Good heavens this chapter is huge. I wanted to split it up, but it didn't really lend itself very well to doing so. The next chapter will be smaller, I promise. If only for purposes of my own sanity.

Anyways, Enjoy.

Chapter 14

Elsa walked forward in a daze. The world had acquired a strange, sepia tone; it seemed like everyone around her was moving in fast motion, and only she was standing still. In a blur, the children around her zipped up to the stool, had a hat placed upon their heads, and flashed over to their tables, crowds of black-cloaked children applauding for a half-instant.

She barely noticed as the crowd around her diminished and, at last, disappeared completely.

She didn't notice the slightly nervous look Professor McGonagal shot Dumbledore, nor the encouraging nod he sent back. She didn't notice the worried looks from three students at the Gryffindor tables, or the pensive looks from everyone else in the room.

And then the Professor called out one last name, and everything snapped back into focus.

"Elsa...of Arendelle."

Elsa blinked, and looked around. All the students were staring at her, hundreds of wide eyes fixed on her, unblinking. She stood out here; her white and blue a splash of sunlight against the black of their cloaks. She snorted quietly. What an inane thought at a moment like this.

"Miss Elsa," McGonagal repeated, "Please step forwards."

Slowly, Elsa made her way to the front of the hall and regarded the hat. Just a few minutes ago it, an inanimate hat, had been singing; something that would have made Anna so excited—Elsa crushed that thought brutally. She couldn't think about that right now. They wanted her to put it on her head. She could do that without destroying the world.

She hoped.

Suddenly the world went dark as the hat was lowered over her head, and just as abruptly, a deep voice appeared in her head, as if it were whispering into her ear.

"Well, well, what have we here? Another student? Late, perhaps? Hmm, why don't we have a look-"

The hat went dead silent for a long moment.

"...Good Lord."

The eyes of the entire room widened as a silence of gathering power drew itself to the front of the hall...and suddenly, the hat blinked from black to pure white. They waited for something else to happen, and after a long moment, glanced at each other in confusion when it suddenly changed back to its original color.

"Thank you for not destroying me, my Lady. That would be rather unpleasant." There was a long pause, and the hat finally sighed, "What was Albus thinking, putting me on your head? You need more help than I can give you, my dear. I'm a simple enchanted hat with delusions of grandeur."

Still, Elsa was silent. The hat sighed again.

"Well, if you're not going to speak, I suppose I might as well sort you." The Hat seemed to perk up a bit at this thought, and continued, "Though I must admit, I've never had to sort someone of quite your...impressive age." It chuckled, "This should be interesting. Now, let's see...You're quite cunning, I suppose; enough for Slytherin; not idealistic at all, not anymore, and with enough power to be respected...but with your power, when have you ever had to plot? Plus, I imagine you've put yourself on quite a number of their bad sides already. No, no. I'd rather not lose half the house in the first day, so they're out. You're smart and fairly clever, and you've learned quite a bit in your life, but I can't exactly say that logic is your forte; you're no candidate for Ravenclaw. Your loyalty...I'd say to put you in Hufflepuff for that alone, even if you were the most cunning and clever person to pass beneath my brim. But your brand of loyalty..." it paused, as if tasting her mind. "No. Eighty years of unwavering loyalty surpasses reason. Something else happened to you there, didn't it? Something that bound you, trapped you..."

Elsa frowned at this; what was the hat talking about? A flash of something...but no, no, there couldn't be anything. She was too powerful to have her memory altered. It wasn't possible.

"Yes, something," the Hat continued, pointedly ignoring her thoughts, "Something you are unwilling to admit even to yourself. No, while such secrets hide inside your mind, I will not endanger the Deepest House. That leaves only one house; the only ones brave enough, or, perhaps, stupid enough to be your friends, even with all they know about you. Yes, yes, best to put you with your friends in GRYFFINDOR!"

The hat was whisked from her head; she didn't hear the whispers as she made her way towards the three figures that were waving to her; whispers about her, and about the Hat, still pale white even as it was ceremoniously shuffled away to await the next year's sorting. Quietly, she sat down.

Elsa sat two places from anyone else; it was strange, a moment before she had sat down, it seemed like that part of the table had been crowded, but it parted like the ocean the minute she drew close. When she finally did sit, she was just far enough away from everyone to make conversation awkward.

There was a long moment of silence at the table; Harry was at a loss for what to say, and judging from the helpless looks from Hermione and Ron, they were doing no better. What had happened during the boat ride? Then again, this wasn't that different from how she normally acted. Had anything happened? Caught up in thoughts, they didn't notice when a tall, red-headed figure approached the empty section of table.

"Well, if no-one else is going to say it, I will." he extended a hand, and smiled politely. "Good work. Quite excellent."

Harry's head whipped up in surprise, before letting out a slightly befuddled snort. Percy Weasley, in his snooty, snobbish way, was doing what nobody else would do. It figured. Wait a sec—what was Percy doing here, anyway?

Elsa stared at his hand for a long moment before taking it, looking up at him curiously; he smiled politely. "If anyone belongs in the house of the brave and bold, I have no doubt it's you. I have heard a great deal...though I'm sure much of it's little more than rumor and speculation. Which I do not condone, by the way." He shot a sharp look down the table, and several huddled groups of third years jerked apart guiltily.

