A/N: I apologize for any canon mistakes this chapter. I have foolishly already packed my Harry Potter books for my move to Texas. Yeah, great, huh?

So that's why Aunt Christine wants YOU to point out any canon mistakes you catch as you read this chapter. Or anything else, for that matter.

Thanks,

Christine (suckr4romance)

Chapter Twenty-One: Magical Theory

Lupin, Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed to the space underneath the boiler that had once served as Kreacher's room. Upon observation, they quickly found the entrance to the room was only wide enough for Ron's broad shoulders to squeeze through the opening.

"You three go ahead; it doesn't seem like I can fit," Lupin instructed. "I'll keep watch with Nymphadora," he added, gesturing in the direction of the drawing room.

Harry thought he heard a soft giggle emit from Hermione as Lupin left. He looked at her quizzically. "Tonks hates when anyone but Remus calls her that, doesn't she?" Hermione said in explanation.

"Okay…" Harry focused on the matter at hand. "Who's going in first?"

"You are," Ron answered. "We'll follow."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the leader," Ron told Harry pointedly, giving him a helpful shove toward the boiler.

The leader… Harry climbed through the opening and was blinded by the darkness surrounding him.

Harry felt Hermione enter behind him. She advanced to the center of the room, crouching beside him. She found a gas lamp sitting on top of Kreacher's ratty old blanket and lit it with her wand. In the light, Harry immediately saw Kreacher's belongings were all over the place, as if someone had searched through everything.

"Oh, dear," she breathed, noticing the collection of Black family heirlooms scattered across the floor. The only items left were pictures in their frames, and one or two pieces of jewelry forgotten in the folds of a wrinkled rug.

"What a dump!" Ron had come in the room. "It looks even worse than when we were here before."

"Someone's been in here," Hermione stated the obvious.

"Three guesses who," Harry glowered, glancing around the floor. The Slytherin locket was nowhere in sight. Bellatrix had to have looked for the Horcrux in there; she knew Kreacher, so she must have known he treasured her family enough to keep some of their possessions to himself.

"Actually," said Hermione curiously, "I'm not so sure she did. I doubt a grown woman could fit in here, since we had trouble coming through. Chances are she doesn't know this place exists."

"But who did it, then?" Harry wanted to know. "Unless Dung came to this room when he was selling off Sirius' stuff—well, my stuff—no one's been here since the Order meetings were going on. At least, I don't think so."

Hermione grasped Harry by the collar and held his face close to hers. "Mundungus? Mundungus Fletcher?" She looked dismayed—and he knew from experience that things were going completely wrong when Hermione was frantic.

Harry tried to break her iron-tight grip on him, as he nodded. "Yeah, we saw him in Hogsmeade, remember?"

Hermione released Harry, and he fell to his bum from the uncomfortable crouching position he was forced to stay in due to the low ceiling in Kreacher's den. "Yes, of course I remember!" Hermione screeched.

"Hermione, cool it!" Ron said. "We've just got to find Dung…"

"…who's in Azkaban at the moment," Harry groaned, tossing a torn-up shoe at the wall. "He just had to take it. It's not here, and Bellatrix didn't find it."

"And I don't think Kreacher would have let such a valuable item go into the rubbish bags, so it's not in a dump somewhere," Hermione pointed out.

"That narrows the choices down considerably, doesn't it?" Ron quipped cynically.

Hermione sighed. "Well, Mundungus wouldn't have let the locket go unnoticed. He's sold it to an associate, most likely."

"Great," Harry muttered. For one shining moment, he had thought that maybe—just maybe—finding this Horcrux wouldn't be so terrible; he had only been kidding himself.

It is not lost.

It was Professor Dumbledore, once again.

You can find it.

"But it could be anywhere!" Harry said aloud, startling Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore didn't respond for a moment.

Trust me.

"Harry, we knew from the beginning it would be difficult," said Hermione wearily. "Even if it's on the other side of the world, we'll go and destroy it."

"Hope we won't have to go that far," Ron commented.

They decided to break the maddening news to Tonks and Lupin, who, they found, were now interviewing Bellatrix and Narcissa. Apparently, the two witches had revived.

"I'll never tell you anything," Bellatrix was swearing. The Death Eater glared at the new arrivals. She and her sister were individually tied in rope bindings on the long sofa, hands behind their backs and feet together.

"I know you won't," Lupin said calmly. "Willingly. So that's why Tonks will be taking you to Auror headquarters for questioning…under Veritaserum, of course."

