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Tales of the Darkness

Lord Voldemort raged.

Snape narrowed his eyes, standing unmoving in the shadows. Voldemort had already demanded the Potion Master concoct the strongest Dreamless Sleep draught he could create. He had cursed his human body and its need for sleep and Potter's name in the same breath.

"Snape." The Dark Lord filled the single syllable with malice.

"My lord." Snape approached and knelt before him.

"How is it possible that this weak, talentless boy can break through my impenetrable Occlumency shields? How is it he can disturb the slumber induced by the strongest of sleep potions? Have I been misled, Snape? Is there something you have neglected to tell me about this boy?" Voldemort's voice slithered.

Snape stood, but bowed low before speaking. "No, my lord. The boy has no special powers. You have seen the contents of his worthless mind, I believe, my lord? He has no control, nor any capacity for, the finer mental arts. The boy could not master the most rudimentary skills. Regardless of his efforts to repel invasion, his mind was entirely open. He was completely ineffective."

Red, slitted eyes bored into Snape, who bowed yet again. "Perhaps, my lord, I could be of assistance if permitted further details. I do not mean to be presumptuous, of course, my lord, but perhaps my work as a spy against Dumbledore and Potter for the past six years could be useful."

Voldemort stroked Nagini at his side, his gaze never leaving his subject. "It is your ambition, not your allegiance that I do not trust," he hissed.

"My only allegiance is to you," Snape said. "My only ambition to serve you."

"The mental invasions are sporadic," Voldemort said finally. "There are jolts of emotion unrelated to my own activities. The sensation is most annoying."

Snape nodded once and waited for Voldemort to elaborate.

"The images are dark and hazy. I cannot make them out, except they seem to be of a female nature. Of late, I see various doors, which seem to be Hogwarts broom closets."

Snape stared at the floor, stroking his jaw with his thumb and forefinger. "It would seem that Potter has sunk to a new low," he sneered. "I suspect Potter has let his hormones get the best of him and is indulging in daydreams and nighttime fantasies. You do not see him working to improve himself? No pathetic attempt at learning to duel properly? No? He has abandoned all pretense then, and given in to his baser instincts. Your mental connection, as you know, works both ways, but Potter has never realized the implications. I assure you the images Potter is broadcasting are inconsequential, although I can understand they would be annoyingly troublesome."

"My Occlumency skills are unsurpassed. Teenage hormones alone would not breach my defenses."

"I cannot pretend to fathom this unique link you created, my lord," Snape said. "Perhaps as you devote more time to plotting his drawn-out and painful death, focusing your mind on him allows him entrance occasionally. Hogwarts provided a shield of sorts. With Dumbledore gone, the shields are weaker, as may be the wards at his relations' home. It would be laughable to think he is gaining power or honing abilities. He is arrogant and singularly uninspired."

"What of the prophecy, then?" Voldemort snapped.

"Perhaps by killing the boy's parents, you already altered destiny and voided the prophecy. Rather than being raised in the wizarding home he was born to, he was raised by Muggles. They locked the boy in a closet for the decade he spent with them. That seems to have been a rather effective way of blocking any magical potential from developing. Perhaps the curse you used on him as an infant scrambled his brains."

"That curse should have killed him." Voldemort snarled.

"And it would have, were it not for his mother," Snape said smoothly. "Perhaps if the boy had been raised by his mother, who did possess a modicum of talent, he may have become a more interesting adversary for you. As it is…" Snape shrugged elegantly. "There will be little challenge for you to defeat him, if you choose. The boy is overly emotional and highly predictable. I believe young Malfoy could kill him for you, if you were inclined to avoid the onerous task yourself. It would be good practice for him."

"No," Voldemort hissed. "He is mine. I have plans for his death."

"Yes, my lord. I will research mental bonds. It may require his death to halt the visions."

