Cave

Harry met Professor Dumbledore in his office well after curfew, but they were unimpeded as they went down to the Entrance Hall, not that anyone would have questioned the Headmaster anyway. Tonks met them outside the doors with an eager smile for Dumbledore and one for Harry that he liked to call 'his' smile, one she reserved for him alone.

However, he didn't have time to dwell on it, for there was a more important task at hand. The three of them strode with few words toward the gates, outside of which Remus Lupin and Bill Weasley met them. Tonks had simply told them they needed to find a possession of Voldemort's which would help defeat him. If they had questions beyond that, they didn't ask now, merely offering greetings.

"I believe Harry has been upfront with you about the danger?" Dumbledore asked quietly. He, too, had withheld any questions when Harry decided they needed to bring help. It made Harry surge with pride; Dumbledore trusted his decisions.

When they nodded, Dumbledore withdrew his wand. "I need to show you where to go."

He placed it at his temple, withdrawing a liquidy strand of silver, and gently held it out to Remus, who in turn took the free end with the tip of his wand and lifted it to his own head, where it receded. After repeating it with Bill and Tonks, he turned to Harry.

"Do you understand what I am doing?"

"You're giving them a memory, like for a pensieve."

"Yes, to show them where to apparate. I can place it through legilimancy as well, but I find this manner less invasive."

Remus added, "It's not an entirely safe way to apparate, as you're relying on a picture instead of personal knowledge which adds more than simply appearance, but we're all practiced in this manner of apparating."

"Plus Professor Dumbledore gives particularly good images," said Tonks. "Some of the blokes I went through Auror training with… I could draw clearer images with crayons and stick figures."

Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you, my dear. Harry, you will go with me. If you will take my hand…?"

He proffered his good arm.

Once Harry held it tightly, Dumbledore twisted—squeezing, pulling, suffocating darkness—and they arrived on an unknown seashore. Remus, Bill, and Tonks appeared in quick succession.

His senses were immediately assaulted by a distinctive salty scent and the sound of crashing surf.

The shore wasn't what he expected for the location of a childhood seaside holiday. Rocky, foreboding cliffs rose up behind the group, and no proper sandy beach was anywhere in sight.

"Is this it, Professor?" he asked quietly. "Not somewhere I'd fancy for a holiday."

"I imagine they took the children up there," Dumbledore said. As if reading Harry's thoughts, he added, "Riddle would most certainly have used magic to climb down." He raised his voice so the others could hear. "Our destination is there."

Following Dumbledore's long finger, Harry could just make out a dark opening, a cave or inlet. No paths nor rocks led there. In fact, the only way to get there was—

"Time for a swim, then?" asked Tonks, already shedding her jacket.

Bill followed suit, as well as Harry and Remus with their robes, leaving them in a heap where they stood, but Dumbledore was content for his robes to remain, slipping into the water and swimming with broad strokes that belied his age and infirmity.

Harry gasped when he waded in. Icy water assaulted his lungs, recalling his inadvertent dip in the Black Lake with Tonks on Valentine's Day. However, once his body adjusted, it wasn't too difficult to swim, and the current was nice enough to help them along.

Sloping, uneven ground met his feet sooner than he expected. He climbed out gladly, shivering and trying to wring water from his dripping clothes with minimal results. While Dumbledore, magically already dry, focused on the cave entrance, Bill and Tonks dried each other, and it was Remus who helped out Harry. Harry nodded his gratitude. He didn't want to use magic until it became necessary, unsure if Voldemort's protections would also block the Trace.

"My apologies, Harry," Dumbledore said when he noticed. "Shall we enter?"

"I'll wait here," said Remus. "If you trigger any alarms, I'll alert you of company and hold them off."

He squeezed Harry's shoulder as he passed. The remaining four proceeded inside the cave, probing the unknown darkness with light from the tips of their wands. Tonks pulled a torch from her bag and tossed it to Harry.

"Anti-apparition, anti-portkey," she mused aloud a moment later, waving her wand in a pattern Harry was pleased to recognize.

"No alarms or intrusion jinxes," said Bill, copying her movements. "Strange. In Egypt, the point of entry of a tomb always has the strongest protection."

"Egyptian tombs are well-known, and attempts to break in are inevitable," Dumbledore postulated.