"Nonetheless," He continued, "I'm sure you'll be happy here. The ministry has decided that considering the...circumstances." His eyes darted guiltily to Harry for a brief moment. "There may need to be some changes to the school. I'm here to help facilitate them. So if you have any questions, feel free to ask me."

He glanced again at Harry, then away guiltily, and hastily excused himself from the table before Harry could ask him what the problem was. Instead, Harry leaned over to Ron, who was staring at his retreating brother's back with a conflicted look on his face.

"What's up with him?" Harry asked quietly, "He seemed a bit off, don't you think?"

Ron shook his head slightly, "I actually forgot all about it, what with all the trouble...Percy and Dad had a big fight right after the end of the Tournament. Dad believed you and Dumbledore, and Percy, well...didn't." Ron's mouth twisted into a half frown, "But that was back before everyone knew Voldemort was back. Things are bound to be different now..." he faded into a thoughtful expression, a look that seemed quite unfamiliar on Ron's face, and despite Harry's prodding, refused to elaborate.

Unfortunately, something else quickly seized his attention. In the midst of taking a bite of treacle tart, a translucent grey form rose out of the table in front of him, before resolving itself into the form of a ghost, one of the lesser well-known ones of the castle, a rather pompous looking older gentleman with a tremendous feathered hat and a rather large bite missing from his side.

"Headmaster Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore wishes to request the honor of your presence, my Lady," he said, sweeping his hat off in a low bow, "He requests that you might join him some fifteen marks of a candle past the finishing of this fine meal, so that you might discuss matters most dire."

Plopping his hat back on his head, he stood and looked down his noses at the rest of the students, particularly the Gryffindor Trio. "Your presences are also required. Do not be late. He also wishes to give you a cordial warning; it seems that Honeydukes has received a bad shipment of Acid Pops. You would be wise to avoid them in the immediate future."

And without another word, he faded back through the table.

His disappearance was punctuated by the shattering of a bowl that fell from the table; normally such an event was not extraordinary, but normally the bowl that shattered was not made of wood. "He sends...a ghost?" she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the shattered bowl. Another ghost...

Harry, like everyone else, watched Elsa as she stared at the fallen bowl. She looked...lost. He started as a sharp elbow poked into his side, and he looked over to see Hermione giving him a pointed look.

"What?" he whispered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look at her. She's pale as a sheet, the only one she ever loved died recently, and a ghost just came up out of the table! Come on, Harry, do the arithmancy."

As if to emphasize, the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees.

Harry's eyes widened. He didn't even realize what he was doing until he found himself sitting down to the Elsa's right, with Hermione settling in to her left an Ron across the table(carrying a full plate, of course), a moment later.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked quietly, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. As his gaze darted around the Hall, dozens of people were conspicuously looking away, so he shook his head and gave that up as a lost cause, and leaned closer. "Do you need anything?"

"We're so sorry," Hermione cut in before Elsa could respond, "I don't know what the Headmaster was thinking-"

Ron grimaced, "Well, they say he is a bit barmy, don't they? He's bound to slip up like this sooner or later."

Hermione gazed back at him thoughtfully, "Yes, I suppose..."

Elsa's face grew a small smile. "I am fine. Thank you." But as her eyes drifted back to the table, where the ghost had disappeared, "But..." This was a real ghost. Not the ones from stories told to children in Arendelle, but a real, actual ghost. Was it possible...? "Are ghosts...do they...?" she struggled to find the words.

Hermione shook her head, "Ghosts aren't real people. At least, most people don't think so. They're more like...a shadow?" she frowned, "The books aren't terribly clear. Professor Dumbledore would probably know more. Maybe you could ask him when we meet with him?"

Ron raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to meet him?"

Harry and Hermione shot him surprised glances, and he shrugged, "It didn't seem like you liked him much. It's not like you has to do anything, right?"

Elsa smiled again, "No, as you say, even great men make mistakes. Forgiveness is an admirable trait, or so I've been told."

At that moment, two more read shocks of hair appeared on either side of Ron, who abruptly turned a very particular shade of puce.

"While we do agree that forgiveness is a wonderful thing-" the first one said.

"Especially in regards to ourselves-"

"Quite right."

"-we believe this might be an opportune moment for something...special"

"An alignment of the stars, you see."

"A collusion of the planets."

"An overflowing of every toilet in the girl's fifth floor bathrooms."

George glanced over at Fred, "I thought we agreed that never happened."

"Quite right, brother of mine! Merely fantasizing." Hermione glared back and forth between the two brothers, who smiled back innocently. George shot his brother a look, then turned back to the ice princess, who was now smirking faintly. George grinned in response. "You must see how this presents us with a unique opportunity."

Fred leaned close. "You see, we've taken the time to watch your film. Excellent cinematography, you know, though I must say, you look much better in the flesh."

Elsa's smile widened slightly dangerously, and George quickly stepped in, "Not that we mean anything by that! Only, we seem to recall your sister showed some...minor proclivity for activities of a...humorous and slightly less than legal nature. And we, even as amazing of practical jokesters as we are, can always accept the advice of someone our senior."

Fred nodded soberly, shooting Harry a quick wink, "Seeing as we are lacking in direct insight from our true mentors, the Marauders, we thought that perhaps you might lend a hand."

"Or foot."

