V

Harry let out a deep sigh as he felt the hot water envelop him. The pain in his ribs had finally subsided somewhat after ingesting the healing potion he had brewed himself. It was nowhere near as good as anything madame Pomfrey could conjure forth, but it would do in a pinch.

He had returned to Gryffindor's stronghold an hour earlier, his side aching violently. Harry let his head fall back and looked at the ceiling, his mind wandering to the events of the day. Killing a giant. Huh. You didn't do that every day. He didn't fancy having another go at it any time soon, though; his body wouldn't be right for days, weeks.

All those bodies... All those homes and lives destroyed in what seemed like the blink of an eye. To Harry's shame, that wasn't the most difficult thing he faced today. No, that would be the appearance of his friends. He remembered how he had almost run to them, Horcruxes, quests and Tom Riddle be damned one and all. In the end though, he settled for watching them for a few moments before Apparating away. They had looked good, all things considered.

Harry remained in the bath a while longer, washing himself thoroughly, taking extra care when washing the large gash on his head. It had finally stopped bleeding and he did not want it to start again. Usually you would stitch something like that, but you couldn't very well be expected to do that to your own head. So it would scar. Badly. As would the wound on his thigh, even with stitches. Some of the cuts on his arms would scar as well, but would mostly fade away with time.

He gently fingered a deep cut in his left shoulder he had just stitched, another scar waiting to appear. Rolling his stiff shoulders, he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease out a knot that was forming there. He had landed a bit awkwardly after one of his rolls to avoid the giant's massive club. It was what it was and there was very little he could do about it but learn, and be more careful next time.

Harry got out of the bath and dried himself. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and the stranger therein stared right back. He still had problems reconciling himself with his new body, which was starting to look a little worse for wear.

All set with scars, he wasn't a pretty sight. A shallow scar ran across the bridge of his nose, a sign of how he'd broken it, and recently at that. Fortunately, it had not been disfigured in the event. Another faint scar could be seen snaking its way from the corner of his right eye down his cheekbone, ending just below it.

Twisting his body and neck, he examined the claw marks that ran down his shoulder blade and across his lower back. Big, red and ugly. He'd survived those wounds because he'd had a healing potion in his Bag and a friend who'd patched him up.

Come to think of it, he'd not been to see her in quite a while. Some friend he was. This damn quest would lead to his death, he knew. All he hoped was that he'd manage to at least destroy all the Horcruxes. The others could then finish the rotten bastard off, once that was done.

His mind was in utter turmoil and refused to calm down. His friends had been there; he'd seen them for the first time in almost two years. It had been much harder than he would have had imagined. Sighing, Harry left the bathroom and limped down into the cellar, the place he spent most of his time, when not out hunting the Horcruxes or seeing to some other thing that needed doing. He walked over to the small fireplace and got a fire going.

The medicine was working his body hard, he could tell. He really should be sleeping for maximum effect, but he knew that was not likely to happen. And so he grabbed his Bag from the table and placed it in front of him by the fire. Reaching in, he retrieved his blade, a piece of goat skin and a small bottle of oil.

He reached into the Bag once more, and out came a whetstone. A fighter always kept his blade in the best possible condition. Always. No exceptions. Gryffindor had drilled it into his mind with a passion. It was what separated a living warrior from a dead one, after all.

Harry worked his blade, carefully stroking it with the whetstone, the sound of it soothing his mind. It felt comforting to go through these motions; motions he'd repeated so often, he'd be able to do them in his sleep. After a while, he brought the blade up to his face, surveying his work.

Finding it satisfactory, he put the stone back in the Bag and grabbed the bottle and rag. Whetting the skin with oil, he slowly rubbed the blade until it shone like new, a thin layer of grease remaining on the silverite blade.

Harry sheathed the sword once more and placed it in the Bag, along with the instruments of his work. As soon as he did, he could feel his mind threatening to go wild once more, so he took a deep breath and sat back in the chair. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Harry felt his consciousness slip into a trance and he smiled softly when remembering how difficult he had found this in the beginning. As he felt his trance deepening, a part of his mind drifted to the events that followed his initial success at meditation...


"Good, good, Harry. Yes! Just like that! You've gotten very good with a variety of swords, very good indeed and your skill with the shield is nothing to laugh at, either. You must remember, even though you've mastered the forms, you have no experience in using these weapons in battle. An animated doll is no match for a living being and nothing weighs more than experience, so approach every fight with the utmost care, and never, ever underestimate the opponent."

"We could do with some more training with the bow, but I feel we must turn most of our attention to your meditation once more. By now you're quite well acquainted with this new body of yours and the meditative sessions we have been doing in the evenings have been showing progress."

Harry nodded. It had been several weeks since his transformation. Gryffindor had trained him rigorously, hours upon hours of learning fighting techniques, forms and how to properly care for his weapon. And while Harry worked the forms, Gryffindor kept schooling him on various topics.

The young man felt he was becoming an expert on almost everything; beasts, spells, hexes, charms and curses. Even history. Just how bad was Binns anyway? Harry shuddered when remembering the mind numbingly dull lectures by Prof. Binns. Even if he'd never hear another word about the goblin rebellions, it would be too soon.

Even though Harry's stamina was prodigious, each day left him completely exhausted and extremely hungry. At the end of every day, before Harry was allowed to eat, Gryffindor insisted he meditate, or try to anyway. They had found that, if Harry was tired enough, he could almost enter the kind of trance Gryffindor had spoken of.

It had been a bit of a revelation when Harry mentioned he had practised a little bit of Occlumency, which prompted Gryffindor to train him in that discipline as well, all the time cursing the fact that Dumbledore had forced him to learn from Snape, a man who hated the boy.

Trust was needed for such things and Gryffindor was not surprised in the least to learn the lessons had failed utterly. Limited as the portrait was in testing Harry's advances in building the defences in his mind, it had certainly helped Harry in organizing his mind, which made it easier to calm and focus his mind.

Harry sat down on the floor in the Lotus position. He went through the usual steps. He'd done this so many times, already! Refusing to let his impatience get the better of him, he fought it down and kept to his task. Harry slowly filed the newest memories away to their proper place and his mind became far less cluttered.

After some time of careful breathing, he gradually felt his mind 'open'. Sensing the breach forming, Harry focused on expanding it and slowly but surely the breach became a sizeable gap, big enough for him to get through.

Slipping through, Harry found himself standing outside a small cave, a strong current of air flowing from it. Harry walked into the cave, not knowing what to expect. There was nothing of note inside, except a stone pillar, atop of which sat a simple clay bowl. Harry approached the bowl and looked into it.

The bowl was overflowing with what seemed like water. The liquid kept spilling onto the floor of the cavern. Frowning, Harry reached out with his hand, but stopped abruptly as he felt a drop fall on his hand, followed by another and another after that. A brief tingling sensation followed and Harry was even more curious now.

Backing away a bit, Harry noticed a fair sized crack in the ceiling, which was dripping water into the bowl at a fairly quick rate. Harry stared at the bowl for a long time before focusing his mind back to the real world and when he opened his eyes, he was sitting on the floor of Gryffindor's lab.

"Well, how did it go, my boy?"

Harry told Gryffindor of his experience and the old man listened with great interest. Apparently, not many people had the ability to visualize their magical centre so vividly and fewer still had the strength to maintain their presence in there for longer than a pair of breaths.

Judging by Harry's description of the place, Gryffindor believed Harry was currently not in balance, there was more magic flowing into him than he was able to regulate properly. The boy had managed to sneak a peak into his own mind, but there was still a lot of work to do.

"You did very well, Harry, very well indeed. This is just the beginning, however. We have weeks of work ahead of us, months even. It will be hard, slow work, since this is not something we should rush."

And so the months rolled on and Harry spent his days working on bringing balance to his magic, which proved harder than he ever thought possible. Every once in a while, they would stop with the mind games and train with swords for a few days. To clear the mind, Gryffindor said.

Harry found the old man was right, after a few days of hard physical training, he found himself much calmer and less stressful. They would mix in lessons of history and magical theory, debates and other such things. The young man would also practice his Occlumency. Harry felt it somewhat difficult to admit, but he was enjoying himself immensely, despite everything.


It had been almost three months since the day where Harry had finally managed to enter his own awareness. Once Harry had established a firm grasp on the art of entering his mind, they worked on his ability to maintain his presence there. Slowly and surely Harry became stronger and more confident. One day, in early May, after an unusually long session, Harry lay on his back on the floor, breathing hard.

Gryffindor looked at the boy with great admiration and pride. He had bottomless potential. No matter what was thrown at him, he would master it and press on with steely resolve. This, and what came after would be no different. He decided it was time to show the boy why he'd been driven so hard in his training, a little something to reward honest progress.

"Follow me please."

Harry rose from the floor, somewhat perplexed at the brisk tone and the pace with which Gryffindoe moved. Harry actually had to jog to keep up with the old man, who moved between the frames faster than Harry had ever seen him do.

Well, to be perfectly honest, the old geezer had so many things to say, that whenever they were walking about, Harry had to walk slowly so Gryffindor could use every frame in the large house to the fullest, in order to inject Harry with some wisdom, knowledge or advice. Eventually Harry found himself in a part of the stronghold, he'd never been in before, a strangely secluded hallway, completely empty, aside from a painting at the very end.

Standing before the painting, Harry studied it. It was a painting of a room, or rather a study of sorts. Hundreds of books lined the walls, stairs leaned against the shelves and in its centre, Harry saw a simple desk and a wooden chair that looked surprisingly comfortable. There was no sign of Gryffindor. Harry crossed his arms over his chest, studying the painting further.

There was nothing further of note, Harry decided. So he studied the frame instead, golden and intricately woven with signs and symbols, none of which he had ever seen before. Of course he had not taken Ancient runes in school, so it was not surprising.

Meaning to have a look behind the painting, Harry grabbed the frame, which resulted in something very strange. The surface of the painting rippled as if it was floating, similar to the way water ripples in a bucket.

Harry frowned in surprise. He tapped the frame softly, the result the same as before. He took a deep breath and put a finger onto the image. He pulled his hand back and the material stretched out a little, before snapping back. Harry smiled slightly and stepped into the frame with conviction. Not surprisingly, Harry found himself in the exact room he'd been looking at earlier. In a picture of a lovely garden, his mentor reclined in a divan, smiling at him.

