First off, sorry about the long delay here - we had a bit of a run-in with writer's block. It seems to be cured for now, but looks are always deceiving. :)

And as Moon Goddess so kindly pointed out, Harry already knows how to Apparate; but to go along with our original plot we'll pretend he doesn't. Yet.

Suspicions - "In joy and sorrow my home's in your arms."

Kingsley Shacklebolt walked wearily into the living room of the Burrow, where various Order members greeted him. Tonks and Lupin waved to him from where they sat on the couch, and he shuffled over.

"Rough day?" Lupin asked in his quiet way, a corner of his mouth tugging upward in a smile.

Kingsley let out a sigh as he dropped into an armchair. "Absolutely mad," he muttered, shaking his head. "It's just getting worse."

"Did you two check the wards?" someone growled from behind them.

He and Tonks looked back to see Mad-Eye stumping toward them.

"I did," Tonks replied. "They're fine, Mad-Eye. Give it a rest."

"That's the kind of attitude that gets you killed," Mad-Eye said warningly, waggling his finger at her. "What did you bribe those Ministry blokes with to let you pass Auror training?"

Tonks grinned as she rolled her eyes; Kingsley supposed Mad-Eye was teasing, although he didn't think the ex-Auror was the sort of man that joked often. He smiled wolfishly at them before moving on to join Sturgis and Hestia in the far corner.

A hush fell in the room before they could say anything else – Kingsley turned to see that Minerva had arrived. Those who had been standing found seats as she greeted them.

"Thank you for coming," she began, settling down in a chair Molly provided for her. "I trust all of you know the agenda of tonight's meeting?"

There were grim nods all around.

"The first order of business, of course, is Horcruxes," Minerva said, turning expectantly to Bill, Charlie, Hestia, Sturgis; they had been put in charge of the search.

Bill cleared his throat nervously, getting ready to speak. Kingsley liked the eldest Weasley – he was an accomplished Curse-Breaker and a skilled wizard besides – and often regretted that Bill hadn't chosen to become an Auror.

"We're assuming, like Harry, that there are six Horcruxes," he said, starting with a summary, "for a total of seven pieces of soul. Two of these, Tom Riddle's diary and Marvolo Gaunt's ring, have already been destroyed. Harry destroyed Slytherin's locket in early November, which means half the Horcruxes are gone. We believe that the remaining three are former possessions of the Founders of Hogwarts. We've ruled out anything of Gryffindor's and Slytherin's, since Gryffindor's only known possessions are his sword and the Sorting Hat, and Slytherin's Horcrux was the locket."

There were nods and dour looks as Sturgis took up the report.

"This leaves any relics of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff as two potential Horcruxes. Harry thinks that a goblet that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff is one of them, which he calls 'Hufflepuff's Cup.' Charlie and I have confirmed what Harry told us, but we still can't find any traces of it."

Hestia spoke next.

"Bill and I have been focusing on Rowena Ravenclaw. She had several valuable artifacts: One of them is a golden flute, inscribed with her name, which was a gift from Helga Hufflepuff; she had a blue and bronze shield, goblin-made; and there's also her wand. The flute and shield were handed down through subsequent generations of Ravenclaw's heirs, but her last scion died in 1924 in Holland and we don't know what he did with either of them. As for her wand, there's no record of it at all."

"Hold on," Mad-Eye said, raising a hand. "Even if we do find these artifacts, we don't know which one's the Horcrux, right?"

"No, not really," Bill answered. "But I'm working on a spell that might be able to identify them. It's a variation on the spells that are applied to Dark Detectors."

Kingsley was mildly surprised – and impressed – that Bill had thought of something like that; judging by the other looks of surprise around the room, he wasn't the only one.

"So say we do find these Horcruxes," Mad-Eye continued. "Do we keep letting Potter destroy them? He could end up killing himself."

"That's the thing," Lupin said, raising his voice to be heard over the whispers that had broken out. "Harry has to do it, because he's the only one that can. If any of us tried, the effects would be fatal."

"Not to mention that Harry wouldn't even let us try," Kingsley added dryly.

"Does that mean Harry has some sort of protection that we don't?" Tonks asked curiously.

No one seemed to have an answer. Kingsley had been wondering this himself - did it have something to do with him being the Boy Who Lived? Was it the scar and the fact – well, just speculation,really – that You-Know-Who had given Harry some of his powers the night he tried to kill him?

