"Evening, Potter. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet."

"Evening, Professor," Harry said flatly. Neither Harry nor McGonagall had said a word to each other outside classes since their conversation after Katie was attacked. It was not like McGonagall bothered to have many extra-curricular discussions with him anyways, Harry mused. He straightened his glasses and flattened his hair as Ron came spinning into view. With a quick swish of the wand, Harry banished the ash off of him and when Ginny arrived, all three of them trooped out of McGonagall's office and off toward Gryffindor Tower. Harry glanced out of the corridor windows as they passed; the sun was already sinking over grounds carpeted in deeper snow than had lain over the Burrow's garden.

"Baubles," said Ron confidently, when they reached the Fat Lady, who was looking rather paler than usual and winced at his loud voice.

"No," she said.

"What d'you mean, 'no'?

"There is a new password," she said. "And please don't shout."

"But we've been away, how're we supposed to —?"

"Harry! Ginny!"

Hermione was hurrying toward them, very pink-faced and wearing a cloak, hat, and gloves.

"I got back a couple of hours ago, I've just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck — I mean Witherwings," she said breathlessly. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Yeah," said Ron at once, "pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim —"

"I've got something for you, Harry," said Hermione, neither looking at Ron nor giving any sign that she had heard him. "Oh, hang on — password. Abstinence."

"Precisely," said the Fat Lady in a feeble voice, and swung forward to reveal the portrait hole.

"What's up with her?" asked Harry.

"Overindulged over Christmas, apparently," said Hermione, rolling her eyes as she led the way into the packed common room. "She and her friend Violet drank their way through all the wine in that picture of drunk monks down by the Charms corridor. Anyway…"

She rummaged in her pocket for a moment, then pulled out a scroll of parchment with Dumbledore's writing on it.

"Great," said Harry, unrolling it only to discover that his next lesson with Dumbledore was scheduled for the following night. "I've got loads to tell him — and you. Let's sit down —"

But at that moment there was a loud squeal of "Won-Won!" and Lavender Brown came hurtling out of nowhere and flung herself into Ron's arms. Several onlookers sniggered; Hermione gave a tinkling laugh and said, "There's a table over here… Coming, Ginny?"

"No, thanks, I said I'd meet Dean," said Ginny, though Harry could not help noticing that she did not sound very enthusiastic. Leaving Ron and Lavender locked in a kind of vertical wrestling, match, Harry led Hermione over to the spare table.

"So how was your Christmas?" "Oh, fine," she shrugged. "Nothing special. How was it at Won-Won's?"

"I'll tell you in a minute," said Harry. "Look, Hermione, can't you —"

"No, I can't," she said flatly. "So don't even ask."

"I thought maybe, you know, over Christmas —"

"It was the Fat Lady who drank a vat of five-hundred-year-old wine, Harry, not me. So, what was this important news you wanted to tell me?"

She looked too fierce to argue with at that moment, so Harry dropped the subject of Ron and recounted all that he had overheard between Malfoy and Snape. When he had finished, Hermione sat in thought for a moment and then said, "Don't you think —?"

"— he was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione.

"Ron's dad and Lupin think so," Harry said grudgingly. "But I'm done arguing about this. He's acting on Voldemort's orders, just like I said!"

"Hmm… did either of them actually mention Voldemort's name?"

Harry frowned, "I don't particularly remember but it's not like you're going to take me any seriously even if he did."

She stared across the room, apparently lost in thought, not even noticing Lavender tickling Ron.

"How's Lupin?"

"Not great," said Harry, and he told her all about Lupin's mission among the werewolves and the memorial they had for Sirius. "Have you heard of this Fenrir Greyback?"

"Yes, I have!" said Hermione, sounding startled. "And so have you, Harry!"

"When, History of Magic? You know full well I never listen…"

"No, no, not History of Magic — Malfoy threatened Borgin with him!" said Hermione. "Back in Knockturn Alley, don't you remember? He told Borgin that Greyback was an old family friend and that he'd be checking up on Borgin's progress!"

Harry gaped at her. "I forgot! But this proves Malfoys a Death Eater, how else could he be in contact with Greyback and telling him what to do?"

