Hallo! Glad you all could make it.

As usual, you guys are awesome for giving all the reviews, favs, follows, and feedback. And big thanks to new readers/reviewers. As you can imagine, even with a list of notes about previous chapters and details, once you get so many chapters under your belt, you find yourself beginning to grow fuzzy on previous plot points. New reviewers commenting on older chapters helps job my memories XD

Well, let's dive in, shall we?

If Someone Cared Enough

Chapter Ninety-Eight: Teahouse Talks

In a rundown Hookah Lounge, somewhere in the Middle East, two men sat on a set of plump, well-worn cushions on the floor. Smoke hung in the air above their heads giving the room a murky look, the lamplight dim and cozy so as not to bother patrons' eyes as they unwind.

Gathered in circles on similar cushions, other customers huddled close to one another, passing around communal hookahs, taking long, relishing drags of shisha and blowing billowing clouds into the air in relax satisfaction. All around them people were murmuring softly, contentedly to each other, basking in the lamplight's warm glow and the tranquil music trickling into the room from seemingly nowhere.

The two figures watched everyone carefully, intrigued almost, by the carefree atmosphere and laidback manner of those around them. Like there wasn't an impending war looming over everyone's heads.

A waiter came by and placed too steaming mugs of coffee down in front of the two men on a low table before quietly returning to the back room to brew tea for other patrons.

"I'm surprised," Came a curious voice, "I would have pegged you for a whiskey sort."

A tall man sat down across from them, carefully tucking his creaky, knobby knees under him to mimic their stance. With his back to the lamps, his face was cast in shadow, details hidden all but for the long, white beard trailing down his chest.

One of the men, the taller of the two with dark skin and yellow, hawk-like eyes, raised one imperious brow.

"This place doesn't have a liquor license," he said in a deep baritone, "A large portion of the population in this country abstains from alcohol for religious purposes; why bother serving something most will not drink?"

"Besides," the man added, "Whiskey? It's eleven in the morning; I'm not a heathen."

The elderly, bearded gentleman chuckled, "I never meant to imply you were."

The dark skinned man tsked under his breath, "You tend to imply a great many things with hardly a word," he leveled the man across from him a heavy look, "Albus Dumbledore."

Watching Dumbledore's eyes curiously, but calmly flit to the other patrons around the room, the young man sighed, "Relax; this is a muggle establishment; wizarding folks tend not to flock around these parts. Too many 'hygiene concerns' over hookahs without magically self-cleaning mouth pieces," he watched a toothless old man take a huff off one of the hookahs and hand it to his companion without wiping it off and suppressed a shudder."

"Not to mention His reach has yet to make it this far to the east," added the young man's shorter companion, "It's unlikely he'd have eyes and ears here when he's still working on getting spies established in just England alone."

"That and I cast muffilato," the taller man added, with a nod drawing Dumbledore's attention to the tip of a wand discreetly sticking out of his sleeve, "Just as you sat down. We've hardly at risk of discovery with all the precautions I took."

Dumbledore hummed agreeably, "And what precautions it was. I scarcely recognize you Miss Serapuem. No, I believe you go by Mrs. Serapeum."

"Serapeum-Mnemosyne," Simone corrected, though not harshly. She shrugged, "It's just polyjuice. My mother's family has kept hair from previous members of the family for such use for years. Makes it easier to wander around unnoticed if you aren't waltzing around in your home country as someone currently alive. A dead man waltzing around Beirut hardly turns any heads; no one would recognize a man who had never been here when alive."

"They've also kept hold of and preserved hair from old acquaintances," Thea said to explain her light brown hair and pointed face, a smattering of stubble clinging to her jaw. Her voice was a nasally, masculine sound, "This hair came from a man Sim's great grandfather met in the late 1800's."

Simone flashed a grin at Thea, "We could have just glamoured ourselves, but I really didn't want to see Thea with facial hair. It was bad enough seeing this bloke come out of our room today and hear Thea's voice come out of him."

Thea smiled, resisting a giggle, "A quick voice spell fixed that."

"Though I see you forewent any disguise," Simone observed, narrowing her eyes at Dumbledore, "For someone so concerned about discretion, you're hardly practicing what you preach."

Dumbledore chuckled again, "Ah, Simone, do you really think so little of me? There are many ways to go unnoticed. Have you forgotten how our very school sits in plain sight, yet is of no concern to muggles?"

Simone blinked, "You're saying you altered that spell for use on people."

"Nicholas Flamel didn't agree to work with me for my impeccable fashion taste, my dear," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Yes, because magenta robes with pixies all over it is always the height of fashion," Simone deadpanned.

Thea snorted into her coffee cup, trying to compose herself as she shot Simone a warning glare to behave.

Dumbledore seemed far from bothered, "That's one of my favorites. But I digress, I didn't become known for my skills for nothing, Simone. Spell alteration and invention is nothing I haven't dabble in before. A mere tweak here or there, and to the outside world I am little more than a frail old man, people unable to truly discern or recall my features and compelled magically to not care to."

