Mastermind Hunting

by Louis IX

This is a story of the life of Harry Potter. From his disappearance with his friendly relatives to Dumbledore chasing after him around the world, while Voldemort and muggle secret services loom in the background. Technology, Prophecies... one word: power.

38. Hotel California

MASTERMIND HUNTING, by Louis IX
Check first chapter for summary, disclaimer, and other warnings. Additionally, I don't own any song from The Eagles.

Chapter 38 – Hotel California
posted June 24th, 2006

Albus Dumbledore watched the people leaving his office and sighed again, turning to the pile of mail. Using his wand with charms he had designed a long time ago, he quickly sorted the lone pile into several others, according to his qualification as addressee: Headmaster, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, or personal – and a fifth stack for Order-related business. These piles were also separated following the sender's closeness to him – and, if they were complete strangers, their known occupation. The result was a grid where he could select the kind of letters he wanted to answer before others. Generally, the "Chief Warlock / from Ministry personnel" grid cell was the largest, right next to "Headmaster / from students, parents, or alumni". And today wasn't different.

The old man looked at the largest pile with a wary eye, before turning to the "personal" stack of letters. That one stack was always smaller than the others, and often made an interesting pause in the ordinary occupation of sifting through the various requests the Ministry was throwing onto him each day.

The previous events still fresh in his mind, Dumbledore downed a Pepper-Up potion and took care of his mail. And it was with a particular set of mind that he opened the twenty-third letter from Ministry employees. Like the others, this one requested something from the Chief Warlock: his presence was required to witness the destruction of an evil artefact, that had been found by Unspeakables after a chase of several years. Signed: the Department of Mysteries and the Department of Records.

The words tumbled in his head, and he quickly jumped on his feet, pacing furiously. Artefacts… Chase… Destruction…

Horcruxes.

He stopped pacing mid-step. The sun was barely there, but Albus Dumbledore was a man with a mission, now. He went to his personal study and fished Tom Riddle's diary from its storage. Even with the thing closed, the Headmaster's peripheral Legilimency could pick the darkness stored in its pages.

That was one Horcrux. An item.

Harry was another. In the Dark Lord's plan, it should have been the masterpiece, being both alive and not.

Since Voldemort had supposedly split his soul in seven parts, one of them being himself, he had to find four more, two of them items and two of them living creatures.

And, if his idea about Riddle's grandiosity was correct, there should be things having belonged to the Founders.

He frowned.

"Things" from the Founders? His eyes travelled to the ever-present Sorting Hat on his office's shelves, and the jewelled sword next to it.

Suddenly, a particular memory came to the forefront of his mind: some time after graduating, Tom Riddle had applied for the Defence professorship, and Dumbledore had refused. Riddle's motive was clearer, now. Much clearer. The Dark Lord-in-making had wanted those items!

Dumbledore shuddered, the thoughts of a Voldemort-controlled Sorting Hat not being pleasant ones.

"Yes," a voice came from the shelves, "I wouldn't have liked it either."

The old man looked up and noticed the Hat "looking" at him shrewdly. "My instinct tells me that you have more to say." he told the tattered garment.

"…and your instincts are generally trustworthy." the Hat supplied. "Gryffindors have always followed their instincts, where Ravenclaws follow the written word, Slytherins follow the strongest, and Hufflepuffs follow their friends."

A pause.

"Interesting metaphor." Dumbledore commented.

"Thank you." Another pause. "You have too many memories, Albus. Dealing with them by storing them away is an interesting manner, but it leads to forgetfulness."

"What do you mean?"

But the Hat was now silent again. It knew its message was going to bear fruit.

And it was true. Not five minutes later, Dumbledore had forgotten the remaining letters in his stacks and cleared his desk to make place for some of his pensieves. As soon as they were settled, he plunged in, and that was the last that was seen of Dumbledore until lunch.

---

Later…

"Albus! My friend!" the man exclaimed genially upon seeing the Headmaster entering his office. His eyes narrowed, though, when he noticed Dumbledore's dishevelled state. "What is it?"

"I need some information, Theo. But, first… what do you know about Horcruxes?"

The other man's gasp was enough to reveal the extent of his knowledge. To his credit, Paracelsus immediately crossed the knowledge with other factors and inferred a conclusion. "You think that Voldemort did… that?"

Dumbledore acquiesced. "We are quite sure, now. And I happen to have one of them here." he said, patting his pocket. "An idea about how to destroy it?"

The Head Unspeakable was gaping at his friend. "More than one?" he breathed, before his analytical mind kicked in again. "That's unheard of. How many? And how did you come across one?"

"The one I have is an old diary of his, and I know about another one that had been… deactivated, somehow. How many? I have been said that his plan was to split it in seven parts, mixing living and non-living recipients. I believe that he wants to complete his collections with priceless artefacts, so that we would have second thoughts about destroying them. Things like the Founders' paraphernalia. Are there records about them?"

"Hmmm… You'll have to ask the Department of Records. I don't think we have this in our Department. It's a good thing you were required to witness an artefact destruction, then."

"Speaking about destruction…"

"Yes. The Horcruxes. You know, it's strange to speak that word in the plural form…" The man realized that he was starting to ramble and paused before shaking his head. "Sorry, but no standardized procedure had been found to do that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that each Horcrux might have its own way of deactivation. True, for artefacts, it's often destruction. But it could be exorcism, for all we know."

The two wizards fell into a thoughtful silence for a while. Some time later, Dumbledore took his leave of his friend to take care of his business with the other Departments. Since he met the Head of the Department of Records afterwards, he asked his questions about the possible tracking of the Founder's legacy. Given the sheer difficulty of such a job, he didn't expect anything, but, to his surprise, it appeared that the Department of Records had started its very existence by inventorying said legacy.

He had to give an Oath of non-divulgation about what he was going to discover, but he also knew that the wording of the Oath wouldn't prevent the sharing of memories through Harry's particular Legilimency. After entering a specially warded room, he was given four sheets of parchment with many lines crossed out. It appeared that the removed lines were about items permanently lost. Only a few of them were still around.

Godric Gryffindor:
- Hogwarts: sword, Sorting Hat – both there by Founders' will
- Potter Family Gringotts Vault: shield, signet ring – family heirloom since 1382
- Leonardo Wright (Maine, USA): armour – acquired through auction in 1971

Helga Hufflepuff:
- Augusta Longbottom: staff – family heirloom since 1249

Rowena Ravenclaw:
- Hogwarts Library: books – by Founders' will
- Blake Lenoir: ring – gift, 1994

Salazar Slytherin:
- Pascal Zabini: dagger – family heirloom since 1530

Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed warily, before looking at the parchments again. Squinting, he was able to make words out of the crossed lines, and he also noticed that each of these lines had an uncrossed date on its right. Suspecting that it referred to when the item ceased to be tracked by the Department of Records, he peered over the crossed text even more closely. After a long time, he finished with the last parchment and, closing his eyes again, he summed up his findings.

His two findings among hundreds of crossed lines. The two only lines with dates between 1945 and 1981.

Apparently, a woman named Hepzibah Smith possessed a cup from Hufflepuff and a locket from Slytherin before the Ministry tracking charms were unravelled. Dumbledore could have an impressive mind, he didn't remember about that particular woman. However, he took advantage of his presence in the Department of Records to ask for information about her.

And he found something really interesting: she had been an old and rich woman collecting valuable items from everywhere, and had found her demise at the hands of her own house-elf.

Now, that was something unexpected. House-elves rarely rebelled, and, even though, their subservient nature could only force them to commit suicide rather than acting against their owners' wishes, especially with violence. Frowning, the old man wondered why the Ministry had convicted the diminutive creature.

Convicted…

Dumbledore re-read the old Daily Prophet excerpt he had been given and a tentative smile reached his lips. Hokey the house-elf had been imprisoned in Azkaban. Not that it was a funny thing at all, but it gave him a small chance to investigate deeper. Thanking the employees around him, he left for the Department of Law Enforcement.

It took him some time and a carefully crafted story, but he eventually got the permission to visit the wizarding prison without having to explain his true motives.

And, several hours afterwards, Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts, his head pounding. His Legilimency powers had been strained to their limit to extract and reconstruct the story from the house-elf's catatonic mind. With the added bonus of the mental image of a younger Tom Riddle explaining his plan to a bleeding Hepzibah Smith. Dumbledore had some kind of proof, now, that Voldemort had wanted to use the two items as Horcruxes. He started to cast several standard detection spells to get their whereabouts, and even a few complicated ones, but nothing came out of that, and he guessed that Voldemort must have protected them somehow.

On a whim, Dumbledore went to his fireplace and took some powder. The memories of the imprisoned house-elf had been muddy, but he had distinctly seen something of a link between the locket and someone called Caractacus Burke. The well-known co-owner of Borgin and Burkes. And he wanted to ask the small man about it. Through Legilimency if needed. In that latter case, though, he needed someone to play interference. He first called Alastor Moody, and, upon ensuring the old Auror's services, he left towards Diagon Alley.