"No matter. He will be eliminated soon enough. Now, for our next Order of business." Voldemort's red eyes gleamed. "There is a large gathering in the form of a blood-traitor wedding to plan for, as well as the next full moon…"

Tonks led a training session in the War Room for Neville, Luna, Harry and Ginny while waiting for the others to join them. Neville and Luna, while no match for Ginny and Harry, performed quite well in their practice duels. Harry was proud of how much they'd learned in the D.A. Luna had even bested Tonks once, hitting her with an obscure hex that Tonks didn't know how to counter.

Harry wondered over the personality change he saw in Luna. Many times he saw a new side of her that was remarkably lucid. Following her notably efficient take-down of Tonks, Harry had to ask. "Luna, you seem different, somehow…" He looked puzzled, adding hastily, "Not that you weren't always good, but you seem more, uh, competent and capable or something."

Luna looked at Ginny and smiled. "Well, you did warn me he was slow on the uptake."

As Luna turned to face him directly, Harry watched her dreamily vacant expression change to cunning. He warily took a step back. "Ginny," he demanded, wand drawn. "Are we sure this is the right Luna?"

Luna laughed as though she had pulled an excellent prank. "Harry, it is me, I assure you. What do you know about blondes?"

Harry blinked, bewildered. "Blondes?" Yes, this was more familiar, this feeling of Luna-induced befuddlement.

"Blondes," she prompted. "As in the hair color."

"Erm, nothing, I suspect." Harry looked to Ginny and Tonks for help. They smirked at him. Neville just shrugged helplessly.

"You haven't heard that blondes have more fun?" Luna quizzed. "Or that blondes aren't very bright?"

He flushed crimson and shifted his feet. "Oh, er, yeah, I guess, but I didn't think that was real."

"No, Harry, it's not. It's a common stereotype." Luna smiled. "Yet you know I was sorted into Ravenclaw. How is such a thing possible?"

"Because you let people believe it?" he guessed.

"I encourage it," Luna corrected. "There is an enormous advantage to having people constantly underestimate you. Yes, I do have many off-the-wall theories and esoteric ideas, but they all play into the illusion. Believing in the possibility and existence of things I cannot see does not necessarily make me crazy."

Harry blinked at her.

"Oh, I don't claim to be as conventionally intelligent as Hermione, or as clever as Ginny." The blonde girl tipped her head respectfully at her classmate. "But I can hold my own."

Harry just shook his head in amazement. Sirius' book had not nearly tapped into the depths of deception girls could reach. He shrugged. "Okay, Miss Ravenclaw, why don't you prove your abilities by finding a way to silence Mrs. Black's portrait."

"Oh, I've heard about her. I thought perhaps you kept her around for atmosphere," Luna said whimsically. "Is that all? Do you want me to take care of that right now, or wait until we get back after visiting the Chamber?"

It had become a rite of passage for every new Order member to take a crack at removing the insufferable woman's visage from the wall. "I'll get the roster so Neville and Luna can sign up after they've had a crack at Walburga," Tonks suggested when they'd arrived in front of the portrait. "Don't try to dissolve the wall the painting is on, it's a main support wall. We don't want the house crumbling down around us. Especially since they'd probably blame it on me." She winked as she turned away, pink curls bouncing around her shoulders.

Luna examined the portrait carefully without disturbing the curtains or waking up the vociferous witch beneath. When Tonks returned, Neville and Luna quickly signed, and then turned back to the portrait.

"Would you like to try first, Neville?" Luna asked politely.

Neville's neck and ears turned pink, but he approached the painting. He wedged his fingers behind the frame and pulled. He murmured an incantation and tapped it with his wand, to no avail. He turned and shrugged. "I've never been great at household spells. What's wrong with this painting anyway?"

"She has been awfully quiet lately," Ginny said suspiciously. "You don't suppose she can visit other portraits?" Harry shot her an alarmed look and grasped the curtains, tearing them open.

The view that greeted them shocked them all into silence.

"That's Stubby Boardman's mother?" Luna asked curiously.

"No wonder she's been so quiet the last couple days." Ginny sniggered.

Neville tilted his head. "She looks like Hermione did when Malfoy hit her in the mouth with that, um..." He pantomimed long teeth with his fingers in front of his lips.

