Harry spent the last week before the Christmas hols happier than he had been in a long time. The spectre of the war still lurked at the back of his mind, but a happiness had settled in among his friends that he hadn't seen a lot of this year. There were even moments when it felt like his friendships with Hermione and Ron had never been interrupted, like they were still the 'Golden Trio'. I might have hated the name, but I've missed the feeling.

He knew that the rest of the school would probably be going home for the holiday in record numbers. After the attack on Hogsmeade a few weeks earlier, Harry didn't doubt that every parent in magical Britain would want to make sure that their child really was unharmed.

Harry didn't have any illusions that he would be able to join his friends on the train. Not unless Dumbledore wanted to set up another ruse. Either way, he would be spending his Christmas in Hogwarts castle once again. Harry didn't particularly mind. This was the only place he'd ever enjoyed celebrating the holiday.

A part of his mind reminded him that he had also enjoyed staying at Grimmauld Place the year before, but Harry also felt that the only thing waiting for him in that house this year was Sirius' memory lurking around every corner. Besides, if I had to stay here for the summer then I doubt that the winter will be any different.

In the end, Dumbledore and Harry agreed that at this point there was no particular benefit in having Voldemort wonder about where Harry might be. Hogwarts might not be open to students in the summer, but it had allowed children to spend the winter there for centuries.

So it was that Harry had to say goodbye to his friends at breakfast the Friday before Christmas. As Ron and Hermione got up to leave, Harry got up with them. He clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Stay safe, mate. I'm sending your present along with Ginny, so you better be nice to her on the way down."

"Oh, man! Why'd you have to do that, Harry? Now she's going to hold it over me until Christmas morning," Ron complained, though the smile on his face took the heat out of his words. "And you make sure you stay safe too. Remember what I told you earlier this year: the only acceptable end to all this is you alive and him dead."

"I've got it, Ron. Besides, you have Ginny's gift. I'm sure you'll be fine," Harry said before turning to Hermione. "Have a good- oof!"

Hermione had lunged forward and grabbed Harry in a hug that he hadn't felt in a long time. "Merry Christmas, Harry," she said, though it was so quiet that Harry thought he might have missed it if her lips hadn't been right next to his ear. "I- I left a present for you on my bed. Ron said that it would get to you, but if it doesn't I'll give it to you when I get back."

"That's fine, Hermione," Harry reassured her, his own arms coming up to give her a hug. "I got Ginny to sneak your present into your trunk, so let's call it even on us having to trust that the other will get their gift.

Hermione let out a laugh that seemed to escape despite her mood. She stepped back and smiled happily at Harry. "I'll see you after the holiday?"

"Yeah. I'll be looking forward to it."

"Merlin's beard, the two of you have to tell me what's going on between you," Ron muttered.

"What?! Nothing's going on between Harry and myself except friendship," Hermione squawked out indignantly.

"Uh-huh. You don't exactly see me and him getting lost in each other's eyes," Ron said with a snort. "You holding out on me, Potter?"

"Yeah, a bit of advice there, mate: don't hack off the person who's going to be sharing your compartment before the trip even starts," Harry joked, hoping that his expression wasn't giving away how Riddle's words from their last duel were playing through his mind. "I confess that I have been curious about why you would choose to help her, Harry. I did not know that you loved the little mudblood. How very careless of you." I thought it was just a distraction tactic, but if Ron's mentioning it too...

"Ha-ha. You're hilarious," Ron interrupted his thoughts sourly.

Harry shook off his thoughts and aimed a grin at Ron. "No charge."

"Boys!" Hermione fumed throwing her hands up in the air and stomping off.

"You don't think she's really mad, do you?" Ron asked, watching her go.

"Probably at least a little. I think she'll be over it by Carlisle though."

Ron blew out a sharp exhale. "Fine. I'll go apologise. Seriously though, it's uncanny how close you two have gotten in a couple of months after ignoring each other for five years."

Harry shrugged a bit uncomfortably, not liking the direction this conversation was heading in. "Are you looking for a thank-you for pushing us together in those classes?"

"Might not go amiss," Ron said in a musing tone, rubbing his chin. He only kept the pose up for a few seconds before cracking a wide grin. "Nah. You're just weird is all. Must be 'cause of all that time you spend with Dumbledore."

Harry aimed a swat at the back of his mate's head, only to miss as Ron ducked and ran out of the hall.

"See you in January, Harry!" the redhead called out with a wave.

Harry raised his arm in reply, but stayed quiet as he watched his friend leave. By then the Great Hall had largely emptied. For a moment Harry wondered what he should do, but only one idea seemed quite right to him.

Just as he had before the summer, he headed up to the Astronomy Tower. The weather was a lot colder than it had been in June, but Harry cast a simple Warming Charm on himself. He wasn't planning on staying up here all day, just long enough to see the Express off.

As he stood there, watching the crimson engine snake its way through the Scottish countryside, Harry tried to compare the way he was feeling in this moment to the way he had felt last time he had stood here watching the Express crawl away.

It's-… better. I may still have a slog ahead of me, but at least I have an idea of how far that might be now. I have a plan… of sorts. My friendship with Hermione is on the mend. Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna have my back. Yeah. This is better.

Realising that he couldn't make out where the train was anymore, Harry headed back inside. He felt lighter than he had before, as if some of the doubts had been swept away by the wind that always seemed to be blowing up here. Merry Christmas indeed.