"This is Riddle's secret, which is not to say it will not be equally protected, or even more so. Rather, I believe he will want to know who discovered his secrets and who was strong enough to break his enchantments. Harry, what does that tell you?"

When Harry figured out the answer, his stomach clenched. "The problem won't be getting in," he replied with a sinking feeling of dread. "It will be getting out."

No one commented on that.

The cave came to an end, leaving them facing a smooth, broad stone wall. No doorway or tunnel lay in sight.

"What do you reckon?" Tonks whispered to Harry while Bill and Dumbledore pulled their wands, murmuring to themselves.

He shrugged. It was obvious they'd missed something, but where? Sidestepping Bill, he walked toward the wall in a purposeful stride, one hand held out to prevent himself from crashing into it, which was exactly what happened. So much for that idea.

"Thought it might be like Platform 93/4," he muttered to Tonks, who grinned.

"Not a bad idea, babe," she said, rolling the endearment around her mouth. He liked to hear it as much as she liked to say it. "Easy to overlook simple solutions."

"I believe it is quite simple, in a manner of speaking," said Dumbledore. "Overly crude, yet simple. He requires a sacrifice."

"A sacrifice?" Harry repeated with some alarm. That didn't sound very simple to him.

"A minor sacrifice, Harry. Riddle would see it as a physical weakness, and as one who has always feared death, he places that higher than one ought. His mistake."

Before anyone could stop him, Dumbledore's wand slashed the air, and blood splattered from the ensuing gash on his forearm onto the stone. The outline of a door soon shimmered in the same dark red color before fading away, taking the stone with it and leaving a large if rough doorway.

"Merely a bit of blood," explained Dumbledore.

Harry had seen blood keep himself alive, burn the skin of another, and bring someone back to life. 'A bit of blood' didn't seem like a minor sacrifice, and he was warier than ever as he walked through. It resealed itself as soon as Dumbledore, who was last, passed through.

The Headmaster attempted to heal his arm, but nothing happened. Frowning, he tried again with the same results. He looked up at the ceiling of the cave. "Is that it, Tom?"

"Here, Professor," said Tonks, tearing a strip from the bottom of her shirt to wrap around his arm.

"This should stop the bleeding."

"Thank you, Nymphadora," he replied, bringing a not very well hidden grimace to her face.

They pressed forward. The utter quiet was unnerving, and darkness threatened to suffocate them from all around, lifting the hairs on the back of Harry's neck. Something was wrong here. The obstacles thus far had been minor, lending credence to his guess about getting in versus getting out.

Strangely, he began to smell the stinging saltiness of the sea again. It grew, along with it a tiny, distant light, not a wand or torch but something fuzzier, like a glow.

The path came to an abrupt end and with it the walls themselves, shearing away to reveal an immense cavern, far larger than then the preceding cave. The glow Harry had seen earlier emitted from a small island in the middle of a lake. Dumbledore stood on the sloping edge, murky water not quite lapping his buckled boots.

"Another swim?" asked Tonks, taking a step forward.

Dumbledore held up his hand. "That would not be wise." No explanation followed.

The Auror and the curse breaker immediately began to wave their wands, silent and grim. Some spells Harry recognized—he thought Bill was searching for an invisible bridge over the water—some he didn't. What captured his attention was that the Headmaster did neither, instead leaning over the water to grasp something unseen. He pulled, hand over hand like he was reeling in a rope or chain, and Harry wasn't the only one who jumped in surprise when an actual boat scraped the ground.

Damp, wooden, and aged, the boat that appeared out of nowhere hardly gave the impression of a seaworthy vessel, much less one for the group. Bill pointed out the obvious.

"There's no way we can fit in that. Maybe two at most, jammed together. Is there another?"

Dumbledore replied, calmly and with assurance, "No. This is where we part. Harry, if you will precede me?"

Bill gave him a sharp look. "Are you sure, sir? Perhaps Tonks or I—"

"It is time for Harry and I to continue on our own. I also suspect the boat has limitations beyond physical weight which would make it unwise for two grown wizards to attempt use of it. Do not worry. I am with Harry."

'Harry is with me' would have been the expected reassurance, and Harry didn't know if the change encouraged or frightened him.