"And the reason it doesn't affect us?" Simone asked.

Dumbledore's smile widened, "You're not the only one who has access to pieces of people to use in magic."

"Meaning you got hold of the hairbrush I left in school," Simone theorized, "Not creepy at all…"

It was Dumbledore's turn to shrug, "Nothing of the sort, I assure you. But the letter I sent you was imperative for more than just establishing a connection. When you replied, I merely took the essence of your touch from the letter to use for my spell. We leave traces of ourselves on everything we come in contact with, my dear. One merely needs to know how to use that."

"It's a shame then that You-Know-Who doesn't send you any hate mail," Simone suggested half-jokingly, "Then we could find him straight away and take him out."

Dumbledore waved his hands dismissively, "Ah, but what good would that do when he can come back? Speaking of which, I trust you've had some success in the job I gave you?"

Simone sighed, rummaging around in the bag at her side, "If you call scraps of information success."

"Egypt has the most extensive collection of tomes and research on raising the dead and the afterlife," Simone stated, pulling out a stack of papers, "It's no surprise given how they prepare their dead for living after death. Of course, the nature of most of the material now falls under strict protection and restrictions due to most of it crossing the lines of the 'laws of nature'. You can't access the files without clearance and all documents and tomes are kept under some of the most powerful anti theft curses in the world."

"Of course," Simone added, "Most of those curses were invented and mastered by Goblins…"

Dumbledore nodded, "I take it then that your friends were willing to help you?"

"Goblins aren't necessarily taking a side," Simone explained, "But they know that nothing will be gained from staying neutral either. They're well aware that nothing good will come from You-Know-Who taking control of the wizarding world; they know he wouldn't treat them as equals like he claims."

"Inaction rarely comes without consequences," Dumbledore said musingly, "Purebloods within his ranks already treat Goblins like lesser beings despite their vast intelligence and proficiency in magic. Things are only sure to get worse for them should he win and give his followers the freedom they crave to subjugate those they deem inferior."

Simone tilted her head in agreement, "Which is why they are willing to assist us. They don't need to actively fight in order to lend us aide."

"These are the documents they managed to acquire for me," Simone said, tapped the pile she placed on the table, "One of my friends has a nephew working in the vault in Egypt that these came from. It was a cinch for him to get past the security measures. However, that's about as lucky as we get, since of what was in the vault, very little is actually useful to us."

"Horcruxes aren't very well documented," Thea explained in a low whisper despite the muffilato in place to keep their discussion private, "Very few people have actually attempted to make one due to how foul it is. And of those that did try, rarely were the attempts successful; most failed with dire, oftentimes fatal consequences."

"On top of that, many dark wizards' research were burned or destroyed centuries ago," Simone tacked on, "Deemed too foul and corrupt to be allowed to exist even on paper. Only a few tomes still in existence even mention horcruxes, and of those that do, the information is sparse at best."

Dumbledore stroked his beard contemplatively, "Likely a last effort the world to prevent anyone from ever attempting it again. Was there anything of value you gleamed from the texts you found?"

Simone gave a half shrug, sliding some papers towards her former headmaster, "Sort of. Of the actually recorded cases of a successful horcrux creation—who knows how many successful attempts have gone unrecorded or lost to time—most if not all were done a short time before the creators' deaths. It varies; a few days, a month or so, some little over a year, but regardless they are all made relatively close before the creator's demise in most cases."

Thea pointed out some names on the papers, "Records show most of these creators were in the midst of war, battles, or disputes at the time of their horcruxes creation. They most likely viewed their deaths to be imminent and fast approaching."

"Most of these people seemed pretty convinced they were going to die fairly soon," Simone took over, "As it is, a lot of them failed to be resurrected even with a horcrux; whoever they chose to revive them usually failed to successfully perform the complex ritual needed to bring them back. Or, as quite a large number of cases indicate, the person intended to resurrect them couldn't find the horcrux when it came time to bring them back…"

"Which is something you think a key to our mission," Dumbledore summed up.

Simone snapped her finger, pointing at him, "Exactly. The most common foil to the creator's plan to be revived came from either the incompetence of those they trusted to perform the ritual or the horcrux being lost or misplaced. Presumably, Tom knows this as well, which is why he probably has hidden all his horcruxes closer to home than one would think. While it would seem clever to hide them all across the globe—he's certainly traveled enough to have the opportunity—it would be the most expected thing to do and would also leave him at risk of it being lost or not found when the time called for it to be used."

"He hid the diary with Malfoy," Thea added, "And the diadem in the school. That means, it's very likely he's hidden the other's near as well."

Simone leaned back, smirk on her face, "My bet is places of importance to him. He murdered Myrtle to make the diary into a horcrux and probably kept it with him for years before he had followers trusted enough to give it to. And Helena said the diadem was already corrupted when he returned to Hogwarts with it, so chances are he killed someone in Albania when he found it in order to make that horcrux. Yet, he came all the way back to Hogwarts to hid it instead of leaving it where Helena had hid it, a place that had successfully hidden it for years without a living soul knowing."

