AN: More than 30 Faves and 50 Follows! Thanks to my readers for being awesome. I started writing the first couple chapters for kicks a few years back and didn't think I'd actually ever make a story out of it. I had absolutely no expectations of how this would go when I first started publishing, so hats off to you all.

Quick note: The Taboo! In canon DH, the Taboo on Voldemort's name came into effect immediately after the Ministry is taken over (see Luchino Caffe Duel, AKA the skirmish on Tottenham Court Rd). I don't actually know if I want the Taboo in this story, and if it does come into play it'll be because I invent a plausible explanation for exactly how it gets implemented. It seems like a massive and really powerful use of magic, and though we know Voldemort is skilled I don't think he could easily cast and maintain that kind of detection over the entirety of Great Britain. And if he could, why didn't he repeat it for the name Tom Riddle? Anyone who says that name aloud is far more likely to be a direct threat to Voldemort's political power base, as well as to his immortality. I know magic is magic and obviously hard to explain, but part of my story in the long-run is going to involve delving into how magic is shaped and used. The Taboo is pretty unexplainable, so I'm leaving it off for now.

As always, comments are my lifeblood. Here's Chapter 8. Last chapter was full Hermione POV, I'm going to run with mostly Harry POV for this chapter, except the very end where Hermione goes into lecture mode.

The Aurors are taken care of. Harry unveils the new and improved Room of Requirement, and the band of friends learn what they must do to win.

CH - For Good

July 15th, 1997, 2112 hours

Harry Potter eyed Hermione's tensed figure, while the rest of his friends stared at the unconscious Aurors on the dirty floor.

This is my fault, was his first thought. He said as much just moments later. "I'm sorry you lot." He began, slowly. "I didn't think there'd be any problems in Hogsmeade. When I got here, there wasn't even a single squad, so I thought..." Hermione shot him a dirty look as if she'd already gleaned his thoughts via legilimency. Instantly, he stopped talking. Honestly, she probably didn't even need to read his mind, at this point she could probably just tell by the look on his face.

"Oh, shut it Harry," she practically barked at him. "You've got that it's-all-my-fault look on your face again. There's no way you could've known." Yep, there it is. He didn't have time to respond indignantly before she turned away, ignoring his attempt at a reply. She exhaled heavily as she focused her eyes back to the still-sleeping men. "I haven't actually done this before," she continued after a moment of pause. "I know the theory perfectly, however. Let's hope this works. Harry, keep a wand on each of them please, just in case."

Taking a deep breath, she pointed her wand at the closest one, a sallow-looking figure with brown hair whose face seemed to be horribly surprised even in his sleep. "Rennervate." The man gave a sharp gasp, immediately focusing on Hermione's glowing wandpoint aimed between his eyes. His eyes flickered wildly across the room, landing on Harry and recognizing him instantly, mouth jerking open. "WAI-"

"Obliviate!" Hermione cried out firmly, wandtip shaking as she twisted her wrist during the incantation. The man's eyes went completely blank and glazed, his mouth sinking open slightly. Harry shivered at the lack of expression on his face, remembering for an instant the similar look on Katie Bell when she'd been cursed by Malfoy's imperius. Shaking his head, he focused as Hermione stunned the man again. He didn't want to think about the similarities between those two mind-magics, not right now.

"Looks like it worked," Hermione analyzed curtly. She pivoted toward the man's partner. "Watch this one, I'm about to wake him up." She repeated the sequence of spells, moving her wand faster this time. The other man's eyes glazed over before he could even look around, and then a red flash sent him back to unconsciousness. An awkward moment of silence spread in the shack as they stared at their victims.

"Now what?" She asked, standing up slowly. "We can't just dump them somewhere in Hogsmeade. It'll be really obvious that something is wrong with them. Memory charms can be broken by the right use of legilimency, you know."

Ron laughed from behind her. "Ginny came up with the idea to leave them by some bottles and spill alcohol on them, so it looks like they went and got drunk." His grin was wicked as he ruffled his sister's red hair. "Ickle-Gin-Gin's been thinking too much like the rest of her brothers."