Tonks returned from scouting the perimeter and glanced at the water with clear unease.

"Professor"

"I know," he said cryptically. "Stay out of the water. Harry, please get in."

Harry surrendered the torch to Tonks, letting his fingers briefly linger with hers while she gave him a glance of clear worry. He nodded in what he hoped was a comforting way before climbing into the boat. Dumbledore followed (as Bill predicted, their knees pressed against one another). The boat began to move of its own accord, slipping back into the water, where it rode low, and floating toward the island. The glow on the center took on a greenish tint as they drew closer.

Harry glanced back at the two on the shore one last time before they faded to the lit tips of their wands, and when his gaze slid down at the water, he nearly jumped out of his skin. A face, a skull attached to a body but still a face, stared back at him from just under the surface.

"Professor, there are things in the water."

"I am aware, Harry," Dumbledore replied, still calm as could be.

Harry held his wand tighter, forcing himself to breathe slowly and deeply. He couldn't hide his extreme uneasiness, but it was best not to let his thoughts get the better of him. When the boat bumped into the island, he scrambled out gratefully, making sure to keep his shoes as far from the water as possible.

The island was not large, composed of smooth, dark stone sloping up to a pedestal and basin at the peak, from which the green glow radiated. That was where the horcrux lay. It had to be.

Remembering how the diadem had all but called out to him, Harry was somewhat surprised not to feel a thing from this one, but he chalked it up either to his strengthened mind shields from his occlumency training or further protection from Voldemort. In the case of the diadem, he seemed to have left a major of the protection of the horcrux up to the secretive nature of the Room of Requirement. That was clearly not the case here.

It all seemed too simple, truly, when they hiked up the hill and gazed into the basin to find a silver locket at the bottom underneath a clear liquid. Naturally, what seemed too simple was, in fact, not, made apparent when Harry reached in to scoop out the locket. His hand never got wet at all, met by some invisible, inflexible barrier. He tried again, pushing, but it seemed the air itself conspired to keep him away. Perplexed, he glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded in an encouraging way.

Harry tried summoning the horcrux. He tried vanishing the liquid away, tried siphoning it over the side. He conjured a cup and scooped some out, only for it to disappear and reappear in the basin when he tried to dump it on the ground. He tried to crack the basin and use a hot-air charm to evaporate the liquid and whatever spells he could possibly think of reach the locket. Nothing worked.

"I think it must be drank," said Dumbledore.

Harry recoiled with horror. Without any rhyme or reason, his instinct told him that was a very horrible idea. There had to be some other way. But without further ado Dumbledore conjured an unelaborate goblet. With his hand hovering just above the basin, he suddenly looked at Harry. Nothing twinkled in his eyes now.

"Harry, do you remember what I had you promise in my office when I told you I found a horcrux?"

Eyes locked, Harry nodded. "I must ask you to respect that promise. No matter what else I say, make sure I drink all of this. Am I clear?"

It took all Harry had to nod again, now more sure than ever that no one should ingest the liquid.

"That's not water, is it?"

"No, that's not water."

"But what if it kills you?" Harry blurted the instant before the goblet touched the not-water.

"I do not believe it will kill me. I do believe, however, that I might wish it had."

With that reassuring statement he allowed Harry no more time to ask any other questions before plunging the goblet in. Harry half-expected something to happen right away, his hand to sizzle or the goblet to crumble, perhaps, but they did not. When Dumbledore withdrew the goblet, it was full to the brim though not one droplet clung to the outside or his hand. He raised it to his lips and drank deeply.

Again, nothing. A grimace crossed his face, but he didn't say a word as he filled the cup again. Again, and again, and every time he drank, Harry's stomach clenched as if he were the one drinking. After several drinks, Dumbledore paused, clenching the rim of the basin for support.

"Sir?" Harry asked urgently.

Dumbledore shook his head without responding. He took a drink again, his hand noticeably shaking. After a few more, Harry began to hear a low groan, the likes of which he'd never heard from the Headmaster. Another drink, and then a worse sound—a whimper.

"Please," Dumbledore whispered. He stared across the island away from Harry, but nothing was there. "Please."

"Please, what? Professor?"