Once again, it took the old man several hours to get things done and he returned to Hogwarts exhausted. The information had been interesting, if not exactly useful. Apparently, Mr Burke had gotten the locket from a woman named Merope Riddle – he had asked for her name – and, given that she had been a witch, there was a strong chance that she was a relative to Voldemort. The shop owner had given her a mere ten Galleons for the Founder's heirloom, but she hadn't objected and had disappeared, never to return. Fifteen years later, he had sold it to Mrs Smith.

Resolving to send Harry his findings, the Headmaster went to his study and fetched an empty pensieve from a cupboard, before duplicating his most recent memories into the stone basin. Once done, he emptied the swirling liquid into a flask and sent it with Fawkes.

His favourite instant messenger bird gone, the old Headmaster went to bed. He was asleep mere seconds after touching his pillow.

---

The next morning, Albus Dumbledore Apparated to the Ministry as soon as it was physically possible, and headed to the Department of Records again. When Tom Riddle had been a student in Hogwarts, he had been an orphan – and he had been sent to the orphanage for the summer, year after year – and Albus Dumbledore hadn't checked his family ties as thoroughly as he could have. After all, there was a war brewing with Dark forces on the Continent, and that war had eventually culminated with his epic duel with Grindelwald.

Now that he had some leads and the incentive to do so, he poured over old tomes and finally found one reference to Merope Riddle. And his heart rate increased.

He had long since known about Tom Riddle's delusions of grandeur. He had long since known that the self-appointed Dark Lord Voldemort thought himself Heir of Salazar Slytherin.

He had now the proof that it hadn't been a youngster's delusion.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was the son of Thomas Riddle, a muggle, and Merope Gaunt, a witch. A witch whose family tree had a well-known wizard at its head: Salazar Slytherin.

After several seconds to absorb the shock, Dumbledore asked and obtained the last known addresses for the couple and the Gaunt family members: Little Hangleton.

After committing this information to his memory, the old man continued his memory trip and, after transfiguring his clothes appropriately, he Apparated in what should have been a familiar neighbourhood. He had only been there once, though, and it wasn't familiar anymore. Not only the houses around had changed, but the orphanage where Tom Riddle had spent his early years was now a burnt ruin reeking of Dark Magic.

Dumbledore knocked at the doors of nearby houses, only to find them either empty or taken over by beggars or other ill-fated groups of individuals. Apparently, the dark aura around the charred remains of the orphanage had pushed the previous owners out.

Knowing a bit about how the Muggles functioned, the old man went to the nearest pub and, exuding his usual charm, he extracted the story of how the building took fire and burned down… with the people in it. Dumbledore shuddered at the evilness of the crime itself, and he asked if there were survivors, a question at which several people shifted uncomfortably. On top of not having survivors from the hideous event itself, the story was that each and every official not working at the orphanage at that precise moment had been found dead soon afterwards, expressions of terror on their faces.

One of the Muggles in the pub had been throwing anxious glances his way, though, while staying oddly quiet when compared to the pub's usual atmosphere. Dumbledore's senses picked the man's worry easily, and he thanked the men around him, sending forgetfulness waves so that the Muggles wouldn't remember what he asked them. Albus Dumbledore, after all, was the most powerful wizard acknowledged as such, and mere Muggles had no protection against his mental powers and wandless magic.

Ryan Mac Adam was in his sixties, but seemed much older. Noticing the wizened man approaching, he tried to stand, but the old man's mental powers were now focused on him, and he stopped mid-move. After using a wandless notice-me-not spell on himself and a calming charm on the man, Dumbledore was able to get his wand out to sift through the man's memories – he was powerful, sure, but intensive Legilimency required that he used the wand.

The old Headmaster hated doing what he was doing. He disliked forcing peoples' hand. But he had long since put his scruples in his pocket about that. Ever since he started fighting Grindelwald, he had done so with reluctance. He realized that that reluctance might have been a stepping stone for Voldemort, and he did what he had to do, now, to get rid of that particular menace.

Now calmer and oblivious to the wizard sitting in front of him, the man was drinking his fifth beer silently. Dumbledore entered his mind and spent some time there, sorting memories. It was quickly done.

The man was living in fear – it was the cause for his white hair and drinking habits – and that fear could be traced back to his childhood. He was an orphan, and, like Riddle, he had spent a part of his childhood in the local orphanage. Exploring deeper, Dumbledore found out that Mac Adam had been one of Riddle's regular scapegoats, the acts of retribution worsening after Riddle entered Hogwarts. In one particular occasion, Riddle even left him in a cave near the sea, with no mean to leave. The boy had been terrorized, but he had jumped into the sea below, breaking a few bones in the process. He had had the luck of being caught by local fishermen who had seen him jump, and he had been taken charge of in another orphanage not far from said cave.

That was why he hadn't died with the others.

When he had learnt that his first orphanage had burned in an "unholy fire", he had immediately known that it was Riddle, but a primal fear had prevented him from denunciating him, and he had continued to live in fear of the bullying wizard.

A shaken Dumbledore extracted himself from the man's mind and contemplated doing something for him. Mac Adam had imbibed two more beers while his mind was being scanned, though, and wasn't in the process of listening to anyone.

Sighing, Dumbledore took a last glance around before Apparating away, his still-active Notice-me-not Charm ensuring he could do so despite the Muggles around him.

Back at Hogwarts, he had the pleasant surprise of finding Fawkes there, alongside with Harry and Tracey. After welcoming the three of them and conjuring some tea, the Headmaster shared his memories about his recent discoveries. They then proceeded to brainstorm about it.

"That's quite strange." Harry started. "Didn't he want to have a mix of living and un-living Horcruxes? And something from each of the four Founders? With your reasoning, he'll need two more Horcruxes, both living, and belonging to either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. That makes no sense."

"I found something from Ravenclaw in the Department of Records." Dumbledore reminisced suddenly. "It's a ring from Ravenclaw. I didn't include it straight away, but I have to be sure that that Blake Lenoir isn't a Death Eater."

Harry and Tracey smiled at each other and Dumbledore felt genuine amusement. "Don't fear about him or his ring." Tracey said. "We know him quite well."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked, in its "What do you mean?" significance.

"Let's say that he's a childhood friend of mine." Harry provided. "I… met him long before entering Hogwarts."

Dumbledore felt that there was more to know, but that was enough for him for the moment. "So, if Ravenclaw's ring is out of the equation, it means that we have to find two living creatures belonging to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."

Tracey's eyes lit up and she looked at Harry intently. "Remember when we spoke with the Goblins about my family? They said that I belonged to the Prince family." She turned to Dumbledore. "Is it how pureblood families refer to their own? They belong?"

The man was holding his chin in thoughts. "Yes." he eventually replied. "It may be that he searched for the heir for Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Or merely a descendant: the Heirs are tricky business, especially regarding the Founders."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"To be an heir of a family, one has to be the most prominent member of said family, or magically adopted into it. You can imagine that, the more spread out a family is, the more people it eventually contains, with no control about who marries who or who adopts who. And there's practically no mean to know who can be the heir of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. A descendent, though… only a small Blood Ritual is necessary."

The three of them fell in a comfortable silence, only interrupted when Harry coughed. "Can you do it for me, sir?"

Tracey gasped. "You think…"

"It's entirely possible." Dumbledore continued the unvoiced theory. "If you are from either line, it would have made you even more important to Voldemort's eyes, and you would have played the role of a Founder's "belonging" on top of everything. Young Neville might have been a possible target, especially with his Hufflepuff blood, but I now know that Voldemort already had something from that particular Founder."

"Neville is a descendent of Hufflepuff?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Ah, I forgot to tell you that." Dumbledore smiled, but his eyes had a faraway look proper to reminiscing. "It appears that Augusta Longbottom, his grandmother, inherited Hufflepuff's staff – which is, incidentally, a powerful item for Healing spells. Since it's a heritage, it might be that they are of Hufflepuff blood." A pause. "And, since Gryffindor's signet ring is in your family vault, you might be of Gryffindor blood, too." the Headmaster finished, looking straight at Harry.

Another pause.

"That's good for Neville. And for you, too." Tracey commented, glancing at Harry, before returning to the problem at hand. "We know of some places of importance to Voldemort and of some items as well."

"We ought to make a concerted strike." Dumbledore added. "If Riddle has some common sense, he'd have warded the places and he'd know immediately should one Horcrux be taken away. A combined action will prevent more warding on the places we already know of. We also ought to destroy them as quickly as possible."

"Is the Order ready for such a mission?" Harry asked.

"Quite, yes." Dumbledore nodded. "Some of them have jobs I can't interrupt, but others are free. Can you give me a few moments?"

Harry acquiesced and, not bothering to stand up, he Apparated out. He and Tracey had been holding hands the whole time, and she went with him.

"Where to?" she asked.

At the same moment, his phoenix ring tingled and he smiled. "Albus just set the meeting at noon. We have an hour."

She grinned. "Let's go home."

And they went. There, they spent the hour discussing their own situation and feelings. Were they in love or was it the newness of their teenage attraction? Whatever the case, they were mature enough not to push their relationship to the next step. Speaking about it led them to share a few kisses, though, and it was with a start that Harry felt the Phoenix ring tingle, announcing that the Order meeting was starting.