Harry spent the rest of the day in Dumbledore's office. He didn't know where the Headmaster was, but with no other students around, Harry could indulge in a bit of reading from the old man's impressive collection. It also helped that since Dumbledore was apparently not in the castle the rest of the staff was unlikely to walk in and start asking awkward questions about what Harry was doing in a place they would probably feel he shouldn't be.

It was as enjoyable a day as Harry could remember. Fawkes came to sit on the armrest of the chair Harry was using, nudging his hand until Harry relented and absently began to scratch the phoenix under its neck like he did for Hedwig. The warmth of the bird next to him, the comfort of the chair and the fact that the book was interesting, but unlikely to be helpful all contributed to Harry dozing off as he read.

He didn't know what had happened until a hand on his shoulder shook him awake. Blinking himself back into the waking world and pushing his glasses back up his nose, Harry looked up to see who had woken him and found himself staring at his Headmaster.

"Good evening, Harry. Have you been here long?"

"If it's evening? Yeah, probably."

Dumbledore put the book Harry had been trying to read back on its shelf. "I had not thought that students would find my office particularly conducive to a nap, but perhaps you were greatly in need of one."

"Maybe," Harry agreed, standing up and stretching the knots from his back. "I didn't really mean to sleep the entire day away."

"I do not think you should let it become a habit, but neither do I expect the exception to the rule to be harmful," Dumbledore chortled. "Come. You are likely hungry and dinner has been served."

A rumble from Harry's stomach answered from him and he felt his face heating up. "Um, yeah. That sounds good."

Dumbledore just laughed again and led the way down to the Great Hall. Harry was the only student left, but didn't let that bother him. He ate quickly and, with a wave at his teachers made his way up to the common room. There he sat down in front of an already roaring fire. Dumbledore's probably right that I shouldn't sleep every day away. I'll never catch up to Riddle in any sense if I do that. On the other hand, the relaxation Harry was feeling made him think that maybe he had needed to recharge his batteries. I guess I have been going pretty non-stop over the past few months. One day off won't be a disaster.

He sat there, staring into the flames and letting his mind wander until he went up to bed.

The next day, Harry got back into the rhythm he'd kept during the summer holidays of studying and practicing. He had to forgo the flying since the weather had turned foul and a blizzard was doing its level best to snow the castle in. Instead he spent his evening with Hedwig, feeling a little guilty about having given Fawkes so much attention the day before.

Sunday passed much the same way until the evening. Harry had been intending to do a bit more reading in the common room, but was interrupted by Dobby popping in, hopping from one foot to the other. "The Headmaster is wanting the Great Harry Potter, sir, to come to his office."

"Did he say why, Dobby?" Harry asked, putting away his book and coming to his feet.

"No, Harry Potter, sir. The Headmaster is looking very worried, but he is not telling Dobby why."

"Alright, Dobby. I'll head down right away. Thanks for coming to get me."

"Harry Potter, sir, does not need to thank Dobby," the elf said with a bow. He disappeared before he'd straightened up again.

Harry hurried from the common room and through the empty halls. He knew that Dumbledore would not have sent Dobby if this was something that could wait and that meant that this was unlikely to be good news. Scenario after scenario chased through Harry's mind.

He barked out the password when he was still several metres away from the gargoyle and charged up the stairs without slowing down. He burst through the room and his eyes zeroed in on where his mentor was sitting.

Harry only needed one look at Dumbledore's face to know that he'd been called into the Headmaster's office due to a disaster. There was only one thing he could think of that could be drastic enough to merit that expression and the use of Dobby to deliver a message. "He's summoned one, hasn't he?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Harry's abrupt declaration. "Astute, Harry. While we cannot be absolutely certain, I believe as you do, that Tom has made contact with the Fair Folk."

"What happened?"

"I don't doubt that the Prophet will get a hold of this soon, but… muggles in Wales have made a discovery. They found the remains of three charred bodies, affixed to a holly tree with obsidian blades stabbed through their sternums."

"Darkness through light…" Harry murmured in horror.

"Quite so," Dumbledore nodded. "I believe that Tom will have used human sacrifices to summon the Holly King."

Something about that sounded off to Harry. "Why human sacrifices though? From what I remember from that book, human sacrifices aren't necessary to summon pretty much any fae; and the ones it is used for don't tend to help the summoner."

"Ah, Harry, this is one of the key differences between Tom and yourself," Dumbledore said as he steepled his fingers. Harry got the feeling that the old man had gotten to the real reason for calling him up rather than letting him read this in the papers. "You were content to take, if I may offer a compliment, a more subtle approach; less focused on the transience of the physical. You recall our expedition to the Gaunt Cottage?"

Harry nodded, thinking to himself that he still felt that 'cottage' was an entirely too generous name for the shack they'd found.

"Then you may also recall that Tom had built in protections that included weakening anyone wishing to approach that place; physically weaken them, I might specify. Tom, I believe, fears nothing quite as much as his own physical mortality. Regrettably, it is often the case that we see ourselves, and especially our faults, in others and I believe that Tom was unable to conceive of the possibility that such a power as the Fair Folk could be summoned without paying what he considers the highest price."

"Right," Harry answered, slightly confused as to why Dumbledore felt the need to elaborate on this point in particular. "So, what do we do now?"

"Unfortunately, there is not much we can do," Dumbledore sighed. "We do not know what Tom wished for, nor what price he has paid for his wish. All we can do is proceed with increased caution, understanding that whatever it was, Tom has likely become even more dangerous a foe than he already was."