"Damn, how did I never notice she was so ugly?" Tonks gazed in stunned amazement. "Was it because she was screaming all the time?"

Harry finally broke down laughing. "Sirius would have loved this," he thought, tears of mirth leaking from the corners of his eyes.

Ginny glanced at Harry with a raised eyebrow and turned to the others, grinning. "I guess the credit for silencing the painting has to go to Ron. He missed me with the Densaugeo hex and hit Mrs. Black. Who knew it would work on a painting."

Mrs. Black sat, silently glaring daggers at them, her mouth hidden with a handkerchief. Two beaver-like incisors were apparent at the bottom of the lace-edged scrap of fabric.

"C'mon, just say 'filthy blood traitor' for me, Aunty," Tonks cajoled, sniggering.

"So the painting stays now?" Luna asked, disappointed.

"Well, go ahead and take it down if you can, but we'll have to keep her around for awhile. I'd say there are several members of the Order who would thoroughly appreciate this sight." Tonks said. "Could this day get any more perfect?"

Luna smiled vaguely at them as she slipped her slim fingers behind the painting. She closed her eyes in concentration, murmured something and with a click of her wand, the painting made a horrible squelching sound and she pulled it firmly away from the wall.

Four jaws dropped simultaneously. Luna's vague expression turned just a bit cheeky. "Just your average, everyday airhead blonde Ravenclaw trick," she said smugly, buffing her nails on her jumper.

SLAM.

"I'm just saying, Hermione, it could have been Malfoy!" Ron's voice carried up the stairs.

Hermione's exasperated tone was slightly muffled. "Ronald, why on earth do you think Malfoy would choose to be transfigured into a ferret in order to break the wards and sneak into my house? And to steal something as useless as my cat's hairbrush?"

"Well, maybe he wants to use Polyjuice Potion to try to sneak in here as Crookshanks and murder us all in our sleep!"

Harry winced. "He's in for it now. Polyjuice and cat hair do not mix. Hermione is going to -"

"RONALD WEASLEY! Do you mean to tell me you've FORGOTTEN what happens to people who drink Polyjuice Potion that has been made with cat hair?"

"Wow, she does a good impression of Mum," Ginny observed mildly.

"Well, what if it was somebody whose Animagus form was a cat?" he argued. "Plus, Malfoy wouldn't be smart enough to know that was a cat brush. Or what if it was for a tracking charm? Didn't Hagrid mention an animal hunting and tracking charm using hair?"

Unbelievably, Hermione went silent for a moment. "No, that still wouldn't explain ferret or weasel tracks. Just because Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret once doesn't mean he had a natural inclination to be a ferret. Unless…"

"Oi, hi all." Ron had reached the landing. "Ready to visit the trophy room? We should have time for that before lunch."

"All right, Hermione?" Tonks asked, eyeing her closely.

"Oh, yes, fine, thank you," she responded, frowning slightly. "Come on, Crookshanks, you'd better come with us today," she crooned, scooping up the huge, squashed-faced feline. "Professor Lupin will be along shortly, he's unshrinking the rest of my parents' things in their suite. He said to go along without…" She stopped and stared wide-eyed at Mrs. Black's portrait on the floor. Her gaze took in the elongated teeth and then drifted up to the blank rectangle on the wall. "Who? – How? – What happened?" she gasped.

"Well, apparently Ron hit her with the Densaugeo hex he shot at me, so he officially gets credit for shutting her up," Ginny said. "Luna pulled her off the wall, though."

"Perhaps she just lost her will to stick," Luna quipped airily. "Or perhaps the Flobberworm mucus used in the sticking potion was the weakness," she shrugged. "Flobberworms are no match for Snigglediggers, after all."

Hermione gave Luna a measuring look.

Lupin joined them then and they went to Hogwarts through the cabinet without another word.

The group headed up to the trophy room. Ron pointed out Riddle's trophy and Harry picked it up carefully. Nothing. He felt nothing. No magical tingle at all. He sighed, "Well, that would have just been too easy."