"Shut up, Ronniekins." Ginny probably meant to be mocking, but the half-growl, half-purr that emanated for her lips carried the words like a deadly warning. It was a bit hair-raising to see her eyes flash golden for a moment. Harry, however, couldn't hold back his smirk when Ron's winced under his sister's threat, her eyes promising violence. I can't tell if these two are better or worse than Fred and George. He interjected before Ginny could punch Ron again. His best mate would be black and blue before tomorrow at this rate. "It's a good plan," he said, "and I'm pretty positive we won't figure out a different excuse that covers memory loss, can we?"

There were shrugs all around. Hermione bit her lip, but slowly shook her head. "I can't think of one," she admitted. She grabbed the bottle of mead on the table and poured a small amount over the Aurors' red robes. Ron spluttered in protest and Neville let out a little groan. She shot them both a little glare and rolled her eyes, snorting in amusement. Harry couldn't help but grin, covering his mouth to cut short an incredulous laugh. She's always got us all collared well and bloody tight, whether I led the DA or not.

"Geminio, geminio," she intoned. Two copies of the glass bottle popped into existence, dropping onto the floor with a sharp clink and rolling away. Then she pointedly looked at Ron and Neville before tapping her wand on her original bottle once again. "Repleo." Slowly, the volume of mead in the bottle began to grow, refilling the bottle. She cut off the spell as the froth threatened to spill over the brim. She basked in their gaping expressions with a grin.

"I never thought I'd see the day Hermione Granger used magic frivolously to refill a bottle of alcohol for no good reason." Harry said, teasing her in a falsely-pompous tone. He chuckled as Hermione's cheeks pinked, just enough, though she still managed to shoot him a glare.

"Enough of that," he snorted. "I'll just transfigure them back and dump them in an alley." Even as all three of the girls turned in unison to glare at Harry, and he thought "Yikes, that's terrifying," Ron interjected first.

"Er - mate, I hate to break it to you but you're literally the most wanted of all of us." He said, seriously.

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled his invisibility cloak out of his pocket. "I hate to break it to you" He said sarcastically, as he waved it around, "But I'll be invisible."

Ron looked a bit relieved, but still shrugged. "We were able to fit all three of us under that thing, back in our midget days, mate." He grinned cheekily. "At least take me with you." Hermione tosses him a disapproving glare upon his reminder of midget days.

"He's right, the two of you should go." She piped up, playing with her wand as she began to think. "We'll keep watch over here in the doors and windows. Come back in…" she threw a tempus charm at the table, projecting the time. "Half-an hour, at most. If you don't, we're all coming after you two, got it? If you get into trouble just run back, or throw up sparks or something. We'll be watching in that direction. Knock when you get back and I'll ask you a question at the door."

Harry nodded, turning to the tall redhead who had paused to take another sip of mead. "Coming, mate, or are you busy?"

Ron gulped down, smacking his lips as he did. "Sorry, you know what it is." He shrugged, grinning still. "Let's go."

"What d'you think'll happen with the Aurors?" Ron trudged behind Harry as they crept across the untamed grass. His lanky form held one hand over their heads to keep ahold of the cloak. Harry's wand is drawn, ready to throw the silvery folds to the side and fight if needed. The whispered question startles Harry out of his silent thoughts. For a moment, he's bewildered by the question. "You daft? We're going to drop them off in an alley with the empty bottles. What're you on about?"

"Oh, no I meant the Auror Corps in general." Ron whispered. Harry isn't turned to face his friend, but heard the obvious worry in his voice. "Think about it for a second. Scrimgeour reformed them some but there's still plenty of corruption, maybe a lot of wanna-be Death Eaters. The ones we know who're with the Order will have to cut and run, and what happens then?"

"Voldemort will go after them," Harry said, deadpan. It was the only real course of action for the Dark Lord to take, he knows. The Order of the Phoenix was already the only remaining resistance in Britain, and allowing them to remain in the Aurors was simply idiotic. At best they'd spy on Ministry operations, and at worst they might even attempt sabotage or a removal of Voldemort's puppet in the Minister's office. "He'll send the Death Eaters on their tails, maybe even try to find some of them personally."

Ron shifted behind him uncomfortably behind him as they walked. "I've been thinking." He said, quietly. "What if he doesn't? What if the remaining Aurors are given orders to go after them, to make an example out of anyone who tries to leave?"