"That's it?"

Dumbledore visibly hesitated. "Not entirely. There is a task I had intended to undertake after speaking to you."

"What are we waiting for then?"

"Harry, I believe that this is not something you would wish to be a part of."

Harry felt hurt. "You're going to do something I wouldn't want to be a part of? Like what? Dark magic?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "There are more cruelties in this world than dark magic, Harry. I intend a conversation, but the other party will not appreciate it."

"Pretty sure I can handle that," Harry snorted sardonically. "Besides we agreed that we'd were in this hunt together. I'll come with you. Maybe I can help like I did with Slughorn."

"Professor Slughorn, Harry," Dumbledore began. For a moment it looked like he would continue trying to convince Harry that he shouldn't come along, but then his shoulders drooped and he let out a long exhale. "Who knows? If nothing else, this should be an experience, one I would wish to spare you a while longer, but after all I have already shared with you, perhaps you are right and this will not be as difficult for you to bear as I fear."

"Alright," Harry agreed quickly, a little pleased that he had actually won an argument with the old man. "Where are we going?"

"The northern wing on the sixth floor," Dumbledore said, standing up and walking over to the door.

Harry was sure he had misheard. "Here in Hogwarts?"

"Indeed. Are you coming, Harry, or have you changed your mind?"

Harry hurried to follow his teacher. As they walked through the familiar corridors, Harry tried to think of who they could be going to find. Has he finally gotten tired of waiting for me to get that memory out of Slughorn? Is he planning on getting involved himself because I failed? Harry couldn't bring himself to ask the question, apprehension looming large over what the answer might be.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost ran into Dumbledore when the old man stopped. Harry looked around and saw that they were standing just off the central stairwell in what was at least technically the northern wing. "So who are we meeting here?" Harry wondered, looking around to see if there was anyone coming up or down the stairs.

"Someone who has seen more of Hogwarts than you or I ever could," Dumbledore responded as he tugged at a pair of lemon sherbets that had apparently fused together in his pocket. With a shrug he gave up and popped the pair into his mouth together, sucking enthusiastically.

Harry had learned to recognise the signs: his teacher was not in a sharing mood. Since he wasn't going to be told what was going on, Harry's eyes started roving over the stairwell, looking for anything that might be out of place.

They stood in silence for the better part of ten minutes before Harry spotted something moving. Drifting across the stairwell was the ethereal, silvery form of one of the ghosts. Harry was about to dismiss this presence from his mind when he saw Dumbledore shift.

Refocusing his attention on the ghost, Harry noticed that it was the Grey Lady. We're here to talk to her? I thought she barely spoke to anyone.

Just as she was about to drift past the two wizards, Dumbledore stepped out in front of her and gave a genteel bow. "Greetings to you, my Lady, on this night."

The Grey Lady drifted to a halt and looked Dumbledore over with a detached sort of curiosity. "Good evening, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and to your young charge."

Harry stepped forward as well and self-consciously tried to replicate Dumbledore's bow. "Good evening," he said, hoping he sounded, if not suave, then at least like he knew why he was there.

The ghost barely looked at him before refocusing her attention on Dumbledore. "Is there a matter that requires a ghost's attention, Headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"Could I not have come upon you by chance and stopped to indulge in conversation, my Lady?"

The Ravenclaw ghost looked unimpressed. "You have not ventured into the castle at this hour bereft of purpose for some years, Albus Dumbledore. I have heard that a time of change is once more upon Hogwarts."

Dumbledore let out a resigned sigh. "Whether or not change is upon us remains uncertain. I shall endeavour, as my predecessors did, to ensure that any change that comes to us will be for the better."

"And in the course of that endeavour you have sought me out?"

"I had hoped we might speak. I believe that you are already aware of the balance we seek to tip in our favour?"

The ghost's brow seemed to furrow slightly. "I know of a balance, but I do not see how I might affect it. It is a matter for the living, Headmaster of Hogwarts, not the dead."

"Except that the path of the living is often ordained by the actions of the dead."

"What is that supposed to mean?" the Grey Lady asked coldly, her robes beginning to billow in an unseen wind.

"We seek Ravenclaw's Diadem," Dumbledore answered in an implacable tone.

"Generations of students and staff have asked for that treasure. I cannot help you." The Grey Lady turned around and began to float away.

Harry tried to figure out what he could say that would get her to come back and continue the conversation, but before a single word could come out the ghost went completely rigid and stopped moving. Harry stared as she turned around with a furious expression on her face.

"Release me," she growled out, her voice strained and guttural. Harry couldn't see her mouth moving at all.

Looking around to discover what she might be talking about, Harry found Dumbledore standing next to him, back straight and hand stretched out towards the Grey Lady in an unmistakable gesture of 'halt'. "We seek Ravenclaw's Diadem."

"No," the ghost snarled, her lips still unmoving. Harry could see that her hair was starting to lift away from her shoulders as if it was caught in a wind he couldn't feel.

"We seek Ravenclaw's Diadem," Dumbledore intoned a third time.

"NO!" This time the Grey Lady burst forward as if tearing free from something Harry couldn't see. Her hair danced wildly around her head and Harry could have sworn that he heard a gale howling beneath her words. "Leave this place, Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Dear Lady," Dumbledore implored, "surely you can see why we're asking you this question?"