"Speaking of Harry," Lupin said suddenly, "Ginny told me something very interesting about him."

"Besides the fact that she was snogging his face off at Christmas?" Charlie said, raising his eyebrows.

There were some laughs; Molly looked flustered.

"Besides that," Lupin said amusedly. "It seems that he is much more skilled that we have previously thought. She told me that he's using nonverbal spells with increasing frequency and considerably less effort than his classmates, and has been seen performing complex spells of the sort that aren't even touched on in seventh year classes."

Tonks grinned and nudged Kingsley. "We've got another Auror on our hands," she whispered.

Kingsley agreed completely – if the kid made it out of the war unscathed, he would be prime Auror material.

"What sorts of spells?" Mad-Eye asked.

"He used the Exploding Curse to destroy Slytherin's locket," Minerva supplied. "He apparently learned it from a book over the summer."

Sturgis whistled.

"And he's got an amazing Patronus," Tonks put in, "that changed recently."

"Changed?" Minerva said sharply. "Into what?"

"A phoenix," Lupin answered. "We think it was triggered by the shock of Dumbledore's death."

There were many looks of awe. "It's like Dumbledore gave Harry his Patronus," Sturgis said quietly.

"Whatever triggered the change, it seems to be for the better," Lupin said, sighing. "It's the most powerful Patronus I've seen him produce yet, and he did it effortlessly. He's also mastered the Protean Charm, Altering Spell, Backfiring Jinx, Blasting Curse, and Destructor Jinx, all of them by himself."

Bill snorted. "Good thing he's on our side."

"Impressive," Kingsley heard Mad-Eye murmur. "Very impressive."

Kingsley was beyond impressed; he'd never even heard of the Destructor Jinx before. And a phoenix Patronus? Harry was definitely going to go far. No wonder Dumbledore had held such high hopes when the rest of them had been on the brink of giving up.

"Well, as we all know, he's not a boy anymore," Arthur said. "He's seventeen and far more experienced in these matters than most of us." He slid his arm around his wife's shoulder.

"So are Ron and Hermione," Charlie added, "and even Ginny. They're all a lot more capable and mature than I was at their age."

"Have you noticed," Bill said musingly, "that all of them seem to fit in multiple Houses? Like Hermione – if I were the Sorting Hat I would've put her in Ravenclaw, no question."

Kingsley was of the same mind; if anyone could outwit You-Know-Who, it would be Hermione. Old Flitwick must have been incensed that she wasn't placed in his House.

"If Ron couldn't go to Gryffindor, I'd put him in Hufflepuff," Tonks said. "I haven't even seen a crup that's half as loyal as he is."

"And I suppose Ginny could be a Slytherin," Charlie said slowly. He ignored his parents' consternated looks. "She takes after Fred and George – cunning and sneaky, haven't you noticed? That's really a mark of Slytherin."

"We shouldn't even start on Harry," Sturgis said dryly. "He could be in any of them."

Kingsley, who had been a Gryffindor, could see how that would work; Harry was brave, determined, intelligent, and Machiavellian when he wanted to be. He shook his head; the Sorting Hat would probaby curse Gryffindor in his grave if it could.

"We are getting slightly off-topic," Minerva said, sounding amused. "Shall we return to our previous discussion?"

"Right, you've only mentioned two possibilities for the remaining three," Mad-Eye said impatiently to Bill. "What's the third?"

Bill suddenly looked apprehensive. "The last one we're not sure about," he said, looking down at his hands. "We've thought of two prospects. The first is You-Know-Who's snake, Nagini. It seems that living things can be used to make Horcruxes."

"Is it like possession?" Molly asked, looking pale. Of course she'd be worried, Kingsley thought, what with Ginny and all.

Bill looked at his mother. "Almost, but not quite. Unlike in the case of possession, a living thing that's been made into a Horcrux still has control over its own body, because its soul is dominant over the invader. In this situation the invading soul would be even weaker than usual, since it's one-seventh of the original thing."

Mad-Eye folded his arms across his chest. "And the second?"

"The second…"

"Remus?" Kingsley heard Tonks whisper. "Remus, what's wrong?"

Kingsley turned to see Lupin staring at Bill. His face was white and his hands were clenched in his lap.

Bill took a deep breath. "Our second guess…is Harry."

There was silence as everyone stared at Bill in disbelief.