Harry's blood ran cold and he almost tripped over his own feet, steadying as Ron grabs his arm. "Shit," he hissed, despairing at the thought. "Shit. I didn't even think about that. You're right though, that's exactly what he'd do."

"I've been thinking about the Ministry a lot," said Ron, miserably. "Dad's still going to have to go into work, you know. The whole place is held hostage because they're afraid, and when it comes down to it we might have to fight a lot of Ministry employees who don't want anything to do with this." He let out a bitter chuckle, keeping his voice down. "I wonder what Percy'll do."

"Your brother might be a git, but he's not a monster, and he was brave enough for Gryffindor. He already saw what happened when Dumbledore proved Fudge wrong about Voldemort." Harry didn't know Percy that well, but he didn't believe the elder Weasley would do anything horrible. "He'll come around, if he hasn't already in secret."

"Part of me says that I don't care about the git." Ron whispered acridly, and then sighed. "But even if I didn't believe Perce could leave like he did, I think you're right. Thanks mate. It's just - I haven't even talked to him in two years. And Mum and Dad...Ginny and I just ran off, and left a note on the fridge. Mum's gonna kill me when we come back, but what if..." He trailed off, losing himself in his own worries.

Harry nodded as they kept walking, feeling lost and unable to do much to console his friend, but then stopped, holding out a hand. They both paused there, not far from the flickering lights of the village, looking down at the empty streets from atop the gently sloping hills. "Think about it like this." He muttered, turning toward Ron. "Someone's got to do something about Voldemort and his lackeys if the magical Britain will ever be safe." Harry paused. His mind flitted back to a different time, standing in Dumbledore's office with the man gesticulating wildly, pacing the length of the floor as they discussed the prophecy. "Dumbledore said something like this once, last year, so I'll try to explain it the same way." He breathed in deep, looking squarely into his friend's blue eyes. "Pretend for a second, that I'm not the Chosen One and all that shite, but Voldemort was still in power and you somehow learned about the Horcruxes. He's still the Dark Lord, and he's got control of the government by force. What would you do if you had the chance?"

Ron seemed put off by the question for a moment, almost scoffing it off as ridiculous before slowly understanding what Harry was trying to get at. A look of surprise, then grim understanding seemed to dawn on his face. "I-I'd," he swallowed momentarily, fumbling his words. "I'd have to do something. Anything. For the family's sake." There's silence for a moment, and Harry watches his friend gather his emotions. It was an understanding that he himself had only gained last year, after Dumbledore had pressed on him the importance of his motivation. Even now he still wasn't sure he could grasp it in full, though it wasn't so different than his saving-people-thing.

"They killed my uncles you know. Dolohov and some other Death Eaters." Ron says it suddenly, shaking his head, staring blankly toward the empty village. "I think it's why Mum's such a control freak, so worried about us all the time...I'm not young enough to remember, but Bill hinted to me once that she bought our family clock because of that." Harry watched him turn, saw his expression flatten into resolve. "I'd have to do something. So she doesn't feel like that again."

"Yeah..." Harry spoke quietly, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "You alright now?"

Ron shrugged, noncommittal, and responded curtly. "I will be when we're through with this, as long as it takes." He pulled the transfigured blocks of wood from his pocket, tossing one of them lightly. "Let's dump these berks and get back to the others."

And with a shared nod, they were off.

"Harry, your cloak is brilliant and all, but we won't all fit under that. How are we getting into the castle without being spotted?" Hermione asked, barely 15 minutes later as they all stood inside the front door to the Shrieking Shack. Harry shook his head from where he seated himself on the dusty stairs, dragging himself to his feet.

"There isn't anyone in the castle. No one's going to see us. The passage in the back leads straight under the Whomping Willow, on Hogwarts grounds and inside the wards. There'll be no magical evidence we were here at all. We can just walk in the front doors." He rummaged through his pockets for a moment and pulled out a very particular piece of old parchment. "We have the Marauder's Map, anyway. As long as one of us keeps an eye on it, we'll be clear."

