than she would normally use, but that was what she thought Slytherin might use. There was silence. Harry sighed, convinced that it hadn't work, but then there was a whirring noise. She looked back at the locket, breath held as the doors opened, to reveal two bewitching eyes. Fang raised, she prepared to strike, but before she could, a dreadfully familiar whisper came from the locket.

"You are not of Slytherin's line. How dare you defile his chamber. You are no more than a filthy muggleborn – and more than that, you are a failure. You want to make people proud… you want to make someone in particular proud. But you never will. You will always be a disappointment – unloved, unwanted, uncared for. She will have died in vain, died for- "

It was cut off. With a sob, Harry slammed down the fang, the now familiar death cry of the Horcrux echoing in the chamber. She knew that Voldemort's soul was lying – of course it just wanted to inflict as much pain as it could before its inevitable destruction. But that didn't mean it didn't work.

Malfoy Manor, 2nd January, 11:30 pm

Snape stepped out of the flames, brushing small patches of soot off his robes. The room he had arrived in, the main entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, was a picture of decadence; marble seemed to make up most of the room, and exquisite paintings hung on all the walls. The fireplace behind him was highly decorative, and Snape had to brush away the thought that this might be the last time he ever used it. It was imperative that he kept his mind as clear as he always did around Voldemort, as one stray thought could result in his slow, painful death. Proceeding up the central staircase, he came to a much smaller room, which was obviously some kind of office. The door was open, and sitting at the desk, a glass of wine in his hand, was Lucius Malfoy. He looked up, seeing Snape standing outside.

"Severus," he said heavily, his voice rough. "I didn't know you were coming today."

Snape looked at the desk. There were empty bottles all over it, suggesting the glass in Lucius' hand was not the only one he had consumed. His once fine hair was unkempt, as if in prison, but despite all the evidence that Lucius was breaking, Snape felt no sympathy for him. It was about time Lucius learnt about Voldemort's true nature, and falling out of his favour like Lucius had was the only way he would.

"I must speak with our Lord; it is something of the utmost importance. Where can I find him, Lucius?"

Lucius shrugged.

"He spends much of his time here in the library. He's probably there if he's here."

Snape looked at him quizzically.

"If he's here? This is our current base of operations, is it not? The Dark Lord is unlikely to be off on some sojourn."

The elder man snorted, something that a few years ago he never would have done, but he had changed since then.

"Unlikely? More often than not, he is off who knows where. He's looking for something, Severus – something to do with his and Potter's wands, some way of beating it. Until he finds it, he couldn't give a damn about us, or completing our noble work. He's leaving the muggles and mudbloods to us, whilst he disappears on his personal campaign. It makes me sick; this man who promised to make our vision of the future a reality, and now it's here, now we can finally do it, and he does nothing."

"Indeed, Lucius. This is troubling news. I shall endeavour to find out exactly what the situation is, but for now, goodbye."

Lucius just nodded, before returning to staring out the window. Snape left him without another word, making his familiar path to the library. He had many happy memories from that place; from the days between the wars, when he and Lucius had been much closer than they were now. Many nights, they had sat in there, talking and drinking like the old friends they were. Hopefully today, he could add another pleasant memory to that collection.

Further down the corridor, he arrived at the entrance. Standing outside was Pettigrew, either on guard duty, or just lazing around, it was hard to tell with his demeanour. When he saw Snape approaching, he straightened, and stared hard at him.

"What are you doing here, Snape?" he questioned in his thin voice. "You have no appointment with the Dark Lord. Get back to your school."

Snape just raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm afraid not, Pettigrew. I must speak with our master. You will stand aside."

Pettigrew gave a nervous laugh, fidgeting with his fingers but not moving from his position.

"You don't give me orders, Snape. Only He can, and he told me to guard the door, and not let anybody – Hey!"

His little speech was interrupted by Snape brushing past him, confident that Pettigrew would be too cowardly to actually do anything. He was right.