That's impossible, Kingsley thought, frowning. Harry – a Horcrux. Impossible. And yet, in a sick way, it all made sense – You-Know-Who putting a piece of himself into his nemesis. It would be just how he'd want it. Whether the Dark won or the Light won, Harry would die. Either he would be killed by You-Know-Who…or he would have to kill himself. Kingsley felt sick.

"Bill…William, this is no time to joke around," Molly scolded, her hands trembling as she gripped her husband's shoulders.

"I wish I was, Mum," Bill said grimly. "Whether it was intentional or not, there is a strong likelihood that Harry was made into a Horcrux when You-Know-Who tried to kill him seventeen years ago. His scar might be evidence of that, as well as his ability to speak Parseltongue. We all thought it was only his powers that You-Know-Who transferred to Harry, but it might have actually been part of his soul."

"And that would explain why he can destroy the other Horcruxes," Mad-Eye muttered. "A Horcrux wouldn't affect its creator."

Molly gave a small sob. "No," she moaned as Arthur held her tightly. "No, Merlin, please…"

"And if he – "

"No!"

All eyes swiveled to Lupin, who had shot to his feet. His face had been drained of color and his fists shook by his sides. He was staring off into a place only he could see. "No," he repeated, anguish laden in his voice. "It's impossible."

He turned on his heel and stormed out through the back door.

–––––

Tonks cautiously pushed the door open and slipped outside. She spotted Remus sitting against the wall, his face buried in his hands.

She could hardly believe it herself – Harry a Horcrux? She could scarcely register the fact – no, the possibility – let alone its implications. But Remus…

He looked up as he heard her approach. His face was streaked with tears, his tired eyes red and puffy. Her own eyes stung as she looked at him. "Remus," she murmured, hurrying to his side.

"It can't be," he said in a muffled voice, covering his face with his hands again. "He can't be – Harry can't – "

"Remus, it's – "

"There must be a spell," he whispered, looking up and wiping his cheeks. "Something to reverse it – take it out – "

Tonks slid down to sit beside him and laid a hand on his arm. "Remus, it's still just a possibility," she said softly. "Nothing's certain. Bill said – "

"No," Remus said roughly. "He is. I know he is. But he can't be…" His shabby robes were stained with tears; Tonks felt her own slip down her cheeks. "I can't lose him, too. Not now. I promised Sirius I'd take care of him. I promised Lily and James I'd protect their son."

"There's a greater chance that he isn't," she said, trying to console him. "You-Know-Who had gone to kill Harry that night, not make him into a Horcrux."

"It was unintentional," Remus said harshly, staring at a broken cauldron sitting in front of him. "He hadn't been planning on it. But killing Lily and James had split his soul, and when his curse backfired and gave Harry the scar, one piece of his soul was transferred to Harry."

"But how do you know?" Tonks asked quietly. "How do you know that?"

Remus looked at her, his eyes burning with grief. "I know," he said. "The possibility came to me the night Minerva first told us about the Horcruxes. Up until now I believed that it couldn't be true, especially because I seemed to be the only one who had considered the chances. But now that I've heard Bill talk, I know. It's the only thing that makes sense. Harry being able to speak Parseltongue, the Sorting Hat offering to put him in Slytherin, the connection he and Voldemort have, the fact that he's getting stronger all of a sudden. It's the piece of Voldemort's soul in him. It used to be dormant, but now that he's of age and in such close contact with the Dark Arts, it's triggering changes in him. And he can't live like that."

"Then we've got to tell him," Tonks said simply. "He's got to get ready – everyone has to – "

Remus suddenly stood up, shaking his head adamantly. "We can't tell him."

Tonks got to her feet. "But Remus – "

"No," he said sharply, ignoring Tonks' bewildered look. "No. We are not going to tell Harry that he's a Horcrux."

"So," Hermione said, sitting down at the table with Ernie and two other Hufflepuff students. "What have we got so far?"

Wayne Hopkins shook his head. "We're pretty sure Hufflepuff's Cup is one of them," he said. Justin Finch-Fletchley nodded in agreement. "Everything we found corroborates with what Harry told us, and it seems to be the most valuable Hufflepuff artifact. And since we know that the Dark Dork actually got his hands on it, we can assume that it was most likely made into a Horcrux."

"But the problem is, we have no idea what happened to it afterwards," Justin said, frowning. "That's what James and Veronica are having trouble with concerning Ravenclaw's artifacts. There's no trace of them."

