Beyond the Veil

by fanster

Voldemort is gaining power and Harry, now in his sixth year, knows he must find a way to defeat the dark wizard. He is thrown into a world of mystery as he tries to unlock the secrets to Voldemort's immortality. But Harry will be tested like never before when the line between allies and enemies become blurred. Who should he trust? The fate of Wizarding kind depends on his answer.

21. The Wedding

A special thanks to kelwin for reviewing my story.

So I decided to mix it up and throw some trivia questions in my footnotes. It mainly involves having you guys guess which movies some of my quotes come from. I don't know why, but I must have been in the mood for this lately, because I have a few in the next chapter, too.

---

Chapter 20
The Wedding

"Hermione! Hermione!" shouted Harry, running into the common room.

"Hermione," panted Harry once he reached his friend, "I know who R.A.B. is."

He recounted all that he could remember from his encounter, which was a difficult feat; it was like trying to describe color to someone who couldn't see [1]. After he reassured her again and again that what had happened wasn't merely a weird dream, Hermione sat open-mouthed in amazement.

"I can't believe that, I've never heard of anything like that before." Hermione's brow furrowed slightly as she inspected him more closely. "That was really dangerous, Harry."

"Well, it's not like I did it on purpose! How was I supposed to know that was going to happen?"

"You're right, I just — these types of things always seem to happen to you."

"Tell me about it. Most of the time it's not a good thing, though."

"So, it was Sirius' brother?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, weird, huh?"

"It's definitely a strange coincidence."

"Maybe it wasn't a coincidence," stated Harry, and the two of them shared a significant look.

"It fits, too," said Harry. "Sirius told me his brother became a Death Eater when he was young, but he got cold feet and tried to leave. That's why he was killed."

"So when he became disenchanted with it all," said Hermione, following Harry's logic, "he wanted to help bring about Voldemort's downfall."

"Exactly."

"Do you have any idea where the locket might be? Did he tell you where it is, or if he ever destroyed it?" asked Hermione.

"I had other things on my mind, Hermione," Harry said a bit defensively. He felt a little stupid that he hadn't thought to ask, but it was easy to say now that he wasn't in that extremely subliminal and otherworldly place, if you could even call it a place.

"I know, I just…" Suddenly, she stopped, with the dumbstruck look of someone who had just been Obliviated.

"What?" asked Harry.

"The locket…"

"Yes… the locket… What about it?" He clearly wasn't following the same train of thought as she was.

"When we were cleaning the house… In the drawing room — nobody could open it…"

Harry's head was reeling as though he were hit with a ton of bricks. He even remembered that they had passed it around, each of them trying to pry it open. It had been tossed aside along with the musical box that caused everyone to fall into a stupor upon listening to the melodic tune.

"Yes! I remember!" exclaimed Harry. "Do you think Kreacher knows where it is? He might have it; he was always trying to pilfer things from our pile."

"I hope so, I doubt something like that can be Summoned."

"Well, that'll be worth a shot, we'll just have to be on guard for anything odd."

"But anyone could've picked it up, not even knowing what it really was!"

"But that limits it to people inside the Order at least. During our Easter break, we can look. Can you come over some time?"

"Of course, I can. I'll just go with you when you leave Hogwarts, if that's alright with you. I'll stay until the wedding and then I'll spend the remainder with my parents."

"That sounds good." Harry paused and ran his hands through his hair. "You know how much of a relief it would be to find one at last?"

Hermione's excitement was evident. "That'll make everything you and Dumbledore went through well worth it, don't you think? I wonder what —"

"Don't mind me," said an angry voice.

Harry and Hermione turned to see an irritated Ron.

"Ron, we didn't know you were here," explained Harry.

"Of course, you didn't. Why would you? Why would either of you think I might be interested? I'm just too stupid to care, aren't I?" said Ron viciously.

"First of all," said Harry, "You haven't exactly been talking to Hermione lately, so why would she want to talk to you?"

Ron opened his mouth, but before he could give an angry retort, Harry continued. "Secondly, don't you think you're overreacting a bit? It's not like I wasn't going to tell you."

"But you ran off to Hermione first. Don't deny it, you didn't even think about me! You were just excited to tell her everything, not me."

It was true, Harry had gone to see Hermione first, but that's just because… well, it was natural for him to do that. Ron had been spending more time with Dean and Seamus lately. And in all the time Ron had been with his former girlfriend or had been avoiding them because he was upset with Hermione, Harry had to admit that he had become a bit closer to her. She was the one he spent the majority of his time with.

But whose fault was that? Ron was being very immature and unfair, in Harry's opinion. If Ron wanted to be a part of it, he should get over his disappointment and act more like an adult.

Hermione tried to reach out to him. "Ron —"

"No, I understand," he said, though his tone seemed to indicate the opposite was true. "Why don't you go find the Death Eater and tell him? I mean, seeing as you guys seem to want to replace me with him."

The way Ron was acting lately, Harry rather thought that might not be a bad idea at the moment. Of course, he didn't really believe that, but he had half a mind to tell that to Ron if it would make him realize what a prat he was being lately.

He understood that Ron was upset, and that it would take some time for him to get over his heart break, but he was treating Hermione as if she had hurt him on purpose, which clearly wasn't the case at all. Ron just couldn't ever seem to deal with these things in an appropriate manner. It was for this reason Harry thought that Ron would never be able to win Hermione over.

"Keep your voice down," hissed Hermione, looking around. Fortunately, everyone else was too busy to notice them. Once Hermione was reassured that no one else had heard anything, she rounded on Ron. "That's not fair, Ron! It's not true."

"Never mind," Ron continued. "You both probably like that I'm not around, or anyone else for that matter." Everything suddenly became very still.

"What are you talking about?" Harry said in a low voice, warning Ron not to go where Harry thought he was going.

"Please, like you don't know. I see the way the two of you are together," Ron said, his voice full of bitterness. "I'm surprised, Hermione. I thought you had more respect for yourself than that. Who else have you been leading on?"

Hermione stood stock-still; she felt as though she had been slapped in the face.

"Alright —"

"And really, Harry," Ron cut him off, "I thought you would treat my sister better than that."

Harry growled and lunged at Ron. He had lost all sympathy for his friend. Hermione grabbed him around the shoulders to try and stop him.

"How dare you!" he shouted. "How dare you accuse me of cheating on Ginny? And not just me, but Hermione being in on it, too? What the hell is the matter with you?"

Harry probably would have punched Ron in the face if not for Seamus who came over to restrain him. He and Dean looked at Ron and Harry in confusion.

"Blimey, did you two even know you were fightin' each other?" asked Seamus [2].

"Yeah," said Dean, "what's going on? This has to be a first."

"Nothing's wrong," said Harry, "Ron's just being a prick is all."

By now, everyone was paying attention, staring at them with shocked faces.

Harry stormed out. Hermione would eventually follow suit, but not before pausing to give Ron a sad, disappointed look.

As Harry walked briskly down the halls, he decided not to go to the Room of Requirement, as that would mostly likely only lead to more frustration. Taking a detour to Dumbledore's office, he changed courses. On the fifth floor, he saw someone he knew to be a Ravenclaw.

"Excuse me," said Harry accosting the girl around fourth or fifth year. She looked mildly surprised he was addressing her, but not disappointed.

"Hi," she said toothily.

"Hi. I was wondering if you saw Luna in the common room."

The girl now looked mightily confused. "Yes, I think I saw her in there."

"Do you think you could go get her for me?" Harry asked politely.

"Um, yeah… hold on…"

It didn't escape Harry's notice that the girl seemed to be wondering why Harry would possibly want to see Luna. True, she was odd, but not necessarily in a bad way. To Harry, she was a decent person and a good friend and that's all that should matter.

The girl returned with Luna in tow. "Hi, Harry," Luna said cheerily.

"Hi, Luna." He didn't know why, but her presence always seemed to have a calming effect on him, and that was one of the reasons he sought her out. "I just wanted to talk."

"That sounds fascinating. I do always enjoy talking with you, Harry."

"Why don't we walk?" he asked her. He wanted to make sure no one overheard him, so standing in front of the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room was obviously not the best idea; he also wanted to escape the girl who was now eyeing them both doubtfully.

"Sure, that'd be nice, Harry," Luna agreed. "What did you wish to discuss?" she asked once they went a short distance down the corridor.

How to begin? "At the Ministry…" started Harry. "Do you remember that veil at the Ministry?"

"The Veil of Mystery, yes."

Harry didn't ask Luna how she knew what it was called.

"Well, I think… I think I —" How was he supposed to explain this? "I was there."

"I know, Harry, I was there with you." Most other people would have sounded dismissive or impatient, but not Luna.

"What? No, I mean… You remember the whispers?"

"Yes, I do."

"I think — somehow — I managed to go in there. Not physically, but I…" It was so far-fetched that he had a hard time believing even Luna would think he was telling the truth.

He tried to explain his state of extreme meditation, and what it felt like to be in the other world. Luna's eyes widened as he described it and he knew that she believed him. She always believed him, even when his own friends sometimes doubted him. "You said something, I can't remember exactly what, but you said something when we were at the Ministry."

"I said that there were people, people inside the Veil."

"Yes, and there were. I spoke to one of them… but he's dead now."

"Well, he's not really dead, is he?" Luna posed cryptically in her whimsical voice, dreamier than he'd ever heard it.

"No, I guess he's not," Harry agreed. "But he's not here anymore."

"Did you see your godfather? Or your parents?" asked Luna.

Harry's stomach dropped. If it were anyone else, he would have had a time of biting back an irritated retort, telling whoever it was to mind their own business.

"No, the person I talked to was my godfather's brother. He said if I stayed too long, the temptation of remaining with loved ones would become too strong — that I wouldn't have come back."

Luna nodded her head as if was most sensible and obvious advice. "That makes sense."

"About this place… if you can call it a place… Do you know anything more about it?"

"It sounds like you know more about it than I do, Harry," responded Luna.

"But you must have some ideas?" he asked almost desperately.

"Oh, yes, I have ideas, but none of them are sure to be correct."

Harry waited a moment for her to elaborate, but when she didn't he asked, "What sort of ideas?… Do you think it's where we go when we die?"

He had a hunch. He wasn't sure why he was seeking validation from Luna, maybe it was because of Luna's propensity to believe in the far-fetched and he was just deluding himself, but somehow, he thought something more mysterious was at work. Some might say he was crazy to seek such confirmation from Luna, but that's what he did.

"That seems to be the best explanation. I'm sure that's what happens," said Luna.

Harry didn't know why, but he felt he needed to hear those words from someone else. And she seemed so confident and sure of herself, too. That's what Harry really admired about her. And if that place was real, then his parents were real — not only in the past, but in the present. And Sirius, too…

"Does this mean you can enter the Veil?" asked Luna.

"What do you mean?" replied Harry.

"If you go to the Department of Mysteries, and walk through the Veil, could you come back out?"

Surprisingly, Harry had not thought of this possibility, even though it seemed like a natural thing to wonder.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "I guess I've always assumed it wasn't possible because Sirius didn't…"

"Because your godfather didn't come back out?" Luna finished gently.

"Yeah."

"Well, he was Stupefied, wasn't he? Maybe that changes things. Or it could be that he was ready to go, and accepted his fate."

"He didn't want to die!" Harry refused to believe something like that. It didn't seem like his godfather at all.

"Then perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he didn't enter the veil voluntarily," suggested Luna.

That actually made a lot more sense to Harry. He didn't think he'd ever need to test that theory, but it was certainly interesting to think about.

"Hmm. Maybe you're right… Anyways, it was nice talking to you, Luna."

"Thanks, Harry. I had a nice time, too."

"Are you doing anything over the Easter holidays?"

"Well, I'll be able to spend some time with my father, which is nice. We usually do a lot of interesting things together."

Harry didn't doubt that. "Well," he said, "I don't know if you heard, but Lupin is getting married."

"Yes, I heard. Ginny told me. I always thought he was a nice man, so that's good for him."

"Well, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you came — you know, if you want to." He was sure she wouldn't be having any friends visit or anything, and thought it'd be nice for her to see Ginny and everybody else over her break. He knew he couldn't invite her over to Grimmauld Place, but Harry was sure no one would mind if she came to the wedding. "Your dad would be able to come, too, I'm sure."

"Really?" she asked. It was hard to tell, but Harry thought she was a bit surprised by this offer.