"I have nothing to say on the matter, Headmaster of Hogwarts!" the Grey Lady cried, that odd wind echoing behind her words. "Leave me my peace and ask me no more!"

The wind raised to a keening howl and the Grey Lady flung herself through the nearest wall in an oddly interrupted motion that made it look like she was escaping from Devil's Snare. Harry could only stare at the place where she had disappeared, listening to the noise around him gradually ebbing into silence.

He didn't realise how long he had been staring at the unremarkable stretch of wall until he heard Dumbledore sigh next to him. "We will leave it here, though I admit that I had hoped for a different outcome," the old Headmaster admitted.

"What happened to her?"

"She is of Hogwarts," Dumbledore explained, turning to walk in the direction of his office, leaving Harry to scurry and catch up. "Much like the paintings, the house elves and the statuary. They are all sustained by the magic of Hogwarts and that magic compels them to obey the commands of the serving Headmaster."

"So the magic of Hogwarts hurt her because she wouldn't do as you said?"

Dumbledore winced a little. "Yes, that is a fair assessment."

"Oh." Harry wasn't sure how to react to that and heard the doubt in his own voice.

"It is not wrong of you to consider what I did here tonight distasteful, Harry," Dumbledore spoke up quietly. "I would have preferred not to resort to it myself."

"So why did you?"

Dumbledore's gaze fixed on a point beyond the end of the corridor they were walking down. "Because we are pushed to the brink. Tom's recent contact with the fae has robbed us of time and options. We are forced to leave the highest path and walk on the shorter and darker." Dumbledore stopped walking and captured Harry's gaze with blazing eyes. "Until now, despite all the horrors that you and your friends have suffered, we were working in comparatively luxurious circumstances. As time marches inexorably on, the resources that we might use to protect those we want safe are expended and suffering will increase. Some of that suffering will be at our own hands as we try to prevent more to come."

"Then what? We're just supposed to be okay with people getting hurt and dying?" Harry demanded.

"No," Dumbledore sighed, the fire in his eyes dimming, leaving him looking older than Harry had ever seen. "No, we shall rail against that at every step. I am merely repeating the warning I gave you after your duel with Tom and when you felt overwhelmed by your duties earlier in the year: we cannot do more than we can do; and saving everyone is more than we can do."

"Then what can we do?!"

"We can make every effort to reduce Tom's resources, the ones he is using to cause suffering, while doing our best to conserve our own."

"That's it?"

"It is a clear and concise goal, much like a summary of our current strategy to defeat Tom" Dumbledore said, resuming his way once more, "and the path to that goal is all the longer and more fraught for it." Harry couldn't bring himself to follow the Headmaster back to his office and turned his steps up to Gryffindor tower, sombrely reflecting on everything he had learned that night.

:-:-:-:-:

For the rest of the holidays, Harry felt reluctant to be near his Headmaster. The confrontation with the Grey Lady had revealed a side of Dumbledore that Harry hadn't acknowledged before. With only Harry and the staff left at the school he couldn't avoid the man completely, but he kept as much of distance between them as he could.

On Christmas morning Harry woke up to find a small pile of presents at the foot of his bed. Ron had given him a pile of Chocolate Frogs and a Puddlemere United pennant. Harry smiled at the thought that Ron had bought something from a team that wasn't the Canons, despite how much emotional pain it must have cost.

Hagrid had sent Harry some rock cakes and, to Harry's surprise, Dumbledore had sent him a new book: Elements of Transfiguration. It made Harry feel a bit guilty that he hadn't considered getting his teacher anything.

Finally there was the gift Hermione had gotten him. He peeled the paper back carefully to reveal a book without a title. Opening the book he found a handwritten note.

Dear Harry,

This is a journal. I don't know if you're the type to write down your life, but I've learned how important it can be read about yourself this year.

I want to just say thank you for teaching. Happy Christmas.

Hermione

Flipping through the book, Harry saw that the pages were all blank. His mind couldn't help but drift to the way Hermione's own journal had helped him when she was injured. I may just have to really do my best to fill this thing. He carefully placed Hermione's note back, just inside the cover and gently laid the book back down.

The idea of a the journal stayed with him for the rest of the day throughout the meals in the Great Hall and the time he spent in front of the common room hearth reading his new book. In the end he had to give in and got the journal from his dorm. With the fire crackling, and a few chocolate frogs sitting next to him, Harry began to write.

A part of him wanted to write about the prophecy, but reason told him that he might undermine the very reason he had learned occlumency if he did that. Instead, Harry began to write about all the times he had encountered Riddle so far. He had to edit the stories in such a way that he left Hermione's contributions out for fear that he might put anyone who read it in the hospital.

At some point during the writing he looked up and found a steaming mug of chocolate standing next to him. The mug looked oddly familiar, though he struggled to place it for a moment. Wait… isn't this the mug I always used at Grimmauld Place? "Thank you, Kreacher. Merry Christmas," he said loudly as he picked up the mug and took a sip. He kept writing until his eyesight grew bleary. It proved more difficult to stop than he had expected as he had only written a fraction of what was running through his head.

Every night for the rest of the holidays he kept writing down his experiences. It felt strangely like he was draining away some of the noise in his head every time he wrote down some of his experiences. By the time his classmates were scheduled to return, Harry felt a lot more focused. In fact, it surprised him how much more grounded he felt than he had right after he and Dumbledore had confronted the Grey Lady. I owe Hermione a big thank you for this.