"Or any appendage, really. We're not particular."

"Especially when it comes to our beloved headmaster."

Fred's smile widened in anticipation. "Indeed! Up until now, Dumbledore's not shown any weaknesses."

"But this...this is the proverbial chink in his armor we've been waiting for."

Fred grinned, "The chance to, as his brother(who we have no knowledge of in any way, shape, or form) says, 'get his goat', if you know what I mean!" He waggled his eyebrows expressively.

"Fred! George!" Hermione said, scandalized. "I should report you to Professor McGonagal!"

"No!" Elsa held up a finger, then slowly smiled. Pranks? That was something she had experience with. "I am listening."

Fred and Georges faces widened in dangerous glee; Before they could continue, however, the tables quieted as Dumbledore stood up. "One additional announcement; as some of you may have noticed, one Mr. Percy Weasley has been making his way throughout the tables today. He wishes to say a few words."

"Thank you, headmaster." Percy, who strode up from the tables just then, smiled shortly and turned to face the students. "As I'm sure you have heard from the various rumor-mongers and tabloids that shame our nation, You-Know-Who has returned." the hall grew silent as all eyes fixed on him; in the brief moment of silence, a distant thunk, thunk, thunk echoed through the halls. Ignoring it, Percy puffed up his chest, walking from one end of the staff table to the other. "We at the ministry are unfortunately forced to confirm these rumors." A few scattered gasps from around the hall, but most people showed no reaction at all, waiting for something really new. Percy, disappointed at the lack of reaction, frowned in disappointment, then caught himself and forced a smile that screamed 'Ministry-Approved' to his face. "But have no fear, we at the Ministry are going to every length possible to deal with this new threat! There will be no repeat of the events nearly twenty years ago, Minister Fudge wishes to assure you. However! Given the circumstances, he wishes to ensure that all of you receive adequate training to deal with potentially threatening situations! So, he saw fit to personally dispatch me here-"

"Fat chance of that," Ron muttered, "If Fudge's even gotten his name right yet, I'll eat my chess set."

"- to ensure that an adequate curriculum is being upheld!" He paused, and in the abrupt silence, a faint noise could be heard in the distance; a faint thunk, thunk, thunk, that only seemed to be drawing closer. Ignoring it or not noticing, Percy continued, "With my help and the thoroughly vetted ministry protocols, you will be sure to gain the skills you need to defend yourself and maintain a peaceful, productive life." he turned to Dumbledore and bowed slightly, the thunk, thunk, thunk even louder now. Percy turned back to the students, his smile now slightly strained. "To...encourage that, and with your Headmaster's, uh, permission," he stressed the word, glancing back at the Headmaster, who nodded demurely, his eyes sparkling madly. Percy gulped. "I now introduce—or rather, re-introduce—the other new addition this year, someone ideally suited to train you to defend yourself against these threats, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor!"

And with a resounding boom, the doors flew open, and the familiar face of Alastor Moody stepped into the Hall.

Glancing around, his glass eye drifted over the murmuring crowd, fixing on Harry, then Elsa, but quickly moving on, zipping over towards the Slytherin table. After a long moment, he grunted and Clunked his way up to the head table, sat down, and quickly got to glaring at everyone in the hall. Finally, Percy coughed, embarrassed. "Anyways, since it seems Professor Moody doesn't have anything to say, I guess I'll just let you know that my door is always open, which you can find on the fifth floor, third corridor. Uh..." he glanced around, coughed, and nodded quickly, "That's it. Remember, the Ministry is on your side!"

He quickly retreated the staff table, sitting between Professor McGonagal and Flitwick.

"Well, that was illuminating," Hermione muttered.

Harry blinked. "It was?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course. Obviously it means the Ministry is trying to look productive, but doesn't want to put any actual effort into it. I mean, a first year graduate? Really?" she snorted, "Might as well not send anyone at all. I wonder if this has anything to do with Lucius Malfoy's disappearance..."

Ron spewed food across the table. "His what?" he exclaimed, rubbing the arm of his robe across his face vigorously, "Why didn't you mention that?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I pointed it out to you in the paper. It was just a tiny curiosity piece on page 12; it just says that he hasn't been seen at the Ministry since he last left there right after the Department of Mysteries, but it's fairly obvious what really happened. Without him to say what to do, I imagine the Minister is really sweating by now..."

"Interesting news, as usual, Hermione, but let's return to more interesting matters." Once again, the Weasley Twins leaned across the table. "I believe you were about to say something before we were so rudely interrupted by our broomstick-quality-challenged brother?"

Ron snorted into his pudding.

Elsa shot them a wry look, but a slow smile spread across her face. After spending 121 years with Anna, she had a hundred years of pranks to call upon. "I think I have just the thing."

"Acid Pops," Harry said, and the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office leapt aside. Behind it, a spiral staircase was revealed, just large enough for two to walk abreast. In smooth circles, it quickly took them to a dark oaken door ornamented with a simple brass knocker.

Harry glanced back at Elsa; perhaps she would rather be the one to announce their presence? But she was already staring into empty space. He smiled slightly and turned back to the door, giving it a hearty knock.

"Come in," said Dumbledore's voice.

The door creaked open, releasing a gust of warm air, and they stepped inside.