"Yeah, I mean, Ginny and Ron will be there, too, and Hermione, the twins, Neville's coming…"

"That's sounds wonderful, Harry. Thank you."

"It's nothing. You're a friend. You should come."

"Perhaps, I will."

He told her the date and address and they both wished each other a happy break before Harry departed for Dumbledore's office.

"Why am I the only one who can do it?" Harry was now sitting in his familiar spot in Dumbledore's office, as the older wizard paced the length of the room. Harry had explained all that he could remember. "I know it's not because I'm the best Occlumens… or Legilimens. Could this be the power the prophecy refers to?"

"The prophecy states that you possess a power 'the Dark Lord knows not'. It did not say that this power was necessarily unique to you, however, 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord' does seem to imply this to be true. This could either mean that he does not know you possess this power, or he himself, does not have the ability to acquire and understand it. I believe there is more to this than I originally thought, although I still hold that my first theory is also true.

"Voldemort is incapable of love, without your compassion for others, Harry, you would not have been able to accomplish what you have. But now that this has been brought to my attention, I do believe that the prophecy may also refer to your ability to reach out to the Realm of the Dead."

"I must say," said Dumbledore while Harry helped himself to a lemon drop, "that is one of the most extraordinary things I have ever heard. Even more extraordinary is that the only living person known to do this stands before me."

"But why am I the only one who can? I don't understand."

"It is no coincidence, I think, that you are the only one, it seems, who can do this. Can you think of nothing else that sets you apart from everyone else? I think you'll find that the answer is simpler than you might think."

What set him apart? He thought as he sucked on his candy. His scar? That was what made him so famous…

"I'm the only one who survived the Killing Curse," he realized aloud. But what did that have to do with anything?

"Precisely, Harry. No one else has survived the Killing Curse, but you have. Naturally, when such a rare event occurs, it will bring with it unexpected and unprecedented results." Dumbledore waited to see if Harry could make the connection, but when it was clear he was unsure, Dumbledore continued, "My guess is that you have what you might call… a sensitivity, shall we say, to our celestial home."

"Sensitivity?"

"You were supposed to die, but you did not. You survived. It is beyond death, not in this life, where our souls' natural place lies. When Voldemort's curse hit you — this is, of course, purely speculation on my part — I believe that your soul was called home, as it were."

You have been touched by this place as no one else living has, Regulus' words came back to him. Harry hadn't understood everything at the time, but that was to be expected. Death and Heaven — whatever people may call it, were one and the same to those who resided in the Realm.

Those who have entered here have done so directly… and none of them have ever returned.

"So you think," asked Harry, "because I was supposed to die — because I was hit with the Killing Curse, but I survived — that's why I can go to that place?"

"That is exactly what I think," answered Dumbledore. "The world works in mysterious ways far beyond our reckoning. Just when we feel that we are beginning to understand the workings of the universe, new discoveries are made and they open up a labyrinth of new ideas — challenging everything we thought we knew…"

Harry pondered upon those thoughts along with Dumbledore in a few moments of silence. What new portals had just opened up for them? There was no telling.

"I also think," continued Dumbledore, "that Regulus is correct in telling you not to try and enter again until we are certain there is absolute need to do so."

"Yes, Professor."

"And just promise me, Harry, that you will not dwell on the matter overly much and remember to relax on your well-earned break."

Harry suspected that Dumbledore somehow knew that he had been spending hours upon hours in the Room of Requirement, poring over old books and searching continuously for answers.

"Yes, sir, I'll remember that," he pledged.

"I am sure I will see you," Dumbledore said, smiling now. "There is a wedding after all."

Harry smiled, too. "I'm happy for them."

"As am I. Remus in particular has not had an easy life and has endured many hardships. He deserves to be happy; he was always reluctant to act on his own wishes because of his condition. It seems that his near-death experience has prompted him to think differently."

"But, none of us ever cared that he's a werewolf."

"No, indeed. And Nymphadora Tonks is a living example of that. But even though Remus knows that, it is still hard sometimes to convince ourselves that certain things don't matter — especially when most others have treated you like an outcast your entire life. In any event, it is good to know that true happiness can be found even in times as dark as these."

Harry nodded his head. "Well, I'll see you soon then, sir."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "But of course, Harry. Safe travels."

Heading down to the carriages that would take them to the Hogwarts Express, Harry was actually glad to be off to Grimmauld Place for the first time since Sirius' death. Hermione would be going with him. Ron had opted to stay with his family at the Burrow which had been fully restored since the attack that left it in ruins [3].

Malfoy would also be joining Harry and Hermione along with his mother, Narcissa. He had asked Harry earlier, stating a need for convenience to get to meetings, but Harry knew better; he knew that Malfoy was anxious to see how his mother was doing. Trying to imagine the four of them at the dinner table… Harry had to suppress a shiver.

Harry wasn't sure if the collection of people spending the holidays together could be more mismatched. He supposed if Snape were there, or Voldemort… Perhaps he should have invited Luna, she was always good at diffusing tension. Mostly because everyone would be looking at her in utter bewilderment instead.

At the moment, Luna was doing much the same thing with him, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville on the train. Otherwise, it was very uncomfortable as everyone made weak attempts at making conversation. Things between Ron and Hermione were as bitter as ever, and Harry was sure the only time he would see his other friend was during the wedding and probably on Easter.

He was sure that Mrs. Weasley would stop by to check on everyone at Grimmauld Place to make sure everything was alright — something that came naturally to a mother of seven. But whether or not Ron would make an appearance was yet to be determined.

Harry was still a bit upset with Ron, but Ron had apologized to Harry profusely acknowledging that while he had been upset, it gave him no right to be 'such a prat' and accuse him of being disloyal to Ginny. He had also apologized to Hermione, but was still giving her the cold shoulder. Hermione claimed that Ron hadn't been sincere, and had only been forced into it by his sister.

Things became quiet once more. Ginny again tried to strike up conversation, but most of the time it would only end up with Ron and Hermione staring angrily at each other. To make matters worse, Ginny was also angry with her brother; she had found out what Ron had said about Harry and Hermione, and she was not happy with him.

Neville kept deathly quiet, not wanting any of them to snap at him; he was never one to seek confrontation. Luna, however, seemed blissfully unaware of any tension in their compartment. She would make her customary odd remarks, and Harry began to think maybe she wasn't as oblivious as she led on and used her comments to erase the tension at timely moments.

Harry himself was already feeling downtrodden, so Ron and Hermione's mission to put a damper on the mood certainly wasn't helping matters. He was planning something big, something regrettable and more than a little depressing, and he didn't want to do it in front of everyone.

Harry glanced over at Neville — he, too, had a permanent scar now. As lighthearted as Neville was about it, to Harry, it reminded him of the danger in which those around him were constantly placing themselves. It was a reminder that his enemies would hurt those he cared about without reservation. This realization woke him to the reality in which he was now living.

Harry was interrupted from his musings when the compartment door slid open. A group of fourth year girls whom he instantly recognized stood in the entryway.

"Hi, Neville," said the girl at the head of the group.

Neville looked around the room as if expecting someone else named Neville to answer. "Hi?" he said uncertainly, turning back to the girl.

"I'm Romilda Vane. We've got some pumpkin pasties in our compartment next door if you want some."

"Um, thanks, but I'm not hungry," he answered in slight panic. In fairness, the trolley did come by with food and drinks just now, but Harry was sure that wasn't why Neville was declining the invitation.

"Alright then," Romilda said sweetly with a winning smile, leaning against the door frame. "If you change your mind…" she said in what Harry was sure she believed to be her most alluring voice. Romilda backed out of the compartment with the other giggling girls in tow.

It seemed that they had given up on Harry when he started dating Ginny (and after she gave them all dirty looks when they, Romilda in particular, were being overly friendly to him). While all of this was perfectly fine with Harry, it seemed they had now moved on to Neville. Poor Neville would have no idea what to do. Harry smiled, it was good for him.

"See?" said Ron. "What'd I tell you? Those scars — girls love stuff like that. It gives you instant stud status."

Neville blushed red.

"I suppose the scars look 'cool', as other kids would say," said Luna very seriously. "Congratulations, Neville. I'm just glad you weren't killed."

"Uh, thanks?" replied Neville, unsure. Her bluntness tended to have that effect on people.

"Honestly, Neville, if you want a girlfriend you've got plenty to choose from," said Ron.

Neville said nothing but turned a deeper shade of red. Hermione eyed Ron disapprovingly. "Don't talk about women as if we're items in a store, Ronald."

"What? I didn't say anything!"

Hermione just rolled her eyes and proceeded to stick her nose back into the book she was reading.

"Well, that is what people tend to do when searching for prospective mates, isn't it?"

Ron choked on his bottle of butterbeer and instead of turning redder, Harry rather thought Neville was beginning to sweat nervously. It was enough to make Hermione look up from her book once more.

"We evaluate certain aspects that we desire in a companion. And comparison is often a tool used in the selection process," Luna explained as if she were discussing her opinion on a class topic. "Either way, it ends up better for us than the Umgubular Slashkilter…"

No one reacted beyond a couple of befuddled looks, so Luna continued.

"The female will often eat her partner once the reproduction ritual is complete, starting with the head."

Harry was doing his best not to laugh out loud. He didn't want to hurt Luna's feelings, but the looks on the others' faces were priceless.

Upon dismounting the train, they all said their goodbyes. Ron and Hermione said theirs rather stiffly, although Harry found it encouraging that they were at least acknowledging each other's existence.

Harry, Hermione, and Draco, who met them outside the station, set off to find an empty alleyway. As Hermione was now of age, she could use magic outside of school and Apparate them all. The two boys would have to be brought along via Side-Apparition.

By now, Harry was used to the sensation so that it did not bother him anymore. He knew he could use magic and probably not get caught (Hermione proved that during the summer), but he didn't want to take the chance.

Thinking of the address, the house appeared out of nowhere between houses eleven and thirteen. Entering the house, Harry perked his ears for any signs of activity. He heard the shuffle of soft footsteps and soon saw Narcissa approaching. She hurried to embrace her son. "Oh, Draco," she said by way of greeting.

For his part, Draco, although slightly exasperated with his mother's antics, appeared to be genuinely glad to see her. Indeed, in Harry's opinion, it was the closest to stress-free he had seen Malfoy since the beginning of the school year.

"Hello, Mother," said Draco.

"All is well here?" Harry asked to avoid the uncomfortable silence that would have been sure to ensue.

"It is," answered Narcissa. "Especially now that Molly and I have cleaned up the place a bit."

At first, Harry hadn't really looked around at the place, but now, as he examined it more closely, he realized just how much neater it looked. It was spotless. "Wow," he said. "The place looks great."

"Yes, well, I was never fond of my aunt's taste in… décor."

Now there was something Harry could agree upon. Mounting elf-heads on the wall wasn't exactly what he'd call a warm and homey touch — speaking of which, the elf heads were nowhere to be seen.

Harry wondered where Kreacher was at the moment. He had sent the house-elf here to help Narcissa, but his real motive was to locate the whereabouts of Slytherin's locket. He also wanted to see if there was anything else he could find out about Regulus and, possibly, anything about any of the remaining Horcruxes.

Since Harry had found out about R.A.B's true identity, he wanted to summon Kreacher at once and demand answers. But Hermione convinced him to wait as they couldn't find the locket until they were at the house anyway, and she said that Kreacher might be willing to offer other potentially useful information if they treated him kindly. This didn't sway Harry until she pointed out that Kreacher might try and remove the locket once they inquired about it, punishment or no.

Not wanting to be a bad host, but figuring Narcissa would probably want to visit her son in privacy, Harry beckoned Hermione to follow him upstairs. They headed to the furnace where Kreacher's makeshift, dingy nest was situated [4].

Harry had made an effort to be nicer to Kreacher lately and get into the house-elf's good graces, hoping it would put Kreacher in a divulgatory mood.

He hoped that Kreacher would be here (Harry didn't want to have to call for him — all a part of treating him equally, Hermione had said). Luckily for them, Kreacher was sleeping soundly on his pile of filthy rags.

"Kreacher?" Harry called out.

At first, the lump of flesh that was Kreacher did not move. But eventually, there was a stirring amidst the many ratty, smelly blankets.

"Hey, Kreacher."

