Eight Months Earlier:

Harriet crossed the camp, trying not to cringe at the prying stares.

She can't blame them, though. She knows what she looks like now. There's blood drying on her skin, pooling in the curve of her eyelashes, plastering her hair. Her hands are trembling. She'd had a nasty run-in with Death Eaters while her group was going after supplies. Lately, almost all rebel incursions ended the same way, in battle.

Harry takes a deep breath, drowning out the torrent of unpleasant thoughts trying to swallow her.

Just minutes ago, she'd heard a man begging for his life as he died from a spell she'd cast. Harriet had no intention of killing him, really. They all ended up begging eventually. Ideals aren't worth much when you're curled on the ground, holding your own stomach.

She injured Death Eaters in battle before, but she never killed them. Potter told herself that she shouldn't cross certain lines, but with the war going the way it was, she could not say how long she would be able to keep that belief.

People looked up to her. They counted on her to lead . Every single one of her decisions carried too much weight.

Generally speaking, Harriet didn't know how she got there, being the face of their little rebellion. She didn't know much these days, but she was aware that men like Kingsley Shacklebolt were grateful that she didn't make things worse than they already were by acting like a moralist fool.

That wasn't the kind of war that they could win through the power of love and friendship alone. Ethics and triumph no longer went hand in hand in their world.

The rebels were at a clear disadvantage from the start, so Harry learned pretty quickly to get her hands dirty and do what she must without complaining.

Even accepting the harshness of reality, she felt she was reaching a limit. She didn't want to blame the camp, but it was inevitable not to think about it.

That arrangement was supposed to be temporary, just a Death Eater attack that she and her friends had accidentally intercepted while hunting down Voldemort's Horcruxes, but it was a month already, and they were still there.

Ron said that people felt safer in Potter's presence when she talked about leaving. Harriet wanted to scream at this, as she was the one putting them in danger in the first place.

They weren't fighters, at least not in the beginning.

The camp was little more than that, a huddle of tents in the woods, full of desperate people trying to survive. Voldemort had closed the whole country by putting his Death Eaters in strategic places. The International Confederation of Wizards had already made it clear that the Dark Lord was a problem Great Britain had to deal with alone.

With the growing influence of purists and nowhere to run, half-bloods, muggle-borns, squibs, and blood-traitors picked up their families and fleed to places like this one.

More and more people arrived every day, searching for the promise of Harry Potter, who would save them all. Harry Potter, who would lead, who would fight back .

Her life wasn't her own anymore, but it never really was since that damned prophecy.

As she passes by, people in the camp interrupt their daily chores to stare at her. At this point, she's accustomed. They have been gazing at her with their greedy eyes ever since Harriet's Hogwarts letter tossed her into that world, but now the weight of war is wearing her down, keeping her in a constant fight-or-fligh t state.

The girl holds her shoulders square, takes a deep breath, and marches straight to her tent.

She wants a shower, a meal, and a night of sleep, but she's Harry Potter, which means she can't have any of these things.

Inside the tent's bathroom, Harriet splashes some water on her face and neck, using a cleansing spell on her hair. She watches absently the diluted blood swirling inside the sink and asks herself when her life became so fucked up.

Harry doesn't know what face a rebellion should have, but her worn-out reflection surely does not fill the requisites.

She's too thin. Her face is gaunt, eyes too big under the yellow light. Why me, what's so special about me?.

It doesn't matter. Harry thinks, fingers curling on the chain. Salazar Slytherin's locket is a familiar weight around her throat, keeping her sane, keeping her aware of her responsibilities.

The golden trio had recently acquired the real locket, and she was the only one not to suffer any ill effects from carrying it around her neck all day.

She formed a theory after some tedious but well-meaning conversations with Hermione.

Harriet's ''immunity'' to the side effects of carrying a Horcrux was part of the powers that Voldemort had apparently passed on to her the night he tried to kill her for the first time.

The girl didn't know how to feel about this. Too many people had died for her to succeed. If she acted like a coward, she would disrespect their sacrifices, Regulus Black's sacrifice, which was the only reason she managed to get the locket.

She never had the opportunity to meet her godfather's younger brother, but she still carried the note he wrote to Voldemort with her at all times. The last act of defiance of a dead man or a repentant sinner . She supposed, recalling the little conversation she'd had with Emmeline Vance, a member of the camp and part of the Advance Guard that the Order of the Phoenix had created to protect her.

Saint or sinner, in the end, it made no difference. Harriet wished she had his courage.

"Emmeline? You were in Slytherin, right?" she had quietly asked.