As most of the Order members didn't know who Henry Evans was, Tracey couldn't join the Order as Harry's girlfriend or anything. Harry didn't want her to feel "left at home", though, and he suggested that she joined the Weasleys for the meeting's duration. He'd join her there afterwards. After a last kiss, the two of them Apparated away, leaving towards their destination.

When Harry arrived in Hogwarts, Cassie warned him of the people in the Headmaster's office so that he wouldn't conspicuously Apparate in there. Harry went beyond the office door and, after changing his looks in the privacy of the gaseous reality, he appeared and knocked.

"Enter." came the Headmaster's voice, and Harry complied, noticing the people there. And his Marauder friends. Sirius opened his mouth to say something but Dumbledore beat him to it.

"Welcome, Henry. Since you're the last of our little group, it's time I explain what is our objective today."

And Dumbledore planned, made groups, listened to propositions, and showed them maps of the locations and pictures of the items.

When Sirius browsed the items, though, he gasped and stood so fast that his chair fell backwards. "Albus!" he exclaimed. "That… thing." he said, pointing at one particular article.

"Yes, Sirius?" the older man answered. "What about it?"

"It's in my house!"

It was Slytherin's locket.

It was an easy task to recover the locket from his storage place in the basement of Sirius' house. When Sirius had cleaned the house, all dark artefacts had been destroyed or given to Moody for safekeeping. The locket hadn't given the slight indication of being dark or whatever, and had been stored with the other non-magical Black paraphernalia: in the basement.

"It doesn't seem to be magical." Dumbledore said a while later, sheathing his wand and wearing a confused frown. "But it isn't some transfigured item either. It is Slytherin's locket, which makes me wonder… why was he in your house, and why isn't it a Hor- what we think it is." he amended, realizing belatedly that not all Order members knew about Horcruxes either.

"Besides us and the Order, who has access to your house, Sirius?" Remus asked.

"Nobody." the addressed man replied. "I didn't include anyone else in the wards. Besides, the locket was there before I… returned."

"Were there wards around it before?" Harry asked.

Sirius nodded. "Only those of Black blood could enter or bring people."

"That means that a Black took this locket and hid it there." Dumbledore concluded sagely. "Either before Voldemort decided to use it or afterwards, after… dispelling it."

"Given the time frame, that gives us the Black sisters." Moody growled.

"Don't forget my brother." Sirius said in a quiet voice. "Regulus had been a Slytherin, but it's largely possible that he got killed by Voldemort rather than Aurors."

"Sirius…" Remus said gently. "That's wishful thinking, and you know it."

"Perhaps." the Animagus said, shrugging but turning away.

An uneasy silence ensued, with Sirius reminiscing about his long-lost brother.

"As much as it pains me to do so, we have to get moving, people." Dumbledore said, and the Order members straightened up.

One team was going to investigate the Riddles' last address in Little Hangleton. Harry jumped at the town name and silently warned Dumbledore about Voldemort's hideout there. The Headmaster nodded and selected himself to head that particular party.

Another team was going to investigate the orphanage ruins, in case something of interest was buried there. Alastor Moody was heading that one, the old Auror being knowledgeable in Dark Arts and how to dispel them.

Harry was dispatched with Remus and Sirius to investigate the hidden cave Dumbledore had seen in Ryan Mac Adam's mind. Harry also told Dumbledore that he'd cast a glance at Malfoy Manor and at the ruins of the Egyptian temple to see if anything could be found there too.

Mac Adam's memories of the cave's surroundings firmly set in his mind, Harry Apparated out with his two friends. After flying in the gaseous reality for a while, they found the small cave overlooking the sea. Nothing unusual was present and the three of them were ready to go to their next destination when Remus stopped them.

"Do you think there's something hidden?" he asked, his nose twitching.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

"I smell… death." the ex-werewolf said.

The three of them started to cast detection spells and eventually found that one of the rough walls could be moved. Pushing it out of the way, they found a dark room they quickly lit with their wands. It was a huge room with a pitch-black lake in it. In its middle was a raised platform with a stone basin on it, and a raft was tied to the platform they were on.

"Moony?" Sirius asked. "Where does the smell come from?"

The wolf Animagus sniffed the air and looked down. "The… water."

And, now that they inspected it closely, they saw whitish shapes floating under the surface. To their utter disgust, they noticed that most of them were human.

"The raft is not safe." Harry said. After blinking out of existence a couple of times, he added "And Apparation doesn't work. I'll fly."

And he Levitated and used the round ceiling to get atop the platform before going down. Once next to the basin, he noticed that it held the same black liquid the lake was made of. Casting detection spells on the basin itself, he noticed that there were Dark and destructive wards around it, and he didn't dare grasping it without taking precautions beforehand. Unfortunately, no dispelling charm worked and he sat cross-legged in mid-air, thinking hard about the situation.

Beside the stone basin was a goblet, and detection spells gave him an idea about its use. Truth be told, by plunging the goblet in the larger container, he took some of the black water off of it. But the goblet couldn't be emptied in the lake: each time Harry upturned it, the liquid stayed in the bottom. Absently marvelling at the Charm work, Harry thought more about it. The answer seemed evident: he had to drink the liquid.

He shook his head. He'd never drink some liquid he knew nothing about. What if that was a poison? A debilitating potion?

Thinking hard about the problem, Harry decided to do something else.

The wards around the goblet were impressive, but less so than the ones around the cup itself, and Harry had felt that they lessened when the goblet was plunged in the cup. Extracting his wand with a hand, he plunged the goblet in the basin again.

And he transfigured the goblet into tweezers.

The long tool reached the bottom of the cup and Harry felt something there. He grasped it and pulled, feeling some resistance on the way.

"Harry!" Sirius cried in alarm.

Looking around, Harry noticed that the water around the platform was being disturbed, as though whatever lurked underneath it reacted to his prodding.

"Prepare to run!" he exclaimed, before pulling harder. As soon as the end of the tweezers came out with what looked like a chain, a human arm came from underwater and tried to reach him. Fortunately, he was airborne at that moment, and, grasping the chain itself, he pulled a last time.

With a disgusting sucking sound, the chain came loose from the cup and Harry found himself with another locket, although it was smaller than Slytherin's one. At the same time, he heard his friends cast spells at the pale human-shaped creatures coming out of the dark waters. They were extremely pale, and didn't react at Stunners at all. On top of that, Harry remarked that several of them had old wounds on their bodies, some of them seeming fatal. With a start, he realized that they were animated corpses, and he felt no scruple at using burning spells or other lethal attacks.

The three wizards headed to the entrance cave, throwing everything they knew at the unholy bodies. It wasn't enough to kill them all, and they resolved to flee. Apparating was out of question, though, as the anti-Apparation ward had extended when Harry had taken the locket out of the basin.

"Let's jump!" Harry shouted, earning himself wary glances from his friends. "Hold my hands and I'll Levitate!"

And they did just that. Once out of the cave, the two Marauders kept firing at the corpses but the zombies didn't acknowledge it and returned to their dark lake, the passage closing in their wake.

"Can you seal that thing?" Harry asked. "I wouldn't like to have my great-grandchildren stumble upon that unholy place."

They nodded and threw explosion curses at the secret passage. Once it fell, they didn't stop casting and made the whole room implode under their sustained firepower.

"Thanks, guys. Let's get out of here."

Harry dropped the two Marauders and the locket in Sirius' home, before heading to Malfoy Manor. His reasoning was that, since the locket hadn't exuded a dark aura, the two grown men could inspect it safely while he was away. Besides, Malfoy Manor's wards only accepted a Malfoy. His mind disguised using Draco's identity, Harry entered the impressive building and started to search for things barely resembling a Horcrux. Despite finding several spots reeking of Dark magic – especially in the torture chambers downstairs – there was nothing like the aura emanating from the infamous diary.

He made a quick trip to Hogwarts to see if the others had come back from their own trips, but nobody was there and he proceeded to Egypt. Hidden in the gaseous reality and using every nook and cranny to move his wand in the tangible reality, he was able to cast detection spell upon detection spell in the vicinity of the ruined temple.

And it paid: the Horcruxes were perhaps protected from detection by general wards around places they were stored in, but, once inside those wards, a wizard could find them better. Harry found a gleaming cup in the collapsed rooms that were Voldemort's private chambers. Not only did it closely resemble the mental description he had got from Dumbledore, but it was also oozing the same stench that came from the diary.

Not wanting to touch it directly, Harry excavated some room around it and Conjured a box wherein he Levitated the cursed item.

And he flew back.

This time, the three teams were there, congregating around two items. Once again, Harry knocked before entering the room, and he magically moved the cup from its container to the central table.

"Thank you, Henry." Dumbledore said. "Since you just arrived, I'll sum up what we were discussing about. The ruins of the orphanage didn't yield anything, and Alastor successfully dispelled the aura of despair around it. Conversely, the manor of the Riddle family was in ruins but it did yield something: this ring." he said, pointing at one of the two items. The other was the locket Harry had found in the zombie-surrounded cup.

Harry turned to Sirius and Remus. "Did you discuss about the… zombies?"

"We did." Remus said.

"These cursed cadavers are known as Inferi." Dumbledore said. "And it requires someone powerful and well-versed in Necromancy to animate one. As you might imagine, Necromancy is a field of the Dark Arts."

"So… what about the locket?" Harry asked.