"Well done, Harry, well done. I was confident you'd find your way here quickly. I think it's time for me to show you what I can offer you when I've been convinced you have mastered your magic completely. At the moment, your magic is still overflowing and it will only increase and eventually become dangerous; it may burn you up."

"You've given me plenty already, Mr. Gryffindor. I can't ask for anything further," Harry said.

"Nonsense, my boy. What I am going to show you, and eventually give you, I give freely and to a worthy cause. Now, go to the second shelf of the eastern wall, third book from the right. Pull on it, if you please."

Harry found the correct book and put a finger on the top of the spine, and pulled on it. He heard a slight scraping sound and turned his head to find a small alcove in one of the walls. In it, there was a small pillar of sorts, a sphere of some kind, lodged in it's centre. The sphere was pulsing, power flowing from it through some kind of 'veins', reaching out from the pillar, disappearing from view.

Harry assumed they wound their way through the complex; what he was looking at had to be the power source of this place. He knew what the sphere contained, but was hesitant to ask, as he felt it was a highly personal matter. He looked at Gryffindor, the unspoken question obvious on his face.

"What you are looking at, Harry, is me. A part of me, at any rate. In order for this place of mine to function properly, I designed this sphere to contain a part of myself; it bleeds into this place, giving it its power. I've been around a long, long time and I think it's time I let this portion of myself depart this world. I have decided to give this to you, once you have brought your magic under control. Now, while there is some power to be had here; what it mostly offers is the opportunity to reach your full potential quicker."

"Quicker?" Harry asked the old man.

"Indeed," Gryffindor said. "Almost instantly, in fact. You know it takes some mages decades to reach their full potential, but we do not have the time to wait for it to happen. Once you have taken it, I will cease to exist. I will become no more than a regular, non magical portrait, unable to help you any further, aside from allowing you the use of this place."

Harry was somewhat dumbstruck, regardless of the fact that he'd in truth known, or at least suspected what Gryffindor had planned. He did not know if he was ready to be truly alone. It was a big step, one he'd been thinking of, almost constantly, but this made it so much more... real, somehow.

"I don't know if I'm ready for it, Gryffindor. Going out there alone? Looking for, and finding the Horcruxes, not to mention destroying them."

"That has been your plan, has it not? To go it alone, so that your friends would not have to go through it as well? Admirable, but ultimately reckless. Should you decide to keep with that plan, you will need every advantage. I know you have limited experience with the world, young as you are, but you are intelligent, highly adaptable and headstrong, so I expect you'll have little trouble in that regard. Now, I want you to go rest, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Harry was tired when he awoke the following morning. Sleep had been hard to come by in the night, his mind bombarded with thoughts and questions he kept levelling at himself. He opened the wardrobe and fished out clothes for the day; loose fitting pants and a belted tunic.

He´d taken to wearing a pair of knee high leather boots he had found lying untouched in the wardrobe, his trainers had long since worn out, not to mention the fact that they were too small by now.

A few days after he came to Gryffindor's stronghold, he realized he had to change clothes, of which there were plenty to choose from. At first they had made him feel silly, but he got used to them, after a while. He decided it was time to have a serious discussion about the Horcruxes, as they had spoken remarkably little of them in the time he'd been here.

After eating breakfast, Harry, yet again, made his way to the basement. Waiting for him was his mentor, ready for the day, as he always was.

"Good morning, Harry. I would like us to start with meditating today. I think it's time for you to try and reach your centre without having to be completely exhausted to get there. It severely limits what you can do in there. Once you do get in there, I want you to try and focus on your magic. Try to prevent all that excess energy from spilling out; that is the first step. Once you have that, we can begin to learn to regulate it."

Harry took his place on the floor and began his breathing routine at once. Almost immediately, Harry found himself outside the cave entrance, looking in. He ventured inside and found the bowl in short order. It was much the same, but there was more water spilling from the bowl than before, the crack wasn't dripping any more, it was leaking.

Alarmed, Harry forced himself to remain calm and focused his mind on the water spilling over the edge of the bowl. He stared at the water for some time. Not really knowing what to do, he simply followed his instincts and tried to will the water back into the bowl.

The water on the floor, suddenly started to rise, until it was level with the bowl, slowly floating over to it. Before he dropped the water into the bowl, however, Harry stopped and looked at the thing. He was starting on the wrong end, obviously. He let the water fall to the ground with a splash and instead arched his head toward the crack in the ceiling.

He had to reduce the flow into the cavern first. The bowl was overflowing as it was, so adding into it all the water on the floor was like drying yourself in the rain. He focused his mind to the crack and to his astonishment, it started to close. Fast.

Nearly panicking, Harry turned his head down, focusing on a pebble on the ground. He was trying to make the crack smaller, not close it, damn it! He heard a drop of water fall into the bowl and he stole a look at the crack again and found it somewhat hard to see this time, the flow of water greatly reduced. He breathed a sigh of relief; he'd almost shut himself off from magic...

Alright, that was one problem solved. Now for the rest. What was he supposed to do with all the excess water, flowing all over the place? The bowl would carry no more. Could he make it bigger? It stood to reason that he could manipulate the bowl as he had the ceiling of the cavern. Harry approached the bowl and carefully picked it up, letting it rest in the palms of his hands. He closed his eyes and turned it counter clockwise in his hands.

His sensitive fingers felt every imperfection, every part of the bowl. He visualized the bowl carefully in his mind, how it would look if it were bigger and felt as the item in his hands started growing. Harry decided to only make it large enough to hold the excess water that lay on the floor of the cavern, surely he could come back to it later.

He put the somewhat larger bowl on the pillar once more and eased the water into it, almost filling it to the brim. Harry let out a deep breath. This had been much easier than expected, but his success filled him with dread. It moved him ever closer to the eventual moment when he would have to go and actually start his quest and it made him terribly nervous. There was nothing for it, however, so he eased his consciousness back to the material world.

"Goodness me, lad, I was starting to wonder if you'd died on me. You've been in there for almost six hours."

"Six hours? I feel as if I was only in there for a few moments. Anyway, I managed to bring my magic to balance, Gryffindor and I can feel the difference already."

"Oh? Pray tell."

Harry stood up and moved around the room for a little while, to get his blood moving again. He told Gryffindor of what had transpired inside and the old man took great interest in his tale. The boy had managed to do all of it in one go, truly remarkable.

And good thing he did, too, because he was almost ready and would soon embark on his quest. Gryffindor knew the boy wanted to discuss the Hocruxes, but he had deliberately avoided the topic, because he was certain it would only be distracting to the young man, but they could delay it no longer.

"So. These Horcruxes, let us go over what we know. I, of course know what a Horcrux is, as do you, so let's focus beyond that, shall we?" Gryffindor said. Harry nodded gratefully. About time they got to the things that really mattered.

"There was Tom Riddle's diary, which I already destroyed, using a Basilisk fang and Dumbledore destroyed Marvolo Gaunt's ring. Dumbledore and I believed Riddle split his soul into six pieces, with himself being the seventh. He seems to think seven is the most powerful magical number. Some texts on Arithmancy seem to confirm that theory," Harry said, but Gryffindor snorted, clearly annoyed.

"I've never understood the fascination with the number seven; it's just a number. There are some spells and rituals that require exactly seven people to be present, but they are the exception, not the rule. Now, I want you to understand Harry, what Riddle did has severely crippled him. No one in their right mind would ever split their soul in such a way. He seems to have no respect for the human soul and as such, does not understand what power it holds. Had he kept his soul intact, he would be near invincible, judging from what you have told me, so in a way, he will have contributed to his own demise."

Harry frowned. "Not unless I find and destroy the rest of them. The problem is, I don't know where they may be. Slytherin's locket is lost, stolen by someone, known only as R.A.B. I've no idea who that person is. I also don't know how to destroy the Horcruxes. I assume it was the Basilisk poison that destroyed the diary and I don't fancy the idea of carrying that stuff on my person. It sounds unhealthy."

Gryffindor could not help but look at the young man with concern and a bit of pity. He was barely more than a boy, yet he had been faced with many challenges in his short life. Challenges which would have broken greater men than him.

Difficult as Harry's life had been thus far, Gryffindor knew this was just the beginning for the young lad. He also knew the young man had a destiny even greater than the one that lay before him now.

"I remember that locket," the old man said. "As I recall, Salazar was very fond of it. It had some magical properties, but I never learned what they were. I do know that it could be opened, but only by parselmouths, a talent you already possess, strangely enough. It is an exceedingly rare gift and always hereditary. Are you aware of any parselmouths in your lineage, Harry?"

Harry shrugged at that. "I don't know much about my family, or its history, Gryffindor. In fact, I know almost nothing. No one bothered to tell me anything, for some reason. I do know I am a pureblood on my father's side and by now, almost all purebloods should be related in some way, however distant the relation may be."

"I know Tom Riddle is very proficient at it and probably acquired it from the Gaunts, who were purebloods. Riddle transferred some abilities to me when he tried to kill me all those years ago; we are, for better or worse, linked. It also explains the visions I sometimes had when I slept. There was an instant when I dreamed of an incident where Arthur Weasley was almost killed by Nagini, Tom's snake. Because of that vision, we were able to save him. As a result I grew arrogant, and the bastard used it against me."

"How so?" Gryffindor asked.

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself. "He fooled me, which lead to the death of my godfather, Sirius Black. I wondered if I could try and steal the knowledge of Tom's Horcruxes from his mind using Legilimency, but it's probably too dangerous. There is too much at stake, so that is out of the question. At least until I am fully confident in my ability to protect my mind."

Gryffindor nodded appreciatively. "It is a very wise man who recognizes and understands his own limits, Harry. It took me many years to accept mine, as I was a proud man, proud to the point of folly actually and I am glad you seem to have avoided that fate. Going by what you have told me, Tom Riddle has not, and his arrogance will only help you. It is obvious he will not consider any old thing as being worthy of holding a part of his soul. Gaunt's ring, that journal of his and finally Salazar's locket..."

Gryffindor stroked his chin for a few moments, lost his thoughts. Harry, meanwhile, was rather pleased with the way things were going at the moment. Then suddenly, he remembered how Draco had once mentioned their manor was full of items related to the Dark Arts, carefully hidden beneath the living room in their house. Before Harry could give voice to his thoughts, however, Gryffindor spoke up once more.