Unimpressed, Kreacher began his habit of speaking to himself. "The Potter brat speaks to Kreacher as if we are friends, oh, but Kreacher would never befriend such a filthy blood traitor, no. And he brought that Mudblood with him. Oh, what my poor mistress would say."

Harry stayed patient and bit back his frustration.

"Kreacher, I need to ask you something important. You knew Regulus, is that right?"

"Yes. A good master he was. Always kind to Kreacher… Unlike his hound of a brother."

"Yes, yes," Harry interrupted. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him not to chew out Kreacher, and he had to remind himself to stay focused. Harry tried a different tactic.

"So, you liked Master Regulus, then?"

"Yes," answered Kreacher. "Kreacher just said that. The half-breed is stupid," the elf muttered to himself.

"Why do you stay in here, Kreacher?" asked Harry. "It can't be comfortable here. There are hundreds of rooms in this house, well, not really, but you get what I mean." Great, he was rambling to himself, maybe Kreacher was contagious. "What about Regulus' room? Would you like to stay there?"

Harry and Hermione had checked the room before coming to see Kreacher and summoning the locket, neither proved fruitful. Harry hadn't expected it to seeing as he wasn't able to summon even the fake locket in the cave.

"Kreacher, stay in Master Regulus' room?" he asked warily, as if Harry were playing some sort of trick.

"Yes," said Harry. "I would like you to have it; only if you want it, of course."

"But Kreacher is a house-elf. It —"

"Don't worry about that. I'm asking you if you want to stay there." Harry paused before adding, "I'm sure Regulus would want you to have it." Harry wasn't sure about that last part, but as Regulus was dead, it didn't really make any difference.

Overcome with emotion, Kreacher said, "Kreacher would be honored to stay in the room of the noblest, most esteemed offspring of my mistress, who —"

"It's yours then," Harry cut off Kreacher midstream. He didn't mean to be rude, but he would rather not have to listen to the elf's blood purity drivel.

Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he might have seen tears in Kreacher's eyes.

"Thank you, Master," he said as he bowed. This time, it wasn't a mocking gesture.

"You're welcome," Harry replied.

Harry wanted badly to ask Kreacher about the locket, but he had to gain Kreacher's trust and loyalty completely before he did that. He had to be patient. If he did too much at a time, Kreacher could become suspicious.

"Alright, I'll see you at dinner, then," he said.

"Yes, Master," said Kreacher, bowing once again.

Harry and Hermione went downstairs and began to prepare dinner. (Draco didn't have much experience in cooking, which was no surprise to either of them).

"You can use magic now," Draco pointed out to Hermione.

Harry didn't tell him that magic couldn't be detected at Grimmauld Place.

"Yes, but I don't really know any cooking charms. And besides," said Hermione, "I like to cook."

"You like doing servants' work?" he asked incredulously.

"Most people don't have servants, you know," Hermione told him with a look. "I like creating things, I guess. It's one of the reasons I like Potions; it's really a product your work. I — oh, I don't know what I'm saying."

"Most people don't like Potions." Draco himself liked the class, although it was not his favorite.

"Well, Professor Snape could sure be pretty rotten sometimes, but I enjoy the subject."

Harry, unlike Draco, understood what Hermione was talking about. Maybe it was something that only someone with a Muggle upbringing could understand. "No, I get it," he agreed. "Sometimes I'd rather do things by hand."

Hermione nodded in approval while Draco looked at the pair of them as if they'd gone mad. "But why?" he asked. "Why would you do something without magic when magic is so much quicker and easier — and probably better in the end, too? You even have a house-elf, Potter."

Harry was about to answer when Kreacher walked in. Speak of the devil, thought Harry.

Kreacher looked around in growing dread. Uh oh, thought Harry, I hope I didn't break some unknown house-elf rule. He remembered Winky being most offended with his least radical ideas.

"Why is Master cooking? I thought you wanted Kreacher to make dinner?"

"Oh, no… I meant —"

"You is not supposed to cook, that is what Kreacher is supposed to do."

"Oh, well… I didn't know. Honest. Sorry, you can do it tomorrow if you want, but I don't mind doing it."

"Then why does Master need a house-elf if he won't let Kreacher do his job?"

"Exactly," agreed Draco.

Harry silenced him with a 'you're not helping' look.

"It's alright for people to do the work sometimes, Kreacher. House-elves should be able to have breaks, don't you think?" Hermione asked politely.

"The Mudblood is talking to me again. Kreacher won't —"

Now, Harry would have to stamp his foot down there. "Kreacher, I forbid you to use the word 'Mudblood'. It's not a good word."

"Yes, Master… But Master, Kreacher is the house-elf, and you is the Master. Kreacher is supposed to make supper."

Harry could tell Kreacher was upset. "How about we finish this salad, and you can do the rest?" Maybe they could strike a compromise.

Kreacher seemed to struggle in an internal battle, pulling on both of his ears, before relenting. "Yes, Master."

"Come help, Draco."

"I told you, I can't cook."

"We're just making salad," explained Hermione. "Incidentally, cooking is a lot like Potions class. You can at least slice this cucumber, can't you?" she asked, proffering him the vegetable.

Draco's only response was to lift an eyebrow.

"Oh, come on," Hermione told him. "It's good for you."

Reluctantly taking the knife, he did as she said.

The salad was finished in no time (it had been rather unnecessary for all three of them to work on it), so they proceeded to the dining room while Kreacher continued to work on their meal. Whatever it was, it smelled good. Harry was a little nervous because the last time he recalled, Kreacher's cooking skills left much to be desired, and Narcissa Malfoy was not a dinner guest he wished to disappoint.

Narcissa was already seated. It was a very quiet wait before Kreacher came out with their meal. As he served the salad, Harry said, "Once you are done, Kreacher, I would like you to join us."

All but Hermione looked at him as if he were crazy.

"But, Master —"

"This is something I want you to do," insisted Harry. "I will order you if I have to, but I'd rather not."

Kreacher tugged his ears past his chin as if in great agony.

"I must intervene, Potter. House-elves are servants, and are to be treated as such. It is what they prefer," said Narcissa.

"That's because they don't know any better!"

Harry quieted Hermione with a hand signal; he didn't want to start an argument. "I know it isn't customary, but these are my rules," he said sternly, but not unkindly. "I want Kreacher to be treated as an equal."

Draco just shook his head in exasperated amusement, while Narcissa continued to look disapproving, but she said nothing more on the matter. Harry took this as a cooperative gesture. Hermione put a hand on Harry's shoulder in support of his decision. Harry noted that although Malfoy saw, he didn't glare at him in jealously as Ron would.

It was not the most convivial of dinners, but Harry thought it could have gone much worse. With one of the last assortments of dinner guests Harry would have ever guessed would dine at his table, there wasn't much conversation; but at least Kreacher's French onion soup was sumptuous. It seemed with his improved mood, so too did his cooking abilities. Whether or not this was by choice Harry wasn't sure, but he didn't care either way.

Kreacher didn't say anything the entire time, not even his weird little grunts, and most of the conversation, little as it was, was conducted by Harry and Hermione. It usually entailed trivial matters, yet Harry was glad to get through the meal without incident.

As the days went by, things became a little more relaxed. Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and Dumbledore all stopped by. Snape did, too, to give Harry and Draco their next lesson on the Magicians' Duel. It was a difficult task to perform. Harry found it hard to combine the two, eventually focusing almost solely on one aspect. Draco on the other hand, had the opposite problem. He had no problem working both skills at the same time, but he wasn't able to develop a mastery of either component.

After the first couple of days with Kreacher's mood much improved, Harry decided it was time to confront Kreacher, there was no more need for delay. It was time to ask about the locket and the Horcrux. He had perused Regulus' room once more, but all he found were newspaper clippings about Voldemort, a picture of the Slytherin Quidditch team (Harry discovered Regulus had been a Seeker) and other Slytherin paraphernalia, as well as the Black Crest.

That night, Harry and Hermione accosted Kreacher in Regulus' room.

"Kreacher?" asked Harry, "I need to ask you something." He could feel his heart begin to pump faster in anticipation. "And I need you to answer truthfully."

"Yes, Master," said Kreacher.

"Last summer there was a big gold locket in the drawing room upstairs. We threw it out when we were cleaning. Did you take it?"

Kreacher hesitated for a moment, so Harry said, "You aren't in trouble, I just need to know." There was a moment's silence, during which Kreacher straightened up to look Harry full in the face. Then he said, "Yes."

"Where is it now?" asked Harry eagerly, with Hermione looking on hopefully.

Kreacher said nothing, but wordlessly walked over to one of the drawers in the room. He seemed to unlock it with some sort of elfin magic, for they heard a loud click, and from it, Kreacher slowly drew out the locket Harry remembered seeing from Dumbledore's memories [5]. Now his heart was beating fast and hard against his ribcage.

"Can I see it?" Harry asked, forgetting he could simply demand to see it in his anticipation.

"Why does Master wish to see this?" asked Kreacher suspiciously.

Harry pulled out the fake locket from his pocket. "Because I found this one while looking for that one. Do you recognize this, Kreacher?"

Suddenly, Kreacher looked very nervous. "Where did you find that, Master?"

Harry crouched down to Kreacher's eye level, held up the locket and said, "Kreacher, I need you to tell me everything you know about this locket and what Master Regulus was doing with the real one."

"Master Regulus was always trying to do good by the name of Black. He was wanting to join the Dark Lord — talked about it for years. When he turned sixteen, Master Regulus finally joined him, the Dark Lord. My Mistress and Master Orion were so happy, so proud. Of course, Master Sirius left; he was always breaking my Mistress' heart with his lawless ways… But Master Regulus did right by the House of Black."

Harry had to hold his tongue and let the slight of Sirius pass for now.

"One day," continued Kreacher, "a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher… And then Master Regulus said… he said…"

The old elf began to fretfully rock back and forth.

"… he said that the Dark Lord required an elf."

"Voldemort needed a house-elf?" Harry repeated, glancing at Hermione, who looked just as puzzled as he did.

"Yes," said Kreacher. "And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do… and then to come home." Kreacher rocked faster, his breath coming in sobbing gasps.

"So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. He did not tell Kreacher what Kreacher was to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. Beyond the cave was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake…"

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up. Kreacher's croaking voice seemed to come to him from across the dark water. As Kreacher described what happened, Harry could picture it in his mind as clearly as if he were physically there.

"There was a boat…"

Yes, the boat. Harry had crossed the black lake in that same boat. So this was how Voldemort tested the defenses around the Horcrux, by borrowing a disposable creature, a house-elf…

"There was a basin full of potion on the island. The Dark Lord made Kreacher d-drink it…"

Kreacher was now shaking from head to foot.

"Kreacher drank and drank, and as he drank he saw terrible things… Kreacher's insides burned, and Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, but the Dark Lord only laughed… He made Kreacher drink all the potion. And then he dropped a locket into the empty basin, and filled it with more potion… And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island alone…"

Hermione gasped, holding her hand over her mouth, aghast in horror.

"Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake… and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface…"

Harry could see them, the living dead with their blank eyes and mutilated bodies…

"How did you get away?" Harry whispered.

Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked Harry with his great, bloodshot eyes. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he simply said.

"I know — but how did you escape the Inferi?"

Kreacher did not seem to understand.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he repeated. "So that's what Kreacher did. He had to follow his Master's orders."

"I know, but —"

"Harry," interrupted Hermione, "the magical bond between a house-elf and his or her master is very strong. It must have been enough to overcome Voldemort's protective enchantments."

"That's right," Harry remembered. "Elf magic is different. That's why they can Apparate in and out of Hogwarts."

"And of course, Voldemort would have considered the ways of house-elves far beneath his notice…" Hermione said in an icy voice. "It would never have occurred to him that they might possess magic that he didn't."

Still, it seemed a major oversight for someone trying to protect their soul. How could anyone be so overconfident? Voldemort's ignorance on the matter, although stunning, was consistent with what Harry knew from his experiences and from everything Dumbledore had told him and showed him.

"The house-elf's highest law is his Master's bidding," intoned Kreacher. "Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home…"

"Well, then, you did what you were told, didn't you?" said Hermione kindly.

Kreacher nodded his head, rocking as fast as ever.

"So what happened when you got back?" Harry asked. "What did Regulus have to say when you told him what had happened?"