"It is pretty suspicious," breathed Hermione. "Unless…"

"Oh fuck this," said Harry in exasperation, "you and your unbelievably deep trust in authority will never accept being wrong. You're just fucking unbelievable, you are," said Harry, shaking his head. "We'll see who's right… You'll be eating your words, Hermione, just like the Ministry. Oh yeah, I had a row with Rufus Scrimgeour as well…"

And the rest of the evening passed amicably with both of them abusing the Minister of Magic, for Hermione, like Ron, thought that after all the Ministry had put Harry through the previous year, they had a great deal of nerve asking him for help now.

The new term started the next morning with a pleasant surprise for the sixth years: a large sign had been pinned to the common room notice boards overnight.

APPARITION LESSONS

Harry and Ron joined the crowd that was jostling around the notice and taking it in turns to write their names at the bottom. Ron was just taking out his quill to sign after Hermione when Lavender crept up behind him, slipped her hands over his eyes, and trilled, "Guess who Won- Won?" Harry turned to see Hermione stalking off; he caught up with her, having no wish to stay behind with Ron and Lavender, but to his surprise, Ron caught up with them only a little way beyond the portrait hole, his ears bright red and his expression disgruntled. Without a word, Hermione sped up to walk with Neville.

"So — Apparition," said Ron, his tone making it perfectly plain that Harry was not to mention what had just happened. "Should be a laugh, eh?"

"I dunno," said Harry. "Maybe it's better when you do it yourself, I didn't enjoy it much when Dumbledore took me along for the ride."

"I forgot you'd already done it… I'd better pass my test the first time," said Ron, looking anxious. "Fred and George did."

"Charlie failed, though, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but Charlie's bigger than me"— Ron held his arms out from his body as though he was a gorilla — "so Fred and George didn't go on about it much… not to his face anyway…"

"When can we take the actual test?"

"Soon as we're seventeen. That's only March for me!"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't be able to Apparate in here, not in the castle…"

"Not the point, is it? Everyone would know I could Apparate if I wanted."

That evening, the lamps in Dumbledore's office were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensieve was ready upon the desk once more. Dumbledore's hands lay on either side of it, the right one as blackened and burnt-looking as ever.

"I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?"

"Yes," said Harry. "He's not very happy with me."

"No," sighed Dumbledore. "He is not very happy with me either. We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on."

Harry smiled grimly at that. "He wanted me to tell the Wizarding community that the Ministry's doing a wonderful job."

Dumbledore smiled.

"It was Fudge's idea originally, you know. During his last days in office, when he was trying desperately to cling to his post, he sought a meeting with you, hoping that you would give him your support —"

"After Umbridge, I wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire," said Harry angrily.

"I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die when he left office. Within hours of Scrimgeour's appointment, we met and he demanded that I arrange a meeting with you —"

"So that's why you argued!" Harry blurted out. "It was in the Daily Prophet"

"The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally," said Dumbledore, "if only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that Rufus found a way to corner you at last."

"He accused me of being 'Dumbledore's man through and through.'"

"How very rude of him."

"I told him I was my own man and that was worse for his office than being your man."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind Harry, Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore burst out in deep belly laughs and had tears streaming out of his eyes as he threw his head back. It took him a few moments to gather himself but when Dumbledore spoke, his voice was quite steady.

"That was well done, Harry. Now, I suggest we press on unless there's anything else —?"

"There is, actually, sir," said Harry. "It's about Malfoy and Snape."

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"I overheard them during Professor Slughorn's party… well, I followed them, actually…"

Dumbledore listened to Harry's story with an impassive face. When Harry had finished he did not speak for a few moments, then said, "Thank you for telling me this, Harry, but I suggest that you put it out of your mind. I do not think that it is of great importance."

"So, you know Malfoy has been tasked with assassinating you," said Harry flatly.

"Yes, Harry, blessed as I am with extraordinary brainpower, I expected Tom to use some poor unfortunate soul to try and hasten my end," said Dumbledore "But let me reassure you that you have not told me anything that causes me disquiet."

"That is more troublesome than the attack on your life then, sir."

"How so Harry?"