"I must think further on this connection to Riddle and also on how to destroy these things, so I propose we table that part of this discussion for now." Gryffindor stared into the distance for a moment, before he went on.

"You know, Helga, Rowena, Salazar and I each had these items we valued greatly, and kept close at hand at all times. I would not leave my house without my sword, as Salazar always wore his locket around his neck. Rowena prided herself at the beauty of her diadem, and I must say it was most pretty a bauble. Enhanced her already considerable wisdom and intelligence, it did. It was lost, though, stolen. In fact, her daughter disappeared around the same time, if I remember correctly. Strange coincidence, that."

"They never found her?"

"No," Gryffindor replied sadly. "Poor Rowena was never the same after that. And finally, my dearest Helga had the goblins build her a golden cup and would not drink from another afterwards. Quite marvellous, really. Always full of some beverage or other; she was a proper housewife, of course and it would not do to have an empty cup! But I digress. I think we can safely assume the cup and diadem to be Horcruxes, Harry."

"I just remembered something and I think I may know where to start looking, actually." Harry said and went over how Draco had revealed his family's secret collection of Dark artefacts to him and Ron, while they were under the effects of the Polyjuice potion, appearing as Crabbe and Goyle at the time. The story, serious as it was, amused Gryffindor greatly. The bit where Hermione turned into a humanoid cat was a point of particular mirth.

His booming laughter echoed throughout the room and eventually Harry joined him. It felt strange to laugh again after all this time. Merlin, how long had it been? Months, surely. Gryffindor brought his mirth under control and looked at Harry with a twinkle in his eye, very similar to the one Dumbledore used to show at times.

"We must never let the world bereave us of our laughter and joy, Harry. As love can heal the soul, so can laughter. I urge you to try and find the humour in life, the small things, the big things and all in between. It can save your life, you know. You will not find any joyous laughter among the followers of Tom Riddle, of that I can assure you."

Gryffindor rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner before he continued. "I do agree with you, Harry. Malfoy Manor seems like a very good place to start. Malfoy had the diary in his possession, so it's not inconceivable he also got his hands on the locket or the cup, or perhaps both.. It's just as well, we have no other leads. But first, there are two final things I would like to teach you. Since you have mastered the art of looking into yourself, I think it prudent you learned the opposite, as well. You'll master it quickly, I'm sure, as the two are very closely related."

"What do you have in mind? Harry asked with great interest.

"Traditionally, humans interact with the world using the five senses; sight, sound, smell, taste and touch. What I am going to teach you will go beyond the limits of those senses, you will feel the world around you much more profoundly. You will sense the earth, the air, water, the very elements themselves. In addition, once you've become proficient enough, you can sense individual beings as every being has its own feel. Similarly, every place has a distinct feel and I encourage you to experience as many of them as you can."

Harry took great interest in this latest piece of knowledge. He could sense other people? That would surely come in handy once he went about finding the Horcruxes. It would also help him stay vigilant, although he suspected this was not some passive skill, but one that required some time and effort every time he used it.

"I want you to clear your mind, the same way as before, but instead of focusing inside, I want you to focus on the outside, on a single thing in this room. The candle on the table, for example. It's not too big and fire is, by it's very nature a simple thing, but be careful. Fire is very volatile and dangerous unless treated with care. Just probe it gently, once you feel it."

Harry looked at the flame for a short while, before closing his eyes and slowly worked his mind. His consciousness skirted the edge of the trance he fell into when he entered his core, but instead of going in there, he pushed the other way and sought out the flame with his mind.

A moment later, he could feel warmth and intensity radiating from the flame, fusing itself with his mind, threatening to overload his senses. Harry hastily let go, afraid to hold it any longer. He would have to try again, with something less intense.

The ground might be a safer bet, solid and sturdy. Harry reached out with his mind once more, into the rock and he felt slow tremors of sorts, deep beneath his feet. Reaching even further down, he could feel it coming in waves, the regularity and strength varied quite a bit.

Water. He could feel it, clear as day. It was the sea, he realized. He was feeling the ocean crashing upon the cliff, far below. Retreating into his own mind, Harry shuddered. This was an intoxicating feeling, the world literally at his fingertips.

"This is incredible, Gryffindor! The level of power in the earth... It's astounding. How have we not heard of this? I'd assume such powerful magic would be on anyone's lips, the sheer thrill of it is indescribable."

"It was ancient magic, even when I was young, Harry and mostly forgotten. I should be very surprised if anyone else knows of it nowadays. Limited control over the classic Greek elements; earth, fire, water and air. You can even manipulate some of them together to create other effects, such as lightning. It originated in ancient Greece and perfected in Egypt.

The best translation I can give you on the title they wore would be elemental mage. This magic isn't very utilitarian, and the only part of it that can be used with any kind of finesse, is air, and even that takes quite a bit of concentration.

I want you to go to the table by the wall and pick up the leather arm braces. Yes, those. These are from ancient Greece as well, designed to magnify the control one has over the elements. Put them on, please."

Harry slipped his arms into the arm braces and laced them up. As soon as he did, he felt a slight tingle in his hands, which turned into a dull throb. Acting on impulse, he reached his right hand towards a candle and suddenly the small flame zipped across the table into his hand, where it formed into a small ball of fire. Harry chuckled softly and tossed the ball from one hand to the other before shooting it into the fireplace, creating a small explosion. He felt a little drained, however.

Harry looked at his hands, marvelling at how much easier it was to concentrate with these things on his arms, easier to manipulate the energies and shape them to his liking. It was somewhat strange that Gryffindor hadn't given those to him before.

But, then, the old man surely had a reason. He did nothing without purpose, after all. Harry looked expectantly over at Gryffindor, who smiled happily, yet sadly at the same time.

"You are almost ready, Harry. It will take some time for you to learn your limits and how not to overextend yourself. This technique is very dangerous if approached without proper caution, which holds true for all magic, of course. The reason I did not ask you to don the braces immediately was for you to understand the ramifications of failing to control yourself. You felt the fire almost taking over, yes? Now let's begin."


One day, after three weeks of further training, Harry made his way to Gryffindor's study. He grimaced slightly before plunging through the portal on the wall. He decided he did not like that thing, it felt as if he somehow evaporated and then was put back together once he came through the other side.

It was not painful by any means, just very uncomfortable. Harry walked over to the painting where his mentor looked at him with a deeply troubled frown. Once Harry asked him whether he was alright, the old man let out a sad sigh before speaking.

"Harry, I have been thinking of what you said the other day about Riddle transferring some powers to you and I must confess to being very troubled. You say you could sense how he was feeling at times, even if you could not peek into his mind. Such a connection...

Harry, I want you to prepare yourself for the possibility of a Horcrux existing inside of you, lad. Your very soul. Having thought this over many times, I believe this to be very likely. In fact I'm certain of it. There's no way that I know of which allows a person to transfer abilities to another, or sense their feelings. There's also the fact that him touching you causes that scar to explode with pain."

Harry stared at Gryffindor, his eyes wide as causers. A Horcrux within his soul? It was impossible. Riddle was an evil, sadistic bastard, whereas Harry believed himself to be at least a fairly decent human being. If he had a piece of Tom's soul in there, should he not have felt it? Still, the old man was quite knowledgeable, and Harry trusted him completely by now.

Harry gripped his chin, deep in thought, and a sudden thought wormed its way into his mind. If indeed, there was a Horcrux within him, bonded to his soul, how could he remove it? Some kind of spell, hopefully. Or a ritual. After all, magic could do almost anything.

He took a deep breath and sat down in a chair and slowly worked himself into a short trance, which completely calmed him down, his Occlumency working its magic. He looked over at Gryffindor, who looked at him with deep concern in his eyes. Harry gave him a weak smile, before rising from the chair slowly.

"So, if we take this idea of living Horcruxes further, I am going to assume Nagini, Riddle's snake is also a part of his soul. True, he is a Parselmouth, but I find his control over the worm much stronger than it should be, between man and beast, so it should be a safe bet. I do have a question, though. Will Riddle not notice when I destroy the Horcruxes?"

Gryffindor stared at the boy in wonder. Moments earlier, he'd been told he possibly had a piece of his nemesis inside of him, but already, he was asking questions and planning. Quite a remarkable young man, indeed.

"No, I do not believe so, Harry. These pieces are no longer a part of the whole, they are completely separate entities. Furthermore, I do not believe he can split his soul into any more pieces without killing himself in the process. By your description of his frail, unnatural body, I'd say he's almost there already.

I have also thought on how to destroy these horrendous things. You were able to destroy the diary with the fang and you are right, the poison most likely did destroy it. I do not believe that will work with any of the others, however. Except the snake, but simply killing the beast with a cutting curse should be enough to destroy that Horcrux."

"Why wouldn't the poison be enough?" Harry asked.

Gryffindor looked at Harry with a thoughtful frown. "I believe the reason you were able to destroy the diary was because it had been exposed to Ginevra's soul. It was drawing from her strength, her soul, and was becoming a living entity itself, a proper person, if you will. Soul magic is a dangerous and tricky thing and somewhat chaotic, Harry. Most people stay away from it and for good reason. Salazar and I spent many an evening speaking of it and I believe I know how you can destroy the locket, cup and diadem."

"Oh?"

"I believe since you hold a piece of Tom Riddle's soul within you, the others will try and merge with you. You can draw the soul pieces out of those items and into yourself and destroy them that way. I believe Dumbledore was quite right when he told you your hidden power was love. Riddle's splintered soul pieces, full of darkness and hatred will not be able to inhabit someone who holds such love and caring in their heart, as was apparent when he tried to possess you."

Harry didn't look convinced. "That sounds a little far fetched," he said.

"It won't be easy. They will attack you and try to possess you when they feel the connection. They will try to force out your soul the same way you will try to expel them and they will try to feed on your negative emotions. Your Occlumency will help you there, Harry. You can unlock your happy thoughts while keeping the dark ones at bay. In theory. It is also one of the only feasible ways to do so, I believe."

"Why is that?" Harry asked, wearily.