"What do you feel when you hold the one Dobby made?" Ron asked, handing it to him.

Harry frowned. "Nothing…I should be able to sense some kind of magic, shouldn't I? It's a magically Transfigured cup, containing a Dark artifact full of magic."

"Where is Dobby?" Ginny wondered aloud.

CRACK.

"Welcome, sirs and misses! Dobby is happy to see you again so soon! Will sirs and misses be staying for lunch?"

"Actually, Dobby, we have a question for you," Harry spoke up, reluctantly. "Do you know if there's anything inside this trophy, like the one you made last night? I can't feel any magic in either of them."

Dobby took Riddle's trophy. "No Harry Potter sir, you would not feel it. T'is elf made. Special elf magic," he said, as if that explained it. His little brow furrowed in concentration, levitating the trophy and swirling his long-fingered hands around it. Suddenly the top cracked, issuing forth a hiss of green smoke. Hermione gasped. Dobby reached inside and pulled out a brooch.

Dobby set the brooch on the floor and re-sealed the trophy, carefully placing it back on the shelf. He then opened the trophy he had created the previous night, retrieving the locket. He placed the locket next to the brooch and covered each with one hand, closing his eyes, soon looking as if he'd swallowed copious amounts of the twins' U-No-Poo products. Finally, he lifted his hands.

"Are you all right, Dobby?" Hermione asked anxiously, dropping Crookshanks to the floor.

"Could you see the rest of the soul pieces?" Ginny chimed.

Dobby looked confused. He put both hands on the brooch. "Ah, Dobby sees Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Something moving."

"Is it Nagini? Is she in the school?" Harry demanded urgently.

"No, Harry Potter, sir." Dobby was perplexed. "Not a snake. Not alive, but moving."

Hermione leaned over to look closely at the brooch, careful not to touch it. "Could this be Moaning Myrtle's brooch?" Hermione wondered. "It's the Hogwarts crest, but it's tarnished and old. If it's connected to something that's not living moving in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and we know Riddle took souvenirs from his victims... It makes sense. But if Dobby sees Myrtle rather than soul bits, is this a Horcrux? Or just something Riddle stole?"

Harry grimly stepped forward and took the brooch, holding it gingerly in his hand. Ginny flinched, but did not attempt to stop him. His eyes closed, and he frowned in concentration. "It has magic in it, but it's… odd. If it's a Horcrux, it doesn't feel like the other one."

"Harry, be very careful not to prick your finger with it," Hermione warned suddenly.

With an alarmed glance at his friend, Harry gently set the brooch back down. He shivered and took a step back. "After I put it down, I feel it urging me to pick it up again and… a weird desire to see blood. It's almost like fighting off the Imperius. I should have thought of that. Tom and his sick obsession with blood, and that thing with a sharp point on it. Probably poisoned."

"So he used Myrtle's death to make a Horcrux?" Neville asked.

"No, I don't believe he could have done that," Lupin replied. "He used the Basilisk to kill her, he didn't do it himself. Dobby, did you see any other possible locations for the other Horcruxes? One would be Voldemort himself. Another is possibly his snake, Nagini, so we could be looking for two moving Horcruxes, plus Hufflepuff's cup."

Dobby concentrated, trying to focus harder to "see" the locations of the missing soul pieces.

"I wonder if Moaning Myrtle was a Ravenclaw," Ginny pondered while waiting for Dobby's response. "Perhaps her brooch would have been the Ravenclaw connection."

"So he would have had the Gryffindor artifact in Godric's Hollow that Halloween night." Tonks chewed her lip. She shot a sidelong glance at Lupin. "I wonder if anything was found there."

"Anything there would have gone to Harry's vault, or to Lily's sister," Lupin said, giving Harry a troubled look.

"Let's go have lunch," Harry suggested. "Maybe we'll come up with something. That'll give Dobby a chance to think about the problem too." He patted the little elf, who looked on the verge of self-abuse again.