"This was inside." Sirius said, handing him a piece of parchment.

Nothing much was written on it, but it was enough to bring some sort of smile on Harry's lips. "So, you were right, then." he told Sirius. "I mean… about your brother. If those are his initials."

"They are." the man replied. "And, despite the fact that it must have cost him his life, I'm glad he switched sides."

Harry nodded, before turning to Dumbledore. "Nothing… untowards, in Little Hangleton?"

The old man looked around, and, following his gaze, Harry noticed that a few members had bandages. "What happened?"

"Apparently, you were right in that Voldemort's base was near." Dumbledore replied. "But we were ready. While I was searching the ruins, the others were hidden, and they successfully pushed several Death Eaters away, only suffering minor wounds." A pause. "It's thankful that we led all these actions at the same moment: Voldemort would have protected or relocated the other items otherwise."

"So… we have two items, one of which is of Hufflepuff's." Harry said, before frowning. "What did you say about the ring? You saw it at Riddle's finger when he was a student?"

"Yes, and he told me that it was a family heirloom. Now that I know without doubt that Tom is of Slytherin ascent, it is entirely possible that it belonged to Slytherin at some point."

"He'd have his replacement for the Snake's locket, then." Sirius said.

Dumbledore looked at his former students pointedly, clearly disapproving of the disparaging term in relation to that particular Founder. He didn't say anything, though, and a thoughtful frown appeared on his already wrinkled face. "Snake…" he muttered.

"Voldemort assumed the shape of a snake at some point." Harry offered.

The old man acquiesced, but stayed thoughtful. "I learnt some things from young Mr Malfoy's memories." he said slowly. "Apparently, when Voldemort took control of that temple in Egypt, a ritual merged him and his faithful snake, Nagini."

"Do you think…" Harry started, before continuing mentally. 'Nagini would have been a Horcrux? Would it be because of that that I couldn't kill Voldemort directly, when I fought him in Egypt?'

'Possibly.' Dumbledore replied. 'Although we don't know what happened to Voldemort and Nagini afterwards.'

Harry nodded before returning to a voiced conversation. "Now that we have these two, the question is: how can we destroy them? Perhaps we can throw them away…"

"Throw them?" Moody asked indignantly. "The Death Eaters would find them quickly enough!"

"What if we throw them in a place in which they wouldn't find it?" Harry asked, refining his thoughts at the same time he spoke. "In a place out of anyone's reach, and where it would be destroyed anyway?"

"What do you have in mind, Henry?" Dumbledore asked. "I doubt there is any place on Earth that Voldemort couldn't reach."

"That's the idea." Harry replied, his eyes gleaming. "It wouldn't be on Earth. I was thinking of the Sun."

Several gasps were heard around the room, but Dumbledore was merely looking at Harry pensively. "Do you think you could pull it off? There are other means, you know… rituals…"

"Most of them Dark." Moody butted in.

"We can split, if you want." Harry proposed. "You take care of the ring, and I take care of the cup."

"I'd rather do the cup." Dumbledore said. "If I can find a ritual that would keep it whole, that is. It's still a Founder's legacy. You can do the ring, and the diary, too. Those are more… expendable."

"Alright."

It was a sign that the discussion was finished, and everyone started to leave the room. Harry put the diary and the ring in the box he had brought, while Moody and Dumbledore discussed about rituals. Remus and Sirius stayed behind, too.

"Are you sure about this, cub?" Remus whispered. "Throwing things in the Sun, and all?"

"How do you plan to do it?" Sirius asked. "Personally, whatever I throw at the sun falls back on the ground."

Harry smiled. "First, I won't be at ground level when I'll throw. And, second, I know that Muggles have rockets that can fly towards a heat source. I'll merely Duplicate one and use it."

The two remaining Marauders were unsure about this, but it was mainly because they didn't know what a Muggle rocket was, and they left the room after telling Harry to take care.

Once again, Harry contacted Powell with the communication booklets, and, once again, the retired spy gave him a location. This one was a missile facility near Kaliningrad. Harry Apparated there and explored the storage area until he found a technician whose mind would give him hints about which rockets he could use and how to ignite them manually. Still in the gaseous reality, he discreetly copied one of the Bisnovat R-40TD missiles still stored there – with its fuel but not its warhead – before storing the box with the cursed artefacts in the rocket's "cargo bay": the place where the warhead would have been placed.

This done, and the missile prepared, he headed to the Kármán line – the outer limit of the atmosphere, also known as the "edge of space", roughly 100 kilometres above sea level – and he launched the rocket. Not only did the rocket use its own propeller, but Harry also gave it an initial burst of speed by moving in the gaseous reality with it. Since Harry was able to travel between Japan and England in 20 minutes flat, the move gave the rocket an astounding initial speed, which would only be increased as the flying object would continue to accelerate.

Unfortunately for his plan, there were several factors he hadn't considered. First of all, the Sun's electromagnetic influence would impair the rocket's guidance parameters. And, thrown off target despite the star's immense gravitational attraction, the rocket would follow an acceleration orbit before leaving the Sun alone.

Eventually, a dozen days after its launch, the rocket would cross the path of a stellar object and crash, causing the Horcruxes to activate their destructive wards and explode. Incidentally, that stellar object was Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9. Not used to such devastating measures, the multipart comet was thrown off its usual route, and 21 large fragments of it would strike the planet Jupiter over the course of the following week.

The cosmic incident would be far from Harry's preoccupations when it would happen.

---

Earlier…

Voldemort was in deep discussion with three vampire leaders, negotiating an alliance of sorts. He had just been promising some free lunch when a Death Eater entered the room.

"What is it, Jugson?" he demanded, barely refraining from cursing his most faithful follower. After all, there was a reason for that particular Death Eater never leaving his side…

"Dumbledore is nearby, my Lord! Our detection ward found him walking through the town."

"Does the old fool want to attack us?" the Dark Lord chuckled as if it was a good joke, and the vampires smiled thinly.

"No, my Lord. He was walking towards the ruins on the other side of the town."

"WHAT?!" Voldemort exclaimed, standing up suddenly. His armchair was thrown backwards, causing Jugson to cringe. "Send every follower you can find to and attack him!" he ordered. "Whatever they do, he must leave that building alone! Don't let him get close, and return to me when he's gone."

When Jugson had left, the Dark Lord, clearly disturbed by the news, started to pace and mumble indistinctly about a link between Mr Thomas, Slughorn, and soul fragments, and about revenge. The vampires were surprised at his vehement reaction, too, but their patience, borne of centuries of life, let them ignore what they considered as a temper tantrum.

Eventually, the Dark Lord would be calm enough to realize that Dumbledore must have had a lead to the cursed ring and he'd inspect his other soul vessels. He would be quite angry

---

The Burrow…

As promised, Harry went to the lopsided house to return to his girlfriend. He found his other friends as well, and, in the privacy of a Silence spell, he told them about the Horcruxes hunt and destruction. Seeing their downcast expressions, he also told them that he was sorry of not including them in the hunt, but Dumbledore's Order wasn't to know about their abilities yet. Especially Mrs Weasley.

Since Harry and Tracey were there, the younger Weasleys asked if they could spend some time there. To their dismay, there was no room ready for them. Seeing their disappointed expression, their mother promised to ask Dumbledore to expand the house one more time when she would see him. Harry smirked at this: one could only question the sanity of the person having enlarged the house to the point of being lopsided on the outside.

In the meantime, Harry wasn't going to be alone, though: he had his own family to see. After an afternoon of rest and relaxation and a cordial dinner with the red-haired family, the two non-Weasley teenagers said their goodbyes and Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron – keeping appearances for Mrs Weasley, mainly – before entering Muggle London and Apparating from a side alley.

Half an hour later, they arrived to Japan. Since it was too early in the morning to do anything, they settled for a couple hours of sleep.

Needless to say, the extended family was happy to see them, and, despite their tired state, they spent the day retelling their school year and playing with the children. After dinner, they went to see Goken as well, and repeated some of their story.

The two of them spent the week in Japan, barely getting used to the different time zone, before returning to England. Dean had invited them to a game of football, after all, and Harry had to fetch the Weasleys. Harry and Tracey wanted to play a small prank, though, and they spent half an hour applying the muggle hair dye they had bought in America. It made them look like some cousins to the Weasleys, with the distinct advantage of not using any magic. Harry had wanted to push the prank farther and make them look like Ron and Ginny – and eventually shock the hell out of the Weasleys by kissing each other – but Tracey reflected that it would yield too many questions from the adults, about their ability to do magic, and he gave in.

Back at the Burrow, everybody was surprised to see them with Weasley-red hair, and, after a couple of failed dispelling spells later, they were equally impressed about the non-magical dye the Muggles had invented. Mr Weasley was particularly ecstatic and, while the twins were making jokes about "public hair" with the other children, the man almost drowned Harry in questions. It was only Tracey who saved him from the muggle-obsessed man, by reminding everyone that the game time was coming up.

Since it was summertime, the children couldn't use magic, and they didn't take their wands – the game being quite physical, they wouldn't have taken them if they had been of-age, either.

When Mrs Weasley asked for transportation arrangements, Harry produced a length of rope which he had charmed as a portkey, telling them that it was Dumbledore's job – which was almost true: Dumbledore had given him memories of casting the spell, after all.