Harry could feel the woman's hesitation, the distrust of someone bracing for the accusations that always came when admitting to having anything to do with the house of the snakes. "I… Yes, I was."

Trying to keep her voice casual, Potter stared at her own shoes. "Did you know Sirius' brother, Regulus?"

Emmeline looked at her like their conversation had taken a very unexpected turn. "May I know why you are asking about Regulus? He died before you were even born." Vance's smooth way of pronouncing his name didn't go unnoticed, though.

"I spent a lot of time at Grimmauld Place, found a few of his things. I wanted to know why he joined you-know-who. I don't think it was because of his parents or the same nonsense as the purists."

The woman's eyes lost focus for a moment. "Regulus was complicated, very charming. He could talk you into anything with two minutes of conversation, but he joined them because he wanted to. He was obsessed with the Dark Arts and you-know-who. I tried to dissuade him the summer before he got his mark. But he always acted smug, as if he knew something the rest of us didn't, and then he disappeared ''.

Regulus went to that cave to die at the age of eighteen so Harry would have a chance to kill Voldemort and save thousands of people who would never know what he had done. Saint or sinner, he was brave . The most the girl could do was pretend.

She pretended she wasn't afraid of failing.

She pretended she had all the answers.

She pretended the Horcrux wasn't affecting her.

She had told Ron and Hermione that the piece of Voldemort's soul did not affect her, but the truth was that Potter wasn't that immune. Even though she didn't suffer from the most unpleasant effects, she had been hearing voices in his sleep for a few weeks now. Whispered conversations and that weird feeling that someone was watching her in her dreams.

She didn't talk to her friends about it because they would overreact. If the locket was conscious like Tom Riddle's diary, and it was a big if, she was sure she could handle anything a fragment of Voldemort's soul might try to do. She wasn't a scared little girl, and the prospect of a Horcrux contaminating Ron and Hermione was absolutely repulsive to her.

Exhausted, Harriet sat on the edge of the narrow cot in the corner of the tent she shared with them and removed the first layer of clothing she was wearing. One of the Death Eaters had hit her with a hex that nearly made her lose her fingers. She would seek assistance from a Mediwizard in the camp, but after she slept for more than 30 minutes.

With Regulus Black's note in hand, as she did every night, she stretched out on the cot.

She was asleep before she even laid her head on the pillow.

Harriet fell asleep only to wake up in an empty, or nearly empty, Wizarding urban district. The streets were clean, with shiny, polished buildings that made her feel out of place. This area clearly belonged to the upper class, and she, with her old clothes and soiled face, didn't.

However, any reservations she had about staying were brushed aside for the sake of curiosity. She saw two dark-haired boys playing chess around a table in front of a kiosk made entirely of glass.

As she approached, Potter realized they were arguing.

''Merlin, you're getting awful at this.''

''We've been here nineteen years, Thomas. You should know all my moves by now''.

''Don't be petulant, we have a guest''.

When she recognized Tom Riddle, sitting in the chair with the stance of a king, Harriet immediately reached for her wand, but her hands came back empty.

Riddle's companion turned around as soon as he noticed Harriet's sudden movement. His hair was like a frame of dark silk against his pale face. He looked like Sirius. A Sirius with sharper features and eyes devoid of heat.

It took Harry a while to recognize him as Regulus Black.

''He can't hurt you, not here."

Potter remained in doubt. She was in a locket-induced illusion, most likely. But what was Regulus doing there? From what little she knew of him, Harriet was absolutely sure that he hated Voldemort.

Tom Riddle rearranged the pieces on the board, ignoring her conflicted expression. '' Do you want to play? ''.

"I only play the games I can win." She replied right away, lifting her chin as if daring him to do something. Nothing with Tom Riddle was what it seemed. Harriet had learned that lesson when she was in possession of his diary.

''What a cunning girl you are''. Riddle said in an almost indecent tone, the man who looked like Sirius smiled in her direction reassuringly.

''You are Regulus Black''. Harry's deduction came in a mixture of curiosity and dread.

'' I'm ''. The man admitted, curling the corner of his well-shaped mouth in arrogance.

''What are you doing here? With him ''.

"My counterpart put a part of himself in the locket before he died to keep him from leaving."

Harry took a few steps back. " Are you a Horcrux too? ". She didn't know if someone could put two Horcruxes in the same object, but she didn't want to bet.

Regulus grimaced and got up from his chair. " Of course not!. I'm more like a painting. I exist, but not enough that I could live outside the locket ''.

She was inside the locket, in the company of Voldemort's Horcrux. She felt sick .

" I won't let him hurt you, Harry. You can trust me. Think of me as the key to his prison ". He said gently. As if he could sense her distress.