The passage out of the Shrieking Shack was barely hidden at all, blocked by a dirty wooden board that Sirius must have put up. The rumors about the shack, Harry supposed, were enough to keep anyone but the most reckless of visitors from finding the passage. He felt a slight pang as he remembered Sirius' brokenly happy expression upon hearing that he might one day get to take care of his godson as they crawled out of the tunnel. Harry brushed the sorrow aside, after a moment. He'd gotten too good at that.

The tunnel looked just as it always had; dirt and stone were cobbled together to form a weak floor, with planks thrown together like scaffolding along the sides to protect the low-hanging dirt walls from collapse. He lit the tip of his wand with a quietly muttered "Lumos," and stared ahead into the darkness. "Watch your heads in here, the tunnel's low and we're not as small as we were as third years." Ron snorted from the background and Harry grinned at him, continuing. "Just fair warning. We might have to crawl on hands and knees once we get near the Willow."

"Well then Harry, I suppose you'll owe us a bath. It has been a nasty few days." Luna said sagely, nodding in a satisfied manner as she wrapped her wand in her long hair and left it stuck above her ear. Harry just grinned at the odd Ravenclaw.

"You'll get your chance, I promise. Let's get going."

Harry didn't come near this passage very often. Sneaking into Hogsmeade had usually been the priority in previous years, and it had always been more efficient to use the Honeydukes route. Even now, he couldn't help but be disconcerted by the cramped space and the dirt and wood surrounding him. It wasn't horribly uncomfortable, but it reminded him of the cupboard that had been his bedroom, once upon a time. The Dursley's sucked, Harry acknowledges to himself, but no use hating the dead. The cupboard didn't bother him anymore. At least that's what he told himself. Still, he took solace in the people following behind him, and kept moving.

It turned out he was right about the exit. The sloping tunnel below roots of the Whomping Willow was so steep that he was practically climbing vertically to get out. He grabbed one of the thick, heavy roots in one hand as he heaved himself up, the great branches of the moving tree frozen above as he pulled himself onto the grass, panting slightly. He tried vainly to brush the huge smears of dust and grass and earth from his jeans. Whatever. He bent low, still on his hands and knees, pulling up his friends as they came out of the hole. Luna followed behind him, a curious spring in her step as she seemed to bounce off the roots and onto her knees on the ground above. As soon as Ron got out, he stared offering a hand as Neville and Ginny came through. Harry almost started cackling as a sheepish Ron, his ears red even in the darkness, slung his arms around Hermione to help her up, the last person in the tunnel. He's so bloody thick, I swear.

They walked toward the dark castle together. Even at night Hogwarts looked wrong without its students. The bluebell-flame torches at the front entrance were extinguished. In the high towers and windows, no lights flickered. No sign of students sneaking around in dorms or staying up late to do homework. It radiated a pervading emptiness, and it felt wrong to see his one-time home like this. He suspected that sometimes teachers lived here over the summer based on conversations he'd heard. However, it was obvious that no one wanted to, now Dumbledore was dead. Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map as they came close, noting that Snape was in the dungeons even at this late hour. Apparently the Potions Master didn't like to use Dumbledore's office. Golly, I wonder why...

"No one's around, and Snape's in the dungeons," Harry muttered as they neared the tall oak doors that opened up into the Entrance Hall. "Help me with the door, would you?" Neville steps in beside him and Ron to his right, and they shove the door open slowly. Creeeaaaak. The sound echoes down the stones. Inside, the castle is much the same: dark, eerie, lonely. He heaves the door closed as Luna and Ginny shuffle in together after Hermione.

The sounds of their shoes are the only noise that penetrate the ambiance. They traverse the halls in silence, Harry flicking his eyes down to the map every once in a while. He held his wand lazily in front of him. The light bled down the hallways and only served to give him the impression that they were in a massive haunted house. Dudley had loved watching horror movies on the telly at night, even if the jump-scares he fell for essentially shook the house. Harry felt like he was almost waiting for the Bloody Baron to pop out of the wall and start hissing at them, or Peeves to show up with an unwelcome load of dungbombs.

Neville broke the awkward silence after they'd finally climbed to the 7th floor, obviously unnerved by the chilly atmosphere. "Sneaking around at night never felt so creepy," he whispered hoarsely, voice carrying through the stillness even though he'd barely spoken. Harry turned to give him a wry grin.

"You're telling me, I've been roaming around this place all day and I didn't even see any of the ghosts!"