"Katie Bell was hurt in an attempted assassination. How long before another life is lost because of Malfoy's misguided and juvenile attempts to kill you, sir. No, I don't need an answer. I don't want to argue over this, let's just agree to disagree and as you suggested— press on."

"Very Well. I can see what you meant about being your own man Harry. I respect that."

Harry nodded at that.

"I have two more memories to show you this evening, both obtained with enormous difficulty, and the second of them is, I think, the most important I have collected."

"So," said Dumbledore, in a ringing voice, "we meet this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left the last lesson poised on the threshold of his years at Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my company on a trip to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned him against continued thievery when he arrived at school.

"Well, the start of the school year arrived, and with it came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his secondhand robes, who lined up with the other first-years to be sorted. He was placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head," continued Dumbledore, waving his blackened hand toward the shelf over his head where the Sorting Hat sat, ancient and unmoving. "How soon Riddle learned that the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know — perhaps that very evening. The knowledge can only have excited him and increased his sense of self-importance.

"However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow Slytherins with displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of his arrival. He seemed polite, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were most favorably impressed by him."

"I'm assuming you didn't share what he'd been like when you met him at the orphanage?" asked Harry.

"No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance."

Dumbledore paused and looked inquiringly at Harry, who had opened his mouth to speak. Here, again, was Dumbledore's tendency to trust people despite overwhelming evidence that they did not deserve it! But then Harry remembered something…

"But you didn't really trust him, sir, did you? The diary said, 'Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did.'"

"Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he was trustworthy," said Dumbledore. "I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye upon him, and so I did. I cannot pretend that I gleaned a great deal from my observations at first. He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again, but he could not take back what he had let slip in his excitement, nor what Mrs. Cole had confided in me. However, he had the sense never to try and charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues.

"As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts.

"Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open wrongdoing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which they were never satisfactorily linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl. As you know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime.

"I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, placing his withered hand on the Pensieve. "Few who knew him then are prepared to talk about him; they are too terrified. What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and wizard witnesses alike.

"Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that Riddle was obsessed with his parentage. This is understandable, of course; he had grown up in an orphanage and naturally wished to know how he came to be there. It seems that he searched in vain for some trace of Tom Riddle senior on the shields in the trophy room, on the lists of prefects in the old school records, even in the books of Wizarding history. Finally, he was forced to accept that his father had never set foot in Hogwarts. I believe that it was then that he dropped the name forever, assumed the identity of Lord Voldemort, and began his investigations into his previously despised mother's family — the woman whom, you will remember, he had thought could not be a witch if she had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death.

"All he had to go upon was the single name 'Marvolo,' which he knew from those who ran the orphanage had been his mother's father's name. Finally, after painstaking research, through old books of Wizarding families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin's surviving line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he left the orphanage to which he returned annually and set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now, Harry, if you will stand…"

Dumbledore rose, and Harry saw that he was again holding a small crystal bottle filled with swirling, pearly memory.

"I was very lucky to collect this," he said, as he poured the gleaming mass into the Pensieve. "As you will understand when we have experienced it. Shall we?" Harry stepped up to the stone basin and bowed obediently until his face sank through the surface of the memory.

Dumbledore's fingers closed tightly around Harry's arm as the memory ended and they were soaring back into the present again. The soft golden light in Dumbledore's office seemed to dazzle Harry's eyes after that impenetrable darkness.

"Is that all?" said Harry at once. "Why did it go dark, what happened?"

"Because Morfin could not remember anything from that point onward," said Dumbledore, gesturing Harry back into his seat. "When he awoke the next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marvolo's ring had gone."

"Meanwhile, in the village of Little Hangleton, a maid was running along the High Street, screaming that there were three bodies lying in the drawing-room of the big house: Tom Riddle Senior and his mother and father. The Muggle authorities were perplexed. As far as I am aware, they do not know to this day how the Riddles died, for the Avada Kedavra curse does not usually leave any sign of damage… The exception sits before me," Dumbledore added, with a nod to Harry's scar. "The Ministry, on the other hand, knew at once that this was a wizard's murder. They also knew that a convicted Muggle-hater lived across the valley from the Riddle house, a Muggle-hater who had already been imprisoned once for attacking one of the murdered people.