Harriet raised her head, staring at Regulus in surprise. She was still unsure, but if it was really him, maybe he could help her. After all, Regulus stole a Horcrux right under Voldemort's metaphorical nose without being discovered.

"You are the key to his prison," Potter repeats, skeptical, and then turns to Riddle. " And what do you say about that? ".

Riddle shrugs. "I like darling Reggie's company."

Carrying a semi-conscious Horcrux turns out to be a lot more work than Potter imagined. Although, according to Regulus, neither of them could possess her, as with Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets, nothing prevented them from using her energy to spend the entire day whispering in her ears.

Regulus at least was useful, helping her with simplified recipes for rare potions she could pass along for the camp's brewers and tactics that Death Eaters still used.

They even talked about Sirius, eventually. The Black brothers had a problematic relationship, and he regretted not mending things up with him.

'' Sirius died because of me, you know. He called me James , and then he died ''.

It was four in the morning, and she was making her rounds around the perimeter of the camp, reinforcing the wards and checking for Death Eater activity nearby. She had to vocalize her words, so she always put a muffiato around herself.

'' I loved him so much but, he never saw me .''

'' He died for his beliefs, and I'm sure he loved you too. You said Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban, yes? ''.

'' Yeah ''. The girl mumbled, scraping her feet across the dirt. Harry kept pacing back and forth because she was so exhausted she knew she would fall asleep if she stopped.

'' Long exposure to Dementors causes several damages to the brain. Sirius may have suffered a lapse, but he knew who you were ''.

Regulus couldn't see her, but she nodded anyway, chasing the tears streaming down her face away with the tips of her fingers. "Have you ever wished you'd gone with him? When he left home?".

'' Wanting something and being able to do something are two very different things, Sirius left, and I stayed. Each one of us had a way of surviving."

You were wrong . Harry thought, remembering what Emmeline had told her days ago. He wouldn't join them if he had another way out.

While Regulus strove to be as helpful and unobtrusive as possible, Riddle behaved the opposite. It seemed that his new mission in life was to drive her crazy, and worse, Harry was afraid he might succeed.

Tom occasionally managed to mute Regulus and spent whole afternoons whistling songs from the forties or grotesquely detailing the ways in which he would like to torture the people of the camp. He had a vast vocabulary and a sadistic, sick mind.

He distracted Harriet in battle and kept her up late into the night, on the rare occasions she could sleep. She was getting impossibly more drained with every passing day.

Harry couldn't even remove the locket, too afraid to lose the sole Horcrux she had. Her only comfort was Regulus's presence, the ability he had to silence Tom.

Tom Riddle was impossible to deal with, and Regulus Black was the only thing keeping her sane. Even in a camp with four hundred people watching her every step, Harriet never felt so alone before.

Hermione became a Mediwitch, the best the Order had, and Ron's talent for strategy made him an asset in his own right to the rebellion.

The golden trio rarely had the opportunity to talk these days, but even if they had, there wouldn't be much to say.

The war had turned her friends into heroes. Harriet was losing more and more of herself each day.

"You will fail them." Riddle hissed as she watched from the line of the trees her friends gather for dinner one night at the camp. "You will watch them all get killed."

"Shut up! You don't know anything". Potter exclaims, squeezing the locket as if it might hurt him.

Tom's mocking laugh fills his ears. "You're weak, Harry. Don't blame me for telling you the truth."

"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!."

"Harry? Are you all right?" When the girl turned around, she saw Colin Creevey looking at her with concern. He was among the Muggle-born students who chose not to return to Hogwarts. Like many others, he grabbed his muggle family and fled before Death Eaters could murder them.

Unfortunately, his parents had passed away a few weeks before, when the camp suffered an attack before they changed locations and put the new one under the fidelius charm.

"Yes, of course. I only need some sleep."

"You're breaking, my love. I can already see the cracks in your pretty little head."

Colin nodded in agreement. For a moment, she believed he was also capable of hearing Riddle, but then his successive words dissuaded that idea. "Come sit with us. We need to enjoy these moments. It's been weeks since we had a dinner like this, with everyone together''.

He sounded so hopeful that Harry managed to hide some of her tiredness. '' You're seventeen years old. You'll have a lot more dinner's like this ''.

Collin died in agony, and Harriet's facing the responsible.

Even captive, Antonin Dolohov maintains the posture, smiling like he doesn't have a single care in the world. Potter hates him. She hates them all .

That entire mission had been a mistake, a stupid trap as they raided for more food. With four hundred mouths to feed, food was never enough. Voldemort apparently knew this as well.