"That's not possible!" Hermione hissed, trying and failing to keep her voice down. "They're ghosts, they can't just leave the place they supposed to haunt! They have to be somewhere near." Harry frowned. He knew she was right, but shrugged.

"I don't know what to tell you." He grinned, feeling mischievous. "What if they're watching right now, about to pop out of the ceiling?"

Hermione's only response was a venomous glare.

Soon enough they passed the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy and Harry paused in front of the door. Everyone behind him knew about the Room of Requirement and had easily figured where they were going. Harry smiled to himself, wishing he could borrow Colin Creevey's infamous camera right about now. Maybe he could borrow the pensieve to record the memory. He wondered if his friends would be as thoroughly impressed as he was.

He paced back and forth in front of the Room, remembering how it had looked last time.

3...2...1...

He didn't wait for a second, shoving the iron double-doors open the instant they rippled into view.

Behind him, the sharply drawn breaths, gasps of shock, and a single muttered "Holy shit," told him that he'd made the right call in choosing their home base.

The room was large, but not massive anymore, instead giving off a homely vibe without being small. Each of the four corners was decorated with a banner of one of Hogwarts' founders, and designed to look like a small version of the house Common Rooms. The Slytherins with their tall and green-tinted windows, the overstuffed Gryffindor armchairs, the yellowish bricks and portholes of Hufflepuff's walls, and the large library desks and study chairs he expected from Ravenclaw. The walls appeared to be made of stones that gradually changed in color, shape, and size, forming a strangely beautiful gradient as each area bled into the next. There were four large columns in the room, but instead of coming to the floor they opened up to reveal identical fireplaces, each one with everlasting flames of a different color. Two archways opened up on the left and right sides, leading to other rooms.

Last time he'd entered, Harry noticed that each house had their own magical artifacts that somehow seemed suited to them. The blue Ravenclaw corner had several shelves of books, some of which were clearly empty. The Slytherin corner held a number of familiar workbenches and pieces of equipment he'd seen in Potions, but were clearly more sturdy and trimmed in gleaming silver, stacked alongside several shelves of creepy-looking ingredients. Near the familiar red and gold, Harry had spotted a large grey object that reminded him of an enormous anvil with several dials on the side. The Hufflepuff area had an easel covered in charts and equations he didn't recognize, and a large square table whose surface seemed to be made of cast-iron, with several bottles of multicolored liquids and a bunch of tools that looked more like they belonged in a muggle's garage than in the secret halls of a magical school.

The true centerpiece of the room, however, stood at the far end. A sprawling wide dais raised from the floor, with a thick round table sitting regally atop it. It was as if the platform and the table had been carved from a single piece of obsidian glass. The Hogwarts crest stood above it, a proud declaration upon the wall. High above, gentle clouds drifted above floating candles that spread across the entire room, the ceiling enchanted identically to the Great Hall seven floors below. This room is as beautiful as when I first found it, he thought.

"OH MY GOD!" Hermione screeched. The brown-haired blur shot forward so fast that Harry barely even saw her move, as she sprinted to the Ravenclaw's bookshelves. He could only laugh as she literally vibrated with excitement, picking several books and gasping at their titles. "Harry, these are all from the Restricted Section!" she cried out in glee, clutching them to her chest. Next to him, Ron had also walked inside, torn between awe at his surroundings and giggling at Hermione's newfound euphoria. Neville was just looking around, jaw agape as if someone had just handed him a dozen Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Luna had walked over to the Hufflepuff section in the meantime, extremely interested by the metallic-looking table.

"Hermione, you'll want to see this!" She called out happily, eyes wide as she rapped the smooth iron with her knuckles in a dull clang. Harry himself didn't know what it was and walked over there, but Hermione was even faster. Not dropping the heavy books she carried, she sprinted around him and left a gust of wind in her wake, joining Luna's side. Then the books fell to the floor, and even she was agape. "A Rune-scribe table!" she gasped out, panting heavily as she ran her hands across the surface. "Merlin's holy balls!"