They quickly found the stadium and Dean's family, and, after they had established the teams, the game went underway.

Needless to say, the Weasleys had some difficulties with the fact that they were limited by their own running speed and not a broom's. The twins made a particularly funny show out of it, jumping, tumbling, and falling on the ground repeatedly. On top of this, those who had never played the game didn't know how to orient their strikes efficiently and failed most of their passes. And let's not forget the muggle-raised teens' eagerness to play due to the World Cup that was going on in Brazil.

However, and contrarily to most pure-blooded magical children, the Weasleys had trained with Harry and were physically fit, and the game soon reached a state of equilibrium, exchanging goals and good-natured insults alike.

Unbeknownst to the playing teenagers and the scattered audience, several dark wizards were Apparating in the small town, casting the Point Me spell again and again. The house of Dean Thomas was perhaps protected by a Fidelius, but his person wasn't, and the Death Eaters finally pinpointed their target as a player in the arena-like field.

And they pounced.

The Dark Lord's intentions had been clear, this time: don't kill except forced to, disarm magic-users, stun and kidnap everyone. Given his current negotiations, Voldemort had a need for fresh blood. Given their unfocused minds, the recently-induced dark wizards had felt the rush of power from using the Unforgivables, and they had to think twice before using Stunners instead. Most of their targets were Muggles, though, and they honestly thought that it was going to be a "walk in the park" for them.

They were quite true.

Nobody retaliated.

Everyone was either too shocked or too panicked to do something useful. Only two persons did something unusual: Tracey and Mrs Weasley. In immediate reaction to the threat to her progeny, the Weasley matriarch Stunned two Death Eaters before being downed as well. And Tracey, in panic at being shot without having a wand to defend herself, tried to Apparate. Her alarmed state made the magic react differently than usual, and she successfully disappeared… only not to reappear anywhere. Opening eyes she hadn't consciously closed, she noticed that she was in the gaseous reality, and almost whooped in joy before remembering the circumstances.

'Harry!' she sent to her boyfriend. 'What are you doing?'

'Where are you?' he sent back.

'I'm in the gaseous reality, but aren't you going to help your friends?'

'Nice to know.' he replied, referring to her current state. 'We ought to test that later. Do you remember how to exit it? Can you move?'

'Yes, yes! What about our friends?'

'I'm not doing anything.'

A short pause, then 'WHAT?'

'Don't you see? They only Stun – which doesn't work on us, since it only affects the mind-body connection, by the way. I have been broadcasting our friends to play along.'

'But… why?'

'Their intentions are to kidnap us. We'll be brought inside Voldemort's lair!' he sent, with an undercurrent of eagerness.

She didn't reply for a while.

'Tracey?' Harry asked. 'They are preparing the portkeys, now. Are you alright? Can you tell Dumbledore?' he asked, sending along the needed information for Dumbledore and the Order to Apparate properly.

'Yes.' she answered. 'I'll warn him. Take care of you. Take care of them, too. If you die, I'll find a way to resuscitate you so that I'll kill you myself. That's the most far-fetched plan I've ever seen you produce.'

'Alright.' he replied simply, before the connection was cut due to portkey transportation.

Tracey immediately Apparated to Hogsmeade and hurried to the castle looming nearby. She had some things to tell the Headmaster.

---

At the same time…

The Death Eaters were separating wizards and witches from Muggles, parking the magic-users in individual cells and the Muggles in a larger room. They knew that Mrs Weasley used her wand, but it took one of the Slytherins from Hogwarts to identify those that were students there and those who weren't. And that's how a red-haired and unidentified Harry Potter found himself in a large room with many Muggles, numerous Death Eaters with their wands drawn, a dozen vampires, and a Dark Lord. Like numerous ritual rooms around the world, there was incense burning, and a cold breeze made the smoke take eerie shapes.

"As promised," Voldemort intoned, "here are some appetizers for our newest allies. The main course will come soon, with wizards unworthy of our cause." He smiled evilly. "I know you love young wizards' blood…"

The vampires, three of whom were elders, nodded and walked towards the assembled Muggles slowly.

Harry had enough information right now, and he decided to act before people started to die. His luck had him in the middle of the group and he was able to Summon his staff discreetly. Calling upon all his power, he whispered one word. A word he knew very well, by now.

"Lumos."

The small sun erupted in the room, blinding all those who had been watching the proceedings avidly. The vampires screeched for the briefest of times before shutting up, nine of them reduced to ash and the three elders having fled the room through their own form of Apparation. At the same time, the Death Eaters cried in pain, trying to feel their way out of the room. And Voldemort, despite being less affected by his followers, was compelled to seek an exit due to the intensity of the light.

Meanwhile, his own eyes shielded by being on fire again, Harry was busy taking one muggle after another and hiding them in the gaseous reality. However, as there was an anti-Apparation field, Harry had to Levitate them to the ceiling beforehand: he didn't want anyone hurt by a Dark Lord sending spells haphazardly in the room.

When it was finished, Harry looked around and noticed that only one Death Eater had dared coming back. And, apparently, it was a female.

'Either she's extremely clever, or she's completely insane.' he thought.

The sudden casting of lethal spell through the room proved nothing on this account. After casting a circular reflecting shield centred on her, Harry left the woman deal with her own spells being thrown back to her and he entered the corridor. He could hear angry voices down the way and, guessing that his friends were being interrogated, he hurried that way, Stunning and Disapparating each and every Death Eater he found on his way. Some of them tried to retaliate, but his bursts of speed took them by surprise and they found themselves promptly unconscious and hidden in the midst of the anti-Apparation field. He only left one of them alone, but it was because he had already programmed that Death Eater's mind to sabotage the wards.

Still, the spells headed his way became more and more destructive as the few remaining Death Eaters started to panic.

'A pity.' Harry thought ironically. 'Such a lovely place… destroyed by those forgetful boys.'

When he arrived close to the first cell, though, he noticed that Voldemort's angry questioning had been replaced by cries of pain. He recognized the voice of Mrs Weasley, and that angered him even more. Apparently, he wasn't the only one, because four cell doors exploded in quick succession and the four youngest Weasley appeared in the corridor, their chosen weapon having apparently been magically Summoned.

Harry shivered at the unusual and frightening sight of the Weasley twins with angered faces, and the few Death Eaters facing them reacted in the same way, giving the four redheads enough time to get close enough to strike. "Close enough" meaning three yards for George and his ball-and-chain weapon, and a couple Death Eaters' masks, along with the face behind, were promptly smacked. Then came Fred with a three-sectioned staff, and more Death Eaters fell into bludgeoning-weapon-induced unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, Harry took hold of the four dark wizards remaining between him and the cell, and gave them a mental injunction before transfiguring their wands into knives – he knew that Voldemort was in there, and he imagined that his followers' magic wouldn't be able to harm him. Steel weapons, on the other hand…

A startled shout replaced the wails of pain, followed by a quick incantation, and Harry knew that he had to act quickly now. Giving off a burst of speed, he Disillusioned himself and entered the room, before grasping the shivering body of Mrs Weasley. He was out of the cell before anyone could notice him, Voldemort and his lackeys being locked in a fight. A losing fight, for the dark wizards: now that the Dark Lord had cast a physical shield on himself, he was free to cast the Killing Curse on his followers.

Harry promptly cast a portkey to St Mungo from a broken Death Eater mask, and he gave it to the four redheads so that they could accompany their mother there. He then proceeded to bring down the remaining cell doors and Apparate the people inside out towards the ceiling. It was while he was doing this for the second-to-last cell that he fell the anti-Apparation ward fall, and he gingerly moved through the gaseous reality to fetch the last prisoner before bringing all of them in the ritual room, where the Muggles were waiting near the ceiling, still unconscious.

Harry proceeded to awaken half of the people there – so that the whole group could make a circle, holding hands – and Apparated outside: with the wards down, he was now able to leave the place.

Truth be told, a serious fight was going on between the remaining Death Eaters and the members of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore at its head. Harry knew that the Fidelius was gone, and he took just enough time to bring the group down in the street, under Madam Pomfrey's care.

A couple seconds later, he was back in the Order ranks, helping by shielding them and cursing the enemies. Sirius and Remus were there, as well as Tonks, who seemed to have foregone her usual clumsiness: flipping and somersaulting, she was able to curse without being cursed, as well as push Remus out of a sickly green curse beam. The glance the two of them exchanged afterwards presaged some passionate discussion later on, but they returned to the fight with fervour.

Contrarily to their usual behaviour, the Death Eaters didn't flee the overwhelming odds, and they soon found out why: the Dark Lord was amongst them. When he noticed the number of Death Eaters around, Harry groaned: visibly, Voldemort had found a way to recover the ones he had Stunned and hidden. He didn't know that the Mark allowed the Dark Lord to Summon his followers whatever their state of consciousness.

"So… Dumbledore…" Voldemort began. "It seems that we meet again."

"It seems so, Tom." the older man said.

Noticing that their leaders were discussing, the Death Eaters and members of the Order slowed their cursing so that they'd listen.