Wayne pulled out a piece of parchment. "The only things we do know is that the old lady the Dark Dork took the Cup from was named Hepzibah Smith – "

"Wayne!" Justin cried suddenly, jumping up from his seat. Several younger students sitting nearby stared at him and Justin lowered his voice. "I knew that name sounded familiar – Hepzibah Smith! Smith, Wayne! Zacharias Smith!"

Wayne looked unconvinced. "Justin, Smith is one of the most common names in Great Britain. You're saying the one Smith descended from Hepzibah is in Hogwarts? In our House and in our year?"

"Well," Hermione said slowly, "it's a really small chance…but a small chance is better than no chance at all, isn't it? It can't hurt to ask."

"He's in Harry's group," Justin said excitedly. "Come on!"

Hermione followed Justin and Wayne to where Harry was lecturing his group on counterjinxes, feeling giddy despite herself. Zacharias couldn't really be descended from Hepzibah Smith, could he? And even if he was, would he know the whereabouts of Hufflepuff's Cup? It was nigh impossible that Voldemort would have just returned the Cup to the Smith family after putting a piece of his soul into it. What was Justin expecting?

She watched as Justin quietly filled Harry in on his theory. Harry listened in silence, his eyes narrowing as Justin jerked his head in Zacharias' direction. As Harry glanced from Justin to Zacharias and back to Justin, he twirled his wand between his fingers; it was something Hermione had recently noted to be a sign that he was in deep thought – and, she realized in sudden shock, something Tom Riddle had done. Was it coincidence?

Harry glanced in her direction, his skepticism evident in his expression. Hermione shrugged. She wasn't going to say the idea wasn't viable. Harry ran a hand through his hair and muttered something to Justin. He then turned to his group and told them to pick partners to practice Backfiring Jinxes, pairing himself up with Zacharias Smith. The boy looked as sour as ever as he sullenly regarded Harry, Justin, and Wayne; Hermione wondered why he even bothered to come.

"Zacharias, do you any relatives named Hepzibah?" she heard Harry ask him.

Zacharias scowled at them. "What's it matter to you?"

"Listen, you – " Justin began heatedly.

Harry held up a hand and Justin immediately fell silent. Hermione furrowed her brows. When had Harry become so…commanding? He seemed to slip easily into his role as a leader, despite his protests and complaints about everyone depending on him.

"It matters," he said coolly, "because you're here. Because you care enough, or you're curious enough, to show up at every meeting. You're one of the most skilled people here because you try. If you can spend that much time and focus and energy on this, why can't you answer one question?"

Zacharias glowered at him. Harry stared right back, his eyes fiery and unyielding. In the end, it was Zacharias who looked away. "No," he mumbled. "There's no one in my family named Hepzibah."

Harry turned to Justin, shrugging. "Sorry, mate. Nice try, though."

Justin's shoulders slumped. Wayne and Hermione joined him as he trudged back to the research table.

"C'mon, you knew it was one in a million," Wayne said, trying to cheer Justin up.

Justin sat down and slouched in his chair. "But I thought we had something this time," he mumbled.

Wayne sighed. "Yeah, well…we knew it wasn't going to be easy."

"As long as we have something to work with, we can't give up," Hermione said firmly. "The trail hasn't gone cold yet, and there's – "

"Hermione!"

She, Justin, and Wayne looked up to see Veronica Blair urgently beckoning them to her table. James Tory was hunched over a book beside her, and the area around them was littered with books, scraps of parchment, quills, and an empty bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

Justin leapt up from his seat and the three of them rushed over to Veronica.

"Did you find something?" Justin asked excitedly.

"We might have found what the Ravenclaw Horcrux is," Veronica said cautiously. She tapped James' shoulder. "James has the details."

The short, bespectacled boy scribbled one last note on a piece of parchment and brushed his hair out of his eyes. Hermione, Justin, and Wayne crowded around him. The parchment had three timelines sketched out on it, as well as a copious amount of notes jotted down at the bottom.

"Okay, so Ravenclaw was born around the year 1000 and was one of the Founders of Hogwarts," James began. "Her house is associated with the element of air and her students were known for their intelligence and scholarly inclinations. Her colors were blue and bronze, and her emblem is a bronze eagle on a blue background. She was good friends with Helga Hufflepuff and came up with the ever-changing floor plan in the school. She died somewhere around the year 1100."