"Good Evening, Sir," Harry said, Ron and Hermione mumbling similar words as they followed him through the door. Elsa alone was silent. The four of them stopped before the headmaster's desk, and waited, ignoring the chairs clearly set out for them to sit in.

"That went as well as could be expected," Dumbledore said after a moment of silence, eyes flickering over them with mild curiosity. "I had rather thought the castle would react with more excitement, but she barely even flickered when Elsa crossed the wards. Though I don't doubt that some elements in the castle are already planning their response...but it seems it will be subdued. A good omen, perhaps."

Elsa stared back at him, not saying a word. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Harry spoke up.

"Uh, so that was why you had Elsa travel separately, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled mysteriously, "That is part of it, yes."

"Sir, what about Professor Moody!" Hermione cut in excitedly, "How is he able to come back again? I thought there was a curse on the position. At least, that's what everyone says."

Dumbledore chuckled, "So they say. However, Professor Moody believes that, given he 'never actually got around to doing any teaching' last year, he might be able to successfully complete a second year. If so, we might even be able to create a somewhat more normal teaching experience for our students, so long as enough boomslang skin is available, for purposes I'm sure you are...quite aware of."

Hermione blushed brightly, matched by embarrassed looks from both Harry and Ron, and for the first time a change in expression from Elsa, sending them a curious look.

Trying to find something to change the subject, and not wanting to bring up their slightly illegal Polyjuice Potion they had brewed in a previous year, Harry glanced around the room surreptitiously for any hint of why Dumbledore had called them here. As a whole, the room looked almost the same as it always did; delicate silver ornaments on spindly-legged tables puffing away, their smoke creating a faint haze that somehow managed to make the room even clearer, rather than murkier, the complete opposite of the Divination classrooms. Harry found himself grateful that there wasn't room for dueling; after seeing what Dumbledore was really capable of in the Department of Mysteries, he wasn't sure he'd ever be ready to train with him.

The only things amiss was a small glass case, set to the side of his desk. On the left was a silver amulet with an ornate S engraved on the front, and on the right—his eyes widened.

"Sir, is that—?"

"Indeed it is," Dumbledore said placidly, gesturing to the silvery globe that rested inside, "This is the prophecy that you so cleverly managed to keep from Voldemort." Through his half-moon glasses, his eyes twinkled merrily, "You have done a great thing, Harry. Alas, that since it took place outside the castle and deep in the Department of Mysteries, not to mention before the start of the semester, even I would be hard-pressed to award you house points for it." He looked slowly over to the Prophecy. "Without your efforts, he would now know the full extent of the prophecy that binds the two of you together."

Harry stepped forward intently, "So I was right! There is a prophecy about me and Voldemort, and he only heard part of it?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised slightly, "It seems Ms. Granger is not the only one to have a keen sense of deduction. You are correct. And that is a significant part of what we will be talking about today."

Drawn away from staring around the room by the sound of her name, Hermione leaned forward. "But not all?"

"Oh no. Not all at all." Dumbledore's smile, usually warm, was faint and wispy, devoid of his usual sparkle. "Unfortunately, there is more. Related to the prophecy, yes, but more. Perhaps you should sit down," he said abruptly, and Harry couldn't help but notice him glance for a moment over towards the glass case.

The trio seated themselves in the surprisingly comfortable chairs that were arrayed before his desk and looked back at Dumbledore, but his eyes were fixed over their shoulders. After a moment they glanced back too; Elsa was still there; standing perfectly still, gazing into the middle distance, brow slightly furrowed, mouth just turned down at the corners. It was almost like she wasn't even there.

"Lady Elsa?" Dumbledore said gently, "Would you care to take a seat?"

She blinked, and her eyes focused in on Dumbledore for a long moment, before she nodded shortly and waved her hand before her, instantly manifesting a gleaming chair of ice. She sat in it, and her eyes immediately went back into the distance.

The Headmaster leaned forwards intently, "I have heard that the Unspeakables have found it impossible to rebuild the wall that you destroyed in your attack on Voldemort. It seems to...die, every time they attempt to reconstruct it." he paused, but if he was waiting for a response, he didn't get one. "They asked me if I would request that you cancel any magic you might be holding on the area, if you would be so kind."

Her dull eyes came back up to meet his. After another long moment, she spoke. "I cannot. I killed it." she frowned. "I killed its Heart. I didn't mean to."

Dumbledore's eyes suddenly became sharp, burrowing into Elsa's. "Its... heart?"

Elsa just nodded. "There will not be a wall there again." She said it with a grim certainty.

They waited for nearly thirty seconds, but she did not elaborate. Dumbledore finally sighed, and turned back to Harry. "Moving on, I suppose. It is important that you see this. All of you, as I have no doubt that you would tell your friends as soon as you returned to your dormitories in any case." He said this with a small smile, but even as he spoke, he straightened, and when he continued, it was with a more businesslike tone. "You have long wondered why Harry is bound to Voldemort; why does one of the greatest dark lords of all time so wish your specific death? Today, you will learn why."

Reaching out, he lifted the glass case, his hand darting in to grab the prophecy and slipping back out again almost as quickly. Still, Harry couldn't help but notice the headmaster's hand linger as it passed the locket. The moment quickly passed, however, and soon the case was firmly back in place.