"Master Regulus was very worried, very worried," croaked Kreacher. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then, later… Master Regulus found Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell… and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord…"

Kreacher told them of how he remembered where the entrance was, how to gain access to the inside of the cavern, and how to raise the small boat. He explained how his beloved Master Regulus sailed them across to the basin of green potion.

"And he made you drink the potion again?" said Harry in disgust.

But Kreacher shook his head and wept. Hermione's hands leapt to her mouth: She seemed to have understood something.

"M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had," said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snout-like nose. "That one," he said, pointing to the fake locket in Harry's hands. "Then he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets…"

Kreacher's sobs came in great rasps now; Harry had to concentrate hard to understand him.

"And he ordered — Kreacher to leave — without him. He told Kreacher — to go home — and never to tell my Mistress — what he had done — but to destroy — the first locket. And he drank — all the potion —and Kreacher swapped the lockets — and watched… as Master Regulus… was dragged beneath the water… and…"

Harry could hear Hermione begin to quietly cry beside him.

Kreacher knelt to the ground, banging his forehead on the floor in self-punishment and shame.

"Stop him — stop him!" Hermione cried. "Oh, don't you see now how sick it is, the way they've got to obey?"

"Kreacher — stop, stop!" shouted Harry.

The elf lay on the floor, panting and shivering, mucus glistening around his snout, a bruise already blooming on his pallid forehead where he had struck himself, his eyes swollen and bloodshot and swimming in tears.

Harry had never seen anything so pitiful.

"So you brought the locket home," he said insistently, for it was important to know the full story. "And you tried to destroy it?" But Harry was certain the locket was not destroyed, not if the basilisk venom hadn't completely destroyed the diary.

"Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it," moaned the elf. "Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work… So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open… Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again.

"Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave…"

Kreacher began to sob so hard that there were no more coherent words.

Tears flowed down Hermione's cheeks as she watched Kreacher.

"Kreacher, I don't understand, if your Master Regulus' mission was to bring down Voldemort, then why did you pass information to him — through Bellatrix? Why did you give up Sirius to him?" Harry knew that he had to treat Kreacher better than he wanted to, but that didn't mean he wasn't still angry at Kreacher for lying to Sirius.

"Harry," said Hermione, wiping her eyes, "Kreacher doesn't think like that. What does he care about the wars of mankind? He's a slave, he doesn't see the bigger picture, and he's used to cruel treatment. You see? He's loyal to the people who are kind to him, like Regulus, and probably Bellatrix who knew how to coax the information from him. Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, you can't deny that."

No he couldn't, but that didn't make him any less angry.

"Harry," persisted Hermione, trying to get him to understand. "You can't blame Kreacher. He's not responsible for how he reacts. He doesn't know any better." Kreacher was still crying in the background, apparently oblivious to them. "He was all alone, probably starving for affection when Sirius came back."

"But he just reminded Sirius of everything he hated about his family. Can't you understand that?"

"Of course, I'm sure it was hard for him. I'm not trying to assign blame here, Harry, I'm just saying to look at it from Kreacher's point of view."

Again, Harry was reminded of how everything boiled down to Voldemort. Snape blamed himself needlessly for the death of Harry's parents, and Harry was trying to pin the blame on Kreacher who only acted as you would expect anyone to react.

"Kreacher," said Harry after a while, "when you feel up to it, please sit up."

It was several minutes before Kreacher hiccuped himself into silence. Then he pushed himself into a sitting position again, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes like a small child.

"We want to finish the work Master Regulus started, we want to… ensure that his death was not in vain."

Kreacher dropped his fists and looked up at Harry.

"I'm trying to accomplish the same thing that Regulus was. I went to the cave, and the other person I was with drank the potion. We found this, but we need the real locket in order to fulfill Regulus' goal. I'm going to try and destroy it, just like Master Regulus would've wanted. You can still accomplish his last orders to you, all you have to do, is give the locket to me. I promise, I will find a way to destroy it."

Hit with a sudden inspiration, Harry took the fake Horcrux in his hand, and held it out to Kreacher. "Here, I want you to have this," he said, pressing the locket into the elf's hand. "This belonged to Regulus, and I'm sure he'd want you to have this, too."

Fat tears began to leak from Kreacher's eyes, who howled and wept. Hermione gave Harry a look of approval.

It took them nearly half an hour to calm down Kreacher, who was so overcome with emotion to be presented with a Black family heirloom for his very own, that he was too weak at the knees to stand properly. Then, when he was finally able to stumble over to the drawer, he handed Harry the real locket, and placed the other within the drawer, closing it shut once again. He then made a low bow Harry, even giving a funny little spasm in Hermione's direction that might have been an attempt at a respectful salute.

Now, Harry was far too bent on working the mysteries of the locket to notice anything else. Weighing it in his hands and feeling the cold metal against his skin he knew, for certain, that this was the real locket. The Horcrux was still in there, now he just needed to find a way to destroy it. But how?

Unsurprisingly, nothing he did changed the locket in the slightest. He couldn't wait until Dumbledore's next visit so that they could get started. He kept the locket with him, he took to wearing it and wouldn't let it out of his sight or else he wouldn't go anywhere without it on his person.

It weighed on his mind all of the time, it was tantalizing to have the Horcrux so close, but to be unable to do anything with it. Eventually, it became more than just frustrating, but made Harry feel desolate as well as angry, much like he had felt for much of his fifth year.

One day, it almost became too much. He and Hermione were discussing the Horcrux again, and Harry found that he wanted no part in the conversation. Hermione tried to hold an optimistic mood, but optimism alone would not help them. She was again trying her rah-rah rally when it was more than Harry could take. "I'm sure that we'll be able to find something. It's definitely possible, we just —"

"Then why don't you find out, Miss Smartest-Witch-in-a-Century!"

Hermione looked stung, but Harry held no sympathy for her. What was she doing? Socializing with a former Death Eater while he labored away, trying to find a way to destroy the Horcrux, that's what. She had no right to spew her cheery nonsense. People were dying, and this was her response?

"Harry, take off the locket," Hermione said suddenly.

"What?"

"You're wearing the Horcrux, aren't you?" said Hermione. "Just take it off."

There she was, being bossy again. Why was it that she thought she could just order him around like some house-elf?

"And why should I do that?" he demanded. So she could take it for herself? He thought not.

"Just do it!"

"Fine!" If it would get her to shut up, then fine. Once he had removed the golden chain from his neck, he felt oddly light, as if a heavy weight and pressure on his chest was suddenly lifted, as if a dark cloud he didn't realize had been there until now had been whisked away. Taken aback, he stared at Hermione in confusion.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said after a momentary pause, not quite realizing what had just happened. He blinked. "Much better."

"You don't think you were possessed, do you?" asked Hermione; the concern was clear in her tone and her expression.

"What? No. Definitely not."

"Hmm. You probably shouldn't wear it anymore, Harry."

"But I don't want to lose it."

"Maybe we could find a way to carry it without you having to wear it."

"Like how?" asked Harry.

"You really can't carry it in your pocket or something?"

"I could lose it that way, what if it slips out of my pocket? I'd rather be miserable than lose the Horcrux."

"Okay, well, maybe we should at least take turns for now. I'll think of something. But while we're here, we should just lock it up somewhere. Don't worry," she said when Harry gave her a dubious look. "I'll put protective charms around it."

"But we're going to the Weasleys' soon." It was the day before the wedding, and they would be spending the night so they could help get things ready. The wedding itself was to take place at the home of Tonks' parents; but the reception would be held at the Burrow. Both would be quiet affairs — close relatives and some members of the Order only — for the law still dictated the prohibition of intermarriage with werewolves.

"Then let me take it," she said holding out her hand. "I'm not going to lose it, Harry," she said with a little more impatience this time as Harry hesitated. But then he handed it over. They had a couple more hours before they had to leave.

Harry was in his room, packing his things with just minutes to go before they left when Hermione came barging in.

"Oh, I don't think I can take this anymore, Harry. It makes me feel terrible!"

He held out a hand, "Here, then let me take it."

"No. It's not good — it's not healthy to be wearing it like that.

"Well, we can't just leave it lying around for someone to pick up!"

Hermione shook her head as if trying to rid of a fly. Then, she took the locket off. "Here," she said, holding it out to Harry. "Hold this for a minute, will you?"

She seemed much less agitated once she gave the Horcrux to Harry. "This is ridiculous, we don't have to wear that thing." She stood for a moment with her hand on her chin and then said, "Here, let me see this." Taking the locket, she placed it inside Harry's pants' pocket.

"But, Hermione, it could easy fall out." He thought that this should be unnecessary to repeat.

"Just wait a second." She then proceeded to take out her wand, muttering some spell and tracing the opening of his pocket with the tip of her wand. Harry looked down and felt the material. The pocket was now sealed. No one would even be able to tell if there was a pocket there. "There, now it won't fall out. But this way, you won't have to wear it. I can show you how to do the spell later."

Harry inspected Hermione's handiwork more closely to ensure that there was no way the locket would escape. "That'll work. Thanks, Hermione."

Hermione smiled. "It's no problem, Harry."

The four of them left. Kreacher was determined to tend to the house while they were gone instead of helping at the Burrow, and so Harry didn't feel so guilty for leaving him behind. Narcissa and Draco were going so that they wouldn't be in the house by themselves — the Order wanted to be close by to keep an eye on them — and they had made the Burrow almost as safe as Grimmauld Place.

The Malfoys, of course, would not be attending the wedding, but otherwise they would be able to get out of Grimmauld Place which was still somewhat oppressing, though it was much improved. Only the Order knew about the Malfoys' situation and would be the only people visiting the Burrow up until the wedding. Harry was sure that Narcissa in particular was must be bored holed up in Grimmauld Place.

Indeed, when it came time to leave, Narcissa seemed fairly glad to be leaving the place for a while. And Harry rather thought that she and Mrs. Weasley had actually become something like friends. Well, maybe 'friends' was a strong word, but they kept each other's company well enough.

Thinking on the history between the two families, it was disorienting for Harry to see the two of them speaking without being at each other's throats. It must change your view on things when you feel isolated and the supposed enemy takes you in when you need it most, he supposed.

They would be traveling by a Portkey that was granted special permission onto the Burrow premises. When they arrived, Harry noticed the Burrow was slightly different. It still looked much the same — it was still crooked and uneven — but not so much that it didn't appear to be able to hold its integrity on its own power; the magical aspect of the building was no longer apparent. Harry supposed that this was to detract attention from any Muggles nearby. It still had the Weasley flair, though, which Harry was glad for.

The outside also held some noticeable differences. Harry had never remembered seeing the place look so tidy. Gone were many of the weeds that usually covered the grassy floor, the bushes had been trimmed, the chickens had been put away, and any gardening paraphernalia was put away in the shed in preparation for the big day.

In the lead of the group, Harry knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a rather disheveled looking Mrs. Weasley. No doubt, she had been very busy getting the Burrow into tip-top shape.

"Hello! How are you all doing?" she greeted them as she gave out hugs.

"Fine. How are things here?" asked Harry.

"Good, but very busy," answered Mrs. Weasley.

"How can we help?"

After doing some last minute cleaning and putting up various decorations, Mrs. Weasley had a wonderful dinner cooked for them all, and tired, they retired for the night. Dinner hadn't been as uncomfortable as with just the four of them, but not as raucous as Weasley dinners usually were. Ron in particular was not as talkative or chipper as he normally was.

Mrs. Weasley informed Harry that he would be staying with Ron again, and Hermione would be with Ginny. Narcissa and Draco were each allowed their own room. Harry supposed that she figured they both needed their privacy.

Dumbledore had stopped by, and when Harry had told him about the Horcrux, the old wizard seemed both delightedly surprised and impressed. It was Harry's turn to be surprised when Dumbledore said that Harry could keep the locket. He said that the diary wouldn't be any different from the locket, and it was best not to hoard the Horcruxes all in one place; but to Harry, it was a sign of ultimate trust from Dumbledore.

But Harry had other matters to trouble him for now. He knocked on the door to Ginny's room nervously, finally about to do what he knew he needed to do ever since he learned about Neville's scuffle with a couple of Death Eaters.

Ginny opened the door and smiled sweetly at him. She was so beautiful. He had to close his eyes before he lost his resolve.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked with concern coloring her voice. She immediately noticed that something was amiss. You couldn't get anything past her, sharp as she was.