Hermione, Justin, and Wayne nodded impatiently; they knew all of that.

"Now," James said, pointing to the first timeline, which was marked "Golden Flute," "this is one of Ravenclaw's artifacts. It's a golden flute, about half a meter long, with her name inscribed on the underside. Hufflepuff gave it to her as a gift somewhere around the time Hogwarts was established, which is at about 1034. Ravenclaw then bequeathed it to her daughter before her death, and after that it was handed down through following generations. Her last known scion died in 1937 in Holland, and he left no record of what he did with the flute – if he even had it."

Hermione racked her brains. She hadn't ever heard of a golden flute, never mind one that had belonged to Ravenclaw. Tom Riddle would have been eleven in 1937, a first-year at Hogwarts. There was no way he could have been hoarding precious artifacts at that age, so the flute's disappearance probably wasn't connected with him…

"Next," James said, moving his finger to the second timeline, this one labeled "Shield," "is a shield, modeled after the Aegis, which was the mythological protective shield of the Greek god Zeus. The Aegis bears Medusa's head in the central boss, and was supposed to have turned to stone anyone who beheld it. I don't know if Ravenclaw's shield had the same properties, but it was goblin-made and obviously held some sort of powerful magic. Ravenclaw's bronze eagle replaced Medusa's head on the shield. This also seems to have been passed down to her heirs until 1937, where it seems to disappear."

James let out a long sigh and sat back in his chair, apparently winded by all the recitations. He indicated the last timeline, which was titled "Wand." "Then there's Ravenclaw's wand. It was rowan and unicorn tail hair, ten inches, from Ollivander's. Although wands are traditionally snapped in half upon the owner's death, it seems that Ravenclaw requested for hers not to be. Instead, I think she sent it back to Ollivander's shop, and the shop's had it ever since then."

"But Ollivander's gone," Justin groaned. "Who knows – what if he really was kidnapped?" he exclaimed, eyes widening in fear. "What if the Dark Dork had him kidnapped because he knew Ollivander had – "

"Interesting theory, but you're missing something," Veronica interjected. "If Ravenclaw really did give the Ollivanders her wand for whatever reason, and Ollivander's has had it until now, then how did the Dark Dork steal it and make it into a Horcrux? And how did Ollivander's get it back after that?"

"Well, maybe he got it before Ollivander – "

"Stop rambling and just listen to James, will you?" Wayne said, raising an eyebrow. "Which one do you think it is?" he asked James.

James and Veronica glanced at each other.

"The flute and shield are both valuable possessions," James said slowly, "but compared to Ravenclaw's wand, they wouldn't be nearly as significant. If the Dark Dork was really searching for prominent artifacts of the Founders' – and if he had a choice – I think he'd go for the wand."

"And Ravenclaw was known for wisdom and intelligence," Hermione added. "If you think about it, your wand is one of the basic tools you use to gain intelligence."

Veronica nodded. "Right. But back to the problem. If Ravenclaw gave her wand to Ollivander, and Ollivander received it, the Dark Dork couldn't have made it into a Horcrux…"

"…Unless Ollivander didn't get it," James finished gravely. "It could've been stolen, waylaid, undelivered, or a number of other things, all of which could potentially lead to the wand falling into the hands of the Dark Dork."

"Then why are you telling us this?" Wayne asked irritably. "You don't know what happened, either."

Veronica cocked her head at him. "We never said we didn't know."

"In fact, we think we have a very good idea what happened," James said dryly. "We found a letter addressed to Rowena Ravenclaw from Ollivander's three days before her death, informing her that her wand had been delivered safely to his shop."

"And then he put it on display, which is where it stayed for…oh, nine centuries or so," Veronica said. "And then the Dark Dork showed up, in 1936, for his new wand. Maybe Ravenclaw's wand caught his eye, maybe it didn't."

"In any case, we found another letter written by one of Ollivander's friends," James went on. "In it the man recounts a story Ollivander told him one day in 1964. Apparently the Dark Dork revisited Ollivander's shop and asked if he could have the wand in the display case. Ollivander declined, telling him that the wand 'wasn't suitable for his needs.'"

Wayne snorted. Hermione frowned. Had Ollivander known what Voldemort had had in mind? If the wand maker really had been kidnapped, was it because he knew what and where the Horcrux was?