Harry didn't seem to exist to Dumbledore anymore. He continued to gaze at nothing, and then, as if by pure will, he slowly filled the goblet again. His hand shook once more when he drank, spilling some of it across his face, but the liquid quickly vanished, and Harry didn't have to look at the basin to know where it went.

"Please," Dumbledore said again. "Please make it stop."

It was nearly too much for Harry to bear. To see Albus Dumbledore reduced to a trembling, whimpering, pleading figure was just so wrong. What was the drink doing to him? It was more than physical pain, Harry saw when Dumbledore returned his attention to him, his blue eyes wracked with torment.

"Please."

It was different, directed at Harry this time, and he knew what he had to do. Taking the goblet from Dumbledore's loose grasp, Harry filled it. The liquid was cold, but his hand dried as soon as it emerged.

"Here, Professor, drink this. Just a few more."

'Just a few more' proved to be a lie. The basin was deeper than it had appeared at first glance, or perhaps it was the fact that each drink seemed harder and harder on Dumbledore. He soon slumped to the ground, begging some unknown. Alarmed, Harry poured the drinks down his throat as quickly as he could, all the while trying to block out the sounds of Dumbledore's pain. Trying and failing.

"Please make it stop. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never meant for it to happen."

"Just a few more. Almost done."

"You're hurting her! Stop!"

Though he knew it wasn't addressed to him, Harry almost stopped anyway. Who was 'her'? He'd never known any woman in Dumbledore's life. In fact, he didn't know anyone in or anything about Dumbledore's life before and outside of Hogwarts. The sound of rasping stone brought his attention back to his task. The goblet scraped against the bottom of the basin, the very last drop just filling it up. Harry eagerly reached for the horcrux, one part of his mind still wondering why he couldn't hear it and hoping against hope he had been wrong about why he could with another, but something blocked his hand again. Harry swore under his breath and turned to give Dumbledore the last drink.

The Headmaster gazed at him (whether he thought it was Harry or someone else was up in the air) beseechingly. "Please make it stop. No more. I'll do what you want."

Harry paused. The Headmaster was groaning, a lone tear making a track down his weathered face into his beard, using a tone Harry had never heard from him. He couldn't do it. Despite his promise, he couldn't cause him more pain. Surely just one drink couldn't be that bad.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing to take it like a dose of unpleasant medicine: as quickly as possible. He raised the goblet to his mouth, remarkably stable despite knowing it would cause untold pain—

—and a deadened hand closed around his arm. Harry opened his eyes to find Dumbledore looking up at him.

"No," he whispered. "Harry, please"

Harry could have shrugged him off, ignored him and taken the drink himself, ended his ordeal, but the fact that Dumbledore roused himself from his torment enough to stop him gave him pause. Slowly, reluctantly, Harry tipped the goblet not into his own mouth but into Dumbledore's for the last time.

He drank it almost eagerly, made one shuddering gasp, and fell to the ground. Harry cried out, terrified he'd just killed Professor Dumbledore, and knelt, gasping with relief when he found him breathing.

"No, no, no. Water, please. Water make it stop."

Finding he still clenched the goblet, Harry pointed his wand at it with an Aguamenti spell. The water evaporated on contact. He tried again with the same result, and yelled it aloud a third time in frustration before trying to shoot water directly in Dumbledore's mouth. That, too, failed.

Casting about in desperation, Dumbledore's resumed pleas filling his ears, Harry dashed to the edge of the island, plunging the goblet into the icy water. To his relief it remained full—

—and a deadened hand closed around his arm. Except this time it wasn't Dumbledore's; it belonged to a body emerging from the water, pale and gaunt. Dead. And there wasn't simply the one. Two, three, a dozen corpses climbed out of the water, pulling on Harry with surprising strength, yanking on his clothes and limbs and whatever they could grab to take him back down into the water with him. Harry kicked and tugged, finally freeing his wand hand enough to send a few flying backward with an impediment jinx. He severed the hand gripping his wrist, but amazingly the former owner of the hand kept coming, not even noticing the wound, a wound that wasn't bleeding. Another brushed off a stunner as easily as a dragon, and two more continued their forward press despite being slashed by a curse that would have brought a human, bleeding profusely, to the ground.