He opened his eyes and said the words he had been reciting for days, but he couldn't seem to string them together now that the moment had arrived. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked behind her to make sure that Hermione wasn't in the room.

"Harry?"

"Ginny, I… I can't."

"Can't what, Harry?" she asked, even though her voice sounded frightened now — frightened of what might happen next… that which she had been dreading.

"Ginny… I'm sorry. These past couple months have been amazing — more than amazing… but —"

"Then why are you doing this? I thought — " she was very close to tears and Harry could have sworn that he could actually feel her heart breaking. Or maybe that was his own heart…

"Ginny, it's nothing to do with you… and it's everything to do with you. It's nothing you've done wrong, but… Ginny, you saw what happened to Neville — I can't let that happen to you."

When Harry found out what happened to Neville, it frightened him, more than even Voldemort himself. He was afraid for everyone that he loved and cared about. And if Voldemort did what he did to Neville for showing his support for he, Harry, then there was no telling what the psychopathic murderer might do to Ginny. And Harry didn't want to find out.

"I knew it," said Ginny with a touch of exasperation. "I always knew it would be for some stupid, noble reason."

"I'm not trying to be 'noble,' I'm trying to keep you out of danger."

"I'm not the one who's in danger, Harry!"

"You don't know that!"

"What if I don't care?" said Ginny fiercely.

"Well, I do," Harry said plainly.

"Everyone's in danger, Harry. Voldemort and his cronies will kill anyone. My whole family is full of blood traitors and my brother is your best friend, so there's no difference. I'm already in more danger than most."

"That's not the same and you know it!"

"I knew the dangers before I agreed to go out with you, Harry! Do you think I'm stupid? I don't care!"

"I'm sorry, Ginny, but I have to end this."

"You don't have to do anything, and if you respected me at all, Harry James Potter, you would understand that it's my choice, my decision."

"It's not just your decision. And of course I respect you, Ginny. But I care about you too much to put you in a position where I know Voldemort might come after you. I just can't do that. How do you think it'd make me feel if something happened to you because of me?"

"How do you think everyone else feels when you go and put yourself in danger all of the time? But you don't even think about that do you? No, you go out and try to save the world every time. How do you think I felt when I saw you come out of that maze? Or when you were with Voldemort at the Ministry? So, stop thinking it's all just about you, Harry!"

"I never — ?"

"You always think it has to be you, but it doesn't!"

"Yes, it does," Harry said quietly but firmly.

"Why?" challenged Ginny.

"Because, it does!" He said it with such finality that, even though he had made no mention of the prophecy, Ginny's eyes widened with sudden understanding.

"Harry," she whispered, reaching out to him. He ingrained the image of Ginny into his memory before pulling away.

"I'm sorry. But this is the way it has to be." He left quickly before he could change his mind.

Ginny's face — sad, but beautiful — haunted his dreams that night. He barely slept.

He wasn't the only one…

. *** .

Hermione woke suddenly. She wasn't sure why, but then she heard a thump and loud steps in the hallway. Then what sounded like the thud of a door closing shut came next. She thought it was coming from the room Draco was staying in, which was a couple doors down from her and Ginny's room.

Ginny, being the heavy sleeper she was, had not awoken. She also must have been rather tired because she was fast already asleep by the time Hermione returned to their room.

Still, she got up as quietly as she could and gently opened the door to go out into the hallway.

"Lumos."

She didn't see anything and so walked to Draco's bedroom and timidly knocked on the door. When she didn't hear anything she knocked again. Still nothing.

Quietly, she turned the knob to the door and pushed.

"Draco?"

He was there, sitting on opposing side of the bed and facing away from her. The light was on, and she was sure that he heard her. She padded gently on bare feet towards him. It took her awhile to comprehend the scene before her.

Blood was running down Draco's arm. He was scratching his arm frantically as if he were trying to dig out hallucinatory bugs under his skin. The crimson liquid trickled down his arm and fell like tears onto the mattress, staining the white linens as if in some sacrificial ritual.

"Draco! Draco, stop!"

But he either wouldn't or couldn't listen. Digging still more vigorously into his flesh, more blood pooled in the gashes that he cut in his skin and spilled onto the mattress. Seemingly unaware of any pain to his person, it were as if here were in some sort of trance.

"Stop! Stop it!" she shouted.

When he didn't, she knew she had to physically intervene. "No, don't! Stop it!" she yelled as she tried to pull his hand away from his forearm. Ignoring her pleas, he attempted to shove her hands off and continue his panicked frenzy.

"What are you doing? Stop!" said Hermione, screaming the last word with such intensity, it seemed to tear at her throat and make it raw.

She tried grabbing his hands to prevent him from doing any more damage, but he was stronger than she was. It was like dealing with an injured animal backed into a corner. It was then that she realized it was his left forearm he was scratching. He must be trying to scrape off the mark that was there — the Dark Mark.

Draco was muttering frenetically and Hermione had a hard time discerning anything coherent. "I can't… no… can't… have to — don't want…"

"Draco!" she shouted, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to look at her. He reacted as if he hadn't known she was there until now. Maybe he hadn't in a way.

"Draco, what's wrong?"

His breath sounded shaky and the feverish look on his face still remained. After a few moments, he sputtered, "I… he…"

Oh, no, Hermione thought, what did 'he' do?

Draco was getting himself worked up and then he threw up over the side of his bed.

Concerned, Hermione wasn't sure what to say. But Draco needed help and was losing large quantities of blood at an alarming rate that Hermione wouldn't have thought possible from cuts, albeit large ones, in an arm.

"Help! Someone, help!" she yelled, hoping someone would come to their aid. She knew how to heal him, but his cuts were deep and she didn't want to risk causing any more damage. She started to panic a little bit, too.

Then, Draco looked up at her and began to weep.

What could have happened to make him like this? she thought.

She did her best to console him. She tried her best to comfort him, holding him; it wasn't long before people showed up. Hermione guessed that her earlier protests woke them up long before her pleas for help.

Soon everyone — Narcissa, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Ron and Ginny all appeared at the door.

"Draco?" asked Narcissa. She ran up to her son and when she saw the blood and the deep gashes in Draco's arm she gasped audibly. The crimson liquid stained his fingers.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Hermione asked as gently as she could, using the sheets to staunch some of the bleeding.

This time, his answer sounded mechanical. "I have to get rid of it. I have to get it off."

"Please, tell me what's wrong."

Hermione held his hands to stop him from picking at his tattoo. His ragged breathing continued for a few more moments before he finally calmed down enough to speak. Closing his eyes, he said, "I was at a meeting tonight."

He paused. Draco took in a shaky breath before resuming. "For our meeting spot, we were out in the forest… A girl walked into the middle of the clearing where we were. She can't have been more than five or six…"

Tears began to form around Draco's eyes. "They-they tortured her, like it was good sport — laughing as they did so."

The tears began to creep down his face. "And then…"

Hermione closed her eyes. And then they killed her.

Close to hyperventilating, it was a few moments before Draco could utter intelligible words. "And then… H-he… fed her t-to…"

Hermione gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. So consumed in grief, Draco forgot about his arm for the time being. He could they? thought Hermione. How could someone do something so horrible?

"She was innocent. She was just a girl." Draco shook his head and his tears flew off of his face. "I-I just don't understand… She was still alive when Nagini bit into her…"

Now, Hermione was crying with him. She couldn't even imagine something so heinous.

"The look on her face… I-I couldn't do anything. What was I supposed to do? I should have done something… but I didn't," he cried. "I couldn't even move. I couldn't believe that even they would do something like that. Some of them were still laughing, cheering even… and I didn't do anything."

Hermione felt sick to her stomach. "Draco, it's not your fault," she told him, trying to reassure him. He had probably been paralyzed with shock and fear. Even if he had tried to do something, they would have just ended up killing them both. But Hermione would have felt guilty, too. She knew she would.

"I hate it. I hate it."

Everybody had varying combinations of shock, disgust, and concern written on their faces. Mrs. Weasley held onto Mr. Weasley tight. Ron looked angry and sickened. Harry in particular was deeply affected, having witnessed similar visions himself. Narcissa was inconsolable. She had tried to give her son a good life, and now she couldn't do anything to protect him.

Still, the blood flowed down his arm. If he lost much more it could mean trouble. "Here, let me fix —"

"No."

"Draco, I have to —"

"Just leave it!"

Hermione was prepared to do whatever she had to do to help him. She could do this, she knew she could. After everything he had been through…

"It's just blood, it's just pain," he continued. "It's nothing compared to — compared to…"

Hermione looked him in the eyes. What she saw was a wounded soul. "It's not going to bring her back," she whispered. "This isn't going to make things better. Please, just let me help you."

Draco lowered his head and Hermione took this as a sign of surrender. Gently, she grasped his arm and muttered the incantation, swirling her wand in a complex pattern. She had never performed Healing spells this advanced before, but Draco needed her. Hermione concentrated on her task with more intensity than on any of her schoolwork. She knew she could do it, she just had to.

Once she was finished, the Dark Mark had reappeared. She would have tried to get rid of it if she could, but she knew Dark Magic prevented that. Draco stared down at it in horror, but Hermione covered it with her hand. She knew the sight of it sickened him, but she would show him that she wasn't afraid or disgusted by his touch. He began to cry again; fat, silent tears streaking down his cheeks.

"It's not who you are," she said quietly, but adamantly.

"She is quite right."

They all turned to see Dumbledore standing at the doorway.

"Severus told me what happened as soon as he could," said Dumbledore, walking into the room. "Naturally, I wished to make sure Draco was alright… or rather, as well as he could be given the circumstances. Severus would be here, but he has problems of his own that he must attend to."

Harry looked up sharply at Dumbledore. He knew that, whatever it was, it could not be good. Such was the life of a spy.

"He did, however, present me with a Calming Draught and a Sleeping Potion." Dumbledore handed Draco two vials of potion: one violet, the other a silvery blue. Harry recognized the purple potion as Dreamless Sleep Potion. "He said to be sure and administer the Calming Draught first, then wait at least twenty minutes before consuming the Sleeping Potion."

Draco nodded his head numbly. Hermione remembered the instructions in case Draco didn't process the information.

After watching Draco down the blue potion, Dumbledore quietly suggested that the others assist Narcissa. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley guided her downstairs as Hermione vaguely registered Mrs. Weasley muttering something about tea and perhaps something 'a bit stronger'; Dumbledore followed them down.

Ginny glanced at Harry, then turned to leave and Ron looked at Hermione one last time before following suit. Harry seemed to be teetering on the edge of saying something, but then also turned around and left, leaving Hermione alone with Draco.

With the draught starting to take effect, Draco seemed much more relaxed. Hermione wanted to make sure he remembered to take the other potion in about twenty minutes.

"You can go now, I'm fine."

Hermione was certain that he wasn't fine and it was only the potion that was allowing him to speak as steadily as he was now. But she also didn't want to make him uncomfortable; maybe it was best to leave him alone for a while.

"Don't forget your potion."

"I won't. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Tentatively, she left the room and quietly closed the door.

Once back in her own room, she found herself unable to find sleep. Worry gnawed at her, and she couldn't stop herself from thinking about how Draco was coping…

As soon as Hermione left, Draco lifted the bottle full of purple potion. Setting it back down on the bedside table, he knew that the potion would help him, he just wasn't sure he deserved to fall into a refuge of oblivion.

The effects of the Calming Draught were beginning to fade somewhat; he wanted dearly just to drown his problems away for the moment in that little vial, but his inner struggle — the fierce and raging battle inside of him would not permit him to do so.

And still, his body ached for comfort. Without even knowing it, he fell into a fitful slumber. Soon after, he woke up, sweating and panting. His heart was racing as he took the cool bottle of glass into his fingers, tempted to cave in and consume the potion.

Unable to fall asleep, Hermione decided that her anxiety would not be allayed until she at least checked on Draco. Something just seemed off, and her mind wouldn't let it go. As lithely as she could, she got out of bed.

She wanted to check on him and, after a moment's hesitation, opened the door to the room she and Ginny were sharing. But to her surprise, Draco was there; his hand pulled away from the door as if he had contemplated knocking on her door a few times already — hesitating between leaving and knocking. When she appeared at the door he seemed shy and embarrassed.