Ron groaned in relief. "Great plan, mate. I'm starving."

In the Great Hall, Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment while they were eating and drew a timeline.

"Okay, so Riddle opened the Chamber and killed Moaning Myrtle first. He took her brooch as a souvenir. Then he talked to Slughorn about Horcruxes. He decided to split his soul in seven pieces. He visited the Gaunt home, where he got the ring. He may have had his diary and this brooch with him, or in an easily accessible place. He killed the three Riddles, made his first three Horcruxes, then altered his uncle's memory to take the blame. He hid the ring in the Gaunt house. He hid the brooch in his Hogwarts trophy. After Riddle left school, he worked for Borgin & Burkes. He acquired Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup, which he made into Horcruxes and hid them, disappearing for several years. When he came back to Dumbledore, he had only two-sevenths of his soul left, and one Horcrux left to make. He and his Death Eaters were on the rise to power and he'd given his diary to Malfoy for safekeeping. Then, Snape relayed part of the prophecy to him, and he decided to make his final Horcrux. He or whoever was with him used his wand to kill Harry's parents. They assembled whatever things they needed to make his final Horcrux. He hit Harry with a killing curse, which rebounded and hit him instead."

"Why do you think someone was with him?" Ron asked.

"Obviously, someone had to pick up his wand to keep for him, since he has it back now," Hermione said. Cautiously, she looked at Harry. "We could find out who was with him. Dumbledore saved Harry's memory."

Harry felt a chill settle in his chest. "Yeah," he said dully.

"But first," Luna smiled at the air above her head. "We visit the Chamber."

Harry hissed to open the portal. Mercifully, Myrtle was absent from her usual haunt. "Brooms ready?" he asked. Holding his glowing wand aloft, he began his descent. Tonks went next, and the others followed in single file. Lupin brought up the rear to keep watch over the group. At the site of the cave-in, Tonks used her wand to shift enough rocks to allow them to go through. They continued down the passageway.

"Open," Harry hissed again, and the group emerged in the Chamber. Harry stayed close to Ginny. She gripped his hand tightly, but otherwise displayed no sign of distress. Determination was the only expression on her face.

They searched in pairs, but found nothing significant, except for a few old books Hermione discovered. She shrunk them and pocketed them for later. Harry motioned to Tonks and Lupin. "Tonks, would you go with Ginny for a bit while Professor Lupin and I collect the fangs of the basilisk?"

Tonks looked revolted. "What do you want parts of that disgusting thing for?"

"Well, if the venom destroyed one Horcrux, we might need it for the others as well," Harry said tersely. "Ginny, don't give me that look. You're not missing out on anything fun, trust me." He winked and projected a vision of Voldemort's naked backside in the prefects' bathroom.

Elsewhere, Voldemort rubbed his temple and winced.
Lupin enlarged the unbreakable glass phial Harry had brought to use as a receptacle for the fangs.

"Oh bollocks," Harry gasped. "I forgot all about the Wolfsbane potion."

"What…? Oh, that," Lupin grimaced. "Hermione brewed it up yesterday, so I'm right on track with it. She made a double batch so Bill would have some as well. He doesn't really need it, as he doesn't transform, but with the stress of the wedding the day before full moon, Mrs. Weasley and Fleur decided it wouldn't be a bad idea."

"Why on earth did they plan a wedding so close to the full moon?" Harry shook his head.

"The date was chosen before his attack," Lupin explained. "I imagine Fleur thought the moon would be romantic, but Bill insisted it not be the same night as a full moon. I suspect it was in hopes I would be a rather better behaved guest." Lupin smiled a bit hollowly.

"Are you not a big fan of weddings?" Harry asked, dropping one fang in the jar and starting to work on another.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Uh, just that Tonks, er…well, why don't you just get married?" Harry queried, flushing.

"Honestly, Harry, I don't think it's even legal," Lupin said. "Werewolves aren't allowed basic rights under Umbridge's new legislation. It would look suspicious if Tonks or I requested the information to even check."