Harry fought to stay calm, removing the closest bodies one by one, even if most of his spells were merely temporary, although he exploded one's head spectacularly. That one wasn't coming back. Inferi. What did he know about Inferi? From observation he could see they did not bleed and felt neither pain nor fear. He'd studied them in DADA. Inferi were dark creatures. Light was the opposite of dark, wasn't it? And with a wave of relief, he remembered something else that preferred the dark and damp.

Are you a wizard or not, Harry?

He brandished a flame from the end of his wand like a medieval torch. The creatures recoiled, and though he knew they would recover in a second, the momentary respite was enough for him to scramble away, clutching the goblet like the world's most precious diamond. He slid to a halt next to Dumbledore, casting the strongest shield he could muster around them. A mass of Inferi came from all sides now.

Somehow the goblet was still half-full of water. Harry hesitated for a split second, wondering how sanitary it could be with those things residing in it, before deciding he was overthinking it. There was nothing else to do but upend the cup in Dumbledore's mouth. Some splashed on Dumbledore's face in his haste. Regardless, it seemed to work, for Dumbledore was able to climb to his feet with Harry's assistance. Dropping the goblet, Harry quickly conjured a cloth, used it to grab the horcrux—a locket, Slytherin's locket that Marvolo Gaunt had been so proud of and Merope Gaunt had all but given away—chafing his knuckles in the process, and shoved it into his pocket. Now to get to the boat and cross the water.

Dumbledore mumbled something.

"Sir?" Harry asked anxiously, knocking two Inferi back with one of their own only to watch more take their places.

Dumbledore stumbled, and Harry grabbed at his robes to prevent him from falling. Then, despite the danger all around, Harry gaped. The robes tore open, and Harry could clearly see, in the light shining from his wand, that the blackened skin from Dumbledore's hand had spread. Arm, shoulder, chest—how far had the curse gone?

"Fire," Dumbledore whispered hoarsely, and Harry understood the order instantly, forgetting about the shocking extent of the Headmaster's curse.

Incendio! Putting as much force behind the spell as he could, a jet of flame shot from the tip of Harry's wand. The nearest Inferi caught fire, and Harry sent them tumbling into their brethren, spreading the flames.

Over and over Harry shot flames at their attackers, clearing a path to the boat. He helped the Headmaster in and kicked off, jumping inside while making sure not to touch the water. Dumbledore's earlier warning was clear as day now.

As before, the boat made its own path. Harry briefly wondered why Voldemort would enable somewhat of an escape route before figuring he might want to check on his horcruxes. That thought was sobering; how long did they have before Voldemort caught on to their intention? If he moved the ones he had, or even made more (as sickening as the idea was) would they ever be able to destroy them all?

Harry removed the fatalistic thoughts from his head. Their mission to seek and destroy the one in his pocket was far from safely ended. Inferi grabbed and rocked the boat, keeping Harry busy as he shot flames all around. He occasionally caught a glimpse of an actual face, some less decomposed than others, reminding him that these had been people once. Who were they? Random bodies, former supporters, his enemies No one would ever know.

Shouts and flashes from the other side proved that Bill and Tonks entertained unwelcome guests as well. His stomach knotted itself, imagining Tonks overwhelmed, pulled under by those gray, dead hands, struggling to escape, to breathe

Don't be stupid, he chided himself. She could take care of herself. And as they drew close, he saw her doing just that. Instead of the spurts of flame he was using, a steady jet of flame streamed from the wand she cracked like a whip, keeping the Inferi at bay.

"Bill!" Harry yelled when the boat brushed the stony shoreline.

Bill ran to the boat without delay. Harry helped Dumbledore to his feet and supported him until Bill took over, helping him out of the boat. Though he'd stopped his moans and confusing pleas, the Headmaster was still too cold, pale, and weak. Harry couldn't imagine what could bring Albus Dumbledore to his knees.

Once Bill had Dumbledore supported, Harry began to climb out of the boat. His ankle caught something, or something caught his ankle. Someone shouted his name. There was a splash, and suddenly Harry was underwater. Surrounded. Dead eyes stared at him while countless hands pulled down, down, down. He kicked and struggled, fruitlessly trying to cast flames before he conquered his rising panic and realized fire didn't work underwater. He lit the tip of his wand with a lumos spell, buying himself some room, but he couldn't be everywhere at once, and every time he turned, they came at him again. His lungs began to burn, and he did all he could to push his way to the surface, practically climbing on top of the bodies, there were so many.