"Remus," Tonks murmured. "I don't know how to explain the nature of their capture. There are forms I'll need to fill out."

"We'll come up with something," Lupin reassured her. "Harry," he turned to the trio, "did you find it?"

"No," Harry grumbled in reply. "Someone's taken it."

Harry watched as Bellatrix's eyes clouded with a mixture of fury and fear for a split-second. She regained a hold on herself and said coolly, "What are you looking for?"

"We'll be the ones asking the questions from now on, thank you," Lupin stated, pointing his wand at her in a threatening manner.

"Your expression says it all," Bellatrix assured him.

Lupin frowned. "Our business here is none of yours. You're forgetting that Harry is Sirius's sole heir. This house is his, and he doesn't welcome Death Eaters."

Narcissa had not spoken since she had awoken, so everyone started when her quiet, icy voice said in her defense, "I'm not a Death Eater…"

"Your husband is in Azkaban, as your sister once was," Lupin remarked. "Your son is a fugitive. Those are reasons enough to bring you both in, along with the fact that you were breaking and entering."

"I am a member of the Black family," Bellatrix snarled. "I have every right to come and go as I please; my late aunt's home was always open to me whenever I felt like speaking with her, or admiring her priceless possessions." The last two words were said with such malice, Harry could tell Bellatrix was aware of the fact that Light and Dark sides alike were searching for Lord Voldemort's various Horcruxes: which would mean that Voldemort knew what Harry and Dumbledore had been discussing the year before. But how?

If Lupin was fazed, he did not show it. "Dora, let's escort these women to the Ministry of Magic. You go on first; I need to collect their wands from Harry."

Tonks gave Lupin a nod of agreement and took Bellatrix's arm, leading the evil witch outside to Apparate.

Narcissa remained on the sofa, stubbornly silent.

"Harry," Lupin whispered, "you can reach me from—"

"Don't worry, Remus," Harry said confidently. Muffliato! he cast in his mind. The non-verbal spell struck Narcissa Malfoy instantly. "She can't hear us now," he told Lupin.

Lupin regarded Harry inquiringly, but nonetheless said, "All right. Just tell me now."

"There's a good chance the locket hasn't been anywhere Grimmauld Place for at least a year," Hermione explained. "The den has been ransacked…and…"

"And Mundungus Fletcher might have taken it last school year," Harry finished for her.

"Ah," Lupin nodded in understanding. "You met him in Hogsmeade, yes…"

"Dung was selling everything," Ron recounted. "So, we think he might've sold the locket to someone. Anyone," he added, with a note of hysteria in his voice.

Lupin sighed. "That's going to be some piece of work," he warned them. "You know as well as I that he's locked up in Azkaban right now… We'd have to arrange an audience with him at the Ministry—a sticky business indeed."

Harry turned to Ron. "What about Percy? Could he arrange—?"

"Yeah, I reckon he could," Ron answered quickly. "I can owl him today," he offered.

"Very well," Lupin consented. "I'll leave that business to you, but you know you can contact me if need be."

They all said their good-byes, and Lupin ushered a mostly-deaf Narcissa to Grimmauld Place's front door.

Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse, merely kills the body. It does nothing to the soul of the victim—does not remove it from the cadaver. The question of what happens to a soul after its shell ceases functioning cannot be answered by pure fact. "The truth to life after death lies in one's own heart," the Wizard Anonymous once wrote in his journal. "Most turn to religion for answers. The eastern world believes in reincarnation; the western world claims all souls are judged and sorted into either Heaven or Hell."

The Wizard Anonymous, c. 1350, made the largest advances in magical theory of his time. A Catholic monk was he—an interesting quality for a member of the magical community. His knowledge of the Latin language aided him in his area of study. He would often pair different Latin words in various combinations to occupy his free time. Through his spellwork, Anonymous stumbled upon what many witches and wizards have studied ages since: soul removal.

However, the occurrence succeeding the experiments of Anonymous is not described in his records. His papers, which were discovered a century later during the Muggle Renaissance, give no recollection of his last experimentation's outcome. He writes in his final journal entry that he finally "found the incantation to use. There's not much time left for me…I have only time for one last attempt. 'Amovo Animam!' are the words. Cum Deus."