"So the Ministry called upon Morfin. They did not need to question him, to use Veritaserum or Legilimency. He admitted to the murder on the spot, giving details only the murderer could know. He was proud, he said, to have killed the Muggles, had been awaiting his chance all these years. He handed over his wand, which was proved at once to have been used to kill the Riddles. And he permitted himself to be led off to Azkaban without a fight. All that disturbed him was the fact that his fathers' ring had disappeared. 'He'll kill me for losing it,' he told his captors over and over again. 'He'll kill me for losing his ring.' And that, apparently, was all he ever said again. He lived out the remainder of his life in Azkaban, lamenting the loss of Marvolo's last heirloom, and is buried beside the prison, alongside the other poor souls who have expired within its walls."

"So Voldemort stole Morfin's wand and used it?" said Harry, sitting up straight.

"That's right," said Dumbledore. "We have no memories to show us this, but I think we can be fairly sure what happened. Voldemort Stupefied his uncle, took his wand and proceeded across the valley to 'the big house over the way.' There he murdered the Muggle man who had abandoned his witch mother, and, for good measure, his Muggle grandparents, thus obliterating the last of the unworthy Riddle line and revenging himself upon the father who never wanted him. Then he returned to the Gaunt hovel, performed the complex bit of magic that would implant a false memory in his uncle's mind, laid Morfin's wand beside its unconscious owner, pocketed the ancient ring he wore, and departed."

"And Morfin never realized he hadn't done it?"

"Never," said Dumbledore. "He gave, as I say, a full and boastful confession."

"It's nice to see things have not changed at the Ministry in the past half-century. Proper investigation seems to be a term missing from their dictionaries."

"Yes, but it took a great deal of skilled Legilimency to coax it out of him on my part," said Dumbledore, "after all why should anybody delve further into Morfin's mind when he had already confessed to the crime? However, I was able to secure a visit to Morfin in the last weeks of his life, by which time I was attempting to discover as much as I could about Voldemort's past. I extracted this memory with difficulty. When I saw what it contained, I attempted to use it to secure Morfin's release from Azkaban. Before the Ministry reached their decision, however, Morfin had died. But it is getting late, and I want you to see this other memory before we part. It is a rather short one so it should be quick."

Dumbledore took from an inside pocket another crystal phial and Harry fell silent at once, remembering that Dumbledore had said it was the most important one he had collected. Harry noticed that the contents proved difficult to empty into the Pensieve, as though they had congealed slightly.

"Once more into the Pensieve, then…" said Dumbledore, when he had finally emptied the phial. And Harry fell again through the silver surface as he joined Dumbledore in the memory.

As Harry's feet fell onto the rug in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"That's all there is?" said Harry blankly.

Dumbledore had said that this was the most important memory of all, but he could not see what was so significant about it. Admittedly the fog, and the fact that nobody seemed to have noticed it, was odd, but other than that nothing seemed to have happened except that Voldemort had asked a question and failed to get an answer.

"As you might have noticed," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk, "that memory has been tampered with."

"Why would someone Obliviate him?" repeated Harry, sitting back down too.

"Not someone else," corrected Dumbledore. "Professor Slughorn has meddled with his own recollections."

"But why would he do that?"

"Because I think, he is ashamed of what he remembers," said Dumbledore. "He has tried to rework the memory to show himself in a better light, obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to see. It is, as you will have noticed, very crudely done, and that is all to the good, for it shows that the true memory is still there beneath the alterations.

"And so, for the first time, I am giving you homework, Harry. It will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory, which will undoubtedly be our most crucial piece of information of all."

Harry stared at him.

"But surely, sir," he said, keeping his voice as respectful as possible, "you don't need me — you could use Legilimency… or Veritaserum…"

"Professor Slughorn is an extremely able wizard who will be expecting both," said Dumbledore.

"He is much more accomplished at Occlumency than poor Morfin Gaunt, and I would be astonished if he has not carried an antidote to Veritaserum with him ever since I coerced him into giving me this travesty of a recollection.

"No, I think it would be foolish to attempt to wrest the truth from Professor Slughorn by force and might do much more harm than good; I do not wish him to leave Hogwarts. However, he has his weaknesses like the rest of us, and I believe that you are the one person who might be able to penetrate his defenses. It is most important that we secure the true memory, Harry… How important, we will only know when we have seen the real thing. So, good luck… and good night."