A burning light burst out above the water, so bright even Harry had to fight the urge to duck his head. He heard another muffled splash, and although the Inferi were swarming away from the fire above them, one of them seized his waist. Harry kicked again, connecting with something solid that didn't let go, and it wasn't until his head resurfaced that he recognized it wasn't an Inferius who had him after all.

The surface was ablaze with heat and fire, a veritable wave of flames spreading across the room from Dumbledore's wand. The Headmaster still leaned against Bill for support, but there was nothing weak about his face any longer, blazing with something stronger than any fire. And Tonks— where was Tonks?

Still coughing and sputtering, Harry spun around on the wet stone, ready to send fire of his own if they had her, but Tonks was kneeling next to him, sopping wet. She stared at him with a look he'd never before seen on her face, fear mixed with something he couldn't quite place. "Harry," was all she said, also in a loaded tone he'd never heard.

"I know," he answered before taking her hand as they scrambled to their feet. Some things could wait. Had to wait.

His moment of strength past, Dumbledore lowered his wand and sagged against Bill again. "What happened?" Bill asked.

Harry shook his head. "We got what we came for, but he's in a bad way. We have to get him back to Hogwarts."

"And rather in a hurry," Tonks urged. With the cave now reeking of burnt flesh, those Inferi who'd escaped Dumbledore's fireball underneath the water rose once more.

"Don't worry, Professor," Harry told him, supporting his other side. "We'll take you home."

They had to use Dumbledore's blood to open the door again, for the blood of no one else worked, but as his original wound remained unhealed, it didn't matter. Remus met them on the other side, more agitated than Harry had ever seen him.

"What happened?" he echoed Bill, taking in Dumbledore's state in one glance. "I could hear all sorts of noise, but nothing I tried let me through the rock."

Harry let the taller man take his place supporting the Headmaster. "I'll explain later. Tonks, go ahead of us and have Professor Snape meet us in Dumbledore's office."

She had already taken two steps when she turned and gave him a sharp look. "Snape?"

"Yes. Trust me."

That she must have, for she left without another word, jogging and diving into the sea. She was still wet, Snape at her side, when they arrived in Dumbledore's office. As soon as they sat him in his chair, Snape swooped in, running his wand over the Headmaster's body.

"Potter, come here," he ordered. When Harry was at his side, he spoke in a low voice barely loud enough for him to hear, and certainly not enough for the three worried observers. "What happened?"

"He drank a potion. I don't know what was in it. It looked like water, but it made him—he was in pain, obvious pain, and he was talking I don't know. Not to me. Like he was hallucinating. He begged for water afterward."

Snape waved his hand, and, rather annoyed at the curt dismissal, Harry gave him room to work and retreated to stand with the others. What if Snape couldn't save him? What if Harry had killed Dumbledore by allowing him to drink all the potion? His chest tightened at the thought. He would be left to face Voldemort unprepared, all alone and—

The warm pressure of a hand in his stopped his train of thoughts. Worrying helped nothing.

"Harry, what happened over there?" Bill asked quietly.

"There was a potion, someone had to drink it, and Professor Dumbledore he made me promise to make him drink it all I didn't want to but I promised" He trailed off, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes. Maybe if they'd split the potion, Dumbledore wouldn't be on the brink of death.

"If Dumbledore told you to, then you did the right thing," said Remus. "Then what happened? What was all the noise?"

"He wanted water, and the spell wouldn't work, so I got some—there was a lake inside, and I got some from that, and that's when—"

"Inferi," Tonks said with a shudder. "Bill and I were on the opposite side, and all of a sudden these things began to climb out of the water."

"Inferi?" Remus repeated. "There haven't been confirmed sightings since last time."

"These were definitely Inferi. And nothing you ever study in Defense Against the Dark Arts prepares you for it." Bill shook his head, his long hair flopping into his eyes. "I saw some crazy stuff in Egyptian tombs, but I don't mind admitting those things give me major willies."

Remus nodded. "They aren't anything to play with, but it looks like you took care of them, which explains the burn marks."