"This," Dumbledore said, "Is the last existing complete copy of the Prophecy. Outside of my own mind, none now know what it contains," he said with a small smile. Then, without any hesitation, he brought the Prophecy down hard on the table, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

"Professor-!" Harry cried, starting forward, but Dumbledore held up a warning hand.

"No. Listen."

And there, above the crushed crystal globe, a figure slowly swam into existence. And to Harry's shock, the woman standing there was Professor Trelawney. A much younger Tralawney, to be sure, but definitely the same woman who had attempted to teach divination each year. And in a voice that Harry recognized in sudden shock, a voice that was deep and powerful, somehow magical and yet devoid of magic, she began to speak.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches …"

As the spectral figure began to repeat itself, Dumbledore lifted a tired hand and waved it through the misty figure, dispersing it for what Harry somehow knew was forever.

"So that was the other prophecy...the one you mentioned before."

Dumbledore nodded sadly, "Indeed it is. Now you know the other true prophecy of Professor Trelawney. I'm sure you see just how much this means."

"But...that could mean anyone!"

Harry turned, startled, to Hermione; she was glaring at the Headmaster angrily. "It never said Harry's name, or a year, or anything like that. How do you even know it refers to Voldemort? It just said 'the Dark Lord'; it could mean a dark lord in a thousand years! Or never!"

Dumbledore chuckled faintly, "I suspected you would realize this as quickly—perhaps even sooner—as I did."

Hermione blushed brightly at the praise, and the Headmaster continued, "In fact, there is even more ambiguity to the prophecy; there was another child born as that particular seventh month died, whose parents had defied Voldemort three times. Neville Longbottom. It could just as easily have been him to bear the scar and to be here now."

Hermione's brow furrowed, "Then why Harry? Why does everyone seem to think it has to be him?"

"The reason why lies solely at Voldemort's hand. Unfortunately, while prophecies are often vague and mysterious, Voldemort did not know that; he believes it to be true, and therefore it is. He marked you," he gestured to Harry's forehead, "As his equal."

Harry's hope, growing for the first time in forever, was dashed as quickly as it came. His shoulders sagged. "So because Voldemort thinks it's true, he'll be trying to kill me." He fingered his wand carefully, "I'll have to fight him even if the prophecy isn't true."

"Yes." Dumbledore removed his spectacles and polished them morosely, "But I am afraid there is more to it than that." his eyes, somehow older when not behind his half-moon spectacles, went to Harry's scar for a long moment, and then locked eyes with him apologetically, "Unfortunately, I cannot tell you what, exactly, it is."

"You told me you wouldn't lie to me any more," Harry said stiffly.

"I am not, " Dumbledore said sincerely, "if there were any other way...if only I could explain." He rubbed his temples. "But you will recall, I told you that were some secrets that were not mine to tell? This is one of them. Suffice to say, I am certain that you are the one who must defeat him. You will just have to take me at my word, circumspect as it is." a sad smile crossed his face, "But even if I was not certain, tell me; even if you weren't the one the prophecy referred to, would you really step aside and do nothing to stop him?"

Harry frowned, looking down thoughtfully; the only thing he'd ever wanted was to live a normal life with his friends. But then his thoughts flashed back to the Department of Mysteries, and to the newspapers showing streets filled with dead trolls and destroyed dementors. If Elsa hadn't been there, how much worse might it have gone? "No," he finally said, looking up resolutely, "I wouldn't. I'd want to be in the front." his eyes hardened, and he swallowed intently not looking at his friends, "I'd kill him myself, if it meant protecting the people I care about."

Dumbledore smiled sadly, "Yes, I thought you might say that."

"So would we!"

Harry looked back in surprise to see Ron and Hermione standing next to one another, faces resolutely set. "We won't just let you be a hero alone," Hermione said, just a faint wobble in her voice, "If you're going to be defending the people you care about, then so are we!"

Ron grinned lopsidedly, "After all, can't let you have all the glory, right?"

A few weeks ago, that would have made Harry explode in rage, but right now, faced with the fight with Voldemort...he blinked rapidly. There must be dust in this room, blown off one of the old books. There couldn't be any other reason why his eyes were watering.

Hermione, always perceptive, coughed loudly. "So, erm, we, uh...yeah." she coughed again. What had she been planning to say? She looked to Ron pleadingly.

"The Prophecy!" he yelled, a bit too loudly. "Wait, we already did that. The Locket!" They all turned to him curiously, and he shrugged, "It's under that glass case, it's gotta mean something, right?"

Dumbledore chuckled, "Right you are, Mr. Weasley. Indeed, you may even say it is more important than the prophecy. And it is all thanks to Ms. Elsa here that it came to my attention." He turned to Elsa, but she still stared blankly into space. "Ms. Elsa?"

Her eyes once again focused slowly onto him. "Hmm?" She said, still only half focused on the Headmaster.

"It is thanks to you that we know Voldemort's weakness," Dumbledore repeated. "By locating this locket and bringing it to me, you may have saved countless lives."

"...it was no problem," she said quietly.

Dumbledore blinked, then shook his head, disconcerted, "Very well, I guess we shall press on." Turning back to the Trio, he gestured towards the glass case. "Under this glass, which has been specially enchanted to resist the dark arts, is one of the darkest of all dark arts known to mankind. Only the most evil and twisted of wizards have ever even attempted it, and fewer still have succeeded." his eyes roved over them, as if to impress the importance of his words. "I believe that this is a Horcrux."