"The Dark Dork, of course, left in a nasty mood," Veronica said. "About two weeks later, according to the Daily Prophet, six men in black cloaks killed seven people in Diagon Alley, in front of Ollivander's shop. By the time Hit Wizards arrived and sorted everything out, they noticed that the wand in Ollivander's display case had vanished."

James ran a hand through his hair. "Ollivander didn't say anything about its disappearance, and also refused to comment when the wand reappeared in the display case three months later."

"He got it back?" Justin asked incredulously. "From the Dark Dork?"

"So it seems," James sighed.

Hermione put her hand up. "Wait a minute. You're saying that the Dark Dork stole the wand, made it into a Horcrux, and Ollivander stole it back?"

James nodded. "That seems about right. But then the question becomes: Where is it now?"

"You don't know?" Justin asked, looking dismayed.

"We know where it's not," Veronica said matter-of-factly. "It disappeared again along with Ollivander."

Wayne blew his cheeks out. "Then it could be anywhere," he moaned.

"Not really," James said thoughtfully. "If it's in the hands of the Dark Dork again, he'd want to put his Horcruxes in the most appropriate place. Slytherin is connected to the element water, and from what Harry told us of how he and Professor Dumbledore went to find Slytherin's locket, there was plenty of water involved."

"Ravenclaw is associated with air, but she's also linked to wands and spiritual strength," Veronica explained. "Therefore Ravenclaw's wand would most likely reside in a place related to air, wands, or spirits. Ollivander's is the obvious choice for a wand-related location, but we know it's not there anymore. Unless the Dark Dork gave the wand to a dragon or hung it on a cloud, we know it's not in the air either. This leaves spirits."

"Where can you find spirits?" Justin asked, knitting his brows.

James leaned forward, his eyes bright. "Good question. Where can you find spirits?"

"Spirits are like souls," Hermione murmured. "Souls are released from people when they die…"

"He didn't give it to a dementor, did he?" Wayne asked suddenly, aghast.

James shook his head quickly. "Think about it. Giving a piece of soul to a dementor? Even if it is as a Horcrux, the dementor would probably find a way to take the soul out and devour it."

"Right," Wayne said faintly.

"A cemetery," Hermione announced. "You would find the most spirits in a cemetery."

James and Veronica nodded. "That's exactly what we thought," Veronica said.

"And added to the fact that the Dark Dork wouldn't keep his Horcrux in any old graveyard has led us to the conclusion…"

"…That Ravenclaw's wand is at Little Hangleton."

Harry was sitting in the common room with Ron and Hermione when a large silver cat materialized beside him.

"Bloody Merlin!" Ron exclaimed, nearly falling out of his chair in shock. "Whose is that?"

"Cat Patronus," Hermione mused. "Must be Professor McGonagall."

Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the cat. Professor McGonagall's voice filled his head.

::Mr. Potter, please meet me in my office at seven this evening for Occlumency lessons, as Professor Blackthorn is unavailable. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are to see Lupin and Mad-Eye in the Room of Requirement at seven-thirty.::

"Is it her?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded as the cat dissipated. "I've got an Occlumency lesson with her at seven, and you two have to be the Room of Requirement by seven-thirty. What time is it?"

Hermione checked her watch. "You've got about ten minutes. Why aren't you with Professor Blackthorn?"

"He's not available," Harry said, shrugging.

Hermione frowned. "I didn't know she was a Legilimens."

"Are you going to tell her about Ravenclaw's wand?" Ron asked. "Or Lupin?"

"No, and you two better not tell anyone, either," Harry warned.

Hermione gave him a look. "Harry, everyone in the PA already knows we're going to go find it, and the Order knows you're the only one who can destroy it. Why would they try to stop you?"

"Just don't tell anyone," Harry repeated adamantly as he stood up. "I've got to get going."

He headed toward the portrait hole without another word. As he climbed out, he heard Hermione whispering to Ron and vowed that he'd stuff her in a closet if she said anything to anyone.

He ran a hand through his hair as he strode down the deserted corridors. If anyone asked, he couldn't honestly give them a reason as to why he was holding so much back from the Order. It didn't make sense to spill all his secrets to a bunch of students but withhold them from adults who had far more experience and cared much more for his well-being. But then again, maybe that was it – the Order cared too much, especially Remus and Mrs. Weasley. He knew that they would put his safety before everything else; if killing Voldemort meant his death, they would rather choose to live under Voldemort's regime than let him die.