"I-I was just…"

"Shh, it's okay," Hermione said softly. She hadn't expected him to be up. Surely the potion would have taken effect by now. "Have you taken your potion?" she asked.

He hesitated, but then slowly shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I… I don't deserve to."

Hermione's heart filled with empathy for the boy she used to consider her enemy; for now all she saw before her was a broken boy.

Grabbing him by the hand, she guided him back to his room. She beckoned him into the room and, without thinking, led him to the bed. This time, when she saw his apprehension, she understood, realizing what she was doing. She was glad for the darkness that he could not see the blush which was surely crawling up her neck and face by now.

She thought about how strange it seemed, even though it had nothing to do with that. She ignored the sentiment and embraced him — he still looked so shaken up. Gradually he returned the embrace. Hermione reached for the still full vial of potion, unstoppered it, and wordlessly handed it to him. Sitting on the bed, he drank the purple liquid before laying down on the bed.

There was moment of acute awkwardness as they tried to settle into their positions. Hermione rested her eyes, but did not fall asleep. She could still hear Draco's uneven breathing as he waited for the potion to work its magic.

He was so tired that he fell asleep without the effects of the potion, but it was restless and, if his movements were any sign, not dreamless either. For the first ten minutes, he woke intermittently, sitting up and gasping for breath, not realizing where he was. Hermione, like his anchor in a great storm, would just say, 'I'm here,' and reach for him, trying to reassure him that he was safe.

Desperate to still Draco's aching soul, she held him close. Eventually, he settled down enough and lay unmoving as the Dreamless Sleep began to overtake him.

Right then, nestled between the hollow of his chest, the action felt oddly natural to Hermione — as if they had done this a hundred times already. Comforted, they were both able to sleep in relative calmness.

. *** .

The next morning when the two awoke, things became uncomfortable in the light of day. Both of them were self-conscious and Draco quietly thanked her for staying and she left for her room to find Ginny awake. Ginny didn't ask Hermione where she had been, and Hermione was grateful that she didn't have to give an explanation; at any rate, she was certain Ginny knew.

Hermione felt bad, because today was supposed to be a happy day, but she knew she'd just worry about Draco the whole time she was at the wedding. The Malfoys, of course, could not be seen at the wedding. It would virtually be announcing their loyalty to the Order.

Before they rest of them left, they still had to help get the Burrow ready for the reception. The reception was restricted to the outside so there was no risk of the Malfoys being discovered.

She hadn't seen Draco since this morning. She didn't want to bother him, but she wondered where he was and how he was doing.

. *** .

Harry was still feeling disheartened over his break up with Ginny, but he knew he had done the right thing. It just didn't feel like it right now. But he supposed what he was feeling was nothing compared to what Malfoy was feeling. Remembering his own nightmarish visions and unwished for insights into Voldemort's soul (or at least part of it), he didn't envy Malfoy. And he had been there in person.

Mrs. Weasley was finishing the big dinner for the reception this evening. She was clearly stressed so everyone was pitching in to help where they could. He walked down to the kitchen to see her bustling around, but he also saw Malfoy. Harry didn't realize he was there until just now. But Mrs. Weasley was too busy to notice Harry arrive and Malfoy had his back to him.

"Can I do anything to help?" he was asking Mrs. Weasley sheepishly.

"Well, you could go and get me the plates from the basement, if you wouldn't mind."

He nodded his blond head and almost turned to go, but stopped short. "I'm sorry."

Still distracted, Mrs. Weasley said offhandedly, "Sorry, what was that, dear?"

"I'm sorry… for the way my family's always treated you… me, too. I mean…" he stuttered.

Now he had her full attention, as she stopped stirring her pot of soup.

"My father was always trying to get your husband fired, and…"

"And trying to give my daughter You-Know-Who's old things?" Her voice was laced with an edge of bitterness.

"What?"

His face must have shown genuine confusion, for Mrs. Weasley's features softened.

"Nothing, dear."

"But you've been good to me, and my mother… I don't know why, but —"

Mrs. Weasley tried to wave it off dismissively. "It's all in the past, now. Don't —"

"You don't understand," interjected Malfoy. "I-I've done terrible things…" His voice was starting to shake. "Everyone's been so nice to me… but I don't deserve it."

"Oh, dear boy…" said Mrs. Weasley as she embraced Malfoy, as she would Harry himself when he needed comfort. That was probably what Harry appreciated most about Mrs. Weasley, she treated those she cared about as she would her own family. "Don't you worry about a thing, now. All is forgiven."

"Thank you… I'm sorry." Harry was barely able to hear Malfoy's voice which was muffled by Mrs. Weasley's shirt, and he thought he could also hear him crying just a little. If Harry hadn't seen it with his own two eyes, he would have never believed it. He felt a morsel of guilt tug at him as he felt he was intruding on the privacy of others.

"Hush, now. You're a good boy; and you have a good heart, I can tell. I'm never wrong about these things," she said with a hint of a smile. "Now, buck up, dearie, and go fetch me those plates!"

"Alright… thanks, again."

"Nonsense. There's no need to thank me, now."

Mrs. Weasley seemed to have done an effective job in cheering up Malfoy a bit. That is, until he turned around and caught sight of Harry and froze like a deer in the headlights. Harry was sure Malfoy was thinking that he might turn the tables and humiliate him.

But Harry wasn't going to do that. It was his opinion that what Malfoy just did took more guts than any of the stunts he pulled during their clashes with one another at school. So, instead, Harry just gave him a subtle nod of the head and Malfoy returned it realizing that Harry wasn't going to take advantage of the situation.

For now, Harry was completely convinced that Hermione was right. Malfoy had changed. His transformation was glaringly obvious. With everything he had been through, it'd be hard not to, thought Harry.

. *** .

"Oh, hi, Harry," said Hermione, walking down the stairs.

"Hi, Hermione. I'm just heading up to dispose of the boggart. Mrs. Weasley says it just keeps coming back."

Hermione laughed. "Good luck with that."

"Oh, I'll need it for sure," smiled Harry, stepping past her.

Hermione smiled, too. Somehow, Harry always had a way of making her feel better without even having to try.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, good morning, dear."

"Have you seen Draco around?" she asked.

"Yes, he just went down to the basement, poor dear."

"I'll be right back to help with the reception."

"There's no hurry. You've already helped a lot. Take all the time you need."

"Alright, thanks."

She wasn't sure what Draco was doing in the basement, but she took Mrs. Weasley's word for it.

She met him as he was coming up, just as she had met Harry.

"Oh, Draco, there you are."

"You've been looking for me?" he asked.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine. I'm just helping to get plates."

"Oh, okay."

There was as short pause, and then Draco said, "You seem to be doing that a lot, lately."

"What?" asked Hermione, confused.

"Worrying."

"Well, of course, I'm worried… I care about you, Draco." It was true. And although it wasn't exactly a major confession — it should be clear from her actions — she could still feel her heart begin to accelerate.

"I know," said Draco so quietly that Hermione had to strain to hear him.

Draco set the stack of plates down in the small alcove next to the stairs. He moved slowly toward her, and Hermione tried to focus on not breathing too loudly as she was beginning to do. His eyes burned with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

When his lips touched hers she felt as if little shocks of energy were running along the surface of contact. At first, his lips gently brushed hers, but steadily he applied more pressure. His lips melded into hers and somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione thought of how perfectly their lips seemed to fit.

His hand snaked its way into her hair and she responded by wrapping her arms around his shoulders and tangling her fingers into the hairs above the base of his neck. Then he gently squeezed her waist which his other hand had found somewhere along the way, making her moan softly. The sound caused Draco to remember himself, and he gently pulled away. Hermione didn't want it to end, but once it was over she realized how out of breath she was.

She thought it might be awkward after their first kiss (finally! thought Hermione), but Draco just smiled at her and she could feel the corners of her mouth lifting upwards, as well.

They stood like that for a moment and then Hermione went to get more plates and follow Draco upstairs. She thought it was strange how they had technically slept in the same bed together before they kissed; and Draco had yet to refer to her by her first name. Normalcy just wasn't their style, she guessed [6].

Now that she was back in control of her cognitive function, she could think more clearly about the kiss. It was certainly not like kissing Ron or Viktor. Viktor was dry and mechanical. Ron was awkward and sloppy and uncertain. Draco knew exactly what he wanted and what he was doing.

Hermione felt a slight twinge of jealousy thinking of the other girls he must have kissed to become so well-practiced, maybe even Pansy… but she was being ridiculous, she told herself. He wasn't with Pansy or any other girl right now and clearly didn't wish to be.

"Alright, what's going on?"

It had been about an hour since Hermione and Draco had kissed, and Hermione was absent-mindedly arranging the flower vases in the yard alongside Ginny.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"I mean, you seem unnaturally cheery today."

Hermione tried to shrug off the question. "I'm just in a good mood, is all."

But Ginny was smarter than that, and Hermione could tell that the red-head wasn't buying it. "And is there any particular reason for your good mood?"

"Come on, Ginny, the wedding is today."

"Hmm. Then I guess I was just imagining the spring in Malfoy's step today, or should I say Draco?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," said Hermione, turning her face away from her friend so her smirk wouldn't be visible.

"You're a terrible liar, Hermione. In fact, I'm a bit insulted you thought you could hide it from me." But Ginny's own smirk belied her accusatory words. "So… how was it?"

"It was… it was…" It was one of those rare occasions when Hermione had trouble putting her thoughts into words.

"That good, huh?"

All Hermione could do was laugh — she felt almost giddy. Ginny laughed, too, but at her friend's antics. For her, it was good to see Hermione a little more carefree and, most of all, happy.

"Don't worry, Ginny. I'm sure Harry's almost as good."

Hermione turned to see Ginny's crestfallen face.

"Oh, no… Ginny, what's wrong?"

"It-it's nothing…"

"Ginny… even I can tell you're lying."

Ginny sighed tiredly. "Harry and I… we're not together anymore. He broke things off."

"What?" gasped Hermione, aghast. She thought things were going so well between them. "But… why?" was all she could say.

"It's about Neville."

Well, that was one of the last things Hermione expected Ginny to say.

"I'm sorry?"

In spite of herself and the situation, Ginny giggled at Hermione's expression, realizing how it must have sounded.

"Sorry, I should have been clearer. I mean, after what happened to Neville, Harry's worried that something similar could happen to me."

"Oh… oh, okay." That made much more sense. For a bizarre split-second, Hermione had thought…

"Harry definitely doesn't fancy Neville or anything," said Ginny, laughing once more. "And neither do I for that matter; not that he isn't a great guy or anything."

"But what has that got to do with anything? We're all at risk! And we know the risks. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to be his friend!"

"I know, that's what I tried to tell him," said Ginny.

"He's being ridiculous. Surely, we can get him to see reason," insisted Hermione.

"No, his mind is set, Hermione. It's done."

"But —"

"I've already accepted it." Ginny's voice carried a finality that Hermione didn't dare challenge.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Ginny said more softly. "I'll be okay."

By lunch time, the other Weasley crew showed up bar Percy. Mrs. Weasley was handing out sandwiches to the twins and Charlie who said, "So, I hear the Malfoys are here?"

"Well, Lucius isn't; but, yes, they are here," replied Mrs. Weasley.

"And how has that gone?"

"Oh, this is just too good," interjected Fred, rubbing his hands together mischievously. "If that nitwit thinks he can go on a power trip like he did last year with Umbridge and not pay the consequences, he's got another thing coming." George smirked. Mrs. Weasley could practically see the cogs working inside the heads of her two most troublesome sons.

"You two leave him alone," she said, pointing her spatula at them, a bit of fried potato went flying and hit Fred smack between his eyes. "Sorry, Fred…" she apologized as George laughed at his twin. "He's been through enough, poor thing."

"Oh, come on, Mum, just a bit of fun?"

"No," she said firmly. "Now, I want to get there a bit early, so hurry up and eat because I also need your help getting things ready here before we leave. The wedding starts at 2:00, so I think we should leave in about an hour."

Soon thereafter, the doorbell rang and Harry rushed to open the door.

"Hi, Harry."

"Hello, Luna."

Harry had wrote Lupin to ask him if Luna would be allowed to come and he was more than happy to accommodate. Pleasantly surprised, he expected her to wear something more eccentric than what she had on. But instead, she wore a light blue dress with large white lily flowers embroidered on it. It was the right mix of unique and beautiful.