:-:-:-:-:

The return of the other students was not as jarring as it had been after the summer. Harry was happy to see the grins on Ron and Hermione's faces when he met them for the second welcoming feast of the year.

"I take it the two of you had a good Christmas?" he asked, feeling his own cheeks stretch.

"Oh, Harry, it was marvellous. My parents even said that if I was learning this fast that it was the right choice to have me come back to Hogwarts. They also loved your mirrors."

"You gave her parents mirrors?" Ron asked, looking confused. "Are you sure there's nothing going on between you- ouch! Herms!"

"That joke wasn't funny the first time, Ronald."

Ron muttered something under his breath that Harry couldn't quite hear before looking up at Harry. "Thanks for the robes, mate. Never thought I'd have some real Gordon Horton robes."

"Horton is the Keeper for Ron's favourite team," Harry supplied, seeing Hermione's confusion. Hermione nodded in response. "And thank you both for your gifts too. I got a copy of Agrippa in the Chocolate Frogs, by the way, Ron."

"What?! Harry, please, be a mate! Trade with me! You can name your price!"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "It's fine, Ron. I've left the card on your pillow. We both know I'm not much for collecting and I remember the amount of effort you've spent looking for this particular card over the past five years."

Ron was almost crying tears of joy as he thanked Harry.

Harry turned to Hermione who was watching the entire scene with the air of someone firmly on the outside and with no intentions of trying to get in. "Your journal was a great gift, Hermione," he said, hoping that Ron was distracted enough by the prospect of finally completing his collection to not really pay attention. "I didn't know it could be that cathartic to write things down."

Hermione smiled shyly. "I was really hoping you'd like it. I meant what I said earlier, you know? And it's not just my parents. Being able to talk to them while I'm at Hogwarts is… well, the idea alone's really helped a lot with some of their anxiety about letting be return to the magical world."

"I'm glad," Harry smiled. He was soon distracted by the food appearing and trying to make sure that Ron chewed despite his desperation to get up to their dorm.

:-:-:-:-:

Classes resumed two days after everyone had come back to Hogwarts. The rhythms that had been disturbed by the assault at Hogsmeade found themselves again and Harry noticed that everyone was preparing for their next visit to the wizarding town or the upcoming match against Hufflepuff, even if that was still two months away.

For Harry, it was difficult to forget what Dumbledore had told him at the beginning of the holidays and he'd developed a new rhythm. He went to bed earlier than he had before Christmas, though it didn't mean he went to sleep. Instead, Harry would pull out the Marauder's Map and check it.

Ever since he'd heard from Dumbledore that Riddle had contacted the fae, Harry had become more and more desperate to corner Slughorn and somehow get that memory out of him.

Two weeks into the new year, Harry had once again fobbed off one of Ron's invitations to play chess. He knew Ron was starting to notice, but his friend hadn't come out and asked Harry about his new habits yet. It was a small mercy as Harry already felt bad enough about all the secrets he was keeping and didn't really want to add more lies to the pile.

He closed the curtains of his four-poster bed and laid the map down in front of him. Taking out his wand, Harry touched it lightly to the parchment he said "Horace Slughorn."

The map started rustling and squirming as it folded and unfolded itself until it showed a little used part of the castle and only two dots: Horace Slughorn and Marietta Edgecombe. Harry knew the corridors on the fifth floor he was looking at well. He had spent many winter weekends there with his friends when the Scottish weather had prevented the students from going outside to vent some energy.

That place only had a few paintings hung fairly closely to the ceiling and almost no trick steps. It was the safest place for students to get some exercise when there was nowhere else to go. So what's Slughorn doing there? He doesn't seem like the exercising type. With Edgecombe no less.

Even if he didn't have his mission hanging over his head, Harry would have been hard pressed to stay put and ignore his curiosity. Grabbing his invisibility cloak and stuffing it, his wand and the map in his pockets, he made his way down the stairs, doing his best to look casual. He waved in response to a greeting from Neville, but didn't stop for a chat. He was grateful not to encounter anyone who really made an attempt to hold him up. Then again, I've been heading out to train by myself so much this year that they're probably used to me up and leaving without a word.

Deciding that it was as good a cover as any, Harry made his way towards the Room of Requirement until he got to a corner that he knew was in a blind spot for the surrounding paintings and swung his cloak over his shoulders. Retracing his steps he headed back to the stairwell and quickly descended two flights of stairs.

A quick look at the map under the cloak revealed that Slughorn was still in the same room as he had been when Harry left the tower. So let's find out what this is all about. He walked as quickly and quietly as he could until he was standing in front of the door the map told him hid his quarry.

Harry stopped for a moment to consider what he was going to do next. I'd really like to know what they're doing in there. After all it's just as true to say that it's always been the new teacher that ended up almost killing me as it is to say that it's always been the Defence professor that almost killed me.

Nodding to himself, Harry took out his wand and pointed it at the door. "Silencio," he whispered, followed by "Alohomora."

The door swung open on silent hinges and Harry felt his body go cold as he saw what was inside the room. Suspended from the ceiling in an intricate rope harness was the person the map identified as Marietta Edgecombe. Her head was covered in a black hood with no eye-holes, even though it had a hole that her ponytail was escaping through. Her arms were tied behind her back, and her feet were pulled up close to them by the ropes running from her ankles. Most glaringly, Edgecombe was completely naked, her breasts swinging free with each thrust from the equally naked Slughorn, pumping away behind her.

