On Monday evening, Harry walked to the dungeons with some trepidation, Neville grimly wishing him luck. He was the only one of Harry's friends to know the true reason for these sessions. The others were told it was simply Alduin's whim, because Harry could never study enough for his tastes. The second part was true, after all.

Harry supposed he would tell Ron one day, but… telling him about the lessons meant telling him about the reason for them, about the prophecy, and Harry probably should run that by Alduin first - though he thought a little spitefully that it wasn't like Alduin had run the lessons by him, so maybe he wouldn't bother - but, more importantly, he just… Wasn't sure how Ron would react to the idea that there was a prophecy about Harry. He was getting better, but he still had a tendency to be jealous about the weirdest things, like Harry's mentions in the papers. It seemed absurd that anyone could be jealous about the prophecy of all things, but Harry just didn't know.

Plus, it was just different with Neville, who was sort of involved in the prophecy, too.

Harry mused about this all the way to the dungeons, but once he reached them, did his best to put it out of his mind. The place was disturbing enough without adding disturbing thoughts to it.

Now he entered the room he'd been told to go to, and looked around. It was a big, empty space, ideal for duelling he had to admit.

"Shut the door, Potter," came Snape's voice from the shadows in the far corner.

Harry startled a little, not having noticed the man, and did as he was told, trying not to show his nerves.

Snape came closer. He was giving Harry a cold look, and for the upteemth time, Harry very much wondered about his Potions teacher. It was clear he disliked Harry strongly, and yet he still agreed to teach him. Why? Surely there was someone he could have passed the responsibility on to, even if he agreed with Alduin about the necessity. Which rather begged the question: did he know about the prophecy? Harry didn't like that idea at all.

"Well, you know why you're here," Snape said without preamble. "Let's see what you can do. Get ready, Potter!"

And without further ado, he shot a hex at Harry, who had to jump away in a rather undignified manner and scramble for his wand.

That was all he had time to do before he was avoiding another spell.

Duelling with Snape, unsurprisingly, was exhausting. He went harder and sharper than Alduin did, and it was incomparable to lessons with Maurice. After the first bout, when Snape called a pause, Harry was exhausted.

For "rest", they practiced the Disarming Charm Alduin had taught Harry over the break, since Harry had tried using it on Snape once it caught the man's attention. Harry didn't find it particularly restful, but he supposed that at least he didn't have to jump anywhere. And it wasn't… Terrible. Snape was strict with him, unsurprisingly, but his advice was actually helpful, and he even offered some insights Alduin hadn't.

They closed with another bout of free duelling, if one wanted to call it that. It was mostly Snape shooting spells and Harry once again jumping to the side and up and rolling on the ground in his attempt to avoid them, and from time to time trying to shoot a spell of his own, which was always without fault blocked by Snape.

Before Harry left, Snape gave him a penetrating look. "Your cousin was right," he said. "You're not entirely terrible at this, Potter. See you next week – and be on time."

Harry could only nod, mutter a "yes sir", and try not to think of all the stairs between him and the Gryffindor tower.

Dead on his feet had just gained an entirely new meaning to him.

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„What do you think," Alduin asked Alexandra one night as they lay in bed, post-coitum, and he was idly tracing patterns on her skin. "Should I tell Dumbledore about the Horcruxes?"

She considered it. "Probably," she conceded. "Well, not about the one in Harry. That I'd keep private for now. I don't trust the man with him."

"No, neither do I," Alduin agreed. "But you think I should inform him of the fact that Riddle has them?"

"Yes, unpleasant as it is. He is still probably our best hope at defeating him."

"It's not going to be a nice talk. He's going to be pissed I hadn't informed him before."

Alexandra smiled. "You can handle him."

He sighed. "Thank you for your trust. Sometimes I'm not sure it's earned."

"But you're better now, aren't you?" She asked, her fingers running over the inside of his thigh.

"Yes. Apparently, you get used to everything, including a baby in your house and a death sentence hanging over your ward's head."

"See? That's why I say you can handle Dumbledore. After all of this, one old man is a piece of cake."

He kissed her hand, and she rolled her eyes at him. "If you want to thank me," she said, "kiss me somewhere else."

That made him laugh. "I'm worn out!" He defended himself.

"But I'm not," she pointed out. "I don't really require your...hmm...full fitness for this."

He conceded that was true. "And I do sort of need something from you…"

"Bribery will get you everywhere, if it's the right kind of bribery. What is it?"

"Well, there were...certain things we discovered thanks to the diary. Certain aspects of Abraxas' connection to Riddle. We always knew it was close, but actually it was much more intimate than we ever suspected."

Her eyes sparkled. "Intimate, you say?"

Alduin rolled his eyes. "Not in that way." At least he didn't think so, though really, what did he know?

"A pity," Alexandra opined. "Still, interesting."

"Yes, very," Alduin agreed. "It was an extremely advantageous friendship on both sides, was it not? And yet...Abraxas died, just as Lucius was reaching his majority. The only man who could perhaps be said to truly know Riddle."

"You think he killed him," Alexandra stated, her eyes widening.