"Don't call me by that thrice-accursed name!" the Dark Lord hissed before waving his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

With a wordless swish and flick of his wand, Dumbledore Levitated a wood splinter to intercept the deadly curse, and it exploded in tiny fragments. The old man hadn't moved another muscle. "Still using Unforgivables, Tom?" he asked mildly. "And you shouldn't deny your identity. Haven't you told your followers who you are? What you are?" he added, fishing a particular item from his robe pockets.

Voldemort's eyes grew wide when he noticed the locket dangling from Dumbledore's hand. "Give it to me!" he ordered, but his voice had a desperate quality in it, and it negated the order's impact.

"Why, Tom?" Dumbledore asked. "Is it because it belonged to your mother?"

"Shut up! Crucio!"

Once again, the old Headmaster Summoned debris in the path of the curse before speaking again as if nothing had happened. "Is it because it had contained part of your soul at some point?"

The Dark Lord smirked. "Yes. The traitor who stole it got a just reward for foolishly opposing me. He died slowly, you know, begging for forgiveness… but you know Bellatrix. She's not forgiving."

"Liar!" Sirius exclaimed. "My brother didn't beg! Blacks don't beg!"

Voldemort turned to him, losing sight of Dumbledore and the discreet signs the old man was addressing to a teenager nearby. "Sirius Black, I presume? What a family you have, by the way. I hope Azkaban was to your convenience. The Dementors are so… resourceful."

Sirius was so angry that he was ready to jump at the Dark Lord to punch him in the face, unheeding the fact that several Death Eaters were surrounding their master, wands drawn. It was Dumbledore who spoke, though.

"Were, Tom. Were. There's no Dementor left for you to corrupt innocent minds with."

A short pause followed, ended by the Dark Lord smirking. "Come on, old man. There's no need to act so conceited. You are like everybody, and everybody dies. Avada…"

BOOM!

BANG!

When Voldemort had started the Killing Curse's incantation, a blurred shape had appeared behind him and moved at such a speed that a sonic bang had resounded in the hamlet. The Death Eaters closest to their master fell to the ground, disoriented, while the others felt a painful albeit temporary deafness. The Order members, being a bit farther, only suffered painless deafness.

But it wasn't because of deafness that they hadn't perceived the end of the incantation. The Dark Lord's lips had continued the incantation, and Voldemort looked genuinely surprised, both at the double boom and at the fact that his magic hadn't worked. He looked down to check his wand…

…and it was the last thing the current incarnation of Tom Riddle did. While Harry was returning to his place in the Order ranks, carefully wiping his katana, the Dark Lord's head separated from his body and fell to his feet, a surprised expression still plastered on his face. Apparently, his previous physical shield had faded out and, with his Death Eaters around him, he hadn't thought about a physical attack and hadn't cast it again.

"As you said, Tom," Dumbledore retorted, "everybody dies."

The Death Eaters quickly noticed the fact that their lord had fallen and, not ready to face Dumbledore and his allies, they fled immediately, Apparating out. Harry tried to track them down in the gaseous reality, but they all took different routes and he could only grab two of them, both new recruits.

When he returned, he saw Dumbledore inspecting the Dark Lord's body.

"It seems that your plan worked." he said, smiling thinly. "Keeping his attention, and all."

"Yes, but don't be so sure." the old man replied. "I don't think we are done with him."

"How…" Harry started, before noticing the state of Voldemort's body. It was decaying as they were watching, and only ashes eventually remained.

"The only explanation I have is that the body's magic had been siphoned into Voldemort's new receptacle." Dumbledore said. "When you inadvertently got him the first time, all those years ago, only these ashes remained, too.

"All in all, he got one less Horcrux, then." Harry deducted.

The Headmaster looked at him suddenly, before smiling warmly. "It seems so."

Harry frowned, visibly considering something particularly difficult.

"What are you thinking about so forcefully that I can't reflect myself?" Dumbledore asked.

"Let's see…" Harry began, "we have me, him, the diary, the cup, the ring. There were only two left, both of them living beings."

"As you took care of the ring and the diary, and since I surrounded the cup with all kinds of wards, I guess that he'll eventually return to one of those last two. We will notice his new shape soon enough." Dumbledore concluded.

"I just hope it's not like last time: he was particularly ugly as a snake." Harry said, before gasping. "The snake!"

"What about it?"

"There was no snake here. It was a temple dedicated to snakes, and Nagini wasn't there."

"We should investigate the building to be sure." the old man suggested, and Harry nodded.

The Order spent some time visiting the evil temple before leaving, collapsing it behind them. They hadn't found anything. Of course, they found several stashes of potions and a trove of artefacts, most of which were dark – and these were promptly scheduled for destruction, especially the blood orbs. They also found a few corpses lying around, the freshest ones being the Death Eaters having fought against Voldemort on Harry's orders, and the Death Eater who had disrupted the wards. But they didn't find a living snake anywhere, and neither Point Me nor Accio yielded anything in that regard.

"I guess that takes care of the last Horcrux." Harry said, watching magical flames removing any traces of the evil temple – and, incidentally, the Gaunt family home that had been there before.

"If Voldemort doesn't start again, I presume you're right." Dumbledore concurred. "He's mortal, now."

Harry smirked. "My job will end soon, then." he said, his hand patting his katana.

"You shouldn't be overconfident." the old man replied. "But I hope you're right."

"Speaking of overconfidence," Harry began, "how comes you didn't get rid of the cup?"

"Alastor and I found rituals to get rid of soul fragments, but they are dark in nature, and I'd rather have another possibility. He also told me that you had a book about rituals, and I'd like to peruse it. Despite the fact that I know many rituals, one can't know everything."

Harry snorted. "Tell that to Hermione, Albus, and she'll declare war on you. Unless she falls into depression." he made a gesture of thinking hard. "Don't tell her, actually. I don't want to know."

Dumbledore smiled at the jest, but he stayed silent, waiting for an answer.

"Alright, alright." Harry relented. "We'll see that book as soon as I retrieve it."

The two of them returned to the Order members still present, and Dumbledore created a return portkey to Hogwarts. After a last look around, the Headmaster spoke the activation word, and everyone disappeared, heading towards a debriefing session.

---

Meanwhile…

Being one of the closest to the Dark Lord, Joseph Jugson had felt the Doppler Effect when his master had been so promptly beheaded. He had felt despair upon seeing Voldemort's head falling to the ground, and he had Apparated out immediately. However, in the middle of his Apparation trip, he felt something stirring in his mind. Something that had been there for almost as long as he had been a Death Eater. It had started when the Dark Lord was systematically taking some blood from his followers for Merlin-knows-what experiment, and ended soon after his own induction.

Unbeknownst to most, although it could be inferred from his study habits, Joseph Jugson was a descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw. When he had discovered that little fact, Voldemort had settled to set a Horcrux in the younger man. It had been merely days before his demise at the hands of the Potter infant.

It paid off now, as Voldemort's spirit was quickly reunited with his soul fragment, overwhelming Jugson's consciousness. It had been Joseph Jugson who had portkeyed out from the field in Little Hangleton. It was Voldemort who reappeared in a small and shabby flat in Buenos Aires. And Voldemort realized that taking a living Horcrux over was quicker than being linked to an item – especially when said item was protected and rarely accessed by other human beings.

The new body of the Dark Lord sat down on a bed on which several unstable piles of books rested. And Voldemort pondered about the recent developments in his war against Dumbledore. The fact that his old opponent had unearthed the locket and showed it to him in that way proved that he knew about his plan, especially after his latest foray in the ruins of his father's house.

The Dark Lord started to count his Horcruxes on his fingers, getting more and more irritated at each finger, realizing that Dumbledore must have gotten several of them to dare attack him. His Horcrux in Harry Potter was gone, as was his previous body. He hadn't found his diary after his unsuccessful merging, two years ago. The old man must have gotten his ring. And Nagini hadn't reappeared after Wadjet sent him back to Earth after his demise in Egypt. Egypt, where the cup was, if nobody had found it. Frowning, he started to make plans, including sending some followers to check on what was, essentially, his last Horcrux. He didn't want to be killed as easily as his last host.

Speaking of which…

He examined Jugson's memories of his recent demise, and he noticed that Dumbledore exchanged a meaningful glance with someone while his previous body wasn't looking. A particular someone who disappeared quickly afterwards, only to reappear after his death, wiping a wicked-looking sword. And the shape of that person was one he hadn't expected.

Harry Potter.

He shouted his anger at the world, only to be reminisced that Jugson had neighbours when said neighbours banged the wall, telling him to shut up. In Spanish.

He fingered his wand menacingly, almost yielding to his instant repulsion at being told off by intolerant Muggles. But he didn't cast the Explosion and Killing Curses he wanted. Instead, he threw a Silencing charm. It surprised him, and, inspecting his mind, he noticed that Jugson's habits were firmly entrenched there. Including his understanding of Spanish and the reason he had a back-up flat here. Sitting down, he proceeded in rebuilding his mind as he saw fit. Including the Animagus part, although, this body not being ready for it yet, he'd have to imbibe the Animagus-enabling potion again. Urgh.

Voldemort spent a week in Argentina, promptly finding the nearest magical mall from Jugson's memories and buying supplies for his next plan of world domination, including the aforementioned potion. It was torture for him to see so many Muggles in the streets, in various states of happiness at some sport event. Especially as the magical mall was in Brazil and Brazil won the World Cup of Football.