"What the-?"

Slughorn leapt back, his face going white as he stared at the open door in horror. "Who's there?!"

Harry silently cursed himself for speaking out loud, even as he whipped up his wand, aiming for Slughorn's ample torso. "Stupefy."

The old professor collapsed like a pile of blubber. Harry did his best not to look at the man and all the tufts of grey hair that he'd never thought about and would prefer never to think about again. He made his way around the now squirming woman in the ropes, making muffled noises. Not looking at her was more difficult, but Harry did his best regardless. When he got to the front he saw that the reason she wasn't speaking more clearly was the large red ball in her mouth.

Feeling a surge of anger on her behalf, Harry raised his wand at the hood and the ball. He paused as the sight of his disembodied arm floating in midair made him realise that he was about to give a girl who'd betrayed him before a good understanding of one of his more useful secrets. He hurriedly stuffed the cloak in his pocket and raised his wand again. "Evanseco."

The hood winked out of existence, revealing Edgecombe's face and she blinked furiously. Harry realised that he must have accidentally blinded her when he uncovered her eyes. "Sorry about that. I'll have you down in a sec."

"Potter?!"

"Yeah, it's okay now. You're-"

"What are you doing here?! Where's Horace?"

"Horace?!" Harry echoed in disbelief. Given what he'd found, he hadn't expected Edgecombe to call her professor by his given name.

"Horace! HORACE! Help me!"

"I-… I thought he was-… I stunned him," Harry got out, feeling very wrong-footed.

"You what?!" Edgecombe hissed, going completely still for the first time since Harry had entered the room. It didn't last as she started thrashing and screaming in a way that suggested the ropes might be the only things keeping her from attacking. "You… you… why are you always ruining my life?! Damn it, Potter! Wake him up! You wake him up and get out!"

"But-"

"OUT!" she shrieked. "I spent too much effort on making this happen to have you ruin it again!"

Harry panicked. "Stupefy."

Edgecombe went limp and silent, her body swinging in her harness, still carrying the momentum of her tirade.

"What. The. Fuck?" Harry breathed out, the profanity making him feel a little better, but not more equipped to handle the situation he was faced with. Uncomfortable with just how much of Edgecombe he could see, Harry conjured a blanket only to discover that he couldn't really use it to cover her; all the ropes kept getting in the way. Feeling that same sense of panic that had led to him stunning her start to rise up again, Harry gritted his teeth and forced himself to think.

How do I hide her from view if I can't cover her? Invisibility cloak? No, same problem… maybe the right direction though… Harry reached out with his wand and, focusing on the Disillusionment Charm, rapped Edgecombe on the head. He was grateful to see her form fade from view, even if the ropes looked slightly odd, pulling themselves taught on thin air.

With the largest distraction taken care of, Harry felt slightly more able to think. He took a deep breath and regretted it almost immediately as the heavy musk of the pair's activities landed in his nose and mouth. Resisting the urge to gag, Harry backed away until he reached a wall to lean against and closed his eyes.

Right, what do I do? Even if I leave right now, they'll come after me to make sure I'll keep their secret. Memory Charm? Damn it, why do I keep putting off learning that one?

Harry paused as something niggled at him and reviewed his thoughts like he was learning to do in Dumbledore's lessons. They'll come after me to make sure their secret is safe because they have their memory of me knowing it… secret… mem- blast it all, I'm an idiot!

Harry's thoughts began racing as he tried to think through what he was about to do, or try to do at any rate. His eye fell on the still naked and unconscious Potions professor and he felt his resolve harden. What was it again? Take Riddle's resources and keep our own? Something like that.

You have something I need. Harry's conscience screamed at him that he was about to do the very thing Dumbledore had done to the Grey Lady that had left such a bad taste in his mouth. I need to do this. Schooling his features, Harry marched over to Slughorn's prone form. "Enervate."

Slughorn let out a low groan and began to shift. His face scrunched up into a grimace and one hand came up to rub at his face, while he used the other to push himself up into a sitting position. Another low groan followed when he had stabilised himself more or less vertically.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry spoke up before the man could get too comfortable with his bearings. "Or good evening would be more accurate, I suppose."

"Harry?" Slughorn mumbled, squinting up at the teen. "How did you get into my chambers, m'boy?"

"Your chambers?" Harry asked, clucking his tongue in mock sympathy. "I had expected better from Hogwarts. There's not even a bed here. I'll speak to Dumbledore about this, Professor. I promise."

Harry could see the exact moment Slughorn realised where he was as horror bloomed and the blood drained from the older man's face until it matched what the younger had seen when he'd first been noticed in this room. "Dumbledore?" Slughorn squeaked out, trying to cover his ample body with shaking hands. "I-… I'm sure Albus doesn't need to know about this, does he? Please, Harry, I'm sure we can work something out."

Harry felt disgusted at the snivelling begging in front of him. He flicked his wand and the blanket he had conjured to cover Edgecombe soared over to the Potions Master. Slughorn hurried to pull it over his considerable girth. "A deal is it, Professor? And why would I do that after what I found here?"

"No. No, Harry, I tell you true, she came to me. She was willing, I swear it."

Harry knew as much from Edgecombe herself, but couldn't let that on right now. "Are you sure that's the story that she'll be telling McGonagall and Dumbledore?"

Slughorn shuddered and his expression fell. "What do you want?"