Ron finally couldn't take it anymore, trying and failing to hide his obvious laughter behind his wand hand, while doubling over wheezing from his lungs. Neville had tossed back and sat himself down in the nearest armchair, gaze flicking back and forth between the ceiling and the ornate designs in the Room. Harry's eyes fell upon Ginny last of all, who was looking curiously over at the large, heavy object near the Gryffindor corner.

"All right, you lot," Harry called out in a false drawl. "We have until September at least before we leave, there's plenty of time to check everything out. There are bedrooms and bathrooms over there, I think." He pointed to the right side archway, where they'd been last time he'd created the room. "And I can ask Dobby to grab something for you, if you're hungry." He added.

"Harry." Ginny's voice was grave. Turning to face her, Harry couldn't help but be taken aback by the serious resolve on her face. "What exactly did you, Ron and Hermione bring us together for? What were you talking about in the letter?"

He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. He can't think.

The question knocked him completely off balance, like a bludger in the arse. A flash of memory hits him, the diary with a fang stabbed through its pages in his mind's eye. Black ink seeping into his robes and his skin, blood and grime on his hands as Ginny wakes, eyes shrouded in fear.

How am I supposed to tell her we're looking for more objects exactly like the diary? That she's been attacked directly by a piece of Voldemort's teenage soul? A wave of despair distracts him from his thoughts. Where do I even start?

"We should sit down." Hermione took over for him, obviously noticing her friend was lost. "This might take a little while." To the side, Ron was stunned by his sister, eyes wide and face frowning with an expression like carved stone. Neville and Luna shared a nervous glance. They can tell this won't be good.

Ginny just nodded and the rest followed behind her as they made their way over to the large table. Harry heaved himself into the nearest chair, unable to lift his gaze from the glassy surface. A hand grabbed his own and squeezed gently, and he looked up at Hermione. "Start from the very beginning. I think they should know everything if they're going to help." She said it as calmly as she could, quietly, and Harry squeezed her hand back, trying to convey his gratitude. He hesitated for a bit, giving himself time to breathe.

All the pieces to this mess, and I'm the one who shows them how it ties together. He thought, bitterly. And I'm the one who has to cut the knot.

"This all started before I was born really." His voice is hoarse, beaten, but he clears his throat and keeps going. "In the early spring of 1980, Dumbledore needed a new Divination professor. He decided to give an interview to Trelawney because she was the relative of a well-known seer." He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, remembering the memory he once viewed in a pensieve. "He had it scheduled in the Hog's Head. He told me it was obvious she was a fraud at first, but as he was going to leave something happened. Her eyes rolled back and she went into a trance, and gave a real prophecy." He paused, looking up at his friends, not knowing what kind of composure he had left on his face. "The same prophecy that was in the DOM that night, couple of years back."

"Professor Dumbledore told you what it said, didn't she?" Luna whispered out. He could only nod.

"If it was anyone else, I wouldn't tell them," Harry said. "But this prophecy has done a lot of damage to us in this room. I told Ron and Hermione last year, but all of you deserve to know."

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

Ginny's eyes were wide in fear, but Luna looked oddly unperturbed, almost as if she'd expected it all along. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised, he thought. Harry paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and letting his words sink in. "Neville," he said, suddenly. "Remind us when your birthday is."

He frowned, confused. "Uh, you know it's July 30th Harry. What's that got to do...with..." he trailed off, then froze, remembering.

"The prophecy could have referred to two people. You and me." Harry couldn't stop himself, he just knew that this was something Neville needed to know. "That day, Snape was still one of Voldemort's Death Eaters. He heard the first half of the prophecy before the bartender caught him and threw him out, but it was enough. He told Voldemort the information directly."

Ron and Hermione hadn't heard that particular detail before, even though he'd known it for almost a year. Ron looked apoplectic and Hermione looked like she was going to be sick. He just shook his head as Ron opened his mouth, his eyes pleading for his friend to wait it out.

"So fast-forward and several months later, Neville and I are the only two children whose parents had defied Voldemort on three occasions, and were born at the end of July. He somehow found that information out, and so did Snape." He hesitated here, not knowing how to go about the talk. "Snape begged Voldemort to spare my family." Harry said, quietly. "Tom only said he'd spare my mother. Snape didn't like that, and went to Dumbledore, who sent our families both into hiding."