"Given that Riddle was an orphan, Hogwarts was the closest thing he had to a home," Simone carried on, "Sounds to me like he's got a sentimental side."

Dumbledore nodded his head, scratching his chin, "And since so few know of his true past as Tom Riddle, he'd be confident no one would find those hiding places because they are significant to a past that is unknown to the wizarding world."

"Albus," Simone said suddenly, "According to one of my friends…well, he manages the Malfoy vaults at Gringotts. Normally Malfoy himself takes care of all business there, but for a while now…he hasn't been able to contact him to discuss his assets. Then Malfoy finally turned up, looking a little worse for wear. Word around Gringotts is that he'd been missing. Albus…do you think…does Tom know we destroyed the diary."

Dumbledore tipped his head towards her, his face grave, "It was not unexpected that he would find out. I'm afraid there are more ears in the ministry under his hold than we were aware of. If he has realized that the part of the school spoken of in the Prophet is actually the Chamber, then he'd know the diary was used to get into inside. Therefore, he must know by now that the diary has been destroyed or at the very least in my possession. Either way, Malfoy paid dearly for it."

"And the diadem?" Thea pressed, "Does he know we destroyed that one too?"

"It is still possible he does not." Dumbledore said honestly, "After all, the diary came into your possession from outside the school, so as far as Tom knows, you and I would have no reason to suspect one in the school. If anything, he probably would expect us to think Malfoy has more hidden away."

"I'm surprised Malfoy wasn't killed for losing the diary," Thea admitted, "I doubt Tom would be pleased it was gone."

"You know what I think?" Simone asked, "I think the diary was his least important one."

Dumbledore raised a brow, but from his eyes it was obvious he was not surprised by this revelation, "And why would you say that, Simone?"

"Think about it," Simone stated, "He planned right from the start to split his soul multiple times, despite the warnings of the sort of damage it could do. That shows his only value to his soul is as a means to an end. As long as he has one or two horcruxes lying around to save his hind end, who cares about the consequences. He made the diary as a teenager, before he truly refined his skills. If you ask me, that one was merely a test drive, to see if he could actually do it. That's how little his soul matters to him. Why care about your soul when you plan to try to live forever? It was a throwaway."

"Very astute," Dumbledore agreed, "It's likely he never intended to use the diary to revive himself, not when he had other horcruxes to select from. You realize then, that the others will not be so easy to acquire as that one, of course."

Simone nodded, "Yeah, even if we narrow down the location, I beat the protections on those horcruxes will be stronger than the ones we already faced."

"Which is why I must ask you not to go seeking them alone," Dumbledore advised, "If I need your assistance, I will call upon you."

"So until then, we're on standby," Simone groused, "I was sort of hoping for more action; I'm getting restless all cooped up."

Dumbledore chuckled, "The information you collect for me right now is very crucial and greatly appreciated, Simone. I assure you, you'll be called eventually for more hands on work."

"Unfortunately we cannot act at this moment," Dumbledore went on, "Tom may not know we destroyed the diadem, but that doesn't mean he won't be expecting us to come looking for the others even if he is confident we cannot find them. Our safest course of action is to lay low and let him believe we are not aware of the others."

"And you aren't to go looking for the horcruxes without us, Albus," Simone said warningly, "You say it's dangerous for us, well the same goes for you. The last two could overpower and control a person if they weren't careful, don't assume that just because you're powerful you won't be affected."

"Why Simone," Dumbledore said, touching his chest over his heart, "Are you concerned for my safety. I didn't realize you'd grown so fond of me."

Simone scoffed, looking away, "You wish."

Thea smiled behind the rim of her coffee cup, ignoring the slight poke in the side she got from Simone for it.

I really think Voldemort's biggest folly with the horcruxes was hiding them all so close to home, so to speak. The diadem had been hidden for centuries before Helena told him where to find it, so clearly the hiding place was very successful. So he could have made it into a horcrux and then hidden it back in that place with added curses. Instead, he hid it in a school in a room that-judging from all items in there-had been discovered countless times by various students over the course of the school's history. It seems very stupid to me.

Also, what good are horcruxes if he hides the without telling any followers? None of the Death Eaters seemed to actually know about them, making it much harder for any of them to be of use to him when it came to bringing him back. I mean, he hid them in places significant to a life he told NONE of his followers about, a past he effectively erased from existence; how the hell did he expect any of his minions to get the bloody things to bring him back. Judging from the ritual Pettigrew performed, you don't just...burst out of a previous horcrux and start over. Surely you need access to the thing in order to extract the soul and construct a new body for it. So overall, Voldy was just foolish.

So, a short chapter this time, focusing on the work of our lovely newly weds. Hope that's okay.

Review please :)