Gryffindor inclined his head toward Harry. "Whenever an object is made into a Horcrux, it becomes almost impervious to damage. The reason for that is, it is not possible to destroy the soul via physical means. There's also the fact that I have no idea where the Horcrux would go when the object it was stored in is destroyed. Does it die? Does it float out into the world, looking for another host? The variables are too great to chance it. There can be no uncertainty when dealing with these things."

Harry wondered about that for a moment, then he looked up at the old man, his eyes hopeful. "Can I remove the Horcrux from myself that way? Try to find it within and expel it?"

A pained expression came over Gryffindor's features as he shook his head. "A logical question, but I am afraid not, Harry. The Horcrux was placed there when you were just over a year old and I expect it to have integrated itself in your soul to such an extent where I imagine it is as much a part of you as your own soul. Perhaps, if you had been older when it happened and known what you do now... It is a foreign object, but I can't see how you could remove one without the other. And to my knowledge, there's only one way to remove the soul without destroying the body. You know what I speak of."

Dementors. Disgusting, foul, evil things. Harry briefly wondered if he should try and get a Dementor to kiss him and hope it would remove the Horcrux, but dismissed it quickly. Those monsters would not pick and choose. What a foolish idea.

He took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. He was trying to stay calm and composed and while the short meditation had certainly helped, he felt more agitated than he cared to admit. Without a word, he left the basement and lay down on his bed and but sleep proved illusive.


The following morning, Harry arrived in Gryffindor's study with a tired, but determined look in his eyes. He had known for a while that he was never very likely survive the war, but he was determined to do whatever he could to make certain old Snake Eyes snuffed it. Harry gave Gryffindor a firm look that told him he was ready and that there was no time to lose. His mentor smiled a little before he became deadly serious.

"Before we get to the part where I give this part of me to you, Harry, I want you to open the chest by the desk. In it, you'll find a small fortune in Galleons, Sickles and Knots. You're welcome to it, as you are welcome to everything in this house. In fact, once I'm gone, consider it yours."

Harry opened the chest and sure enough, it was almost overflowing with money, the gold, bronze and silver coins glistening in the light cast by the torches. Harry could see a coin purse in one corner of the chest, bulging with coins.

Harry grabbed a fistful of coins from the wooden container and let them slip through his fingers, and the clinking noise filled the room. He felt a small frown edge its way onto his face. More money.

He was already extremely wealthy. Not only had his own family, the Potters been very wealthy, you could add to that the even greater wealth of the House of Black, of which he was the current Head. Harry snorted. Head of two Houses, one of which had one living member and the other was full of criminals, aside from Tonks and her mother Andromeda.

He wasn't twenty yet, for Merlin's sake. He would have to make a stop at Gringott's soon to look into his affairs. He remembered when he went to Gringott's for the first time, with Hagrid, before his first year. He had been so excited. Seeing the goblins, the ride in the cart and he fondly recalled the thrill he had felt when his vault opened to reveal heaps of gold and gems and other treasures.

He had felt somewhat less happy the following year when he'd gone there with the Weasleys, who were rather poor. At least in the physical sense. While it was true that, what they had as a family trumped any joy you would get from owning all the money in the world, you could not do without it. He would have liked to transfer some gold from his own vault to theirs, but had thought better of it, knowing they would never accept it. They still had their pride, after all.

He had not been of age, either, so he would have had to have the permission of Dumbledore, his guardian by proxy to make such a transfer, which the old man would most certainly have granted him, but he had not felt like asking for it.

How was it that men like Malfoy had it so good when the really decent ones had to live off of scraps? Just another of the world's injustices Harry supposed. And men of Malfoy's ilk had a willingness to step all over others. Quite similar to Vernon Dursley, in fact.

"That coin purse is a fine invention. It is directly connected to the chest and it fills automatically with coins. Quite useful. Something troubling you, lad?"

Harry shook his head. "I have a bit of disdain for money, that's all. Greed is a cancer upon the world, both magical and mundane. Please, let's not dwell on it."

Letting the matter drop, Gryffindor motioned for Harry to open the secret compartment that held the special orb, which Harry did. He felt the slow vibrations of power flow from it as soon as the compartment slid open.

"All you have to do is take the sphere into your hand, then open yourself up to the power, let it flow into you and control it as you did before. Have no fear and be brave, Harry. You are both strong and capable; you survived the potion and mastered your magic. I firmly believe you can destroy those Horcuxes, just have faith in yourself, my boy. Now get to it. No goodbyes, Harry. I've never been any good at those."

And with that, Gryffindor disappeared from the frame, leaving Harry alone in the room, facing the sphere. This was it, then. After a few moments, he'd be alone. A slight tremor went through Harry as he contemplated that thought.

He'd gotten close to the old man over the months since he'd arrived at his house. Losing the people closest to him was something he knew very well by now, of course, but it was not something you could get used to. It was always awful and it always hurt.


Harry squared his shoulders and approached the sphere, his hand extending slowly. He felt the orb fill his palm and he lifted it up from the pedestal, grasping it tightly. The touch was electrifying and a strong current flowed through him, threatening to burn him to cinders.

His hand shook and he took a deep breath to steady himself and after a while, he felt himself slowly fade into a very familiar trance, wherein he would stabilize himself, then open up his body to receive the power the sphere promised.

In his current state, Harry was only dimly aware of how Gryffindor's stronghold seemed to simmer down, the source of its power no longer supplying it with the vital energy it required to function properly.

Harry found himself in the familiar cave, his eyes focusing on the bowl. It was tranquil at the moment, the surface completely still. It wouldn't be for long, though. Harry felt the crack in the ceiling open up. The power came rushing through, but he was ready for it and gently accepted it, merging it with what power he already had, the process succeeding flawlessly.

As Harry let himself return to the physical world, he felt a sense of elation and then, a calmness he had rarely felt before, as he experienced an understanding he had never known. So that was what Gryffindor had been talking about when he mentioned understanding, it had unlocked even more of his potential. For example, he understood how the sphere worked, how it had powered the Stronghold. What a rush it was. He felt incredibly powerful.

Harry walked over to the chest and grabbed the coin purse and placed it into his pocket. There was no time to waste now. He walked down to the kitchen to get himself some food, then made his way to the baths to clean himself up. Once he had done that, he went to the foyer and stared at the portrait of Gryffindor.

The Hogwarts founder sat on a stool in the frame, not moving. So it was true, then. Godric Gryffindor had been reduced to nothing more than a regular Muggle portrait. Harry went to bed that night satisfied with the day's events, his mind set on a trip to Diagon Alley first thing in the morning.


Harry ascended the stairs that led to the top of the cliff for the first time in nearly a year. He had, of course gone outside since he came to the stronghold. However, at Gryffindor's behest, he had restricted his movements to the interior of the cave, just to be safe. As he came to the top of the stairs, he checked his pockets to make certain he had brought the coin purse.

He needed to go to Diagon Alley to buy himself some clothes, something less conspicuous; he had to be able to move around without attracting too much attention. At present, he looked like someone starring in a stage production of Romeo and Juliet. Even in the Wizarding world, that would make people look twice, something Harry desperately wanted to avoid.

It was a wet June morning that welcomed the young man as he emerged from the stairs, the temperature a lovely fifteen decrees. Harry looked up at the sky, allowing the raindrops to fall on his grinning face. He enjoyed feeling the wetness on his face, refreshing after spending all this time, confined inside.

Harry ran a hand through his long hair. Nearly a year spent down there. How quickly time went by... Oh well. Rubbing his hands together, Harry visualized in his mind the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, on the Muggle side of London and just like that, he disappeared.

A second later, he found himself in an alley across the entrance of the famous inn on Charing Cross road. Harry smiled. The wooden sign and the curved entrance was a welcome sight. He went inside and took a deep breath once there, his eyes scanning what he could see of the first floor, noting each person in turn, what they looked like, what they wore and so on.

He needed to be fully aware of his surroundings, so he found a secluded table with a view of the entrance. He had a meal of fried bacon and eggs, the taste quite exquisite after such a long time eating out of the larder of Gryffindor's stronghold and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

He felt a little bit like he was experiencing the world for the first time and in a way, he was. Everything felt different. He was so much more aware of everything, his capacity for gathering and processing information on his surroundings astounded him.

After a while, Harry felt a massive headache coming. He had, of course expected some changes, but Gryffindor's stronghold had engaged those rather newfound senses of his in a very limited way.

Harry reached his hand over to the next table and grabbed the day's 'Prophet'. No mention of Voldemort, nor his Death Eaters on the front cover. Nothing on the back cover either. Frowning, he scanned the rest of the paper. Well, no news were surely better than bad news, but still. It was as if life was going the same as always.

Perhaps the Quibbler would have something worth reading. Luna's dad was a strange fellow, who held some peculiar beliefs to say the least, but he was a highly intelligent man, who was rarely wrong in his assumptions, if he curbed his more fantastical leanings. At least that was what Harry had gathered from talking with the very intelligent Luna and he had no reason to doubt her, even if she was as strange as her father.

Harry finished his meal and went through the Leaky Cauldron and entered the back allay, which lead to Diagon Alley. Since he had no wand, he willed a trickle of power into his hand and tapped the brick wall in the correct sequence. The wall parted and Harry stepped into Diagon, his mouth angling in a small grin. Diagon Alley.

The same as always, bursting with life, people going about their business. It really looked like nothing was wrong. Harry refused to believe it, though. Surely Riddle had not stayed idle since Dumbledore's death? While Harry was disinclined to play up his own importance, he was sure his disappearance must've had some impact. The Ministry had to be controlling the media to some extent.

As his survey of the Alley continued, Harry's eyes lingered on the closed shops of Florean Fortesque and Garrick Ollivander. A shudder of rage ran through him. He could understand removing Ollivander, but an ice cream maker? It made no sense. His eyes travelled further along the street and came to a stop on Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Just how in the world were they still in business?

Shaking his head in wonderment, Harry walked over to a news stand, grabbed a copy of the Quibbler and tossed an old man a silver sickle. He unfolded the paper and saw his own face staring back at him. Arching an eyebrow, Harry read the headline: HARRY POTTER SIGHTED IN LEEDS.

He snorted. Who in their right mind would ever go to Leeds? And that was it. No mention of anything war related at all. Harry handed the old man the paper again with a wink and went on his way. The old man grinned back and put the paper back in the stand.