Harry rubbed his head tiredly, trying to ward off the building headache. "You know what happened next. My parents went under Fidelius, and Peter eventually became Secret Keeper and betrayed them. Voldemort got hit with his rebounded killing curse and spent 13 years wandering about as a spirit." He looks at Neville, sorrowful. "I think Bellatrix knew about the prophecy. When I disappeared along with Voldemort, the rest of them must have hunted down your family trying to find out what happened."

Luna reaches over to Neville's shoulder and rubs it soothingly as his knuckles whitened. Harry was almost surprised the bigger boy hadn't cracked the table from the amount of anger he was trying to keep closed off.

"Dumbledore immediately guessed that Voldemort hadn't been killed. I don't know how he knew, but he did." He licked his lips, looking up at Ron and Hermione. "Part of this is just a guess, but I think Dumbledore set up the fiasco with the Philosopher's Stone as a trap to confirm if he was still alive."

Hermione bolted up in her chair at the thought, opening her mouth, but Harry just raised a hand. "Come on, Hermione. Remember the security measures? A bunch of first years working together literally got past it by themselves. If we tried that same challenge right now it wouldn't even take an hour."

"You're probably right," she almost growled it back, after a moment. "It's hard to believe Dumbledore would just let that happen." Ron looked perturbed, and Hermione noticed, rolling her eyes. "It's alright Ron, your chess-playing was bloody brilliant and we all know it." He managed a weak smile in return, and a nod.

"I think he was confident enough about my mother's magic," Harry said, after a moment, hoping and praying that it was true. The alternative, that Dumbledore had callously manipulated him to near-death at the age of eleven, was too chilling to think about. "Though he probably didn't expect me to land in the hospital wing for a while." He shook his head, moving on.

He shifted his gaze over to Ginny, hoping his eyes were apologetic enough as he started to talk. "Then second year, we had the Chamber of Secrets. Voldemort's teenage diary was used to unseal the basilisk and possess you, Ginny." He lost himself for a moment, remembering the horror upon seeing the ghostly boy's handsome figure explain he was the Dark Lord. "When you were unconscious, he bragged to me a bit. He told me he was a memory of himself, preserved in the diary's enchantments for 50 years." He shrugged. "I didn't know any better at the time, but I should have known it was a lie. Dumbledore knew it instantly, though I'm not really sure how he did know but I have a guess." He looked over to his right. "Hermione? Your guess is probably better than mine."

"Memory doesn't have willpower." said Hermione slowly. "Given what you've told me that makes sense."

Harry nodded. "A memory didn't posses you, Ginny, it's not possible and memory alone is simply too weak to fight against a person's mind. Dumbledore knew it too, he knew that somehow a small piece of Voldemort himself was inside that diary. He told me last year, that that day was the first time he had evidence that Voldemort had done something to change his mortality, to survive the killing curse that hit him when he couldn't kill me." Ginny was pallid and almost trembling, as Harry's words threw her back into her own nightmare while recognizing the full gravity of what had almost happened to her that day.

"Wait a fucking second." Neville jumped in to Harry's monologue, his face pale and voice angry. "You mean even if we hit him with another killing curse or lop off his head, he can just keep coming back to life in new bodies? That he's completely immortal, even if he weakens."

Harry struggled with himself for a moment, but nodded with a grunt. "As it stands right now, that's exactly what it is. Voldemort can be killed again and again, and as long as someone can find his spirit, he can use them to bring himself back to life. The reason we're all here together is so we can undo the magic he's used, and get rid of him for good." He couldn't keep going. Just thinking about all of this was exhausting, talking out loud of the plaguing worries that had twisted his thoughts for weeks. "Hermione, can you explain some more? I'm..." he sighed.

Hermione felt her heart ache as she watched her friend. He looked so exhausted, as if he was completely drained, reliving his life and past piece by piece, just to explain what they were left to do. Ginny did not look in better shape, having replayed the worst moment of her life and finding out those memories were significantly worse than she had believed. She paused to consider for a moment. All three of the people left were purebloods, so perhaps a children's tale would be good to start it off. She just bit her lip and nodded at Harry, and turned to the others, chewing on chapped flesh and her own thoughts as she pondered how to start.