Once Mrs. Weasley was satisfied that things were ready for the reception, the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Luna and Fleur all huddled close together to get a finger to the Portkey they were taking to the wedding. Everyone was dressed their best, and while the men all looked nice, they had nothing on the women gathered around the worn, flat football. In contrast to the mass of black of the male division, the women looked like a living rainbow.

Mrs. Weasley was dressed in purple, Luna was in her blue, Fleur elected to wear her favorite silver dress (Harry noticed Ron was making more of an effort to avoid her) — the part veela seemed to float effortlessly and gracefully in her elegant attire — and Hermione was stunning in her dark red dress.

Harry was so used to Hermione, he often forgot how beautiful she really was. Ron was trying (and failing) to avoid looking at her, too. And Harry, for his part, tried to ignore how beautiful Ginny looked in her dress of chartreuse that fell to her knees and suited her form perfectly. Harry couldn't have picked a better dress that practically screamed the idiocy of his decision to end their relationship.

The world spun suddenly and, after a few moments, they lurched to a stop. Harry looked around to see that there were in an opening of a small forest. Hearing the soft trickling of water, he turned to see a creek that ran into the woods. It was scattered with modest, yet attractive decorations such as a large crane carved out of wood.

Harry bent down to examine the ornamental bird more closely.

"That one took me months to finish."

Harry looked up in surprise. "You made this?" he asked Lupin, who had snuck up on them.

"Yeah, a habit I picked up from my father," he explained.

"It's very good."

"Thank you, Harry."

"Well," Lupin said speaking to everyone now. "We're all this way, if you'll follow me."

Various flower patches lined the path to the main area where the wedding ceremony would be held. The path opened out to a larger clearing where about thirty white wooden chairs were spread out. Ribbons were tied across rows to create an aisle where the bride and groom would presumably walk. Harry recognized the color scheme seeing all of the lavender, sky blue and light butter yellow.

So far, only Tonks' mother, Andromeda, was there along with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye Moody.

For the next twenty minutes or so, people were filing in and Andromeda welcomed in everyone, as Lupin and Tonks were doubtless getting ready. Harry recognized everyone that filed in. Lupin hadn't been kidding when he had said the wedding would be small.

He saw Elphias Doge and Dedalus Diggle arrive, shortly followed by Sturgis Podmore, who had finished his sentence in Azkaban. Then Dumbledore, McGonagall and Hagrid all stopped by to say hello. Apparently, Dumbledore would be presiding over the nuptials.

Harry was glad to see Neville and his grandmother appear. Amelia Bones, who had just joined the Order, came in with her niece Susan. Susan's uncle and Amelia's brother, Edgar, along with his wife and children had been killed by Death Eaters.

Just as Harry saw Mundungus Fletcher saunter in, Lupin appeared at his shoulder. "Harry, it's time."

"Oh, alright." Now, Harry became a bit nervous, as he had never been to a wedding. At the hospital, Lupin had assured him that he didn't have to do anything special and he would only be required to stand up front with him, hold the rings, and escort the Matron of Honor out.

But Harry hoped he didn't do something wrong and ruin Lupin's wedding. Hermione said that he should give a speech at the reception, which he had gone over in his head a million times already.

'What should I say?' he asked her.

'Just speak from your heart, Harry,' she told him. 'And you'll be fine.'

He sincerely hoped so because he didn't feel fine at the moment. More like he was going to throw up Mrs. Weasley's breakfast.

Lupin laughed at Harry's obvious discomfort as they walked into the house. "You look more nervous than me."

"Sorry, I've never been to one of these things before."

"Don't worry, I'm sure no one will be paying much attention to you today, even if you are Harry Potter."

"I-I didn't —"

"I'm just giving you a hard time, Harry," Lupin chuckled.

Harry smiled and felt some of his anxiety dissipate.

"I think everyone's here. I invited Severus, but I never really expected him to come."

Harry had to suppress a laugh imagining Snape in anything but his customary black robes. He was certain that if Snape ever did come, he would just wear those anyway.

Harry had outgrown his own dress robes from the Yule Ball, but he needed the right ones for the wedding anyway, which was actually pretty much just like a Muggle suit, vest and tie.

"Oh, I forgot my bowtie." Lupin knocked on one of the doors in the hallway.

Hestia Jones appeared at the doorway. "And just what do you think you're doing? No seeing the bride until the wedding," she teased him.

"I'm just looking for my bowtie, I left it in here," Lupin explained.

"Ha, probably on purpose. But you don't get to peek." She left him at the door (almost now all the way closed) and returned with the bowtie. "She looks gorgeous, by the way. We're almost finished here."

"She always looks gorgeous."

"Yeah, but you haven't seen her like this. Anyways, you'll find out soon enough. Now out!" she chided playfully. Remus didn't need telling twice.

It seemed like no time before Harry was standing behind Lupin while everyone waited on bated breath for the bride's arrival.

She walked through. It was as if the whole world stopped and the only thing that was happening was that moment. Tonks' pixie cut hair, while you could see her natural color (at least Harry thought it was), had a deep burgundy hue which glowed in the sun. Harry was glad that she hadn't decided to go with her trademark bubblegum pink, because she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her.

Her silky white dress flowed over her elegantly — decorative, yet simple at the same time. But the most notable difference was her smile. She looked so inconceivably happy and her smile dazzled as with the brightness and warmth of a thousand suns.

Harry turned to see Lupin who, at first, only looked gobsmacked. Then, when she came to stand before him, his eyes shone bright and he smiled wide. He had never looked younger or more carefree in all the time Harry had known him. The lines of worry were gone and despite having a few more grey hairs over the past couple of years, he didn't appear worn and tired anymore.

Handing each of them their ring, Harry smiled, too. For what else could he do? Their happiness was a contagion that infected the entire gathering.

Dumbledore said his piece, Tonks and Lupin exchanged vows, and after a couple of 'I do's, the pair sealed their promises with a kiss. Everyone cheered for the new couple, and the wedding was over.

Harry joined the Weasleys and they went quickly back to the Burrow to await the guests. When all of the visitors were seated and all of the glasses were full of champagne, Harry knew that it was almost time to give his speech.

Like he expected, everything he had planned to say went out of his head, but he knew he needed to speak from his heart. Andromeda went first, then all eyes went to Harry. He stood up, much more nervous than he was at his first DA meeting.

"I tried to think about what I would say today, but now that I'm here, there are a lot of thoughts running through my head. So, you'll have to excuse me if I make a mess of things."

Some members of the gathering chuckled softly.

"When Remus first asked me to be his best man, I immediately thought of two things. First, I was honored that he'd even consider me to be such a big part of this experience — one of the biggest days of his life. The second thing I thought about… was my father."

Everyone grew still as Harry continued to talk.

"Because, while I lost my father and godfather, Remus also lost two of his best friends. And if we had our way, both of them would be standing up here today instead of me… Both of us has had to deal with an unfair share of loss in our lives — so have most of us here — but Remus has never let it change him for the worse. If anything, his compassion for others grew stronger.

"So, if there's one thing I know about my father, it's that he was lucky to have such good friends. Remus represents that. Not only was he a great teacher inside the class, but outside of it. He showed me how to fight off dementors in my third year, even though he didn't have to; even though most other teachers wouldn't have believed in me enough to try.

"And what he taught me saved my life on many occasions… He cared about all of his students, and he went above and beyond to help me, just as I know he does to help anyone in need. But he also taught me about life, and things that I know have made me a better person." He looked at Remus, whose eyes showed only gratitude for Harry's remarks.

"Remus is one of the best people I know. And when I say that, it isn't because I feel I have to, I say it because it's the truth. And Tonks, who I would call by her first name but I know she hates that…" Here, everyone laughed.

"Tonks is one of the most vivacious and optimistic people I've ever met. She always has a habit of making people feel better when they need it; I know she's done that for me on many occasions. And when I see Remus and Tonks so happy together, I don't think there's anything that they deserve more."

Harry paused to look over at them, and the two of them beamed at him.

"But even on this happy day, I think we all feel a bit bitter inside. We have to celebrate this happy union in secret, like today is something dirty and something to be ashamed of, when the exact opposite is true. I'm reminded today about what it is we fight for… Sometimes, when I'm feeling small or discouraged, I forget… but we fight for moments like these.

"Because if Voldemort has his way, moments like these will cease to exist. But moments like these are what we live for. That's why today, we celebrate life and love, because that's what human beings are supposed to do. As much as I know we all fight every day, I couldn't think of any single act that truly defies Voldemort — and his ideas of hate and prejudice — more than what we're gathered here today for.

"Because only now do I truly understand what someone much wiser than myself once told me: Love, is the most powerful tool we possess." He looked over at Dumbledore who smiled widely. "And so, I thank Remus and Tonks, for being examples to us all…"

He lifted his glass. "To the bride and groom."

"To the bride and groom!" everyone cheered, making a toast to new couple.

Harry sat back down in between his two best friends.

"Wow, mate. Maybe you should've conducted the wedding," suggested Ron, looking impressed.

"So, it went okay, then?" asked Harry.

"That was great, Harry," said Hermione, and to Harry's slight alarm and embarrassment, he saw the moisture that had gathered in her eyes. "It was beautiful."

Harry laughed it off. "Thanks. I'm just relieved it's over now."

. *** .

Draco lay inside his room, resting. Over the orchestral music he could hear the laughter and cheers from outside and the clinking of silverware on china.

The door to his room opened and he stood up, fearing the worst. What if one of the guests wandered up here and saw him here? He would have to use a memory charm if necessary.

However, he discovered that it wasn't an intruder, but Hermione Granger. He couldn't find his breath for a few moments as he studied how beautiful she looked. Draco tried to commit her image to his memory.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, once he regained his ability to speak. "Shouldn't you be down at the party?"

"I'm sure I won't be missed for a few minutes," she said. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Better."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Draco hesitated. "No, not yet."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding. "I brought you some food; I thought you might be hungry." Indeed, in her arms was a cloth napkin full of food. "And Mrs. Weasley wanted to make sure you were eating enough."

"Thank you." Draco still couldn't get over how amazing she looked. He felt obligated to be a gentleman and comment on it. "You look beautiful."

She blushed. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I'm sorry you aren't able to join in the celebrations."

"It's alright. Weddings aren't really my thing." Though he had to admit, he had been rather bored. That is, until now.

"Oh, really?" she asked playfully. She held out a hand to him, "Then, why don't you show me how you dance?"

"I'm from a traditional Pureblood family. You really don't think I can dance?"

"Prove it, then."

Draco smiled and grabbed her hand, placing his other hand on her waist, as he had learned to do as a boy. He remembered the number of formal balls he had to attend, and his father made it clear that it was his responsibility to impress their colleagues to hold up the family image.

Dancing to the distant music that could be heard playing from outside, the two of them became lost in their own world, focusing only on the person in front of them. Moving in slow circles, the distance between them closed and Hermione leaned her head on his chest as he held her close. Draco rested his head upon hers, wishing that he could stretch this moment out indefinitely.

But, alas, it was not to be. "You should rejoin the festivities before anyone notices your absence."

Hermione looked at him. "Yes, I probably should." But she made no move to leave.

Then, they both started at the sound of knocking. It was an owl, rapping the window with his beak. Creasing his brow, Draco went to open the window. In fluttered a small masked owl, clutching a letter by its claws. He opened the letter and read it quickly.

"It's from my father," Draco explained. "I'm supposed to meet him."

"Oh, well, be careful."

"I will, it's only my father."

"You could Floo back to Harry's and walk outside to Disapparate." The Burrow was now protected with an Anti-Disapparition Jinx.

"Yes, I think I'll do that."

The Floo was also protected and needed special permission for the traveler to come through, except for Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place. But the designs assumed that everyone on the inside belonged, so there was no restriction for those Flooing out of the Burrow. Grimmauld Place was similarly protected.

"I'll see you later," said Draco, walking out the door.

"Bye."

Alone in the room, with nothing but the ghost of Draco's presence, Hermione couldn't help but wish he was still here with her.

. *** .

"A dance for me?"

Harry started at the voice and turned around. "Ginny…"

"I'm not trying to get back together or anything, but you're still my friend and… my Mum still thinks we're dating. I wanted to at least wait until after we go back to school and after the wedding to tell her. I didn't want to add to her stress levels," she said, trying to smile, but it ended up looking sad. Nevertheless, she was still the same Ginny, and still as enchanting.