A little taken aback by the abrupt dismissal, Harry got to his feet quickly. "Good night, sir." As he closed the study door behind him, he distinctly heard Phineas Nigellus say, "I can't see why the boy should be able to do it better than you, Dumbledore."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Phineas," replied Dumbledore, and Fawkes gave another low, musical cry.

The next weekend, Neville was surprised to not find Harry anywhere in the Gryffindor dorms. After realizing Harry's bed had not been slept in, Neville decided to test his hunch and headed to the Room on Requirement. The door swung open and Neville was shocked to see spells flying all over the room. His reflexes kicked in and he grabbed his wand from his holster and dove behind a broken boulder for cover. It took a few moments for Neville to realize what was happening. After a few more minutes behind the rock, Neville decided to place a Sonorus on himself and yelled "HALT!"

Suddenly the spells stopped flying and Neville peaked out from behind the rock. "QUIETUS. Are you okay Harry?"

Harry stood in the middle of the room with his shirt partially torn off and half a dozen destroyed dummies littered around him with deep gouges being ripped into the walls of the room.

"Yeah," Harry panted out of breath "Just needed to let off some steam from today."

"Let me guess, you've been here all night?"

"What time is it?"

"5:15 am"

"Yeah, I've been here all night."

"You stink," a voice said from behind Neville. Harry leaned a little before he recognized the characteristic red hair.

"Hey, Sue." They both greeted.

"Hermione and Ron?" she asked looking around the room. Broken dummies and rocks littered the room. A transfigured bear lumbered towards a stationary dummy and took its head off with a swipe. Harry waved his wand and undid his transfiguration.

Harry sagged into a chair that suddenly materialized under him. "YES! I am so tired of trying to balance both of them. Ron is an insensitive git but he's always been thick-skulled. But Hermione is like a Whomping Willow the moment someone mentions his name. And she just, will not shut up about the damn book or saying I'm cheating in every Potions every lesson."

"Wait, how could you have cheated on the Golpalott's Law thing. You brewed the antidote, right?" Susan asked.

"Yes. I brewed the correct antidote for all three poisons simultaneously and even had a back-up ready."

"A back-up? That's not like you, Harry. You can barely execute one plan and even that is made as you go along," Neville snarked.

"Quiet you! The backup was just a bezoar crushed up into a powder so it could be absorbed. Frankly, that would have worked better than the antidote I brewed."

"So why was Hermione annoyed?"

"Because the Half-Blood Prince mentioned 'just shove a bezoar down their throats and I improved on it."

"I don't think this is about the book Harry" Susan interrupted his tirade.

Harry's mouth opened and closed a few times before he incredulously yelled outraged, "It's only been about the book ever since I got it!"

"Trust me. It's not about the book. It's just the main symptom. When was the last time you asked Hermione for help on an assignment?"

"Umm- last term?"

"And when was the last time you struggled getting a spell right in class?" Susan asked.

"Last term, I guess"

"Do you see where I'm getting with this?"

"No, not really," both Neville and Harry said together. Both of them wore an identically confused expression.

Susan rubbed the bridge of her nose, "Merlin save our species. Okay, let's go about this a different way. For the last five years, you have relied on her brains to barely get by in class. You and Ron basically turned her into an assistant teacher. Now, suddenly, you start doing things on your own and Ron gets a girlfriend when it seemed she was just on the cusp of a relationship with him. She cannot get mad at you for finally taking your education seriously and she can't stand Ron because she genuinely wants to claw his face off for playing games with her emotions. So, she vents at the only thing she can; the book and the perceived cheating it represents to her. She's too frustrated with other things to realize her hatred of the book is irrational."

Harry and Neville both looked at her with scrunched-up faces as they tried to comprehend everything Susan was saying. "What can I do about it though?"

"Start with something small. Ask her for help with something trivial. Show her you still need her."

"No. She'll see right through that. Trying to out-think her is pointless. I have to take a hammer to every argument before I can get her to see my point of view. Do you think I can bring her into our plan?" suggested Harry.

"Don't be generous Harry. It's your plan" Neville said with a smirk.