The girl's hands are strangely steady. Ever since she captured him, in a burst of accidental magic so powerful that half the buildings on the street collapsed, Harriet has felt an odd coldness enveloping her body and mind.

'' We can't keep him here! What if they come looking for him? What were you two thinking ?''. Hermione chastises Harriet and Ron both, and she's right. Potter wasn't thinking.

Her friends start bickering, Weasley reassuring Hermione that they were safe under the fidellius, and the girl arguing with him anyway.

Harriet isn't listening. She still can see Colin's face, the life fading from his eyes until they lose focus.

Colin Creevey was barely seventeen, and he died in Harriet's arms in a dirty alley. His entire family got murdered mere weeks ago. There's no one left to grieve him.

Antonin blows a kiss in Hermione's direction, and the girl flinches visibly, probably thinking about the wound he gave her in The Battle of the Department of Mysteries.

'' There's nothing left to discuss, this piece of shit killed Colin ''. Ron retorts for the last time, kicking Dolohov's leg violently.

''Get out, both of you," Harriet mutters, her voice hoarse. Colin's blood still wasn't dry on her skin. Riddle was right. She was breaking, just not in the way he thought.

Antonin is wandless and tied up in ropes that restrict his magic, courtesy of Fred Weasley. The confrontation is between the two of them. She was the one Dolohov wanted. Colin got killed for trying to help her.

His name is one more to her list of failures.

''You want some alone time with me, don't you, honey? I get it. Saint Potter doesn't want her friends to see her hands getting dirty."

A wave of Harriet's magic bashes his right knee. Dolohov screams, the sound soon turning into laughter. ''Holy Potter, not so divine, after all''.

''Get out, now ''.

This time, Ron and Hermione obey.

Alone with her, it doesn't take long for Antonin's voice to turn persuasive and bargaining. Harriet holds her wand in one hand. Eyes fixed on him. She never killed anyone before, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't considering it.

''You're a smart girl, Potter. Powerful too. This… ''. He spoke, gesturing with his bound hands to encompass the entire area, clearly referring to the camp. ''This is a sinking ship, they're all already dead, and you know it. But you don't have to die, the Dark Lord will spare you, if you go to him willingly''.

Voldemort asked her to join him every time they met, but she wasn't dumb enough to believe that he would accept her with open arms. ''Your concern is touching, but I'm not joining my parent's murderer. He's crazy, and he's going to make us extinct''.

Her words didn't shake Dolohov. Antonin looks more like a guest than a prisoner, and it fills Harriet with anger.

'' He won't. He's blinded by his obsession with that fucking prophecy, but if you join him, things will change. Come on, Potter, you can't really expect to kill him. You're barely out of Hogwarts. He's the most powerful Dark Lord to walk the earth ''.

''Hardly the most powerful''. Harry teases. She approaches the prisoner and pulls the locket out of her blouse. " Do you know what this is? ".

Antonin's eyes widen comically, and he loses his arrogance. ''Get this thing away from me!.''

''So you know what it is? ''.

''That's his . I can smell the Dark Magic from here. Where did you get it? ''.

Potter didn't answer. Dolohov should be the only one providing information, and everything he might say would be helpful.

Regulus told her that he didn't know what transpired to his other self. His memories only get to the day he put a print of himself in the locket. When Harry mentioned the note and the cave, he refused to talk to her for two entire days.

She believed she would have a better shot at finding the other Horcruxes if she could remake his steps or at least have an idea of what he was up to before he died.

''What do you know about Regulus Black?''.

Dolohov's expression became very confused, but Harriet didn't think he was faking it. ''Regulus disappeared in 79. The Dark Lord believed the fucking McKinnons were involved, killed them all in retaliation, even the children''.

Potter frowned. That didn't match what she knew about Regulus. Sirius had said that his brother was unimportant to Voldemort, that he got killed by Death Eaters while trying to abandon the movement. '' Sirius told me he was low rank. Why would Vol- you-know-who avenge his death? ''.

Antonin grinned. ''Sirius Black didn't know shit. No offense, honey. ''

" But you know. ''

"I do, but I won't tell you for free."

Fucking Slytherins , Harriet thinks. She's tired and angry and miserable, and she wants to skin him slive. Potter wants Dolohov to scream the way Colin did, but she acts practical instead because she knows that torturing him won't work. He's holding a conversation with her as if his smashed knee was nothing.

She's getting scaringly good at acting practical.

''Make your demands, as long as they are realistic''.

The Death Eater nodded eagerly. ''You will kill me, or you will provide the means for me to kill myself. Painless ''.

The girl blinked, perplexed. '' What? ''.

She was expecting a deal-with-the-devil kind of thing, not this.