There was a long moment of silence. Then, Hermione raised her hand. "Excuse me, sir, but...what is a Horcrux? And why would Voldemort want one?"

"How quickly you jump to the heart of the matter." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "A Horcrux is the darkest and most vile of magic, more evil than the darkest of cursed relics. Through ancient rituals and evil sacrifices, as well as the death of another human being, it allows the user to shear apart their soul and bind it into another object." His eyes roamed over them again carefully. "The soul cannot pass on if any piece remains behind, of course."

Harry spoke slowly. "So is this...the key to Voldemort's immortality?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I believe so. It is this object, or others like them, that saved Voldemort before, and will save him again, if they are not destroyed." He paused, and looked down at the locket again, suddenly seeming very old. "Or perhaps more accurately, it is this that damned him, and will damn him again if it is not destroyed."

Ron stirred in his chair. "What do you mean? These will let him live forever if we don't destroy them. That's exactly what he wants."

"Ah, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said sadly, "It is so often what we want the most that is exactly what we should not have."

Hermione leaned forward, "But Professor, surely nobody ever wants to die."

"Perhaps not, Ms. Granger. But as I said to Harry once before, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"But-"

"Do not misinterpret, Ms. Granger; you are correct that many people do not wish to pass on. Life has its way of squirming itself into our souls. All the sweets, you know." He smiled and popped a lemon drop into his mouth, "But eventually comes a time when your purpose here is done and you find the urge to move on." His eyes latched onto Elsa, as she stared intently back. "We, being wizards, have a special blessing when it comes to this; we know that something exists beyond, if only from talking to the ghosts of the castle. Muggles know nothing at all, and must depend on blind faith."

"Voldemort has chosen to forgo that possibility for change. I believe he dreams of an eternal empire, a kingdom ruled by an...immortal emperor, of sorts. He is not the first to have such delusions..."

He paused for a moment, sucking vigorously on his lemon drop, eyes devoid of their usual sparkle as they darted from one person to another, before finally latching onto Elsa; at the mention of ghosts, she had begun to stare intently at him.

Interrupting the moment, Hermione perked up, "Like Grindewald did, back when he helped the Nazis!"

Abruptly, the room seemed almost oppressively hot. "I would prefer not to speak of Grindewald," Dumbledore said shortly, eyes fixed on Hermione in a way that was almost frightening. The feeling passed as soon as it came, and Dumbledore continued sucking on his lemon drop, "In any case, we must focus on the present, not the past. So, on to the first order of business. Lady Elsa?"

She frowned slightly, and he smiled cheerfully, ignoring her reticence, "You offered to attempt to destroy this object before. Would you mind doing so now?"

The fog in her eyes slowly cleared, and her gaze finally came into focus, latched on the elderly Headmaster. "If I do, will you answer for me a question?"

Dumbledore smiled merrily, the sparkled back in his eyes. "You must know that there are certain secrets I cannot surrender."

Elsa shot him a disdainful look. "Then you will answer to the best of your ability."

Dumbledore nodded amicably. After studying him for a long moment, Elsa, too, nodded. Reaching out a hand, she fired a blast of cold; it passed through the glass without pause before enshrouding the locket. Then she splayed her fingers wide...and clenched her hand into a fist.

Without fanfare, the Locket crumpled into dust.

They all stared at it for a long moment before Hermione spoke. "Is...that it?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "I'd have thought it'd be more impressive that that. Are you sure?"

Dumbledore frowned, gazing at the pile of dust that remained, his brow slightly furrowed. "I believe so. Unfortunately, outside of very specific circumstances, detecting the actual presence of a soul is very difficult." His wand emerged from beneath the desk, and shortly the dust was barraged with a wide assortment of spells. It completely failed to react to any of them, and eventually Dumbledore clapped his hands together in satisfaction, whisking the dust away with a silent spell. "So. Our lives are simplified once again. You have my thanks, Lady Elsa."

"So, what now," Ron asked curiously, "Are you going to send us on a dramatic adventure across the wizarding world to collect all the soul pieces and learn something about ourselves along the way?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened, "Of course not. I may be insane, or so they tell me, but even I am not so insane as to purposefully endanger the lives of children."

The trio and Dumbledore stared at each other for a long moment,before simultaneously bursting into laughter.

Dumbledore was the first to manage to contain himself. "Oh my, some days I truly do amuse myself..." still chuckling, he wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, "But to be serious, no." he sighed, "Voldemort is one of the most powerful wizards of the age. Even if he did make the first of his soul pieces while still at Hogwarts, like I suspect, he would not have left their defenses unaltered. He would defend them with each new technique he learns, the better to ensure his immortality. While it may be vain of me," he coughed, "It is true that only I have abilities close to his level. Therefore it must be me to hunt them down." his eyes drifted over the three of them, and then behind them. "However, I need not do it alone."

"I have already told you, Headmaster," she said distantly, "I will not cause further destruction with my powers."

Dumbledore sighed. "Why are you so reluctant to help me, yet so willing to aid others? What have I done to offend you?"

Elsa's eyes sharpened, and now she was glaring at the Headmaster. "You. You dare ask me a question like that?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened in concern, "My Lady Elsa-"

"I am not 'your' lady anything!" Suddenly she was on her feet. "How dare you insult me by asking for my help after such a grave insult!? I...I...!" Tears began to well up in her eyes, freezing before they hit the floor.