In a way, Harry was grateful for Ginny's discretion; otherwise things might have been awkward for the rest of his stay at the Burrow. "Alright," he conceded, "one dance."

As they twirled around on the dance floor, Harry almost forgot that they were no longer together. But then he would remember and his mood would become somber. Twirling slowly across the perfectly manicured lawn, it was as if Harry could feel Ginny moving farther apart. He was close to her physically, but she was drifting from him. A last dance with his beautiful Ginny… only she wasn't his to be with anymore…

The rest of the reception was full of laughter and merriment, and everyone was exhausted by its end.

The guests left and the Weasley crew, Harry, Hermione and Fleur went inside to find Narcissa rushing about frantically.

"Narcissa, what's wrong?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Draco, have you seen him? I can't find him."

Hermione's heart froze. "He said he had to meet his father. But that was hours ago. You're sure he isn't here?"

Wide-eyed, Narcissa shook her head. "No, I've looked everywhere."

"Well, why don't we all check, just in case," said Mrs. Weasley. While the twins, Ron, Ginny and Fleur went to search, the rest of them immediately began to think of what else to do.

"Do you know where he went, Hermione?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"No. No, he didn't say." Why didn't she think to ask him before? Stupid Hermione!

"Well, surely it won't be too difficult to find him," said Bill. "I mean, how many different places do they meet? Perhaps Snape would know."

Harry could tell he was trying to pacify Narcissa, who was on the verge of tears.

"Yes, we should contact Severus and see if he knows anything," agreed Mr. Weasley.

Bill went to the fireplace and threw in the Floo powder. "Hogwarts!" he shouted as he disappeared in emerald flames.

"Do you know where else he might have gone?" Charlie asked Narcissa.

She shook her head frantically. "No."

The others came back and reported, unsurprisingly, that Draco was nowhere to be found. A few tense moments later, Bill reappeared with Snape by his side.

"What has happened?" Snape asked tersely, stepping out of the fireplace.

"It's Draco," piped up Hermione, "he's gone missing. He had an owl from his father asking to meet, but that was hours ago."

"Exactly how long ago?"

"I don't know, maybe three hours." Hermione wished that Snape would tell her that three hours wasn't unusually long for a meeting, but her heart already knew the answer.

"I was just with the Dark Lord not long ago. I was told that Lucius was already engaged in another mission of his own, tasked directly by the Dark Lord himself."

Now, Narcissa did start to cry, for it seemed that Draco was not with his father. And that meant…

"It must have been a trap," stated Snape. "Why this was done, I am not certain, but I'm sure we will find out soon enough. Other Death Eaters loiter around the Dark Lord's compound, and they often guard their tongues loosely there. I may be able to find out what has happened if I do enough probing around."

"Oh, please," sobbed Narcissa, "would you, Severus?"

"But, of course."

But just as he moved toward the fireplace once more, it burned with green fire. A woman's voice that sounded oddly like the voice in the Ministry elevator spoke. "Permission to admit Draco Malfoy?"

They all looked at each other in disbelief. After a moment, Mr. Weasley spoke. "Permission granted."

Harry wasn't sure what everyone was expecting, but what came out of the flames was a ragged looking Draco Malfoy. Narcissa wept and Hermione sighed in relief.

"Oh, thank goodness," said Mrs. Weasley.

Draco stumbled out of the grate, holding his nose which was bleeding profusely. Narcissa went to envelope her son in a giant hug. "Oh, Draco… my son… what happened to you?"

Stepping out of his mother's grasp, he said, "He knows. He knows everything."

"Knows what?" asked Snape.

"Here, let me fix that," said Mr. Weasley as he sat Draco down on the sofa. "Episkey." Draco's nose realigned itself and stopped bleeding.

"Are you alright, son?" asked Narcissa.

"I'm fine."

"But you lost so much blood!"

Hermione stepped up and pointed her wand at Draco's face. "Scourgify." The blood on his face vanished, leaving no trace of injury. Then she, too, embraced him, not caring what anyone else thought. She had been so frightened for Draco, and it really put things into perspective. She realized the depth with which she cared for him, and was less hesitant about their relationship — whatever that might be.

"Draco," said Snape urgently. "It is important you tell me everything the Dark Lord has learned."

"He knows I've been spying for the Order. He knows about…" he paused and looked at Hermione. No, she thought, how could he know about that? Not even most of the people here knew about that. "He knows where my true loyalties lie," Draco finished instead. "He knows I've turned."

"Anything else?"

"No, not that I'm aware of," he told Snape. "But I'd be careful if I were you."

That really went without saying, Harry thought.

"What happened?" asked Bill.

"I went to meet my father, but instead, it was a couple of Death Eaters — it was the Carrows."

Narcissa gasped.

Harry didn't know who the Carrows were, but they must have quite the reputation for cruelty to elicit such a reaction.

"They bound my hands and were going to take me to the Dark Lord. But they wasted time taunting me and torturing me. It bought me some time to gather myself."

This time, Narcissa let out a whimper, no doubt imaging the horrors her son was subjected to.

"Then, they took me to a small holding cell, and while Amycus went to retrieve the Dark Lord, I seized my opportunity. I took Alecto by surprise by charging her. We both fell. She had her wand out, but she fell onto it and her wand snapped. We struggled for a while, but I was able to grab my own wand from her and cut my bonds. I Stunned her before I ran out of the room."

Everyone stood by the fireplace, captivated by his story; and the eerie glow that illuminated everyone's faces suddenly reminded Hermione of gathering around the campfire to listen to ghost stories at night when she was a child.

"I knew I didn't have enough time to get to the entrance, I was three stories up. There would also be people guarding the door, and I knew that there was an Anti-Disapparition Jinx placed on the building. Then, I heard voices coming up the stairs, so I jumped through the window and Disapparated."

Hermione gasped. "You could've killed yourself!" she said, standing up suddenly.

Draco looked at her in surprise. "If I'd stayed, I would have been killed for sure. Or worse."

"But, you didn't know that the Anti-Disapparition spell didn't extend beyond the building!"

"I was fairly certain; it wasn't a large estate — just a building and no other property, really. His hideouts are always so well guarded; he wouldn't even need to apply the spell past the walls. Given the choices, I took the safest route I could."

"'Fairly certain?' By jumping off a building?"

"I could have slowed myself before hitting the ground if that hadn't worked. I am a wizard after all."

Yes, but still, thought Hermione, he was being much too blasé about jumping from a height of thirty feet or more. But she sat back down next to Draco, feeling a bit calmer now.

"If the Dark Lord knows of your betrayal, then doubtless he is planning on doing to your father the same thing he had planned for you," said Snape. "I will go and look for him."

"Don't bother." Everyone turned to look at Draco. "I don't care what happens to him."

"Draco! How could you say that about your own father?"

"Mother — "

"Nevertheless," overrode Snape, "I will find him and bring him back. We still need to find out how this information has managed to reach the Dark Lord, and it is my hope that your father might be able to shed some light on this matter." Without further ado, Snape swept past the lot of them and, grabbing some Floo powder and throwing it into the grate, vanished and was gone.

"I don't understand," said Draco. "How could anyone have found out?"

"I'll tell you how," Harry said suddenly as everyone turned to look at him. "There's a leak."

Everyone tensed as they considered the implications of what had just occurred. They looked around nervously, almost as if expecting the perpetrator to reveal himself.

Later — when Draco was upstairs and resting from his ordeal — Harry, Hermione and Ron sat in the room that Harry and Ron were sharing. Ron had been oddly quiet the entire time, and seemed to rethink his attitude over the last couple of weeks.

But something far more insidious was on Harry's mind.

"There's a traitor, there must be. That's the only way any of this makes sense."

"But who?" asked Hermione, aghast.

"I don't know. We can't trust anyone, now. They're only a few people I trust completely… It could be anyone."

"It's probably Snape," said Ron. "He's the one who always —"

"No," said Harry firmly. "I trust Snape."

"What?" asked Ron in confusion. "Since when have you trusted him? You're always saying how suspicious you are of him."

"That's all changed, now. I know it's not him. He'd never betray the Order."

"And what makes you so sure?" challenged Ron skeptically. "Something had to have happened for you to change your mind so strongly. What is it?"

Harry hesitated. He hated keeping things from his friends. "Yes, something happened. He told me some things that cleared everything up. You know how everyone's wondered what's made Dumbledore so sure — and that he knew something everyone else didn't?"

"Yeah. And?" pressed Ron. "What is it?"

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that."

"What? But —"

"He made me promise not to tell anyone."

"But we're your best friends!"

"I know you are, but a promise is a promise. Just trust me, Snape's clean. I'm absolutely certain of that."

"Okay," conceded Ron, "so it's not Snape, then… But then, who else do you think it could be?"

"I don't know," admitted Harry. "I know it's not your parents, of course. I trust Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin… but beyond that, I can't say I'm one-hundred percent sure. I hate that, but it's how it has to be now. We can't trust anyone."

"What about Tonks?" said Hermione.

"I doubt it's her, but you know how clumsy she can be."

"Yes, but she's not stupid!"

"I just said I didn't think it was her!" said Harry, growing aggravated. He was on edge. Because there was no question in his mind, that there was a traitor amongst their ranks.

"But what about Kingsley, and Moody?" said Hermione. "Surely, we can trust them?"

In the room, except for the ticking of the great grandfather clock, there was complete silence for a moment or two.

"Would you bet your life on it?"

Ron and Hermione became silent as they contemplated the question.

"We have to be careful," warned Harry. "Beyond Dumbledore and Snape, I wouldn't tell anyone else anything. If there's someone we need to go to, I'd go to them first."

"What's going to happen now?" asked Ron.

It was the question none of them wanted to ask, but the question they were all pondering. The question seemed to linger in the air like some horrid stench. The Order, which used to be one of the only reliable sources Harry had, was now just as fractured and full of suspicion as the outside world. They were just as naked and vulnerable as everyone else now. The protective bubble that had shielded them from the outside and offered refuge from the contrivances of fear had burst into oblivion.

What had begun as a joyous and peaceful day transformed into an oppressing atmosphere of distrust and disorder. No matter how they tried to escape it, the ugly face of war reared its head, and struck back with a fierce vengeance at every turn.

Because only one thing was certain, now; only one thing remained consistent in times like these. Chaos, in the end, ruled the day. A storm was coming. Trouble was on its way. The only question was… how soon would it be here?

***END CHAPTER***

---

Chapter 21:

Everyone must tread carefully now for fear of feeding sensitive details to Voldemort's informant. Severus finds Lucius, the question is what to do with him. And now that Draco and Hermione's budding relationship is beginning to take off, what will he do to try and hinder it? Soon, it's time to return to school and now that Draco's secret is out, how will the student population respond? Unexpected events unfold upon their return; how they deal with their problems will come to define them.

"I have convinced the Dark Lord to spare your life… You owe me, Lucius."

Lucius stared at him for a few seconds before conceding defeat. "Fine. What is it you want me to do?"

Severus knew that this could be potentially dangerous, but he also knew that it could also help the Order immensely.

Footnotes:

[1] I got this line from Mass Effect, a great game. If you're even a casual gamer and haven't played this one, I highly recommend it. It will introduce you to the world of RPGs.

[2] A reference to a show I loved dearly when I was younger. I also hear they might be bringing it back! Do any of you know this one? It's rather vague, but maybe you guys can come up with the answer.

[3] No, I did not get this idea from the sixth movie (I actually hated that part, it was so random).

[4] I know in Britain, a furnace is more commonly referred to as a boiler, but a boiler is a completely different thing than a furnace, so I couldn't bring myself to do it.

[5] House-elves have strong magic. And because Kreacher would protect the Black family heirlooms with his life, I found it hard to believe that Mudungus would have come across it so easily. I mean, I know Kreacher stowed things in his nest, but the locket would have meant so much more to him, because Regulus ordered him to destroy it. There's no way he's letting anyone get their greedy paws on it. Also, I didn't want to copy the series too much. I didn't want to get lazy and do the whole infiltration of the Ministry scene again, as interesting as it was. I think it would have felt contrived in my version of the story.

[6] Another trivia question: Can anyone name what movie this semi-quote is from? Can you, can you? I hope I'm not annoying you guys, but this is really fun for me. ;)

Signing off,
fanster