The PA, however, was different. As students – and as kids – they knew what was more important. And even if some of them did believe that he might die in the process of defeating Voldemort, they weren't going to try to stop him. They knew – because he'd taught them – that getting rid of Voldemort came first. Besides, if that wasn't enough motivation, the snitch jinx Hermione had placed on them would deter any tattletales.

He twirled his wand in his fingers as he approached the stone gargoyle, which jumped aside when he told it the password. He took the steps of the spiral staircase two at a time and knocked on the door.

There was some shuffling before he heard Professor McGonagall's voice say, "Come in."

He pushed the door open and stepped inside the circular office.

The Headmistress was sitting at her desk. "Good evening, Mr. Potter," she said. "Have a seat."

He obliged, and accepted her offer of a ginger newt.

"We had an Order meeting yesterday," she said, taking a scroll of parchment off a nearby shelf and handing it to him. "This is a copy of notes on Horcruxes from Bill, Charlie, Hestia, and Strugis. They have the original, and whatever they add to it will be updated on this."

Harry nodded in thanks and tapped the scroll with his wand. It promptly vanished. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

"It's in my trunk," Harry explained, shrugging. "I didn't want to lose it."

A strange look flitted across the Headmistress' face, but it soon reacquired its usual stoicism. "I see. Then shall we begin?"

She and Harry stood up and moved to a less-cluttered area, their wands in hand.

"I'm not much of a Legilimens myself," she said as they faced each other, "but my skills should be sufficient to test you."

Harry grinned, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He had been practicing much more rigorously for the past several weeks, and while he was still no match for Professor Blackthorn, he thought he might have a chance against Professor McGonagall.

"Ready?"

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes, wiping his mind blank. His wand was smooth and reassuring in his hand.

"Legilimens!"

He felt a tentative push at the wall he had built up around his mind. The push became more aggressive as he bolstered his defenses. The push eventually went away, and he opened his eyes.

Professor McGonagall was eyeing him thoughtfully. "Very impressive, Harry," she said. "We'll try again, shall we?"

Harry nodded and closed his eyes again.

"Legilimens!"

Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from gasping; it felt like an anvil had been rammed against his mental barricade. He gritted his teeth and fought back, but the pressure kept building, straining and forcing its way through until...

Dumbledore lay writhing on the ground of the cave, screaming and pleading as Harry forced a goblet of green liquid down his throat… Sirius's body arched back gracefully, a look of shock etched into his gaunt features as he passed through the fluttering black veil… Cedric lay spread-eagled on the ground, his gray eyes blank and sightless…

A hundred dementors closed in around him along the lake, their breaths rattling beneath their hoods, their putrid, rotting hands reaching for Sirius... Ginny lay motionless on the floor, a giant basilisk rearing up behind her, fangs glistening with venom… The queen struck Ron's horse, and he tumbled from the giant chess piece as Hermione screamed…

Uncle Vernon was hammering the letter box shut, boarding up the door and the windows and the fireplace… He was sitting alone in the dark cupboard under the stairs, wearing a thin, baggy sweatshirt and shivering… He was forced to sweep the floors and clean the kitchen after Dudley had thrown his spaghetti at the wall… He was sent to bed without supper three nights in a row for breaking several costly china plates…

Dudley jabbed him in the side with a stick, and he dropped the toaster he'd been cleaning onto his foot, breaking several toes...he was again sent to bed without supper for breaking the toaster… Ripper chased him up a tree as the Dursleys stood laughing at him below on the lawn… Dudley punched him in the face for touching his new Playstation… Aunt Petunia was banging on his cupboard, demanding that he get up and make breakfast for Dudley's birthday…

He felt a sharp pain in his knee; someone was yelling his name but his head collided with something hard and everything went black.

–––––

"Harry!"

Harry's eyes jerked open, as if they had just been waiting for the call. He squinted up at the anxious faces of Ron and Hermione.

"Oh my God, you're all right," Hermione said, letting out a sigh and dropping into a chair behind her. Harry was lying on a couch beside the lit fireplace in Professor McGonagall's office. "How do you feel?"

"Like someone stuck my head down a toilet," Harry replied, putting a hand to the side of his head. There were bandages wrapped around it. "Fred and George didn't come by, did they?"

Ron grinned and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry. Don't you know what happened?"

"I never know what happens to me," Harry grumbled, wincing as his head began throbbing.