Dumbledore's eyes widened even further, "I assure you, whatever I did to alarm you, I meant no offense-"

Elsa looked up tearfully, "You sent a ghost to invite me here! A ghost!"

Still sitting, Harry grinned; that was the cue. While Dumbledore was distracted, he began quietly casting spells.

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "My dear Elsa, I'm so sorry. I didn't consider-"

"That's not it!" Elsa wailed, "You sent a ghost close to me, and now they're back!" To her apparent horror, something that looked like blood began leaking from the walls. "They followed me here!" Suddenly there was an unearthly wailing that rang throughout the room, and Elsa shrank back. "You can protect me from them, can't you? You're a great magician, surely you can do something before they-"

"Eeeeeelllllllssssssaaaaaaaa..." an unearthly moan rang from the walls, "Eeeeeellllllsssssaaaaaaaa...!"

Slowly, pale figures faded through the walls, covered with blood, wide eyes gazing emptily forward. "Cooooommmmeeeee tooooo usssssssss! EEEELLLLSSSSSSAAAAAA!"

"No!" Elsa yelled dramatically, "I'm too young to die! Take him instead!" She flung out an arm at Dumbledore, whose eyes were slowly widening. The spirits glanced between the two of them, then slowly shrugged. "Ooooooookkkaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy..."

Dumbledore was looking more alarmed now, reaching under his desk for his wand...and just then, the first of the ghosts' head fell off. Well, almost.

"Ooooooppppssssss..." it muttered, then coughed, its ominous voice suddenly changing to a british accent, "This always seems to happen at the worst times."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "Nicholas?"

The ghost's bloody shroud wavered, then disappeared entirely, revealing a very embarrassed looking Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, head still flapping wildly. He blinked, and looked around in growing alarm, before sprinting for the walls. "Abandon ship!" he wailed, "Run away!"

A moment later, the ghosts were all gone, leaving a slightly ruffled Professor Dumbledore behind. He looked over his half moon glasses drolly at Elsa, who was staring back with a tiny smile on her face. "Very impressive," he said, "I am suitably chastised."

Hermione wrung her hands worriedly "Are you alright, Professor? I'm so sorry, I didn't want to do it, but some people..." she glared at Harry and Ron, "...insisted." she leaned forward, offering the Headmaster a pastry. "Here, would you like to have a custard cream? It might make you feel better."

"Ooh, pumpkin lemon, my favorite." He popped the pastry into his mouth.

And in a poof of feathers, he was transformed into a Canary.

A few minutes later, after enjoying the antics of a rather striking Canary with a half-moon pattern over its surprisingly sparkly eyes as it flitted around the room, the Headmaster transformed back, a wry smile on his face.

Harry, trying to force the grin off his face, quickly tried to apologize, but the headmaster waved him off. He chuckled wearily, "No, no. I fear it is my fault." He closed his eyes for a moment, "My humblest apologies, I had not considered your reaction...your world does not have ghosts, does it?"

Elsa's laughter finally stopped, and she climbed to her feet, before manifesting another chair and sitting in it. She sighed, a half smile still lingering on her face. "No. Stories, yes, many of them, but no actual ghosts. At least, so far as I know."

"And, of course, you thought that maybe, just maybe, your sister...but no." he looked up and shook his head firmly, "Your sister will not return. Not even if she could."

Elsa frowned, good mood dispelled. "You don't know that," she snapped.

Dumbledore shook his head again somberly, "Even if she could somehow follow you across worlds, she would not wish to remain. Ghosts are not the same person, Elsa; they are but a shadow of their real self, a shadow cast by the light of their soul, left behind when a persons wants and needs bind them to this world more than to the next. But Anna wasn't bound here, was she? She wanted to pass on."

"How did you...?"

Dumbledore chuckled tiredly, "I find that the older we become, the more readily we accept death. But more than that, she was happy, wasn't she?"

Elsa edged backwards cautiously, "Trying to look into my mind again?"

"No, just into your eyes." Dumbledore glanced over into one of the small mirrors that adorned the dark wooden bookshelves that lined the room, staring into his own eyes, "The death of one ready to pass on effects us differently. It changes us in subtle ways, and these ancient eyes have, unfortunately, grown apt at seeing them." he gazed into Elsa's eyes through his half-moon spectacles , and sighed. "I can see that you will not aid me. I suppose I am not surprised. As you told me once before, you are not bound to me. I only ask one thing."

"More orders already?"

Dumbledore rested his hands flat on his desk placidly, "For the moment, I only ask that you attend classes with Harry, Ron, and Hermione." he held up a forestalling hand, "Do not mistake me; your issues must be dealt with sooner or later, whether or not you acknowledge this fact. But even so, it takes time. Take that time, whatever you need. Let Hogwarts provide the shelter it was built to provide." He smiled, his eyes twinking, "That is the least I can do."

Elsa sighed, and nodded. "It would be best if I did not rest near the others. Being near me can be hazardous to your health."