Time to head to Madam Malkin's. She mostly sold robes, but Harry knew he would find all sorts of clothing in that store and it would be of the highest quality as well. As Harry entered the store, Madam Malkin came dashing to him from behind a rack filled with Hogwarts robes of varying sizes. Harry gave her a lopsided smile.

"Good morning, dear. What can I do for you?"

"Good morning, Madam Malkin. I'm in the need of new clothes, shirts, pants, that kind of thing. I don't need any robes today."

"Certainly, certainly. Follow me, please. We just received a new shipment yesterday, so I'm sure we can find something to your tastes, young man. Were you looking for anything specific?"

"It´s alright, I'm sure I can find what I'm looking for on my own. I will find you, should I need anything."

Madam Malkin led Harry into a section of the store, behind a thin curtain, a plaque on the wall read: Everyday Apparel. She gave Harry a polite smile and rushed back to greet a pair of customers, who had just entered the store. Harry picked out a couple of dark blue work shirts, a couple of dark cargo pants, a few t-shirts, socks and briefs and pair of fingerless gloves as well as a wool cap.

He needed something to hide his ears, after all. They were currently safely hidden beneath his mane of hair, but Harry was desperate to get a haircut, even if he had to do it himself. It was way too much work to maintain all that hair.

Short and tidy, thank you very much. Or as tidy as that mess on the top of his head could ever be. Oh he needed scissors. He grabbed a pair of tall working boots and he needed a coat as well. He walked over to the coat section and almost immediately found a charcoal grey trench coat he liked. It was a perfect fit. It hugged his frame slightly, but in such a way that he could move without any difficulty. The coat reached half way down to his ankles, providing warmth and shelter.

Harry quit Madam Malkin's and made his way down the street, heading to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. If memory served, Mr. Wiseacre used to sell a kind of backpack called Bag of Holding; a pack which was charmed with a permanent expanding charm, so that it could hold much more than its outward appearance promised. It was also very light. Once Harry had procured the Bag, he went back to the Cauldron and rented a room under the name 'Jack'.

Harry let himself fall onto the bed, completely exhausted. His heightened senses had been assaulting him all day and sorting through it all it had been difficult to say the least. He knew he'd get used to it in time.

He tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, his eyes focusing on a spot in one of the corners. Tomorrow, it was on to Wiltshire. He would have to get back to Muggle London, then take a train to Swindon. Which reminded him, he needed to exchange some Galleons to pounds.

Fortunately there was a contraption in the Alley that allowed for such, a sort of Gringotts ATM. After that... All he knew was that Malfoy manor was somewhere in Wiltshere, which was a fairly big county; was the manor near Chippenham, or was it further south, by Salisbury? He'd have ask around, surely someone knew.

Unless its location was kept secret by means of the Fidelius Charm, of course. Then he'd never find it, unless he somehow found the secret keeper and even then, the information had to be given freely. Eventually, Harry rolled over to his side and closed his eyes, sleep claiming him almost instantly.


Harry stepped off the train in Swindon, hoisting the Bag onto his shoulder. He felt a small tingling in his palms. He was actually setting out on his quest, after a year of training and he felt elated to have taken the first step towards his goal, despite some fear and uncertainty. A sense of guilt found its way into his mind, though. His friends really should be there...

Ignoring his mind, he waved over a porter and asked him if he knew of a tourist information desk. The porter waved his hand vaguely to the east, then hurried on to help passengers with their luggage. Harry strode to the east of the station and quickly found the desk, a pretty woman with blonde hair and blue eyes greeted him with a professional looking smile.

"Good day to you sir, my name is Betty. How may I help you?"

"Hello, Betty. I'm studying architecture and a mate told me there were a lot of old manor houses in Wiltshire, but the bloody git did not tell me where and I didn't think to ask, so I was wondering if you could help me out?" Harry smiled politely at Betty while cringing on the inside. How pathetic had that been?

Betty snorted and stared at him with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I don't know anything about architecture, but I do know the woodland, north of Salisbury is full of those snobs in their expensive houses, with their big grounds and gates and fences. I'd go there if I were you. Just don't expect them to invite you for tea."

Slightly taken aback by the woman's attitude, Harry thanked her and made his way out of the station, his mind racing. He had to somehow get from where he was, toward Salisbury. Sod it all, he'd take a cab. He hailed one, which took him out of the city and into the country.

The cabbie eyed Harry in the rear view mirror. A strange fellow, this one, to be sure. He'd sat in the cab for ten minutes, not uttering a single word, save to ask him to drive until he was asked to stop. Unusual, that.

"So, where are you headed, lad? Not a lot to see out here, nothing but a few small villages and a few manor houses, really."

"Visiting relatives. The Malfoys, to be exact. I've never been, so they invited me over for the summer."

The driver's eyes went wide. The Malfoy house? An ominous place if there ever was one. Strange happenings, and even stranger people coming and going, according to the rumours. Very reclusive lot, hardly seen among other people. After a few miles, Harry saw the first driveway, closed by an intricately worked iron gate.

"Is it much further to Malfoy manor?" Harry asked.

The cabbie shook his head. "It's the next driveway over, I think."

"All right, I think I can manage, sir. Just pull over, I'll walk from here." The cab driver knew he was visibly relieved when Harry told him to stop. He was not a particularly superstitious man, but he was not too keen on going any closer to the Malfoy place than he had to.

Harry thanked the driver, who drove off somewhat more urgently than he thought was strictly necessary. He rolled his shoulders and walked on, maintaining a vigilant eye on the forest, which lined the road on both sides. Some time later, Harry came upon the gate to Malfoy manor and found it surprisingly plain. Judging by how much Draco liked to brag about his family's wealth, he'd half expected the thing to be lined with gold.

Looking at the sky, Harry reckoned it was around four o'clock. He'd go into the forest and take a look while it was still bright out. He did not want to rely on his ability to see in the dark, as he had not used it to any extent. Harry entered the forest, and a few moments later, he closed his eyes and reached out with his mind.

Harry let up and opened his eyes once more. There were no wards in place, aside from anti-Apparition and Portkey wards. Strange. He trekked further and the house came into view. It was less of a house and more of a villa, as it turned out. Harry grimaced when examining the place; well over a hundred yards of open space between him and the house, and very little cover. What he would've given to have his invisibility cloak at hand right now...

Well, there was a chance to get there unseen under the cover of darkness, but he had to move fast. He surveyed the estate for a few hours, his eyes adjusting to the change in visibility. There was some activity in the house, he could tell. Shadows moving beyond closed curtains, a few people went outside for a minute, then back inside, one of whom was Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry's hands clenched in anger when he saw the murderous witch, the memory of Sirius falling through the Veil, never to return flashing across his mind. Taking a deep breath, Harry calmed himself. This was not the time to lose his head. He sat behind a nearby tree, drawing his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He'd meditate while, then make his move.

A few hours later, Harry arose from his hiding spot and gazed upon the house once more. It was almost pitch black, the overcast sky shielding the world from the moon's silvery light. He left the backpack behind and slowly made his way to the treeline, his mind racing and his blood pumping.

Now or never. Harry crouched low and in a careful dash, made his way to the nearest wall, his heart beating like a jack hammer in his chest. He was certain someone would hear his hammering heart and bring the sky on top of him but nothing of the sort happened; the night was as quiet as before.

As his heart calmed, the young man closed his eyes and focused on his hearing. A few were awake, all on the second story, the rest most likely asleep. He assumed the number of people in the manor and the frequent comings and goings were the reason for there being no wards on the property; it would be a real hassle to key every newcomer into the wards, so better to have none at all.

Besides, fear was a great discouragement. Or maybe Riddle was just that arrogant to believe he did not need them. Harry walked slowly by the wall, listening intently, when he heard a woman crying softly, muttering to herself under her breath. The voice came from a second story window. As Harry got closer, he could make out her words.

"Please, don't let my son die, please don't hurt him any more. Please. He's loyal, as loyal as any of the others. Why must they keep torturing him?"

Harry frowned. He knew that voice, even though he'd only heard it once before. It belonged to Narcissa Malfoy. He heard the door open and someone entered the room. Narcissa leaped to her feet, almost running toward the newcomer.

"I must say, Narcissa, my dear nephew is stronger than I thought. He's still conscious. I would have thought he'd not last this long after our session yesterday."

Harry looked up at the window a dark expression clouding his features. Draco was being tortured and had been for a while, by Balletrix' words. She really was completely insane. Torturing her own nephew, for Merlin's sake.

"When will it be enough, Bella? Has he not been punished enough? Surely he has seen the error of his ways by now. Torture Snape if you must. Please, you must-"

A slap, then another, followed by a third. A thud as Narcissa, Harry assumed, fell to the floor. Draco's mother sobbed quietly.

"Those two will never be trusted by our Lord again, Narcissa! Draco failed to kill that senile old fool, Dumbledore and Severus had the gall to do so in your son's stead. Snape must've thought to gain prestige by doing so. Ha! Our Lord has no use for those who act on their own. Nor does he forgive failure, as you well know. A fact well known to Snape. And to think they thought they could run and hide! From us? From me? No, they will die a slow, painful death, Narcissa."

"But, the Wow. Severus was merely doing as he was bound to do! And you were our Bonder, you can't-"

"Be quiet, Cissy! The Mark has many uses, sister. Why can you not accept his fate as your husband has? Lucius may be useless, but at least he knows where his loyalties lie. When our Lord returns tomorrow evening, he will decide when they will die. I suggest you get yourself together before then. Now, I am a kind, gentle soul, Cissy and I was always rather fond of my nephew, so I will allow you to bring him food this night, so that you may see your son. The guards know to let you in, but you will not be allowed to see him alone."

And with that Bellatrix left her weeping sister on the floor. Harry slid down the wall, beneath the window, his hands damp with sweat. Not only Draco, but Snape too. No matter how much he disliked those two, no one deserved to be treated this way. He had to get them out. Then a sudden thought flashed through his mind.

He hated himself for even thinking it, but this situation could be used in his favour. If he could manage to help them escape, he could use the distraction to get to the vault, or wherever the Malfoys kept their treasures, unseen.

Hopefully Riddle would not think to check on the vault. Then he heard Narcissa stand up and walk to the window. Harry pressed himself to the wall as best he could. Narcissa took a deep breath to calm herself, before she spoke into the night.