"No, we are equally invested in this," Harry insisted "But maybe if she saw what we are doing, Hermione could feel useful again?"

"She's your friend Harry. And it's your plan. We're in it just for the revenge." Susan said softly.

"Right now, you need to go and sleep. Neville and I will manage training for one day without your guidance. Shoo!"

Susan physically pushed him out of the room and closed it behind him.

The next day, however, the Hogwarts library failed Hermione for the first time in living memory and she was not taking it very well. She was so shell-shocked, she even forgot that she was annoyed at Harry for his trick with the bezoar, "I haven't found one single explanation of what Horcruxes do!" she told him. "Not a single one! I've been right through the restricted section and even in the most horrible books, where they tell you how to brew the most gruesome potions — nothing! All I could find was this, in the introduction to Magick Moste Evile — listen — 'Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction'… I mean, why to mention it, then?" she said impatiently, slamming the old book shut; it let out a ghostly wail. "Oh, shut up," she snapped, stuffing it back into her bag.

"Hermione you need to calm down, this is stuff you don't get access to unless you decide to become a Dark Lord and pervert the very nature of life. Here, I have something else to distract you." Harry said, leading her to a stack of books that covered an entire table. Each book had a page or two sticking out of it at random.

"What is this, Harry?" Hermione said with a small tone of shock still lingering in her voice.

"This is every single book that has the improvements that were mentioned by the Prince along with reasons why it works the way it does and how you can use it to improve your potion-making skills the best in the class."

Hermione suddenly whirled around and looked at him with the same look of scorn and fury she had every time the book was brought up. The response seemed almost Pavlovian after so long. But she swallowed her rage and asked through gritted teeth, "It's still cheating."

"How is it cheating if I have read every single book cover to cover and understood every part of the Princes' additions and why he makes them. Moreover, I have also taken the effort to create an elaborate stack of notes over there to show my work, Professor." Harry said with a smile.

"There is no way you wrote all that. You've written less in a full year than that stack." Hermione said in a daze.

"True. Which is why I used a Dictaquill. I like my right hand thank you very much."

"Yes, I'm sure you do." She said in a daze. She didn't realize the double entendre until Harry burst out laughing and she hurriedly tried to shush him before realizing he'd already cast a Muffliato around them so she settled on repeatedly smacking him on the shoulder with the book in her arms with a healthy blush.

"Here, have a seat" Harry pulled up a chair "Let me know when you're done with this. I'll wait in the common room. After that, we'll talk about what I've been up to."

A few hours later, Hermione returned to the common room and flopped into a seat next to Harry. He looked up to see her brow scrunched up in frustration. Harry knew interrupting her right now would not be good for his health so he waited.

"I'm sorry for saying you cheated," Hermione said softly.

Harry knew how much it meant for her to say that, so instead of crowing about being right, he offered her an olive branch. "I'm sorry for trying out unknown spells on the guy you fancy," he said with a wry grin.

Hermione turned to glare at him but couldn't help the blush that crept over her cheeks. "Shut up."

"So eloquent. You really are the smartest witch of our age" Harry joked with a solemn nod.

Hermione decided to ignore his jibe and asked, "What have you been up to?"

She was not prepared for the stony mask that fell on his face as all traces of hilarity fled Harry's face. "Follow me." Harry stood up and walked out of the common room and Hermione followed him. Harry led her into the Room of Requirement where a couple of comfortable chairs and a roaring fire awaited them. They both settled into a chair and Harry pulled out a scroll from his bag.

"I know you don't believe me about Malfoy," Harry held up a hand as he saw Hermione about to interrupt him. "Stop. I'm not going to fight anymore. Here. Read this scroll."

"What is it?"

"Just read Hermione"

Hermione began reading and slowly her face grew from shock to outrage and finally settled on outright horror. Harry saw her turn green halfway through the scroll and instinctively conjured a bucket for her to throw up in. Hermione spent the next ten minutes heaving into the bucket and began crying. Harry just sat next to her and held her hair as she wept.

"How —"

"Veritaserum."

"When?"

"Does it matter? I wiped his memory of the encounter so he doesn't know I know."

"Why haven't you told Dumbledore?"

"He knows."