Dumbledore nodded genially, "I thought you might say something like that. I've had the elves clean out the Gryffindor Tower attic. I'm happy to say they were quite excited at the job; it hadn't been used in quite some time, but I've had them bring in some furniture from the dungeons, and I'm certain you'll find it to your liking." his eyes twinkled even brighter, "And please tell your identical friends that if they want their rather impressive potions brewing equipment back, they must tell me how to obtain more of these delightful candies."

Elsa smiled, "I'll pass on the message." her brow furrowed, "Now, for my question..." Dumbledore folded his hands expectantly. "When the Hat was on my head, it mentioned something. It seemed to think that something else had happened in my past, something I didn't even remember. Do you know what it meant?"

The headmaster frowned. "I'm afraid you've asked me a question I cannot answer. The hat was made in the image of its creator, and Godric Gryffindor was a stubborn man. If it would not even tell you, then it will certainly not reveal the truth to me. It is possible it even does not know. My best advice would be to look within yourself. I'm sorry, but that's the best advice I can provide."

Elsa frowned, but nodded, and Dumbledore clapped his hands, "Now, you've all had a long day and I'm sure you would like to get some rest. Please, don't let the things I've told you today burden you overmuch. They can wait, I think, for a while longer."

As they stood and turned to leave, Harry paused and turned back. "Wait. Professor, we were wondering...do you know anything about Luna Lovegood? I always thought she was just a bit...odd. But apparently Elsa knows her from back in Arendelle, too. How is that possible?"

Dumbledore smiled mysteriously. "That, I fear, is a larger discussion than we have time for at the moment. And while I doubt she would mind, I feel it would be more appropriate if she were here. Perhaps another time."

Harry nodded slowly, and the four of them made their way out the door, quickly making their way back to the Gryffindor common room, and soon to bed.

In the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore stared at the door thoughtfully long after they had left. Many hours passed in the way. Eventually, though, a voice spoke into the room.

"See, Albus? Show them any weakness, and they will think it has infected your entire being. I warned you this would happen."

Dumbledore's eyes drifted over to the portrait, and he chuckled quietly, "Ahh, Nigelus. You were right, I suppose." Before the portrait could respond, he quickly added, "But then again, so was I. Harry might not view me as an invincible figure any longer, but once again he trusts me completely. That is a worthy trade-off, I think. Especially since I have so recently been reminded just how fallible I am." He chuckled, sending ripples through his beard, "Not to mention, playing along with their prank tonight was the most fun I have had in a great while."

"Hmph. You're acting more like a Hufflepuff than a-"

"Now now, Nigellus. No need to be rude. Even if I take that as a compliment." Dumbledore smiled, "I will not lie to them any longer. It has caused too many hurts already."

Nigellus snorted, "And the way you've dealt with that Elsa girl? Sending her across the lake? Having her sorted? The ghosts? Really, Albus, a child could see a plan hidden there."

"That is for her own good. I-" Dumbledore paused, brow furrowing. "Oh. Yes, you're right. Of course." he sighed, rubbing his temples wearily, "Habits of many years are harder to break than I thought."

Nigellus sneered, "Some habits need not be broken at all. If you are to defeat Voldemort, you will need every weapon in your arsenal."

"Something I know only too well. Now leave me, Nigellus. I must plan my next move."

"But of course, sir." Nigellus swept into a low, mocking bow. "But I'm afraid you'd better plan quickly."

"Explain your-" Dumbledore's eyes rested on an emtpy portrait. "-self." he sighed. "Oh, Nigellus."

But the answer came sooner than he could have expected. Mere moments later, his wards tripped that there was someone at the watch-gargoyle, and a rushing noise drew closer, before a terrified ghost burst through the door, head flapping wildly.

"Nicholas? What can I do for you? If this is about the prank-"

"No time, Albus!" He said, somehow needing to draw labored breaths, "Voldemort! He's here!"

Dumbledore stared blankly at him for an instant that seemed to go on forever. "What?" He finally said quietly.

Nearly Headless Nick pushed frizzed hair out of his eyes in distress, "Voldemort! He's here! I was drifting along the edge of the wards, thinking of how I could apologize, and I heard his voice—I still recognized it, after all these years—it's him!"

Dumbledore cut him off with a stroke of his hand and sprung into action. "Fawkes!" In a plume of flame, the phoenix appeared above his head, landing on an extended arm, "Take me there, Fawkes, as quickly as you can."

He disappeared into the flames, and stepped out a moment later, hundreds of feet away, wand at the ready. He could not have expected what he found there. "Tom-" He began, and then stopped dead. "Dear Merlin," he whispered quietly, "Tom...?"

A wet, half choked laugh rang over the Forbidden Forest, and Tom Riddle stood in the pale moonlight. He swept long hair out of his eyes, revealing his face; his perfectly normal, human face, broken and stained with blood.

"Albusss..." he whispered, "How very typical." he drew in a painful breath, and spat out a thick gob of blood. "Once again, You win. And yet... you...lose."

And he collapsed to the grass, red slowly pooling around his body.

Thanks for reading.

I've gone ahead and fixed a few typos in the story, and other errors. The math problem for example; thanks to Zealot of Reading for pointing that out again, to my credit, it was like 3:00 AM when I wrote that. Still, not fixing it for like 6 months is totally my fault. One word and it's all better! I'll continue to fix typos like that as I come across them.

Thanks to all reviewers! You guys are great. No, really, you are. You've got no idea. All my love. All of it.

Thanks again.