"He might have," Alduin said. "It certainly worked out very well for him. And wouldn't it be a nice bit of news to give Lucius? Might do wonders to his loyalty."

"Not just his," Alexandra muttered. "It's one thing to know your so-called master will kill you if you betray him or fail him badly, and quite another to know he will dispose of you the moment you simply become inconvenient."

"Good point."

"You want me to dig into that death and see if I can find any supporting evidence, right?"

"Exactly. I know it's not precisely medieval Britain..." Alduin said apologetically.

Alexandra rolled her eyes at him. "Oh shut up, you know modern history is my not-so-secret love affair. Yes, I'll be happy to do it...but I wouldn't say no to the bribe all the same."

And so Alduin went to diligently show his appreciation for his wife's support.

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Dean entered the second year boys' bedroom with a wide, terrified look on his face. "It's here! It's come! There's no escape now!"

"What is it?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"Dating!" Dean exclaimed melodramatically.

Harry huffed a relieved laugh.

"Really?" Seamus asked. "Who's dating whom?"

"Is it you, Neville?" Ron added. "You sly dog!"

Neville blushed, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"It's Lavender," Dean said, plopping down on his bed. "I saw her kissing Cormac McLaggen just now."

"Cormac? Which one is that?" Ron wondered.

"The large, wiry-haired one from third year," Seamus replied. "I remember him because he almost pushed me down a staircase last year when he was hurrying by, and McGonnagal saw it and took some points."

"Wow, Lavender sure does have taste, doesn't she?" Harry couldn't help commenting.

"Well, I suppose he never pushed her down a pair of stairs," Neville pointed out reasonably.

"Just a matter of time," Ron muttered.

"I wonder if Sophie is right and girls really do start earlier with this sort of thing," Neville mused.

"You can ask her, mate. 'Hey, Sophie! Felt the urge to kiss any of us lately?'"

"That might not be the best way to test it," Seamus noted. "I mean, I don't see Lavender wanting to kiss one of us."

"Well, it's supposed to be the boy who makes the first step, isn't it?" Dean asked.

Ron gave him a mildly panicked look. "Really? Why?"

"I think Dean made that up to convince himself he's safe," Neville muttered.

"No, I've heard that too," Harry defended his friend. "But maybe it's just a Muggle thing?"

"How do we find out?" Seamus wondered. "I mean, what if we wait for girls to show interest and all the time, they've been waiting for us to show some?"

"I could ask at home, I suppose," Harry mused, "only then Alduin would not doubt think I was angling to date someone, and I can definitely do without that."

"Yeah, I'm not asking my brothers, same reason," Ron agreed.

The idea of asking Neville's Gran was too horrifying for words, so they decided they would just have to quietly observe for the time being.

One mystery at least they could try and get an answer to, however.

They cornered Sophie a day later, on the way to breakfast. "How did Lavender end up with McLaggen?" Seamus asked.

Sophie stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "How do I know? I've been hearing her vaxing poetic about him to Parvati for a while now, but it's not like she confides in me."

"Can you find out?" Seamus insisted.

Sophie's incredulity grew. "Why do you care so much?" She asked suspiciously. "Were you interested yourself?"

Seamus blushed, and Ron whistled.

"So that's why you were so bothered!" Harry said. "Well, maybe you can like...watch her with McLaggen and get some tips from that?"

Seamus grimaced. "Thanks, mate. That's the last thing I want to do."

Oh, right. Harry supposed he would feel jealous. This was just so very strange to him – kissing a girl, especially with tongues involved, seemed about as pleasant to him as kissing a dog. Similar amount of saliva was apparently involved, too, if Lavender and Cormac were anything to go by.

It was reassuring, at least, that he apparently wasn't alone. In fact, none of the boys except Seamus showed any interest in dating so far, so Harry was at least glad to be reassured that there probably wasn't anything wrong with him.

It was a strange and a little disquieting idea that in a few years, something would apparently happen to him that would make kissing seem like a fun idea. And not just kissing, either, but the other things seemed too icky to even contemplate to Harry, and he did his best to forget that particular science class with Alduin. It had been embarrassing enough to sit through once, so he didn't see why his memory tormented him with it over and over again.

He shook his head. At least there was Quidditch practice ahead of him, that should help him clear his mind of any irritating thoughts.

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Alduin steeled himself for his talk with Dumbledore, and made his mental shields as strong as possible. He was a mediocre Occlumens at most, and couldn't hold his own against a full attack, but then Dumbledore wouldn't go that far. And against casual mind-reading, he could defend his mind perfectly well.

"Mr. Travers," Dumbledore said when he entered, in a not very enthusiastic tone. "I do believe you are here slightly less than last year. This is, what, only your second visit? What concerns you now?"

"This time, for once, I'm here to offer information, not to demand it," Alduin replied. "There has been...development."

"In what way?"

"On the Riddle front."

Immediately, Dumbledore was all seriousness and attention. "Has he made a move that I haven't heard about?" He asked.

"No. It's not about his current whereabouts, it's about his past deeds." Dumbledore relaxed a little, but it didn't last long, as Alduin continued: "In particular, about the way he gained immortality."