Startled, Harry looked at his companions for the first time. Bill's eyebrows were singed off, and Tonks' left sleeve was spotted with charred holes. A slash traveled through her trousers and down one leg as well.

Tonks said, "Yeah, we did for them, but it was all Dumbledore in the end. There were just so many, I thought we were going to be overwhelmed, and Harry—" She swallowed. "Harry was dragged into the water."

Bill picked up the tale. "Look at Dumbledore; he could barely stand, but the next thing I knew he had an entire wave of Fiendfyre going out across the cavern with as much effort as it would take me to light a fireplace."

"That was Fiendfyre?" Harry questioned sharply. If he'd known that, he could have tossed the horcrux in and been done with it. But no, Dumbledore was sure to want to see it.

Assuming he recovered enough to be able to.

Time ticked past, but whether it was creeping or rushing, Harry couldn't say. Their conversation waned as they watched Snape mutter spells and administer potions. Harry told himself that if Snape saved Dumbledore's life (a second time, according to the Headmaster's story about the previous horcrux), he'd forget all about his animosity for his teacher.

Eventually more from Dumbledore could be heard than faint murmurs, and all breathed sighs of relief when Snape took a step back. Though still weary and pale in appearance, Dumbledore sat up of his own accord, life returning to his eyes.

" haven't much time," Harry heard Snape say.

"Yes, thank you, Severus. I understand. We have much to discuss on the morrow. For now, there are other tasks at hand."

"You should rest," Snape protested, throwing a sweeping glower over Remus, Bill, and Tonks and coming to rest on Harry.

"My body agrees with you, but I fear my mind is another matter. I shall retire soon. It is quite late; I suggest you do the same."

"If you are sure, Headmaster. Shall I escort Potter to his dormitory?"

Harry frowned, but Dumbledore said, in a voice that remained hoarse, "That will not be necessary. I require a short word with Harry." When Snape vacillated, he added, "Tomorrow, Severus."

When the irascible teacher finally departed, Tonks was the first to speak. "Are you going to be okay, Professor?"

"I will suffer no lasting effects from the potion, Nymphadora. Severus is very thorough." He managed a smile. "I want to thank each of you for your assistance tonight. I know perhaps you have not agreed with my decisions in the past, and I am grateful you can overlook those feelings when the situation requires."

For a moment all were silent beyond the clearing of Bill's throat. Harry stared at the ground, recalling the one Order meeting he'd attended. Not for the first time, he wondered what would have happened if he had stepped back and followed Dumbledore's lead this year.

He wasn't surprised to hear Remus first. "We all want the same thing in the end, Albus."

"Just doing what we can," agreed Bill. "I assume we got what we went for?"

"Yeah," said Harry, pulling the locket out of his pocket and holding it up to spin in the light, careful to grasp the chain through his protective cloth.

"A locket. It's not much to look at, is it?" Bill remarked.

Harry blinked at the silver pendant. It was small, cheap, and plain, no ornate S and glittering gems to declare its value and heritage and importance as a possession of Salazar Slytherin. It was, he saw in an instant, not the right locket, not the one Marvolo Gaunt had thrust in Bob Ogden's face, not the one Caractacus Burke had bought for a song. It wasn't the horcrux.

"No," he said with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, tearing his eyes away to glance at Dumbledore. "It's not."

"Well then, mission accomplished," said Tonks. "Suppose that's it, innit?"

Following her cue, Bill and Remus said their goodbyes, though Bill gave the locket a long, suspicious glance. Tonks was the last out, and she gave Harry a quick hug, using it as cover to whisper in his ear, "Later."

When the door shut behind her, Harry dropped the locket on Dumbledore's desk and pulled up a chair. "All that for nothing," he said heavily.

"There is always something, Harry, even if it is not what one anticipated. For instance, you now know Voldemort is using Inferi and how to deal with them."

"That's something I could have done without."

Dumbledore smiled and let his gaze travel to the locket. He picked it up and turned it slowly in his hands. After a few moments of study, he pried it open, and, to their surprise, a tiny folded scrap of parchment fell out.

Harry reached out and grabbed the parchment as automatically as if it were a snitch, reading aloud the words written inside.

"To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that itwas I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon asI can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

-R.A.B."