Harry growled under his breath, cursing Umbridge's name. Then he frowned. "Why don't you just do it the Muggle way? Tonks' dad is Muggleborn, why not get married in that church she mentioned. Muggle marriages are legal in the wizarding world, aren't they? Hermione would probably know."

Lupin looked thoughtful. He smiled at Harry then, mischief twinkling in his eyes. "Fair point, Harry. I'll put some thought into that. Though the shock of a proposal would probably turn her hair striped again. She hates that."

Harry sniggered. "Then you can have little Metawolfmacubs."

"Excuse me?" Lupin's eyebrows nearly met his hairline.

"Well, she's a Metamorphmagus, and you're…"

"A werewolf," Lupin finished for him. "Meta-wolf-ma-cubs, I see." He looked faintly disturbed.

"Haven't you ever wondered what your kids would look like?" Harry asked curiously.

Lupin smiled. "No, I can't say I have ever considered what kind of biological mischief could be achieved by mixing werewolf and Metamorphmagus genetics. Though now you've brought it to my attention..." His voice trailed off as his brows met in a slightly worried frown.

"Would you have kids with a war on?" Harry suddenly blurted. "What were my parents thinking, having a kid with Voldemort on the loose…. Was I an accident? I don't know anything about them. Were they careless?"

"Harry, your dad was an Auror. He was a good one, too. He'd always hated the Dark Arts, and his only ambition was to make the world safe. Especially once they learned you were on the way. Your mother was an Unspeakable for the Ministry. She worked in the room you tried to enter, the one that is always locked. She studied love, and I believe she was on the verge of a huge breakthrough.

"You were very much wanted, Harry. Whether you were planned or not, I don't know, your dad didn't really discuss that sort of thing with us. Knowing your mum, I would guess that you were. She was a bit like Hermione in some ways," he smiled, remembering. "Yes, they were scared, but they always said that a child is hope, and without hope, evil wins."

Harry's lips quirked. "I can't see Hermione slipping up on anything like that. I guess, I just wondered. I mean, bad enough they had to die for me, but if they hadn't even wanted…"

"Don't even think that," Lupin said warningly. "Planned or not, you were wanted and very, very loved. Enough for several years' worth, as it seems."

"You're right, it doesn't matter," Harry mumbled. "Sorry, I've just been thinking about things. The Dursleys wouldn't answer questions, and I guess I never lost the habit of being afraid to ask." Harry took a fortifying breath. "Was there anything between my mother and Snape?"

Lupin carefully raised an eyebrow. "Why on earth would you think that?"

"Professor Slughorn said they were friends and they worked together in Advanced Potions."

"Well, that is true, they did work together. I'm not sure you could say they were friends, but Snape did enjoy tormenting your father. This was in our sixth year, you understand, before your parents started dating. Poor James, he was beside himself. He kept quoting something out of a book Sirius had. 'The girl you want the most will end up with the idiot you hate the most.' In the end, though, Lily's choice was clear."

"So there was nothing between them," Harry persisted.

"No," Lupin smiled. "She was a good friend of mine, even before Snape or James. We were prefects together, you see, beginning fifth year. I think she would have told me. She was a very self-contained person. She didn't gossip and she was a firm believer in respecting privacy. Especially her own. She was very popular, because she was genuinely nice and cared about others. A bit like yourself, probably. She was honest and straightforward, and very easy to like."

He paused, as if weighing his next words. "I suspected Snape may have harbored more than friendly feelings for her, but he was a Slytherin and she was a Muggleborn. There was nothing he could do--other than annoy James with innuendos--without jeopardizing his position in his own house."

"Well, if Snape had feelings for my mum, I suppose that's why Dumbledore believed he was truly remorseful enough to stop being a Death Eater."

Suddenly, Harry's eyes flashed with hatred and disgust. "That's why Voldemort said she didn't have to die. He told her to move aside. As if he was saving her for a purpose; to give to someone else. He only killed her when she refused." He felt sick. "Poor Mum, I'd rather die than become Snape's toy, too."