"You fell and slammed your head into the corner of the desk," Ron said with a grimace.

"Professor McGonagall told us," Hermione said softly.

Harry sat up, instantly alert. He remembered now – his attempt at Occlumency had failed and Professor McGonagall had gotten a glimpse of his memories. The Dursleys…

"Where is she?" Harry asked curtly, ignoring the pain in his head that was making his eyes water.

"I dunno, she called us here and just left with Lupin and Mad-Eye," Ron said uneasily. "They all looked popping mad. Lupin seemed homicidal."

Harry groaned inwardly. "You know?"

Ron glanced at Hermione, who swallowed hard. "Um…yeah," she said in trepidation. "Professor McGonagall – she showed us."

"Bloody Muggles," Ron said, scowling. "Right nutters they are, all of them."

"Not all of them," Harry said, looking pointedly at Hermione.

"But look at what they did to you, mate!" Ron protested. "They didn't even – "

"Harry!"

The door burst open and Ginny charged in, her eyes alight with fury. She flung her bag on the ground and stomped over to Harry. Ron gulped audibly and took a step back.

"Um," Harry said as she stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"You bloody shut up about class, Harry James Potter," she snapped. "That should be the least of your worries. Hurry up and give me one good reason why I shouldn't Apparate to Little Whinging and turn your damn relatives into toads."

"Er…you can't Apparate?"

"And by the time you get there Lupin and Mad-Eye would have already turned them into mushrooms," Ron said dryly.

Ginny glared at both of them. Harry felt thoroughly cowed. Her clothes seemed to be smoldering from the wrath she was emanating. "Ginny – "

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, cutting him off. "Why didn't you tell any of us? Why do you have to keep suffering by yourself?"

"Because it's not relevant," Harry said defensively. "That – "

"Not relevant?" Ginny snarled. "Those stupid fat Muggles destroyed your childhood and that's not relevant?"

"They didn't destroy it," Harry remonstrated. "I was fine."

"Oh yeah, because all of us have been locked up in cupboards and starved," Ginny said sarcastically.

Harry grabbed her hand. "Ginny, listen to me. That was all in the past. I can't change it, and neither can you or anyone else. What's done is done."

Ginny glared daggers at him for another minute; then, suddenly, her hand went limp. The rage seemed to drain from her face until all that was left was grief and worry. Harry frowned to see tears in her eyes as she sat down beside him.

"You're such a prat," she whispered, shaking her head. "How could you endure all that without complaint and not tell anyone?"

"I had my revenge," Harry said flippantly, trying to cheer her up. "I sicced a snake on Dudley and blew up my aunt."

Ron grinned. "I remember that."

Ginny glowered at them. "This isn't something to joke about," she growled.

"Ginny's right, Harry," Hermione said seriously. "That was physical abuse. Are you really going to let them go after they starved you and beat you up?"

"Don't fall for it, mate," Ron cautioned. "They're going into the whole 'let's talk about your feelings' thing."

"I think it's time we left, Ron," Hermione sighed. "Harry seems fine. Ginny can take care of him. Let's go."

"But I – "

"Now," Hermione said firmly, grabbing his shoulders and steering him out of the office.

"It's a trap!" Ron managed to shout before Hermione shut the door behind her.

Harry attempted a smile in Ginny's direction.

She shook her head. "Look, we won't talk about it if you don't want to," she said quietly. "You're right; it's over. There's nothing we can do about it, because I'll get sent to Azkaban if I try to hex them."

Harry grinned. "They're not all that bad. Well, maybe Dudley and Uncle Vernon are. But Aunt Petunia's a little different. She's my mum's sister, after all."

Ginny leaned in and kissed him. "You're amazing," she whispered. "This is what Dumbledore meant. You're nothing like the Dark Dork. You both grew up as orphans and had terrible childhoods, but while he succumbed to pain and vengeance, you held on to the brighter side. You didn't let anger and hate cloud your mind."

"One of my better traits," Harry put in. "It's often commented upon."

She smiled against his lips. "I love you in a way they could never understand," she murmured. "I promise you'll never have to face anything like that alone ever again. I'll be with you."

Up Next: Does Remus really know what he's talking about? How does he know all that anyway? Horcrux number two beckons, and Harry isn't about to let the call go unheeded.

Well, we think all the dates are rather credible, as well as most of Harry's early memories. Hopefully nothing went amiss.

Drop off a word or two and we'll eternally thank you!