Harry crouched down in front of the man and looked him in the eye as coldly as he could. "As it happens, sir, you do have something I must have."

"Name it, m'boy, name it!" Slughorn cried out. He seemed to be trying for some of his usual joviality and failing miserably.

"A memory."

"No…" Slughorn gasped in horror.

"I get the feeling you know the one I'm talking about," Harry said coldly, doing his best to keep up his most convincing Snape imitation. "I want the unedited version, Professor. I have to know what happened that night."

"But… but it will ruin me," Slughorn wailed.

Harry just cocked an unimpressed eyebrow and looked around the room.

Slughorn clearly got the message and changed tack. "Please, Harry, something else. Have a little mercy. If you go to Albus and Minerva, Marietta will be hurt by this affair as well."

"And?" Harry asked in a voice hard as ice.

"Do you not care for the girl and her future?!"

"Did she tell you how she got those… unique spots on her face, Professor? She betrayed a lot of people. People who were forced, among other things, to write lines with a Blood Quill over, and over, and over, and-"

"A- a Blood Quill? Preposterous! Where would she get such a thing?" Slughorn blustered.

Harry shook his head. "I didn't say that she was the one who made us use it. She betrayed us to the one who did."

Slughorn shook his massive head and leaned away from Harry. "No…" he protested weakly. "A Blood Quill would have… it would have…"

Harry held up his right hand and watched Slughorn's eyes read over the words as they widened in horror. "I know what would happen if you're forced to use one of those things for too long, professor. I know what did happen. Do not ask me to care about the person who caused that."

In his own mind Harry knew that it had been Umbridge who was responsible for the torture and that Edgecombe had not been in any way involved in coming up with that punishment, but the stories overlapped just neatly enough that he could keep telling the lie without giving himself away.

"The memory, Professor, or I go to Dumbledore and you have to find a new muggle house to squat in," Harry threatened.

"Please, Harry… You Know Who, he will come for me. He will kill me if I give this to you."

"He'll try to kill you either way," Harry said mockingly. "It'll just be easier for him if you get turfed out of Hogwarts. Give me what I need and there's a chance I might get him before he gets you."

Slughorn's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish at hearing Harry's bold declaration, but he seemed to be mulling it over. "And if-… if I were to give you the-… the thing, tonight would… I mean, you would…" Slughorn gestured weakly at the room around them.

"If you give me the full and unedited memory, then I will never speak of this to anyone. I will also do my best to kill that bastard before he can get to you." Harry paused for a moment. "If you're not willing to make that trade…" he trailed off with a shrug not really having a good threat handy.

Slughorn was quiet for a moment longer, until a single tear rolled down his chubby cheek and sank into his moustache. "I'll need my wand," he muttered sounding defeated.

Harry nodded and mentally prepared himself to cast a Shield Charm. "It's probably in your robes, isn't it? Go get it." Harry watched as the old man wrapped himself in the conjured blanket and shuffled over to a low table in the corner that Harry hadn't noticed before and pulled out his wand.

Wand in hand the old man whirled back to face Harry, faster than the younger wizard thought possible.

"Protego!" Harry cried. He was treated to the sight of Slughorn lowering his wand with chagrin written all over his face.

"I would not be so base as to attack you, Harry. I am a wizard of honour."

Harry didn't lower his guard even a little.

Slughorn huffed and waved his wand, making it very obvious that he was pointing it away from Harry as he did so. A small vial appeared in the old man's hand and he pulled the stopper out. Bringing the wand up to his own temple, he closed his eyes and a moment later pulled his wand away again. A whisp of silver followed it and settled into the vial as it was directed. Slughorn closed the vial back up and held it out for Harry. "As promised."

"Throw your wand at least three paces away," Harry commanded, not taking a single step to claim the memory he so desperately needed.

Slughorn complied, but looked distinctly unhappy about it. "Albus has been corrupting you, for you to be so paranoid at such a young age."

"Him, Riddle, everyone really," Harry said with a gallic shrug, dropping his shield. He walked over to Slughorn and took the phial before the old man could change his mind and drop it. "Let's hope this gets at least one threat off my back." He turned around and walked away.

"You won't tell anyone?" Slughorn called out behind Harry.

"She's seventeen and she made it plenty clear she wants to be here," Harry shot back without slowing down.

"Wait!" Slughorn cried.

Harry paused and turned back.

"Where is Marietta? Her clothes are still here and from your words... I know that she wouldn't run out into Hogwarts without a stitch on. Is she alright?"

Harry didn't know what to make of that question and was leery of trying to figure it out anyway. Pointing his wand at the straining ropes, he cast "Finite Incantatem. Enervate." Before Edgecombe could regain enough of her consciousness to start screaming at him again, Harry left the room as quickly as he could without running.

Looking at the conjured bottle in his hand he felt a sense of grim determination settle in his chest. Let's get this thing up to Dumbledore before something else happens.

This has to be the strangest thing I've ever seen at Hogwarts, and that's saying something.

:-:-:-:-:

"Ron, has Harry done anything… strange lately?" Hermione asked, chewing on her thumb. She had researched risky, magical, medical procedures and hadn't found anything that even resembled what Harry had done for her. Madam Pomfrey's words from before the holidays just wouldn't leave her alone though so now she was reduced to her last resort: admitting that this challenge was too much for her by herself and asking for help.

Ron looked up from his homework with a cocked eyebrow. "You know, it really is weird how interested the two of you are in each other. You've even started hugging him. Is there something going on that I should know about?"