'' You're smart, honey. I bet you already put two and two together. I was compromised, captured by the enemy. What do you think the Dark Lord will do to me when I get back? ''.

''You killed Colin. You hurt Hermione. What makes you think you'd get out of here alive?''.

''You're all good people. That's why you'll lose ''.

The people in charge of the camp wouldn't like that, but Harriet agreed anyway. She would put it on the tab of the war. A lot of people did it. "Alright, painless."

Satisfied, Dolohov got back to talking. "The Dark Lord visited Grindelwald in prison once, and Grindelwald said he would only achieve the success he dreamed of when he had two Black's by his side."

Potter swallowed hard. Gellert Grindelwald was one of the most violent Dark Wizards the world has ever seen, and he was also known for his talent with divination.

" He took a failed Dark Lord's word for granted? God, you're even dumber for following him." She smirked, trying to mask her anxiety.

Dolohov glared at her. "You can't lie to the best legilimens in the world. Besides, Grindelwald was quite pleased to have visitors. He's not very popular."

"I don't care about Grindelwald's crappy life. I want to know about Regulus Black."

"The Dark Lord believed this Black's to be Bellatrix and Regulus. He began teaching Regulus personally from the age of twelve, branded him at sixteen. The youngest of us to ever receive the Mark...". Antonin's worshipful tone made the girl roll her eyes.

Voldemort marked Draco at sixteen too, but to punish his father, rather than reward him.

"Bellatrix was supposed to be his red left hand, but it was Regulus he was training to be his right-hand man, his successor , should he ever need one."

Harriet felt as if she were falling from a very high height. That couldn't be true. She analyzed every conversation she had with him in search of a boy ruthless enough to win Voldemort's attention when he was still a child, but nothing made sense. Regulus was caring and fair and sacrificed himself to destroy Voldemort. He couldn't be his successor. He never told her about any of this.

"…But maybe the Dark Lord was wrong with him. Maybe it's you he needs. After all, there's a prophecy about the two of you." Antonin's voice forced her to abandon that rambling.

Harriet shook her head. ''I'm not a Black, and he has Draco''.

''Their blood runs through your veins, Harriet Dorea Potter. Also, we both know that Lucius' spawn won't do''.

Dorea , Sirius had said, for James' favorite aunt . '' You are desilusional''.

'' Perhaps ''. Antonin shrugged. ''A dead man's opinion has no value''.

''And that of a dead Death Eater has even less''. The girl scoffs, struggling to keep her shoulders straight.

Her mind was slowly wrapping itself around the fact that Regulus lied to her. She was just too blind and desperate to see the signs, so obviously there all along. Harriet still didn't want to see them.

Dolohov keeps his mouth shut but looks at her like he can feel the locket getting warmer and warmer against her skin. ''If you really believed that, you wouldn't be after information about Regulus Black''.

Voldemort's successor . Harriet thought about the things he told her about his childhood. Walburga's heavy hand, Orion's indifference. He sounded so sad all the time, so regretful. She thought she had a kindred spirit on him.

She had never been so wrong.

" Pay me up, honey. I'm getting old". Dolohov snarked from his place on the ground. He looked uninterested in her internal fights.

Harriet's eyes snapped down at him, her dread turning into anger. She feels like she's watching all that scene from outside of her body. Her wand points itself at the man's chest, a spell she swore she would never use again slipping off her tongue. "Sectumsempra. "

Antonin's face became livid as the white light covered his body. "You promised... ".

" Well, I lied. "

Harriet watched Antonin bleed out and then left his body inside the tent for someone else to dispose. She felt numb, cold. She didn't regret it.

That war was screwing her, the death of so many people. Harry was changing into someone different. Someone whose morality had a thin line, very easily crossed. She didn't like this person. She was so angry all the time, but anger was the only thing she had. Without the anger, she might as well collapse.

Antonin's revelations didn't help. He had no reason to lie, Regulus, on the other hand...

Harry didn't know how to access the locket when she wasn't sleeping, but she was so enraged that she found herself back at that posh district as soon as she walked away from the camp.

Regulus and Tom were around the same table, a deck of cards between them.

"Were you going to drain me yourself or Riddle would do the dirty work?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "You've been working with him all this time! I thought you were good . I thought you were the key to his prison, but you're Regulus Black's Horcrux , a backup plan in case he didn't survive defying his master ''.

How could she be so stupid?. Emmeline's words made so much sense now. He was very charming, could talk you into anything with two minutes of conversation.

Regulus turned at her slowly, his face beautiful and distant. The opposite of the warm boy who talked with her about Sirius. " Well, aren't you bright? ".

Harriet punched him square in the face.