"Oh, Andie, if you could see our sister now," she said in a trembling voice. "There's something very wrong with Bellatrix. What has that monster done to her? Where is my older sister, my sweet older sister? And you, Lucius, I curse the day my parents and aunt Walburga gave Bella and I to you and that dimwitted thug Rodolphus..."

With a trembling sigh, Narcissa closed the window and left the room. So Bellatrix's and Narcissa's marriages had been pre-arranged. Harry was not surprised, really. Damn purebloods and their traditions. Harry's heart went out to the woman. Truly.

Harry got to his feet and made his way to the back of the house. Surely a house such a this one had an outside entrance to the basement. As soon as he rounded the corner, he saw stairs going down, a few yards further, but he also began to hear the faint whispers of two men through a nearby grate. One was obviously in great pain, struggling to gain control over his breathing, which was somewhat irregular.

Harry knew why, of course. The twitching that followed the Cruciatus was not pleasant. The other man, Snape, was trying to remain calm. He had little luck, however and Harry could well imagine why. No matter how evil you were, it had to be hard, as a former Head of a Hogwart's house, to see a former student of yours tortured.

Harry edged his way forward warily, as he had discovered two additional people in the basement, guards, most likely. He descended the stairs and found the door unlocked. He pressed his palm against the door and it opened soundlessly to a surprisingly spacious hallway with a low ceiling. Every few feet, a column rose to the ceiling, supporting the upper floor. Stacks of firewood lined one wall and wine racks filled with wine lined the other, but one of the racks was half empty, Harry noted.

He sniffed the air softly, noting various aromas. It was all very 'clean' somehow, not a speck of dust to be seen anywhere. Mr. Malfoy obviously kept a very neat house. Harry was suddenly very glad to have freed Dobby all those years ago. The idea of his friend being stuck in this house left a sour taste in his mouth.

Harry kept his ears perked for any change in the breathing of the two men he knew stood just around the corner. As it was, they were completely unaware of his presence. He needed to take those two out of the equation without making a sound. Harry risked a peek around the corner to find the men standing on either side of the door which held Snape and Draco, obviously bored out of their minds.

Harry grinned mischievously, and extended his hand carefully and with great concentration, wove air around the pair's throats and mouths and squeezed them tightly, while simultaneously holding them in place. In short order, they both lost consciousness and Harry gently lowered them to the floor. He made his way over to them, searching for the keys do the door. Harry opened the door, expecting the worst.

Snape and Draco sat on the floor, their backs to the wall opposite the door. While the two men did not look good, by any means, they seemed to be faring better than Harry had imagined. Judging by their twitching muscles and red eyes, they had been subjected intermittently to the Cruciatus for a while. Bellatrix had not done any more than that, at least.

They were most likely newly captured and the very sadistic Bellatrix would want to prolong this as much as possible. Releasing a deep breath, Harry turned around and dragged the two Death Eaters into the room effortlessly. He reached inside of the guards robes and produced the captives' wands. Then he walked over to Snape and extended a hand to his former potions master.


Snape rested his head against the wall, physically and mentally exhausted. Three days since their capture, three days of intense torture at the hands of Bellatrix. He turned his head toward the blonde youth next to him, his former student. The boy was holding out remarkably well, considering the situation, his eyes focused and determined, though red with pain and weariness.

At first, Draco had not believed it when his father had not objected when Bellatrix had demanded he be subjected to torture until such a time the Dark Lord returned from whatever else occupied his time. The former Hogwart's potions master closed his eyes. He had seen the hurt and eventual understanding in Draco's eyes and it had torn him apart. Lucius Malfoy's standing within the Dark Lord's organization was more important to him than his own son.

Lucius had needed to do anything possible to regain his Lord's favour after not looking for his master after his fall. The Death Eater's foray into the DoM had been Lucius' chance to get back into his good graces, but had failed spectacularly.

The Dark Lord had given Draco a chance to regain their standing by murdering Dumbledore, but that, too had failed. Snape did not know how Lucius was still among the living and honestly, he did not care, but apparently it involved sacrificing his son.

Narcissa had not dared say a word at the time, but Snape knew there was a strength in that woman. She was a Black after all and the Blacks where nothing if not strong. He was certain she would have done anything in her power to get at least her son some leniency. Snape almost chuckled when he thought of the treatment Lucius would endure at the hands of his wife when he returned.

While Narcissa was a firm believer in the importance of honouring the traditions of wizarding society, she had never officially been a Death Eater and she abhorred many of the things her husband and his colleagues had done. Snape very much doubted she had been happy when The Dark Lord chose Malfoy Manor as one of his bases of operations. In fact, he was fairly certain the woman hated him.

Snape's eyes flew open as he heard the keys rattle in the lock on the door to reveal a tall young man, who stood in the doorway for a second before turning around to effortlessly drag two incapacitated Death Eaters into the room.

The man dumped the two unceremoniously on the floor behind the door, before reaching inside one of the men's robes and produced what Snape recognized as his and Draco's wands. Walking over to him, the newcomer extended his hand to him in a bid to pull him to his feet.

Snape hesitated for a second before grasping the stranger's hand, who pulled him to his feet as if he was a bag of feathers. The man turned to Draco, who likewise, grabbed his hand. It was all very strange to Snape, who had been very certain his demise was at hand.

He was still unsure whether or not that was the case. The man, who looked to be in his mid twenties was very tall and obviously well muscled. Yet, he moved with the almost unnatural grace of a seasoned ballet dancer or a professional gymnast would be more accurate.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Snape demanded quietly. The young man narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Someone who can get you-"

The man held up a finger, signalling for Snape and Draco to be silent. He dashed to the door, not making a single sound. Snape was a bit awed at the way such a big man could move with such finesse. Standing by the door, the man leaned slightly forward, his hand on the wall, his eyes closed. He relaxed slightly, without dropping his guard. He turned to Draco.

"Your mother is coming down here. I need you to make sure she remains calm when she sees us in the hallway. Can you do that?" Draco nodded before his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"If she was allowed down here, she'd have been here already. How do you know she's coming?"

"I have very keen senses, Malfoy," Harry said. "She's on her way to the stairs leading down here, and it would be prudent for us to bind and gag these two idiots and get to the hallway before she sees the door open and no one guarding it. Quickly!"

Snape hurried over and stunned the men for and put them under a full body bind, with Draco standing there, feeling somewhat useless. A minute later, the trio quit the room to stand outside the door. Harry faced the end of the hallway, which Draco knew led to the upper floor.

Less than a minute later Draco saw his mother come around the corner, holding a tray in her hands. Her eyes were downcast and she was obviously very deep in thought, as she was nearly upon them before she noticed them. Her eyes lit up and she nearly dropped the tray, which Harry took from her hands. Draco quickly put a hand over his mother's mouth, while whispering in her ear:

"Please, be quiet Mother, they must not hear us."

Narcissa nodded and hugged her son tightly, almost afraid to let him go. Finally, Draco pried himself from his mother's arms and rounded on Harry, who motioned for them to follow him. They did so, quietly and without reserve. Once they rounded the corner, Harry put the tray down and looked at the other three. Finally Narcissa spoke.

"Who are you and why are you trying to save my son?"

Narcissa had regained her composure and spoke with the authority of someone who was used to being answered in short order. Harry fought down the urge to grin at her.

"Who I am is unimportant and I did not come here to save them. I didn't even know they were here. Once I learned they were here and heard of your husband's betrayal and what your dear sister was doing to him and to Snape here, I could not stand by and let it continue."

Snape was somewhat surprised the stranger knew who he was, and he was certain he'd never seen this man before. He knew he'd remember, this man was not someone you'd forget easily. Snape agreed, Narcissa was right in questioning his motives, even if this was hardly the time nor place to do so. The stranger continued.

"I need to get to the secret sub-basement. I know your family has a lot of dark artefacts stored there, to keep them safely hidden in case of a surprise Ministry raid."

Narcissa was reeling. How did he know so much about all this? Her husband's actions, her sister's involvement and not to mention the hidden space beneath their feet. But she was also becoming rather angry. There was no way she was going to help some stranger loot her home, even if she was fleeing from it. To her surprise the stranger seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.

"Narcissa, I am not some thief, come to your home in search of a few baubles I can take to Borgin and Burkes for a few Sickles. I am after very specific items and I don't even know if they are here or not. I hate to admit it, but I need your help. This can help in the defeat of Tom Riddle, which, incidentally is the only way you and your son will ever be safe. A life on the run does not sound appealing."

Narcissa was conflicted. That boy obviously knew all the right things to say, in order to get her to help. Still she was unsure. This whelp was going to defeat the Dark Lord? And he even used the Lord's given name, a name few knew and fewer dared to speak. But she knew he was right, her sister would hunt them to the ends of the earth, enjoying every minute of it, no doubt.

Mrs. Malfoy strode to a wine rack almost directly in front of the door into the cellar, the one Harry had noted was half empty. Starting from the upper left corner, she removed the bottle and placed it in the center of the top row, the upper right one in the center of the right row and so on. The rack slid to the side with a low grating sound, revealing a small door, just big enough for one person to go through.

Harry watched in excitement as the door opened, revealing short stairs into a small room. He nodded his thanks to Narcissa and almost ran through the small doorway, throwing caution to the wind. He made his way down into the room, and almost instantly saw Slytherin's locket on a table in the middle of the room. Lucky!

He quickly scanned the rest of the room, but saw neither the cup nor diadem. Harry's eyes found the locket again and in his excitement, he grabbed it without thinking, which turned out to be a mistake. Pain shot through him and he grunted with the effort to contain his scream as the pain became worse. This was only slightly less painful than the time when he had ingested the potion all those months ago.

He dropped to his knees as the locket attacked his mind. He started having doubts about his whole quest. He had done enough, surely. Why was he here, when his friends were at Hogwarts, finishing their education, spending time with their families and friends over the holidays? For some reason he started getting angry at them for leaving him alone out here. But wait.

His was the decision to leave for this quest on his own. He was here so that they didn't have to be. He had decided to shoulder this burden and he would do so until his last breath. The pain started to fade a little bit. He was not going to let this damn locket get the better of him, there was just no way he was going to be found dead in the cellar of the Malfoy house!