"Have you ever heard of the wizard's tale of Koschei the Deathless?" she asked, finally, peering at the other three. Neville frowned, his brow folding as he seemed to recognize the nom de guerre, weakly shrugging. Luna, however, sat up straight with her eyes flashing in alarm.

"The Slavic Lich King." She breathed out, attentive. "He led a revolution of ethnic Russians in the 12th century. Daddy used to tell me the story of how he hid his soul inside of a needle, inside of an egg, inside of an Augurey. It's a popular story among dark and pureblood families, especially those near Durmstrang."

Hermione nodded. "The story tale is at least a little bit true." She shuddered a little, remembering the gruesome research she'd done to uncover all of this. "Several thousand years before, there was a Greek wizard by the name of Herpo, the same man who earlier rediscovered how to ritually breed a basilisk. He's got a Chocolate Frog card named Herpo the Foul, modern wizards gave him that name because all his surviving works are the darkest of Black magics. When he was old and exiled, he traveled to Egypt and discovered a ritual used by the Pharoah Amenhotep IV. The King had somehow extracted his soul into a clay jar, and then killed his son, the famous King Tutankhamun, and took over his body with his soul. It was a crude method of immortality." She can see the dawning horror and realization on Neville's face, but she can't stop now. They need to know everything, and then they'll join. They have to, because knowing what we know now, there's no other choice but to fight to the death.

"Herpo reversed engineered the process and created an improved version, something he called a Horcrux, and wrote down how to make it." She knows the disgust is obvious in her voice, but she can't help it, nor the fear that comes to mind. Even talking about the name of such a horrible creation gives her chills. She can see the helpless fear in the eyes of the others, and a flash of disgust from Luna. They all understand just how truly depraved the practice must have been.

"The Horcrux is an abomination. Killing someone in cold blood damages the soul, anyone with any knowledge of the soul is aware of that. Herpo learned it's possible to entrap the victim's soul and essentially burn it into raw energy to create a backlash, shearing off a portion of the caster's soul. That portion of essence can then be stored in nearly any object to forcibly link the soul to the mortal plane, even when the owner's body is obliterated."

"After the final death of Koschei, Russian wizards scoured the globe to attempt to remove all references to Horcruxes. But Voldemort somehow found Herpo's work, somewhere in Egypt most likely, and decided that he would give himself perfect immortality and an extra boost of power at the same time." Hermione breathed in, deeply, attempting her best but still failing to ignore the horrified expressions on her friend's faces. "He decided that he would cut his soul into seven pieces and hide them, since seven is a number of power in magic. The diary," she paused, and looked at Ginny before charging on. "He made the diary first, at 16, using Moaning Myrtle's death as the catalyst. I suspect the damage to her soul is why she doesn't do anything but cry; she doesn't know how to do anything else. Since then he made several more. Dumbledore discovered one and destroyed it, but not before it cursed him. That's what happened to his hand."

"Y-You're telling me that I was possessed by a teenage shard of V-Voldemort's soul." whispered Ginny, half-stuttering in fear and half-twitching in rage.

"Yes Ginny," said Harry, softly, interjecting. "And there are four more left to find and destroy."

"Then we kill him, for good."

AN: Mostly dialogue again, but things will start picking up next chapter. Will warn readers, this is definitely not going to be a Horcrux hunt like in TDH over the long-term. Our crew is powerful, but they're outnumbered and outgunned in a dystopian society that will (hopefully) eventually be worse than Voldemort's control over the Ministry in canon. They're going to need to learn (HINT HINT) and it will not be from anywhere that can be recognized from our lovely but rather miserably annoying JK Rowling (not really sorry).

Also, only one spell. I gave the refilling charm an incantation. The Geminio spell that Hermione uses to duplicate the bottle is obviously canon, as it was used by Gringotts as security for the Lestrange vault. However I'm not really sure how this spell is both a duplication charm and a burning curse, when really it should only duplicate objects according to the name. I'm working under the assumption that the original charm has to be modified into a curse for its secondary purpose.

Repleo - Refilling charm. Refills a container by duplicating the liquid it already contains, until the spell is cancelled. Cannot be used to replenish an empty container. Cannot be used to replenish liquids with significant magical properties or enchantments, such as Firewhiskey, potions, or creature byproducts/extracts like basilisk venom.

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