When, a week after his arrival, he felt that his body and mind were ready for taking over again, he decided to leave with a bang, literally. After gathering whatever could be of value into an enlarged trunk, he splurged and threw the Explosion curses he had wanted to use on his neighbours before.

Powered by his hate and resentment, the curses went through several floors, eventually destroying the whole building and killing nearly a hundred persons.

It was purely a revenge for the un-lordly treatment the Muggles had made him endure. If he had been able to, he'd have used the mass murder to create another Horcrux, too. However, because of his initial plan of splitting his soul in seven parts, he knew that his soul was too "thin" to be cut in two again. The forbidden texts he had found about Horcruxes explained what had happened to wizards splitting themselves in too many parts. Many budding Dark Lords had found their demise that way, and he didn't want that. Meaning that he had to find another way of being immortal. Jugson's part of his mind rubbed imaginary hands together at the research prospect.

The Dark Lord needed a large place to hold court, now that his temples had been destroyed – Wadjet hadn't reacted yet, and Voldemort feared that she'd do so at the most inappropriate moment. Going through the list of places he knew and was included in the wards of, he settled for Malfoy Manor, and portkeyed there.

Draco Malfoy was there, but the boy was still a student and had no Dark Mark on his body, meaning that Voldemort couldn't use him to summon his followers. Thinking about it, Voldemort almost cursed himself: Jugson had such a Mark, and Voldemort would never need one cowering follower permanently by his side.

The first meeting was difficult. They had all witnessed his death and weren't ready to take Jugson's takeover lightly. It was through sheer determination – and a liberal use of the Cruciatus – that Voldemort finally seated his authority.

Continuing the meeting in a debriefing sort of way, he asked about the state of the wizarding world. Apparently, the news about his demise hadn't reached the Daily Prophet yet, meaning that Dumbledore knew that he wasn't dead. Bummer.

The werewolves and vampires had met some of his followers, though, and had learnt about his little setback – through the mind arts for the latter and sheer intimidation for the former, something which led to another round of magical torture. On top of that, the night dwellers had spread the word that nine of them died and three elders were injured in a supposedly safe meeting. Needless to say, both groups of dark creatures had rescinded their offers of alliance quickly after that. Double bummer.

Since he only had his followers on his side, now, Voldemort decided to upgrade them as much as possible. After all, he had met mentally strong opponents and expert swordsmen, and he decided to train the Death Eaters in both arts. Some complained, but well-placed comments about the Lestranges and a bout of Cruciatus later, they all complied. And Malfoy Manor was the ideal place to train, having a number of blades available, as well as a couple of pensieves.

As the training started, the Dark Lord selected those who were already ahead in mind arts and swordfight and sent them to Egypt to check the cup's whereabouts. He would be particularly angry when they'd return empty-handed.

His other topic of interest, Harry Potter, wasn't yielding anything either: no mean of detection could find the boy, and Voldemort realized that Dumbledore must have had the brat hidden under the strongest concealment charms known on Earth.

---

It wasn't true: Harry simply spent parts of his summer assuming other identities, and thus couldn't be traced using his own name all the time, much like the fact that owls couldn't find him. To be sure to reach him by owls, his friends used Tracey's name, although they mostly used the communication booklets, actually.

Like the previous years, Harry's summer was spent principally in Japan, where he taught Kendo classes with Goken. The main difference with the previous years was the inclusion of Albus Dumbledore in the secret of the Dursleys' address and identities. The Headmaster realized that, despite the hardships in his life, Harry had a loving family around him. And it calmed one of his worries: contrarily to Tom Riddle, Harry had an anchor to stay true to the Light and not to fall into the Dark Arts.

Harry organized a round trip between the Dursleys and the Weasleys, too, each family spending a week at the other's place. Those two weeks ended in a magically enlarged and strengthened Burrow, with Harry's 14th birthday party. All his friends were there, and they had a grand time together.

The next day, Harry awoke quite late, only to find not one of his friends or family at his bedside, but Dumbledore. The Headmaster had a grave expression on his face, and Harry realized that the last three weeks had been too good to last.

"Let me guess… Voldemort?" he asked.

"Yes."

Harry sighed before asking the customary question. "Who died?"

"No one." the old man replied. "But we ought to talk. Can you come to my office after breakfast?"

Harry thought about it quickly, before nodding. "Fifteen minutes." he said, before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. Seven minutes later, he was clothed and sitting at the breakfast table, and eating the morning meal at a speed that made Ron envious. He wasn't making a pig of himself, though, merely using his Metamorphmagus and Time-related abilities to swallow whole rolls quickly and without chewing.

"I have to meet Dumbledore." he told his friends after finishing his orange juice. They nodded absently and he made a show of taking a sock from his pocket and saying "activate" before Apparating out – it was mainly for Mrs Weasley not to ask difficult questions.

After mentally greeting Cassie on his way, Harry landed in the Headmaster's office, where he found someone else beside the old man.

"Hi, Remus." he said, before taking the man's aspect and smell in. His clothes were slightly blackened and smelt of fire. "What happened?"

"Morning, Harry." The ex-werewolf replied tiredly. "A library is burning."

"Where?" Harry asked frantically. "Are there casualties? What can we do? Who-"

"Harry!" Dumbledore said, grasping the teen's attention. "No one is hurt. Remus had to stay a bit behind to ensure that the Muggles wouldn't remember what happened exactly."

"What happened, then?"

"I had a lead to interesting information about the history of werewolf clans." Remus started. "You see, I'm still in contact with them, even if they can feel my difference. Apparently, Voldemort made offers of alliance, but the clans rejected when they learnt about his demise."

"Did you tell them?" Harry asked. The debriefing of the battle of Little Hangleton had been concluded by a promise not to tell the media about Voldemort's death, because they were sure he'd reappear.

"No!" the man replied. "They got the information from vampires and confirmed it by themselves. Whatever the case, they aren't allied with him right now, and probably won't in the foreseeable future. But, back to the library."

Harry nodded.

"It was 7:30 and I was pouring over muggle History books written in the Middle Ages – the kind of books which still contain information about witches, werewolves, and vampires – and a group of Death Eaters appeared."

"Like that? With their masks and everything?"

"Yes. Apparently, they had a list of titles to fetch, because they Summoned several books into a bag, the one I've been reading among these. They then threw some potions on the shelves, followed by incendiary curses. After they had Disapparated, I tried to douse the flames, but I couldn't. I guess it's because of the potion. I had just enough time to Obliviate the few Muggles there and help them outside."

Harry paused for a few seconds, before asking "Can we do something about the fire, now?"

"When I left, the fire-fighters were already arriving. There's no building touching the library, so there's no concern about the fire spreading to inhabited buildings. Actually, there's not much we can do without breaking the Secrecy."

"We can still help." Harry said stubbornly. "Where is it?"

"Norwich." Remus said, before giving his hand to Harry and mentally sending him the location.

The teenager nodded, and, after Dumbledore had cast Disillusionment charms on them, they Disapparated.

Finding himself in front of a living fire for the second time of his life, Harry helped by dispelling the magic from the flames, while Remus unobtrusively threw Flame-freezing charms on the fire-fighters themselves. When they were satisfied that no one would die and that the fire would be conquered eventually, the two spellcasters sat back.

---

When they returned to Hogwarts, several hours after having left, the Headmaster asked a house-elf for a light meal which they devoured. At the same time, Dumbledore explained about the rituals he had found in Harry's book.

"That was an interesting read." he was saying. "Especially as I found a couple of Light rituals to get rid of a soul fragment. Visibly, despite not including anything about them, the author knew about Horcruxes. But you aren't going to like it."

"What?"

"Do you prefer reading it or I explain?"

Harry stayed silent for a second before nodding decidedly. "Explain."

"In the way the ritual is worded, and given the wards around the cup, you are the person best indicated to perform the ritual. You will have to sacrifice something, though."

"What something?" Harry asked, rather glad that it wasn't someone – although those rituals were dark.

"Your magic, Harry. But don't worry," the Headmaster pressed on, noticing Harry's distraught state, "it's only temporary."

"So, basically, you tell me to sacrifice my magic for an undetermined time, while Voldemort is still out there, only to keep an old cup I could throw into the Sun to get rid of?" Harry asked, his voice deceptively calm.

"Why, yes." Dumbledore said, while Remus took a couple steps back.

"ARE YOU MAD?" Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Not only is magic an inherent part of my life," he began, starting to pace at the same time, "but, without it, I have nothing on Voldemort."

"I didn't say that you couldn't use your powers." Dumbledore intervened, his eyes twinkling as if he had made a good joke. "Just that your ability to cast spells would be temporarily removed."

Harry froze mid-step and stared at the old man for a long time. Just as Remus started to fidget, he spoke. "It wasn't a question, Albus. You are mad." A pause. "Let me read this." he queried, taking the book without waiting for a reply.

A moment later, he was nodding. "Next time, I'll read the thing straight away," he stated, "rather than waiting to be misled by the great Albus Dumbledore." A pause. "I suppose Voldemort created some kind of wards around the thing. Did you remove these?"