Anonymous never revealed his own name, in all of his work. It can be inferred he did not wish anyone to know his true identity—wizard or not. The magical public wonders still to this day: who was this man? Where did he go? Did his labors prove futile, or fruitful? The answers to those questions are not completely clear, but one can always speculate. The Wizard Anonymous was never found, nor was his corpse buried at his monastery…

Many days following the failed attempt at finding the locket Horcrux, Hermione was again researching for spells and techniques that could aid the trio in the war. Harry and Ron were off in the corner of the Secret Room, so as not to disturb Hermione. The boys were playing a game of chess, and for what seemed like—and might actually have been—the thousandth time, Harry was losing miserably to his best friend.

"Check," Ron said for the third time. In the previous two instances, Harry had been able to block Ron's attacks, losing a castle and his queen in the process. He looked around the board, seeing nothing that could possibly keep Ron from winning.

Harry feebly sent a pawn closer to his king and scratched his scalp in aggravation.

"Checkmate." Ron's bishop moved to crush Harry's king. Harry moaned, beating his head repeatedly on the table in front of him.

"I think you'll need those brain cells in the long run," Ron pointed out, picking up the discarded chess pieces and dropping them into a velvet sack.

"I'll never be able to beat Ron, Hermione," Harry complained.

Hermione did not glance up from her book (Magical Theorists of the Millennium by Formica Weldon). "Well, you'll never know unless you keep trying," she told him absently.

Harry looked to Ron. "What now?"

"I dunno," Ron shrugged. "How about reading a nice book?"

"Any suggestions?"

"Fifi Lafolle's To Catch a Wizard."

Harry laughed aloud. "Sounds like something Lavender would read."

Hermione frowned over her book. "Sore subject, Harry," Ron reminded him.

Hermione gasped from the corner.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry apologized.

"I forgive you—and that's not why I gasped. You two have to see this." Hermione pointed at her book.

"Few wizards have actually experimented in the removal of a soul from the body—a very nasty business indeed. For those few adventurous magical folk, the result has been death.

"Most notably among this century's discoveries was Wanda Lovegood of Great Britain. She alone revived the works of the Wizard Anonymous. On the verge of a major breakthrough, her spell went terribly wrong. Instead of removing the soul of the toad in front of her, her wand backfired. The spell removed her soul, which rose into the sky. Her body crumpled to the ground, a shell of her former self. The effects of the soul removal were similar to that of a Dementor's Kiss—as the Kiss is essentially the removal of a soul…"

Harry and Ron were dumbfounded. "Luna's mother?" Harry hardly believed it.

"It makes sense…" Hermione prompted.

"Yes," Harry agreed, nodding. "Perfect sense. I just never would have thought…"

"Well," Ron said, "you know Luna. She believes in so many things."

"She basically witnessed her mother's soul pass on to the afterlife!" Harry exclaimed. The veil, and everything…it all clicked.

Hermione looked doubtful. "I suppose…" she trailed off, noticing something farther down the table. "The mirror's glowing."

Harry was the closest, so he picked it up. "Hi, Mrs. Weasley."

She smiled back at him. "Hello, Harry. How are you?"

"Fine—we're all fine. Making progress." He didn't know what else to say.

"Lovely," she said. "Harry, dear, would you mind passing me on to Ron? I have something I'd like to discuss with him."

Ron's eyebrows raised, and he took the mirror from Harry's proffered hand. "'Lo, Mum." He walked over to the other side of the room for a little privacy.

"So…" Harry started a conversation with Hermione. "How goes the research?"

"It's going well, but not nearly as great as I'd like," Hermione admitted. "But I guess that's how it's going to be…sometimes we'll be given the answers, and most of the time we'll have no such luck."

Harry laughed. Hermione's words were very true for their current situation.

"What else have you—?" Harry began to ask. He was interrupted by a yell from Ron's area of the room.

"What do you MEAN you weren't planning on it?" Mrs. Weasley howled.

"We just—I don't know if we have time to—" Ron's attempts at silencing his mother were weak, and needless to say, didn't work.

"You don't have enough time to wish your own sister a good school year, and see her off on the train?" Mrs. Weasley verbally trapped him.

"Mum!" came another voice from the mirror. "If Ron can't come, I don't care! I know they're busy—"

"Oh, hush, Ginny. They can, and WILL, spare the time." Harry could just picture the death-glare Mrs. Weasley was shooting at Ron in his mind.

Ron looked toward Harry and Hermione, who gave him consent. "We'll be there."

"See you tomorrow," Mrs. Weasley said with a note of finality.