Hermione's eyes went wide open at that. The thought that Dumbledore could voluntarily allow Malfoy to roam free flew in the face of her belief in authority. She was still processing that when Harry said, "It doesn't matter if Malfoy succeeds or not. Dumbledore is going to die around the end of this term."

Her eyes grew wide and her thoughts struggled to catch up. "His hand?"

"Yes. It has a very dark withering curse on it. Dumbledore wore a cursed ring during the summer and there is no stopping the curse till it reaches his heart."

Hermione began crying anew at that. Dumbledore was someone she had looked up to since the day she read about him at age eleven. Harry quietly rolled up the scroll and put it in his bag. A part of him was glad she did not read the conversation after the recording had ended.

"What have you been doing Harry? Why didn't you tell me, Harry? I know you wouldn't let Malfoy off the hook that easily." Hermione sobbed.

"I didn't tell you, Hermione, because I thought I was giving you a way out."

"A way out?"

"Yes. This isn't your fight. I thought by keeping you out of knowing critical intelligence, I could maybe convince you, to leave with your parents. Go to France, Australia, or Canada maybe."

Hermione's eyes grew wide as she scowled in rage. "Harry, I'm going nowhere! I'm staying by your side!"

"It's a little difficult to believe that after the way you've been treating me this term. I understand why, but I was hurt nonetheless."

Hermione's scowl suddenly melted away into tears, "I'm really sorry, Harry. I was just lashing out. I had nightmares about Rookwood for months while I healed. I can't fight again like that. I can't take—"

"Hey hey hey. It's okay," Harry moved to hug her, "I don't expect you to fight. Leave that to me. I completely understand."

Hermione hiccupped a few times and spent the next few minutes getting her emotions under control. "It just feels like you don't need me anymore, Harry."

"I do. I will always need you. I just wish I could do more to keep you safe."

"Oh come on, Harry. You haven't asked me for help even once this term. Your potions are always perfect. You get all the spells on your first try. I've even noticed you intentionally mess up spells to make it seem like you're struggling. You've been silent casting like you've been doing it for years. You've already started reduced motion casting! That is only covered in a Charms mastery!"

"Hermione. Something happened at the end of the last term. Since that incident, my magic feels different. It feels like my magic already knows what to do, but my mind and body need to catch up. It's like I already know what is written on the next page when I'm reading a book for the first time. I know things I have never studied before," Harry said with a frown.

"What happened last term?"

"I cast a Patronus and it charged me. It was not a normal Patronus though. It looked very different but it was still Prongs. It did something to me. I think it broke the connection between Tom and me. But it wasn't a clean break. I think I have some of his memories or skills. But it's like I need to read something to trigger it. I know those things but I need to remember them myself. It's like a musician who hasn't touched an instrument trying to play again. Magic is suddenly easy. I have knowledge at my disposal, but it isn't mine. So, I need to work at it and make it mine. In a way this is more cheating than the Prince's book ever offered," Harry said with a sardonic grin, "But this is also why I need you, Hermione. I need you to tell me when I stray too far from Harry Potter and into Tom Riddle."

"How am I going to do that Harry? I didn't even notice what was happening with you. How am I supposed to keep you from straying when I'm the one constantly sabotaging you? Why do you trust me with this?" Hermione said in a low voice.

"Book and cleverness. There are far more important things. Friendship and bravery. You taught me that, Hermione. You've stuck by me through thick and thin even when Ron didn't. Yes, we've had our ups and downs. But you've never wavered. I need you to keep me from becoming like Dumbledore or Riddle."

"How so?"

"I'm becoming a little like them. I keep a close inner circle like Riddle. I keep information from those near me like Dumbledore. I have to do it sometimes because I'm planning on going to war, but I need you to keep me from going too far."

There was a moment of silence as Hermione digested that.

"What are we going to do about Parkinson? We can't just leave her there?"

"One can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. But nonetheless, I've sent word to Parkinson and given her a way out. Neville has a few properties he has had warded for refugees."

"Wha— Neville? Refugees?" Hermione stuttered.

"Okay, sorry. I'll start from the beginning." Harry said as Hermione collected herself.