And with that, Harry felt his Occlumency take over and he pushed back with his own mind, thoughts of his friends driving him and felt the locket tremble in his hand. Harry pushed more of his own will into the locket, which shook even more violently, starting to heat up, more and more. Harry's hand was burning and he could smell his palm's flesh almost frying under the heat. Finally, though, Harry's superior will won over and the locket exploded with power in his closed hand, searing itself to the skin.

Harry tore the locket free from his palm and got to his feet. He pocketed the cursed thing and started to climb the stairs and saw the other three stand there, questions in their eyes. He emerged from the stairs and Mrs. Malfoy placed the bottles in their respective slots and the rack closed again. Harry was completely exhausted and he was panting heavily which was why he had not heard the several people descending the stairs into the cellar.

"THE PRISONERS HAVE ESCAPED!"

Harry shook his head, annoyed. Things had been going so well, damn it! He ran up the stairs and onto the grounds, which at the moment were bathed in moonlight. Harry further cursed their luck.

"We have to make a run for the forest."

As soon as Harry said that, a stunner came roaring his way from the doorway, forcing him to roll out of the way. Unfortunately the red coloured spell hit Narcissa square in the chest and the woman started to fall over, before Harry caught her and held her in his arms, bridal style. The Death Eaters came pouring out of the door like a dark flood, firing hexes and curses at the fleeing foursome.

Shouting for Snape and Draco to keep going, Harry slowed down and tore a small piece of turf out of the ground and sent it hurling at the Death Eaters. He caught three of them, who fell and did not rise again.

As Harry turned to follow the two men, he saw Bellatrix come running, along with several Death Eaters. He gently put Narcissa down and made a sweeping gesture with his arm and a huge crack formed in the earth, barely a foot behind his enemies.

Using his momentum from his earlier move, Harry twirled in a circle and unleashed a massive gust of wind and blew his attackers away and into the chasm he created, which immediately started to cave in.

"This ought to keep them busy enough," Harry muttered as he picked up the stunned woman and ran the rest of the way into the forest, where he found the others crouching behind a tree, catching their breath. Harry discovered to his delight that they had entered the forest right where he'd left his Bag. He asked Snape to pick up his Bag and continued through the forest, cradling Narcissa in his arms.

"Shouldn't I revive Narcissa?" Snape asked Harry as they hiked through the woods.

"Not yet, let's get out of this forest first. And please, leave me be, Snape, I've no interest in talking to a murderer."

That stung Snape more than he had thought possible. In truth, he had only killed one person in his whole life, and that had been Albus Dumbledore, at the man's behest, no less. Before he had time to answer, Draco came to his defence.

"Dumbledore told Snape to do it so that I wouldn't have to, you bastard!"

Harry eyed Draco coldly, hating the fact his former schoolmate was probably right. Also, he and Gryffindor had come to the conclusion that Dumbledore would have died soon anyway, given the state of his arm, and the overall weakness he'd displayed in his final weeks of life. Still, he was angry at Snape and Draco for their involvement. Snape spoke once more.

"If it came down to it, I was supposed to kill him, and spare Draco that fate. I did so, but unfortunately, the Dark Lord took a dim view of my interfering, as well as Draco's failure, so we went on the run, only to be caught, as you can plainly see."

"So you didn't do it to save your own life?" Harry asked. "I know about the Wow."

Harry ignored their shocked looks and trekked on, eventually coming upon the road. They were out of the woods it seemed, literally and figuratively. Harry motioned for Snape to grab their wands from his coat pocket, and asked Snape to revive the woman he currently cradled in his arms.

Snape did as requested and Narcissa slowly came to, blinking a few times before her piercing blue eyes focused on and stared into the most striking emerald eyes she had ever seen, looking at her with concern. How long had it been since anyone had looked at her like that?

She became aware of the fact that she was resting in her saviour's arms. She found the heat radiating from his body strangely comforting. Without thinking, she put her arms around his neck and he tightened his arms around her, just a little. It felt...nice.

They stared into each other's eyes a moment longer, until she arched an amused eyebrow. The young man blushed lightly before frowning darkly at her teasing. Even so, he very gently placed her on her feet before backing away.

Their brief moment over, Narcissa straightened her skirts and advanced on her rescuer with her hand extended in thanks. The young man's expression had changed to that of contempt and Narcissa lowered her hand, disappointed. And slightly sad, she realized to her surprise.

"I may have saved you, but that does not mean we're friends. You, Narcissa represent most of what I loathe in this world." He turned to Draco. "And you allowed Tom Riddle his first real victory in this war. You disgust me. This time, you won't be able to fling your father's name around, will you? Hiding behind him like the bloody coward that you are!"

Draco shrank away from the stranger, a look of shame clouding his features. Narcissa was seething with anger. No one had ever spoken to her in such a fashion before. She deserved to be treated with respect! She was a Malf... No... No more Malfoy business. That was done.

Despite that, the purest wizard blood ran through her veins. She was a Black! Even the Malfoys were paupers compared to her own family. In terms of wealth, the Blacks were conventionally spoken of in the same breath as the Potters, Longbottoms and Bones, as well as Abbott and the extinct McKinnons.

While the Blacks had been Dark for a while, these other Houses had been firmly of the Light for centuries, but they were Most Ancient and Noble Houses one and all. And thus, she and any children born of her deserved every respect!

Taking a deep breath, she found she could overlook his lapse in decorum towards her, but his outburst toward Draco could not go untended. He'd been through a traumatic experience and did not need that man adding to it. She resisted the urge to grab her son and looked at Harry with angry eyes, an uncharacteristic show of emotion.

"My son was tortured and would have been murdered tomorrow! Is there no compassion in that heart of yours?"

Harry stared at Narcissa Black, his gaze frosty and hard as a rock. Snape felt shivers down his spine and even Narcissa, strong as she was, swallowed, but quickly regained her usual, haughty expression, which seemed to enrage their rescuer. In the moonlight, Snape saw the man's emerald eyes shine brightly with anger as he stepped up to Narcissa, his face mere inches from hers.

The man was a complete stranger and Snape was fairly certain he was not entirely human, but he'd recognize those emerald orbs anywhere, even if they looked alien. After all, Lily's eyes had been that exact colour and he had only ever seen such eyes in one other person, but it could not be. Surely it was impossible.

"I will NOT be lectured on the merits of compassion by the likes of you, Narcissa Malfoy!" Harry hissed. "I'd be surprised if you even understood the meaning of the word compassion. You think I was harsh on your son? All I did was point out the truth, a truth anyone can see, plain as day. So he was tortured. What of it? It happens all the time in war. And you, Narcissa, asking me to show compassion? Coming from you, any plea of such comes across as hypocritical, at best. How many parents lost their children in the last war? How many children were made orphans, simply because their parents were Muggleborn?

Narcissa looked a little lost. "I don't..."

"How many Houses were destroyed? The McKinnons mean anything to you? And how many of those deaths can be attributed to your husband? And don't even get me started on that sister of yours. You remember Frank and Alice Longbottom? Your own sister did that, for revenge and her own, twisted, sadistic pleasure. Killing them outright would have been a mercy, both for them and for their son. So don't you dare speak to me about compassion!"

Narcissa's sharp and quick tongue was as venomous as any viper's but this time, she was at a complete loss for words, an event neither Snape nor Draco had ever witnessed. Wide eyed, she stared at the young man in front of her, as if she could not believe what had happened.

Most people backed away from her if she as much as frowned their way. She had no experience in dealing with such an outburst. Her station in the wizarding world ensured she was treated with the utmost respect.

He had a point, though. She had always been saddened by the Longbottom's fate, as well as that of the McKinnons. They had been pureblood mages of the finest stock, after all. And of course, the young man was right, Bellatrix was quite insane. She saw the man turn towards the woods, his eyes narrowing. Snape grabbed Draco by the arm and looked him in the eye.

"Draco, take your mother to 'that' place, I will join you shortly."

Draco nodded and grabbed his mother's hand and side along Apparated away. Snape walked up to his rescuer and before Harry could do anything, his former teacher grabbed his arm and they disappeared as well, reappearing a second later on a cliff, overlooking a field. Harry yanked his hand away from Snape and glared at him, before shuddering violently.

"Bloody side-along Apparition... What's your game? What made you think I was willing to go anywhere with you?" Harry asked, annoyed. He turned and stormed away from Snape who cleared his throat.

"Harry Potter, get back here this instant!"

Harry's back stiffened and he stopped in his tracks. He turned to stare at Snape, who stared right back, a very serious expression on his tired face. How had old grease-hair figured out who he was? He had thought his identity safe after all the changes to his body.

"Your eyes gave you away, Potter. I'd know your mother's eyes anywhere. Such brilliant green eyes are not so common that yours don't stand out. You may be all but unrecognizable, but anyone who knows you well enough will know it's you, simply by looking into your eyes."

Harry looked at the sky, which was getting brighter as the dawn edged ever closer. He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair, before he sat down, his eyes looking east, toward the sunrise. He looked at his palm and frowned. It was throbbing furiously now that the adrenaline high had subsided.

Ignoring all the signs of his apparent inhumanity, Snape walked over and sat down next to Harry, who gave him a tired glance, before fixing his attention on his hand once again.

"Gaunt's ring was already killing the Headmaster, Potter, but I assume you already suspected that. He managed to destroy the Horcrux, but he was unable to resist the corruption they can bring about if you're not strong enough. Looks like you just barely held out. Riddle's diary, Gaunt's ring and the locket, that makes three, out of a theorized six, with himself being the seventh, correct?."

Harry did not respond for a few minutes, wondering what to say. He found it unsettling to be spoken to by Snape like this. No vitriol or scorn, or sneer of any kind. It went against the natural order of things. Discovering the earth was flat would have made Harry less uncomfortable.

"Yes, I suppose it does."

"I must say, Potter, using our escape to hide your excursion into the Malfoy vault... Very Slytherin of you. That aside, this is a victory. Make sure you appreciate it and use it to make you stronger."

Snape sighed wearily. The boy was obviously in no mood to talk, but he was not about to let him go without a little chat. He understood how hard it was to operate alone, the toll it took on you, and how it could stay with you, even after you returned home.