Dumbledore was all attention. "Have you come across evidence of one particular method? I have been trying to do so for years..."

"Yes," Alduin said with a curt nod. "His method of choice was Horcruxes."

Dumbledore exhaled. "I had rather feared it would be so," he said. "Have you found it? It must be destroyed immediately!"

"It was. I have trusted friends who are handy with Fiendfyre. But it's worse than that. There are...indications that he could have made more than one."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and sighed heavily. "Well, he was known to imply to his closest followers that he got further in his quest for immortality than anyone before...but what made you think so?"

Alduin considered what to say very carefully, as truth was out of the question, but he needed to be very convincing. "The Horcrux was a diary," he said at length. "It was...capable of communicating."

Dumbledore frowned. "You should have brought it to me. There might have been important information to be gleaned from it," he pointed out.

Alduin raised his eyebrows. "Me and my friends gathered all the information we could before we destroyed it."

That seemed to make Dumbledore truly angry. "You still should have brought it to me," he said, "especially if you were already working with it. You know I coordinate the efforts in the fight against him..."

"You coordinate the efforts of your followers," Alduin corrected him, "and you didn't exactly give me good reasons to trust you in this last year. But I do respect your importance in this fight, that's why I'm talking to you now."

"Now is too late! Who knows how much important information was destroyed with that diary! Just because of your arrogance-"

"Careful, Dumbledore," Alduin said softly. "It seems to me it's mostly your arrogance at play now, when you assume that I and the people I work with are not capable enough to handle this, that only you can. It's the same problem as with Quirrell last year, is it not?"

Dumbledore scowled. "That's irrelevant!"

"Oh no, it is not," Alduin corrected. "That's the reason I have trouble trusting you, you see. But I am here now – still. Continue in this vein, and I might consider leaving again."

Dumbledore didn't say anything, but Alduin saw his wand hand twitch. "Tut tut," he said. "I'm one of the good guys, remember?"

Dumbledore looked furious, but, his mouth pressed and his fists clenched, said: "Of course," and motioned for him to go on with his explanation.

"It seems the idea was to make more Horcruxes," Alduin said, "and that he started this work at the age of sixteen."

"The diary didn't tell you how many were planned?" Dumbledore asked challengingly.

"No. The diary refused to explicitly speak about its own nature completely – and believe me, we have tried. But I have consulted some Arithmancy experts and they indicate that three is the most likely number, but seven is also a possibility, if he was insane enough for that. And as long as we don't know..."

"...we won't know how many to look for," Dumbledore finished for him, sounding a bit more friendly now as he immersed himself into the problem. "Yes."

They sat in silence for a while as he contemplated this. "Well," he said at length, his tone still cold, but otherwise looking relaxed enough, no longer about to reach for his wand, "if there is one who would have known, it would have been Abraxas Malfoy, but it's too late to ask him. The rest...Robert Lestrange, Maximus Rowle, Patrick Avery...I do not believe so. They were always too clearly in a subordinate position to him. Not that it matters, since they are mostly dead now, too."

"And Patrick Avery wouldn't tell us even if he did know," Alduin added. If anyone was a true believer, it was this man.

"Very true. As for others from Tom's past, others who'd talk to us...there's only one that comes to mind. Horace."

"Slughorn?" Alduin asked, honestly surprised.

"The very one," Dumbledore agreed. "At sixteen, Tom was in frequent contact with him. He was his favourite student, back when Horace was still young and not so experienced in recognizing danger and the students he should keep away from. And Horace was never...squeamish, at least not about theory. In the unlikely case that Tom needed advice with something, he would have turned to this man. It is a long shot, I grant you, but it seems to me like the only chance we have. I'll speak to Horace, and have him tell me if he knows something."

"Very well, then," Alduin agreed. "Meanwhile, I'll ask Alexandra to try and discover other people who might have had some idea." He paused. "There's also the matter of finding the Horcruxes. Do you have any tips?"

"It would be places that are somehow personally important to Riddle, I believe," Dumbledore said slowly. "Where was the diary?"

Alduin sighed. He had walked right into that one. "In Lucius Malfoy's possession," he said resignedly.

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed at the revelation. Aloud, however, he only said: "Then Bellatrix Lestrange could possibly have another. If there are only three parts of his soul, that would be it, would it not? Or do you suspect otherwise?"

Nice try, Dumbledore, Alduin thought, but I'm not walking into a trap again. "Yes," he said. "That has occurred to me before, of course. It would be nicely symmetrical, so let us hope that is it. But if any other places come to you, in case there are more..."

"Then I will take care of it," Dumbledore said firmly, and Alduin sighed. He knew he should trust the man in this, he really did, there was no reason to expect he wouldn't wish to destroy horcruxes – in fact, in Harry's case, that was precisely what he feared – but still, his past experience made him very unhappy with the idea of leaving this in the Headmaster's hands.

Still, he thought as he was leaving the office, all in all, this had gone better than he'd expected, and much better than it could have.

Had Dumbledore drawn his wand, the game would have been well and truly over, for more than just Alduin.

He thought of Harry, and shivered.