Albus had informed her three nights ago that Tom was back; Harry Potter had been an unwilling participant in the ritual potion that had given him a new body. Once more she felt selfish at the worry for herself and Donal's family. The Potter boy had stood in that graveyard and seen one of his classmates fall. Had fought Tom, though she was sure the dark wizard had been showing off rather than dueling in truth. He had always enjoyed his little games.

Since that night she had insisted Donal keep his distance, reinforcing the fact that they were not married, that they had no children together. He had responded that Voldemort had only just returned, would surely not try to find her and see whether she'd kept her promise yet, if ever.

"I will not take that risk. Please." The pleading in her eyes had done it; he'd agreed on the condition they still spent dinner together every evening.

It was strange to go back to her bed alone after a decade of having someone else there. She'd become comfortable with Donal there. More than that, she'd learned to enjoy physicality with him. Decades of repressed sexuality and abuse had slowly withered away under the touch of hands that loved her, listened to her, responded to her. Whenever she'd needed a moment, he'd stopped; whenever she had wanted to end something altogether, he'd stopped. Donal was everything her stepfather and Tom had not been. He was everything she needed.

In the last few years she had hardly thought of her sexual experiences that didn't include Donal. She was whole, or as close as she could get. Having not even seen Tom since she was nigh forty years old, let alone had him touch her in that way for nearly twenty years more, it was strange even to contemplate that he might care she'd broken the rule he set out for her. But she still couldn't risk it. Afterall, he still held a grudge toward Albus Dumbledore, and that enmity had started before she had been a thought to him.

She started trying to research on her own whatever it was that kept Tom alive. She couldn't help Dumbledore, much as it hurt her. She'd made an oath and Albus had sternly refuted any attempt she'd made, however small, against it.

The year after he came back was purgatory for her. She paced relentlessly whenever Albus sent that he couldn't attend their usual Sunday tea, fretting over what news he might have when he eventually came. She knew about the Order but couldn't participate herself.

"Don't get involved; don't let children get involved," she'd begged Donal. "If they realize you're tied to me, it could destroy everything. It could paint a target on all of us."

One thing Elena had not counted on was the prophecy.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded of Albus. "All of this over a fucking prophecy that could have referred to multiple people. A prophecy that means nothing, really. And you know that as well as I!"

"He found out about it, Elena. I didn't tell Tom anything myself, and I didn't know until it was too late."

She was shaking with rage, had thrown the teacup she held at the news. A bloody prophecy said by a witch who didn't even know she had the gift and Tom had jumped on it. He'd gone so far as to break into the Ministry of Magic to get his hands on it. Albus had dueled him and lived.

"'Neither can live while the other survives.'" Elena scoffed, rubbing at her forehead. "This is why I throw out my prophecies, Albus. This is exactly why. Tom Riddle was a fool to put stock in mine as a child and he's a fool now."

Albus had agreed with her, so he said, but he still seemed to think Harry Potter was the key. Based on his actions, Tom agreed.

"And Antonin has escaped as well. I can't imagine Azkaban was kind to him," she said. "Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphous Lestrange, Rabastan. Rad's children?"

"The men, yes. He was fond of Bellatrix; she's married to Rodolphous," Albus said.

"She's the one who tortured the Longbottoms, isn't she?" Elena shuddered. It was the sort of thing Rad would have approved of.

"Antonin cursed Miss Granger," Albus told her. "She nearly died and bears a terrible scar from the dark magic."

"What did he use?"

"Something he created himself." At the look in her eyes, he added, "She's well now. The scar will never fade, but she's hale and whole."

"Children fighting a battle, Albus. Is this truly what it's come down to?" She swished her wand to finally repair the teacup, frowning as a single crack remained. "Is there nothing I can do?"

"You know the answer to that." He had her hand in his.

Everything was crumbling down once more. It reminded her of the last time Tom had risen to power. Amelia Bones was killed, and she mourned the loss of the woman she'd once considered her mentor. The Dark Mark was appearing once more over people's homes and 'Voldemort' was scrawled on notes, but never said, handed silently over the whole of the U.K.

When Dumbledore came to her one day quite without expectation, she knew it was the beginning of the end. He took his tea and placed it on the table to stir in his sugar rather than steadying it on his lap. She frowned at him. Yes, Albus was more than a century old but he should still have a few decades to enjoy life. He didn't look it.

"Albus? Are you alright?"

He met her gaze with one that was too sorrowful for words and slowly pulled his other hand from his robes.

Her eyes widened at the black char of his skin. She hardly noticed the ring, so intent on his hand. "What happened?"

"The ring was Tom's. I'm afraid he cursed it."

"Why would you put on such a thing? It's hideous anyway." She took his hand in his, careful to avoid the garish jewelry. "How bad is it?"

"Severus is helping me hold the curse at bay," he said, watching her careful handling of his extremity. "It was foolish to put it on, but the curse was probably inevitable. I had to destroy it, there was no choice there."

"Why?" she probed. There was something more he was hiding, she could feel it. After a second's hesitation flickering over him, it clicked. "It's how he stayed alive, isn't it? Albus. This isn't my helping you, you can tell me."

He drew in a breath and sighed. "Do you know what a horcrux is?"

She thought through the texts she'd studied over the years. "I think I've heard of it. Herpo the Foul had one, didn't he?" At the nod, she continued. "Tom made a horcrux. That's how he's stayed alive? And that ring was it?"

"Not just the ring, I'm afraid," Albus groaned. "I believe he made six of them. The ring is only the second I've found."

"What was the first?"

"The diary, from Myrtle's death." Something in her twisted at the words. She'd touched that diary at one point and she rubbed her hands against her skirt as though to wipe away the very memory.

"Tom's soul possessed the Weasley girl?" Elena shuddered to imagine a young Tom Riddle returning to the world even as Voldemort still skulked in the shadows. "I can't sit here and do nothing, Albus. You're telling me there are four other horcruxes out there? And Tom himself is now living and commanding his army."

"That's what I've come to tell you." He laid his uninjured hand on hers. "You will be free of your oath soon enough."

She blinked in momentary confusion as she brought the words of her oath to mind. As understanding dawned, her eyes filled with tears. "Albus, no." Elena could feel the sobs rising from her chest but pushed them aside to comfort her friend. "How long?"

He smiled that sad, knowing smile of his. "I can't say exactly, but months, I think. Perhaps as long as a year."

"So soon?"

"It's necessary. I'm old, Elena. I have spent most of my life trying to fight against dark wizards who would be lords. Before I go, I intend to make sure everything is in place."

She shook her head. "You've given up on yourself?"

"Only because I have not given up on another." The tears spilled over at that and she threw herself at her friend, wrapping her arms around him.

"I'm so sorry, Albus. I wish I could have helped you." He stroked her back even as she tried comforting him.

"You have provided me great comfort over the years and that is a precious gift."

"How can you be so calm about this?" she asked. "How can you be so ready to die?"

Albus stroked a tear from her cheek even as his own fell. "Don't you remember, Elena? Death is merely the next great adventure."