"While I was at the Dursleys I was thinking a lot about the future. That prophecy is basically a death sentence if I go toe-to-toe with Voldemort. So, I thought about how I would react if I was Tom Riddle and I had just regained my body and spent a year amassing forces and trying to get to the prophecy."

"Makes sense." Hermione hiccupped still recovering from the earlier emotional upheaval.

"The Prophet reported that virtually all of the major Death Eaters were caught after our Battle in the Ministry. That means it's a blow to the morale of new recruits as well as a reduction in the number of people coming to join his cause. With Fudge falling from grace, that just leaves Dumbledore and Voldemort as the two Kings on the chessboard." Harry said as he leaned forward with steeped fingers.

"And you, Harry."

"Let's focus on Tom right now. Tom was forced to run away with Bellatrix. He most probably arranged for a breakout from Azkaban in a couple of months after that. He must have then used the fact that no follower of his could stay imprisoned, to continue recruiting. With Greyback, he has the allegiance of werewolves. Hagrid has already told us the Giants have sided with him. And the ministry still insists on arresting innocents in order to save face. It's only a matter of time before the Magical world of Great Britain enters a civil war."

Hermione's eyes grew wide again. She tried poking a hole in Harry's theory but she could not. The last was on the verge of tipping over in Voldemort's favor when Harry defeated him. "The refugees?" she whispered.

"Muggleborns, half-bloods, blood-traitors, people with impure ancestries like Hagrid and Flitwick. Basically, anyone Umbridge hates. They all will be a target for Voldemort's forces. I'm going to give them a way out."

"A way out to hide?"

"Yes. Ideally to leave the country."

"Why? I mean the ministry is not going to fall anytime soon, is it, Harry? I mean, it lasted for over a decade the last time during Voldemort's rise."

"Forgive me if I don't put my trust in the Ministry's competence. But you're forgetting something. Dumbledore is dying. Which means, the Death Eaters will want to push for a takeover as soon as possible after his demise. And Tom will not be able to stop them in lieu of recruiting. Dumbledore's death will force him to move on to the Ministry before he has competent people trained up to run the government. That gives us time."

"Time to do what?" Hermione was slightly unnerved by the maniacal gleam in Harry's eyes.

"Time to save people. Time to make sure families are protected. Give people an option."

"How is Neville involved?"

"The Longbottoms are an Ancient and Noble house like the Blacks. However, unlike the Blacks, they were more tolerant of Muggles and Muggleborn. As a result, they were able to conduct business with the Muggle world without consequences as long as they did not flaunt it. Through these connections, Neville has been buying properties and having his Uncle Algernon put wards on them to hide them. I've funneled some of the Black family estate's money for the same. We have about two dozen properties ready to move in at a moment's notice. At the moment we can house 250-300 people comfortably."

"How will you know who to protect?"

"Susan has provided us with a list of names from the Auror office. Those will be the people who have been in direct conflict with the Purebloods and probably will be the first targets. I've been trying to find a list of names of students who have attended Hogwarts in the last 70 years but I haven't found any mention of it in the library."

"That's because it's not there. The Registry of Students is kept in the headmaster's office traditionally."

"Traditionally?"

"Yes. I noticed it in McGonagall's office after the attack on Katie."

Harry sighed. "That makes this both easier and harder. McGonagall and I haven't exactly been on the best terms since I quit as Captain."

"Leave that to me, Harry. I'll talk to her. Is that all you've been doing?"

Harry hesitated.

"No. There's more. Neville, Susan, and I have been training to ambush and kill Death Eaters."

"WHAT" Hermione shrieked.

Harry winced and said, "I want to take the fight to Voldemort, without actually fighting him head-on."

"What do you mean?"

"Death Eaters specialize in guerrilla warfare. Hit a target hard and fast and overwhelm the defenses and run away as soon as the objectives are achieved. We will be doing the same thing to them. Identify, isolate, and eliminate. We pick off enough people, Tom's government will never stabilize. We will keep their focus on us and away from oppressing everyday people."

He began explaining his plan to Hermione as the fire crackled. The two friends spent the next three hours talking and by the end of the conversation, Hermione decided to join Harry, Neville, and Susan for training the next morning. She had reservations about their methods, but Harry reassured her he was doing this out of necessity and not bloodlust.