Harry trailed off. Someone else knew. Someone else was (or had been) hunting the horcruxes. And that someone, judging by the look on Dumbledore's normally imperturbable face, was just as much news to him as it was to Harry.

Harry gave one mirthless laugh. "I don't suppose you know an R.A.B. off the top of your head, do you?"

"No, I am afraid I do not. I must admit this is quite unexpected." Dumbledore shook his head slowly.

"Quite."

"So we figure out who this person is, find him or her, and maybe he's already destroyed all the horcruxes?" Harry thought aloud.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore allowed, indulging Harry's wishful thinking, admittedly a long shot. He interlaced his long fingers under his chin and studied the false locket at length, his expression revealing nothing but intense thought.

Harry read the note twice, thrice, tracing his fingers over the dark ink. The parchment was still as crisp as it had been the day it was crammed in the fake locket, whenever that was, no fading apparent in either ink or parchment. Given its firm incarceration inside the locket, that gave no indication as to age.

"Sir?" he asked to get Dumbledore's attention. "The only people I've ever heard say 'Dark Lord' are Death Eaters."

Dumbledore nodded, still clearly in deep thought over this unexpected development. "It would seem to be so. While I am quite cleverer than most people, I will not be so arrogant as to assume I am the only one capable of discovering his horcruxes. Tom does like to boast."

"It could have been any of the Death Eaters there that night in the graveyard when he came back. They all heard him. And Lucius Malfoy had the diary. He knew it was something special, even if he didn't know what. Maybe he gave another horcrux to someone else to keep safe, and they figured it out."

"Perhaps."

Again it seemed to Harry that Dumbledore was patronizing him, and he swallowed his irritation, focusing his energy on solving the new puzzle in front of them.

"We only just escaped the cave. If someone went there by himself to get the horcrux, then how do we know he made it out? The real locket might be," his insides turned to ice, "at the bottom of the lake."

"It is a possibility. Best we save our efforts for a later date, Harry, when our minds are properly focused. I believe it is time we both took Professor Snape's excellent advice and got some rest."

"Are you going to be okay, sir?" Harry asked, remembering Dumbledore's ordeal.

"Just as I told Miss Tonks, Professor Snape knows what he is doing. It was smart of you to seek him, not to demean the outstanding talents of Madam Pomfrey."

"If you say so." Casting a last look at the puzzling note and locket, Harry headed for the door. He paused halfway there, unable to withhold his curiosity. "Sir? What—what did the potion do to you? You said things"

Dumbledore frowned, a multitude of complex emotions traversing the wrinkles on his face. Fawkes, whom Harry had though asleep, shuffled on his perch. "Dementors are not the only thing that can make one relive his worst memories, Harry," he finally said quietly, and something in his voice prevented Harry from digging further. "As you said, it is something I could have gone without knowing." Fawkes cooed, low and oddly sad.

"Okay." Harry paused, wanting to say something about the spread of the curse on Dumbledore's hand or the fact that he should have known it wasn't a horcrux or his suspicions—his knowledge?—of why he could sense them in the first place, but it all jumbled together in one great, unspeakable lump.

"Good night, Harry. You did very well tonight, and I was glad to have you with me. Get some sleep, and good luck on your match tomorrow."

His match? Oh! The Quidditch final was tomorrow! He'd all but forgotten with all the night's happenings. With a nod, Harry went, leaving Dumbledore still gazing at the locket and note. He knew from the start he wasn't heading back to his dormitory just yet, despite knowing he needed sleep for the match. There had been something in her voice, something that told him 'later' was important.

Tonks pulled him inside as soon as he knocked on her door. Later he would realize he had unconsciously memorized everything about that night. From the loose pink waves that tumbled across her shoulders, her vest and low slung pajamas, and the one dim light beside her bed to his own dirty jeans and shirt, the feel of his wand in his hand, and how completely quiet it was. In the moment, however, all he could ascertain was that she wore the same hard, terrified look she'd had when she pulled him out of the water.

"Harry," was all she said, and it was all that was needed.

He was drowning all over again in gray eyes, whatever else had happened that night, his fears and anxieties, pushed aside for something even more powerful, something that would wait no longer. And this time, no one was there to interrupt them.