"My Lord? Are you in here?"

There was a rustling from deep amongst the shelves, and Snape bowed pre-emptively. A figure emerged from the darkness… well, more accurately two figures. A high, cold voice spoke.

"Severus. I see Wormtail has failed yet again at even the most basic of tasks I give him. I will have to punish him again later. But for now… to what do I owe the pleasure? For what reason have you interrupted us?"

The snake at his feet hissed, Nagini's larger than natural form even more forbidding in the gloom of the library. Snape didn't let it get to him, but ever so subtly, ensured his grip on his wand in his robes was tight. He would only get one shot at this, and it had to count.

"I'm afraid I have discovered a traitor among our ranks, my Lord. Someone working with the Potter boy to help him evade capture by our forces."

Voldemort looked into Snape's eyes, both of them unblinking. Snape could feel that little twinge inside his head that told him Voldemort was inside his mind, searching – not for information, but for feelings – the feeling of whether or not Snape was being truthful or not. After what seemed like an hour, but must have been, in reality, at most a minute, Voldemort leaned back, withdrawing from his head.

"It seems you are still my loyal servant, Severus. I can feel your honesty, so speak freely. Who is this traitor, and how did you come to know about them?"

Snape prepared to draw his wand. He knew that Voldemort's reputation as a duellist was deserved – he would react so quickly that Snape would only be able to get one spell off. Despite his mounting nerves, his voice was still smooth.

"Amycus Carrow, my Lord. He had Alecto under the Imperius curse, and forced her to send owls to Potter telling him where to hide to avoid us. I noticed she was acting oddly, and when she came to my office for a scheduled meeting this afternoon, I realised what the problem was, and freed her. She told me everything. The only thing I do not know is why Amycus has betrayed us. I apologise for lacking this information."

Voldemort drummed his long fingers against his robe. He appeared to be deep in thought, but when he spoke, the anger was evident in the undertones of his voice.

"I see. I confess, I did not think that Amycus would be the traitor. This is most unfortunate news. What do you propose we do about it, Severus?"

"My Lord?"

"How should we go about this? I value your input, as one of my most proven followers. Should we immediately capture and destroy dear Amycus, or should we feed him false information, in order to more easily and swiftly capture Potter?"

Snape steeled himself, and looked the Dark Lord directly in the face.

"I thank you for your appreciation of my thoughts, my Lord. In my mind, it is clear exactly what must be done. Avada Kedavra!"

As he spoke, he drew his wand in a blur, and pointed it at the serpent coiled on the floor. The jet of green light flew true from the end, striking the beast, and with a rushing sound, it ceased moving, as black smoke floated from the corpse.

Voldemort shrieked with rage, and a blast of pure magic shot around him, throwing Snape back. He landed heavily against a bookcase, but managed to get up quickly. It felt like that had broken a couple of ribs, but he could attend to those when he had escaped. He risked a quick look at Voldemort. He seemed like he'd completely forgotten about Snape, instead kneeling at Nagini's side. There were no tears falling from his eyes, for it was unlikely he even could cry, but if it was possible, Snape would say the Dark Lord was feeling, for perhaps the first time in his life, loss. Snape turned for the door, but it was blocked. Pettigrew. The coward took in the scene, and before Snape had a chance to do anything, raised his wand and shouted the familiar command. As yet another jet of green light rushed towards Snape, too fast for him to avoid with his injuries, he allowed himself a smile. At least he wasn't going to be tortured, and at least this way the knowledge of Potter was still safe. Just before it connected, he had his final thought. I did all I could for you… Lily.

A/N – It seems it's always Snape's fate to end up dead, whether in fanfiction or the actual canon. Unlucky for him, isn't it? From now on, it should virtually all be from Harry's point of view again since I obviously no longer need Snape's. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review whether you enjoyed it or not – positive and negative feedback are both useful for me. Next time, two characters reunite, and hatch a plan – but which two, and what is the plan for? I'll see you there.