Dumbledore acquiesced. "I took the liberty of doing so while you were away."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Headmaster. No need to act so subservient. Now, where are we going to do this?"

"I think the Room of Requirements could be such a place."

Harry nodded, a glint of his own in his eyes. "Of course. Why didn't I think of it before?"

"You know about it?" the Headmaster asked.

Harry looked at the Headmaster shrewdly, putting memories of an anger management session having occurred there a couple years before.

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "That was you!"

"As you often say, Headmaster: I aim to please." Harry replied. "Now, are you ready? Remus?"

"Do I have a part to play in the ritual?" the man enquired.

"No, but there's no part preventing you from being there." Harry replied, before smirking at Dumbledore. "I would rather have you there, in fact. With a barmy old man assisting me, who knows what could happen."

After snorting and scolding the teen good-naturedly, said old man led them to the dungeons.

"Err… Albus?" Harry asked. "It's not the way, you know?"

"I know, but if you read the ritual carefully, we will need a couple of common potions and ingredients."

"Ah. Certainly." Harry replied, before grinning innocently. "I knew that, of course. I was just going to ask the Room to provide these for me."

"As you might know, or not," Dumbledore replied, "the things provided by the Room can't exit it."

"Who said we needed them to?" Harry asked, his eyes gleaming, and Dumbledore stopped walking, making him stumble on the old man. "Hey!"

"You are right." the old man said. After a second of reflection, he continued his descent. "Things harvested from Nature are of better quality than Conjured ones, though."

Harry mumbled something about how bad the influence of greasy Potion Masters on ingredients quality could be. The two men, despite hearing perfectly, chose not to comment. After all, Snape had followed his choices until the end, eventually leading to his downfall.

They gathered the required ingredients and invited a curious Horace Slughorn to witness the ritual.

When in the room, the cursed cup was deposited in the middle of a raised granite platform and magically glued there. The four wizards participated in drawing a pentagram with freshly-powdered snake scales, followed by a circle surrounding it. Runes were then drawn on ashwinder eggshells and deposited carefully at the end of the five branches of the pentagram.

His feet magically Stuck to the ground and the book joined to his hand in the same manner, Harry took his Nundu wand out and spoke the words of the ritual. Designating the five points successively, he created a cage of magic around the cup. Visible brands of magic flowed from his wand until the cage was so tight that it resembled more a dome than a cage, a dome that bathed the room in a violently blue light.

Harry hadn't thought that the light could be so bright – surely a side effect of using such a powerful wand, he reflected – but he couldn't interrupt the ritual right now. He had a built-in protection, though, and his fake eyes were quickly replaced by globes of flame.

The three men had been able to cast a protection spell on their eyes, though, and they noticed this. Ignoring their gasps, Harry proceeded to the second phase of the ritual: the soul extraction. Holding his hot wand forcefully, he jabbed its end into the cage and uttered the required Latin words. He immediately fell the pull towards the Dark Lord's soul shard and knew that it had been a success.

By now, his wand was getting uncomfortably hot but he didn't dare breaking the cage. Concentrating on the dome, he spoke the final words and focused on reducing it to the size of a tennis ball. When the magic was sufficiently concentrated around the dark soul, he let go, and the thing continued to shrink on its own. As it reached a needlepoint's size, the sphere acted like a magical Black Hole, and its constituents were shredded to their simplest parts: electrical impulses and quarks.

Unfortunately, Black Holes created in populated areas weren't very popular. In the few minutes that led to its self-destruction, the gravity hole created a deafening whirlwind in the room, and everything that wasn't secured flew toward it.

Harry realized that, by following the ritual to the letter, his glued feet allowed him to stay upright. The three men, however, had some difficulties in evading the fatal pull. Despite successfully Sticking Remus and himself to the walls, Dumbledore lost his glasses and had some difficulties in Summoning Slughorn. The Potion Master was gliding on the floor, his limbs unsuccessfully trying to get a grip on something. Yelling over the din, Remus aimed the Headmaster's wand correctly, and the two wizards finally succeeded in getting Slughorn to stop sliding to his death.

Finally, after consuming everything unattached, including the air, the hole fell out of things to devour and ceased to exist. It was just in time, though, because the four wizards were starting to feel the lack of air, and also because the Deputy Headmistress, drawn by the ruckus, opened the door. The difference of air pressure made the door bang against the wall and air rush inside, knocking the venerable woman down.

When she looked up, she noticed the strange happenstance: Harry was barely keeping upright, only standing with the help of… the Sticking charm on his feet. A smell of charred flesh came from him, and she quickly removed the white-hot wand from his hand before more damage was incurred. She then noticed his eyes. They weren't ablaze anymore, but had reverted to what they looked like after the god fight in the Mexican plane: balls of water surrounded by scar tissue.

As she was stepping back, her feet came in contact with the still-glued cup and she unceremoniously fell on her rear end, taking sight of the three other wizards in the room.

"Albus!" she exclaimed, before rushing to the old man's side and trying to pull the portly Potion Master off the Headmaster's chest.

Apparently, when the Black Hole had disappeared, the Summoning spell that had countered its effect on Slughorn acted fully, and Remus and Dumbledore had been knocked by the fast-moving Potion Master.

It took a moment for Minerva McGonagall to unglue everything and wake the four wizards, and the four adults started to look at Harry with wary gazes.

"Harry?" Dumbledore enquired. "What happened to your eyes?"

"I don't know." the boy answered. "They have been like that since… the accident."

"The accident?" Remus asked worriedly. "Which accident?"

"It happened before Hogwarts." Harry replied. "I usually hide them, but I needed them right now. To shield against the light, you know?"

A pause.

"Harry, my boy, you never cease to amaze me." Dumbledore said warmly, before frowning. "We ought to see Madam Pomfrey, though, if only to know what they are."

Harry was reluctant, but, since it could help him in the long term, he complied. Before they left the room, though, he Conjured a quill and made annotations in the book about the cyclone-like effect and the fact that witnesses ought to be Stuck to something as well.

Madam Pomfrey only found out that his eyes were made of salty water. She didn't find anything magical about them. Although her results made her frown. "I don't quite understand how it is even possible." she told them. "There is only a residual impression of magic, but it is so faint that it can't be any long-lasting spell. It's like…" She stopped suddenly.

"Like?" Dumbledore prodded her.

The Medi-witch turned to him. "Albus, I felt this only twice in my whole life. Once, it has been on a muggle-born witch that I haven't been able to cure from a non-magical ailment. She returned from her summer completely healed and I felt nothing but that same strange kind of residual magic."

"And the second time?"

"It was when I tested Bill Weasley. When he was sporting these white wings. It wasn't residual, then, it was his entire body. But the feeling of strangeness was the same."

Harry had felt something when Pomfrey had spoken of the woman, earlier, and, while the others thought about the problem, he addressed her. "What kind of ailment had the woman? And who was she, by the way?"

"Mr Potter… it was your mother. She couldn't bear children. Given your presence here, her travel to a place named Lourdes seems to have been successful."

Harry was stumped. Too many information and ideas were flying around his mind, and he took the appropriate course of actions: he fainted.

When he awoke, only Remus had remained to his side. "Is it true, Moony? I didn't hear wrongly? You know, perhaps my hearing was impaired by the ritual, and-"

"You are rambling, Harry." the man interrupted with a smile. "I heard the same thing, and I now remember that Lily was increasingly distraught by something, starting in her third year. She would always say that it was girl things, but I didn't know about what it was until now. During her seventh year, though, she was more relaxed about things, and started dating only then. And she dated only one man: despite her numerous suitors, your father was her only catch."

"Thank you." Harry said, bringing his hands to his ears. "I don't need information about my parents' sex life, though."

"I wouldn't dare telling you." Remus replied, chuckling. "It's not as if I knew anything, anyway."

"Good." Harry paused, looking around. "Where are the others?"

"Dumbledore came to the conclusion that what Madam Pomfrey felt…"

"Yes? What is it?"

"Well… since you spent some time in France and since you were raised in the muggle world, you know what Lourdes is."

Harry nodded, waiting for the explanation.

"Apparently, she felt divine magic, there."

A pause.

A long pause.

"Divine…" Harry breathed, remembering something relative to his guardian spirit, his Nahual. He swallowed, and nodded decisively. "Alright."

"Alright what?" Remus asked, surprised by the boy's lack of reaction. When Dumbledore had suggested it, a verbal joust had occurred between him and the recently-recruited Potion Master. The topic of religion wasn't well accepted in the wizarding world.

"I believe him." Harry told his friend. "After all, I did meet some strange things, over the years. My mind is as open as one can be."

"While staying the tightest fortress I've ever seen." Remus deadpanned.

After a second of looking at each other, the two of them laughed heartily, the happy sound echoing in the empty infirmary, and, through the open door, into the castle proper.

---

A dozen days later, in Japan…

Harry looked at the assembled people and smiled. Besides his extended family, here were all his close friends. Around these people, he didn't have to maintain façades. Around these people, he could be himself. And everyone looked forward to the Obon festival.

Come the week-end, he would regret inviting them all.

To be continued in next chapter: Sunday, Bloody Sun Day...

Horcruxes in short supply,
How will Voldemort react?
There are things I won't imply
Because that would throw the act.