"I understand why you decided to go after the Horcruxes by yourself, Potter and it's a noble thing, but fighting alone can be unbearable, even at the best of times. I was Dumbledore's man inside The Dark Lord's army for a part of the first war and it nearly swallowed me whole. Remember your friends, Potter. They're the ones who will get you through this. Even if they're not here with you, keep them close."

With that, Snape rose to his feet and Harry followed suit. The two men looked at the sunrise together, side by side, neither uttering a word. After a few moments, Harry cleared his throat.

"You should take Draco and Narcissa and reach out to the Order. You know they can and will protect you, if you would be willing to be questioned under Veritaserum. I'm aware you'd be fine on the run on your own and Narcissa strikes me as a very capable woman, but Draco won't last and you know it. I just hope the Order won't ask who rescued you."

"I doubt they are aware of our capture, so they'll have no reason to ask about any rescue," Snape said. "I will take your advice under consideration. Tell me, if you don't mind, what are your plans, should you defeat the Dark Lord?"

Harry gave Snape a tired smile. He would not really go into any details, so telling Snape some of it would not really be such a bad thing.

"Well..."


Severus Snape materialized in an alley in front of an unassuming house in Coventry about half an hour after he had sent Draco there along with his mother. Since Spinner's End was compromised, they would have to stay here for a time. At least while they decided what to do. The former Hogwarts professor approached the house and entered cautiously. He made his way into the kitchen to find Narcissa there, quietly sipping a glass of Firewhiskey.

She spared Snape a tired glance, before she sipped a bit more of her drink. Snape was somewhat surprised, as Narcissa had always preferred Port. The events of the last few days had been very taxing and he supposed she required something a tad stronger. He got himself a glass and set about pouring himself one.

"I was beginning to wonder. I assume you had a little talk with our rescuer?"

"Yes, I did. It was somewhat enlightening. Fascinating, even."

"Is that so? Pray tell, what did Potter have to say that was so fascinating?"

Snape whirled around to stare at Narcissa, then cursed himself when he saw a sly smile appear on her face. She'd played him. She had obviously suspected who had saved them and his reaction had confirmed it. Snape allowed a sigh to escape his lips before he sat down at the table with his own drink in hand.

He took a small sip and felt the slight burn as he let the drink slide down his throat. Small sips, that was the key to drinking Firewhiskey. Too much at one time and you'd have smoke shooting out of your ears. Narcissa cocked an eyebrow.

"Well?"

"Where is Draco?"

"Asleep, I gave him a Dreamless Sleep potion I found in your lab. Now, are you going to answer the question? And in case you where wondering, the eyes gave him away. I may only have met him once or twice, but I met his mother often enough to recognize those eyes. I very much doubt even the strongest, most meticulous glamour spell could hide those."

Snape nodded at that."Well, he wanted me to bring you his apology for his outburst. Once he calmed down, he decided it was unbecoming behaviour and unduly harsh. Especially since he doesn't know you at all. He stood by his words toward Draco, however. I suppose they were justified. Speaking of my godson, do you believe he recognized Potter?"

Narcissa brought her scotch to her lips and took a tiny sip. Potter had apologized. She was surprised, she had to admit. Judging by what her son had told her of the Potter boy, he was stubborn and a bit hot headed. She would have guessed he was one to hold a grudge, but she was wrong, apparently.

That made her relieved and weirdly happy. Thinking of those arms of his, holding her as if she weighed nothing at all, cradling her to him, as if she was the most precious thing in the world made her shiver.

Feeling a slight blush threatening to colour her cheeks as she remembered his eyes on hers, she forced those thoughts from her mind and focused on Severus' question. She loved her son dearly, but he was as bright as a brick and about as subtle as a raging Minotaur. A bit of a coward as well, going by Potter's word. Using his father's shadow to hide in? She gave Severus a wry smile.

"Severus, I love my son, but he is a dull witted thug, so there's little danger of him making the connection. I sometimes wonder how on earth he was ever sorted into Slytherin. He does not have an ounce of cunning in his body, nor is he brave enough to be a Gryffindor. In fact, I cannot see him embodying any of the traits treasured by Hufflepuff or Rawenclaw, either."

"He is ambitious enough," Snape said.

"Well, he certainly is that, Severus," Narcissa said coldly. "Perhaps enough to make him a Slytherin. However, ambition without wisdom and cunning is dangerous, so perhaps it would be best if Draco refrained from trying his hand at any political manoeuvring in the future."

Snape stared at the woman in front of him. Never before had he heard Narcissa speak of her son in such a way. And the way she said it and after all he'd been through... She was as cold as he'd ever seen her. What had brought this on, so suddenly?

"Did you and Potter not speak of anything else?"

"He did not go into any particulars, of course, but he said once he defeated the Dark Lord, he hoped to bring about an era of peace, acceptance, equality and fairness. Change, he called it. He said the wizarding world was so mired in archaic traditions and lack of forward thinking, that it was a wonder there were any wizards left at all. Not to mention the 'pureblood nonsense', as he called it."

Narcissa laughed at that. "Lofty goals, I must say."

"Indeed. It gets better. He also promised me he was going to drag the wizarding world into the twenty first century, kicking and screaming if he had to. The only problem with that plan, he said, was the fact that in order to bring us that far, he'd first have to drag us through the eighteenth and nineteenth and twentieth centuries first." Snape said and chuckled slightly.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow at the man's uncharacteristic behaviour before affording him a smile. She spied her empty glass and went over and grabbed the bottle from the kitchen counter and brought it to the living room. Snape followed. She poured herself a stiff drink before she sat down in a comfortable chair and let out a deep sigh. She rubbed her temples and looked over at Snape with an enigmatic smile on her face.

"He's not wrong, Severus."

"I'm aware."

Narcissa gave a wry chuckle. Of course Severus was aware, any mage worth their salt knew they stood at a crossroads. One way led to prosperity and the advancement of their society. The other led to death, destruction and the utter ruin of their world.

Add to that the fact the Muggles were leaving them behind completely. If the stories were true, they had landed on the moon over thirty years ago. The bloody moon, for Merlin's sake! The only question was; how much further apart would the two worlds grow, before her own found its way to modern times?

"The last few days have given me a lot to think about, Severus and this night in particular. I have reflected on my life and I must admit, given recent developments with my contracted spouse, that I made a mistake not divorcing Mr. Malfoy twenty years ago. It might not have been safe to do so at that moment in time, but I really should have left him when that 'Lord' of his was vanquished the first time. It might have taken a bit of work by solicitors to breach the marriage contract, but I'm certain it could have been done."

"You'd do it now, then?"

"There's a chance now. You are aware there was no public reading of my cousin Sirius' will, but I know young Mr. Potter was declared his sole heir and as such, he can void my marriage to Mr. Malfoy. Sirius might not have cared overly much about his House, but he would've never risked the Black fortune finding its way into the hands of Draco, and by extension, his father. And we both know to whom he would have given it to."

Snape looked at the beautiful woman on the other side of the coffee table warily. He knew exactly where she was going with this conversation and he found it very interesting. She had just been through a lot in a short time, but these musings of hers were obviously not newly conceived. Neither were these the ramblings of a person in shock. They were careful considerations of a woman who was obviously plotting something and by Merlin, could the woman plot.

Lucius Malfoy was a cunning devil, to be sure, but Narcissa, well she could topple nations in her sleep, if she put her mind to it. Too bad for Lucius he was too arrogant and foolish to ever realize it, that he viewed his wife as nothing more than a trophy.

The fool man. Blacks had long been known for their cunning as well as their intellect. Some of them were also extremely powerful magicals. Narcissa brought her glass to her lips before continuing.

"If Potter is planning to change the wizarding world, he'll need all the support he can get. He will especially need the help of someone who understands and can navigate the shark infested waters of the Wizengamot, and trust me, once this war is over, it's going to be even worse than it was before all this."

Snape took a sip of his glass. "What is it you intend to do?"

"If he will have me, I intend to be there for my Head of House, Severus. Not only did he save mine and Draco's lives, but he was absolutely correct. I know what my husband has done in the service of that madman and I did nothing. I had some misgivings about it, but I was so comfortable, I was willing to ignore my better judgement if it made certain I would retain my place in pureblood society."

Narcissa took another ship of her whiskey. "No more. If nothing changes in our world, we will be fighting a war every generation until there are no wizards left. You know there's only a matter of time before the rest of the beings in the magical world band together and attack us wizards, regardless of status. When that happens, we stand no chance whatsoever. You will contact the Order of the Phoenix as soon as possible and convince them to protect us. There's only so much I can do on the run, after all."

"About the Black heir... If Lucius got his hands on Draco again, could he have the boy challenge Potter for the Headship of House Black?" Snape asked.

Narcissa shook her head. "No. Lucius meant to try, but I advised him against it. It seems Sirius knew what he was doing. Mr. Potter has a legitimate claim through blood. Dorea Black was the sister of my great grandfather, Cygnus Black the second. She married Charlus Potter, Mr. Potter's great great grandfather. Potter's claim is more distant than Draco's claim through me, but it matters not. Blood is blood. I suppose Mr. Potter knows all this?"

Snape shook his head. "I'd be surprised if he knows of any of it, actually. He was raised by Muggles and I don't think Dumbledore educated him at all on these matters, which I confess I always found somewhat odd. I may have been his most trusted confidant, but he kept many things, even from me."

A thoughtful frown lined Narcissa's face. "I shall have to teach him, then."

Snape merely nodded. Inside however, he was grinning. Narcissa was already working toward securing her position in this new world Potter envisioned. He knew she would have little trouble establishing herself into his confidence, should he accept her offer of help.

However, judging by the way she had looked at Potter earlier and unsuccessfully tried to hide her relief and subsequent blush when he delivered the young man's apology, there was something more driving her, but the very idea it implied was preposterous. Still, this merited further observation, Snape decided as he quietly sipped his drink.

"Draco will need to be Obliviated, Narcissa. What Potter did at the manor must never be discovered by the Dark Lord."

"Already done, Severus," Narcissa said coldly. "Do not assume I do not know my son. I am well aware he cannot keep a secret to save his life." Snape nodded and the room went silent as both occupants wondered just what the coming months held in store.


And that's chapter five. A bit long, perhaps. Fair warning; from now on, the chapters tend to be long.

Anyway, thanks for reading :)