Hermione felt her face flame against her every wish. "Ronald Weasley!" she hissed out. "There is nothing going on between Harry Potter and myself, and even if there were it would not be 'something you should know about' unless I choose to tell you."

"Alright. Alright," Ron protested leaning away from her with his hands held up in surrender. "I was only teasing you. Calm down."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I just can't understand why it's gotten so difficult not to fight with Ron lately. When she opened them she found Ron eyeing her like she was some kind of dangerous creature. It was almost like she could feel the inside of her skin itching. "Well?"

"Well what?" Ron asked nervously.

"Has Harry Potter done anything strange lately?" she growled out.

"He's taking classes with the Headmaster and disappears for hours at a time to practice fighting a Dark Lord who wants to kill him and you think he's doing something even stranger?"

"I-" Hermione forced herself to stop. I had hoped to hear his honest thoughts without influence, but it looks like I'll have to get specific. "I was talking to Madam Pomfrey. She said that if Harry had come back from Hogsmeade truly hurt after the attack she might take a page out of his book and look through the Headmaster's library for the single most risky longshot she could find. I want to know what Harry did that she's referring to."

"Have you asked him?"

Hermione squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't think I could."

Ron let out a heavy sigh that Hermione knew meant that he thought she was being difficult. "So you basically want me to talk to him about what Pomfrey meant?"

"Would you?" Hermione begged quickly. The way he grimaced told Hermione that the honest answer was 'not really' so she tried to push a little more before he could refuse her. "I mean, you're his best friend. Aren't you curious? Or do you already know?"

"I'm Harry's best friend because I don't ask him questions like that," Ron told her sardonically. "The man doesn't like to talk about the stuff he's done."

"Then blame it on me. Tell him I wouldn't leave you alone about it. He doesn't have much of a friendship to cut off with me anyway and he might tell you if it will help you," Hermione tried.

"You aren't leaving me alone about it," Ron pointed out.

"Ron, please. I can't quite explain it, but something about the way Madam Pomfrey was talking about it makes me think that she was hiding something from me and I can't stop worrying that it's something important."

Ron blew out his cheeks and studied her, his pale blue eyes searching hers for… she didn't even know for what. "Fine," he grunted eventually. "I'll ask. On one condition. If Harry doesn't want to talk about it, I'm not badgering him about it and you agree to drop this."

"If he doesn't want to tell you, I promise that I won't ask either of you about it again," Hermione instantly agreed, knowing that it wasn't the promise that Ron had asked for and praying that he wouldn't notice.

Ron eyed her for a moment before his shoulders slumped. "Fine. I'll ask. Just don't expect much in the way of answer."

"Thank you, Ron. That really means a lot to me."

:-:-:-:-:

Harry felt his mind settle back into his body. It was an odd sensation; one that made him wonder if the added details he could see while immersed in a memory were worth the disorientation. Across from him, the Headmaster in question was settling back in his chair, his elbows resting on its arms and his fingers steepled under his chin.

"That was… enlightening," the old wizard murmured.

"Looks like your guess was right, sir," Harry said. "Seven pieces."

"Indeed. I am grateful to you, Harry. You have performed marvellously, as I was sure you would. How did you manage to convince Horace?"

"I promised him that would remain between the two of us, sir. I don't think I'd want to go back on my word quite this soon."

"Alas. Then an old man's curiosity shall go unsated," Dumbledore chuckled.

Harry allowed himself a brief smile. "Thank you, sir. Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"This really doesn't change much for us, does it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we were looking for six horcruxes anyway. This hasn't told us where any of them might be or anything else that would change what we're already doing."

Dumbledore's beard quirked slightly as if he was smiling. "No, not much has changed in that sense. What has changed is our perspective. Once we have a sufficient number of horcruxes subdued, we will be able to consider when and where we wish to force a confrontation with Tom. There is a great advantage in being able to choose the time and place of a battle."

"I know, sir." Seeing the way Dumbledore was looking at him, Harry added, "your birthday gift talked about it quite a lot."

Dumbledore stroked his beard for a moment. "Yes, it would, wouldn't it? I am pleased that you have taken the information in that book to heart without as much of the usual eventfulness that seems to accompany your time at this school. I confess that I had worried about that."

"I don't know, sir. The year feels plenty eventful to me so far," Harry said with a grin that was just a touch rueful.

Dumbledore let out an amused snort. "Perhaps you are right. This discovery is certainly momentous enough. I think that it is best that we retire to our beds, Harry. We may not have advanced further in our goals tonight, but the road underfoot has become firmer to tread. I believe that will provide enough for a good night's rest."

"Alright. Good night, sir."

"Good night, my boy."

AN:

You may have noticed that 'darkness through light' is the opposite of the ritual Harry used to summon the Oak King. That would be because the Oak King and Holly King are archetypal opposites.

Not trying to kink-shame anyone here, but I do wonder whether scenes like the one at the beginning of the chapter wouldn't happen more often at Hogwarts. I mean there has to be some really freaky stuff you can do with magic, and I mean really freaky, not just the intermediate BDSM on display here.

Poor Hermione. She feels a sudden kinship with someone who has more secrets than hair on his head and doesn't really do 'sharing' or 'emotional expression' while clearly trusting her for no reason she can see. Oh, and he's a competent teacher. Harry's basically concentrated, 100% pure Hermione-bait at this point.