A/N: Just a heads up that due to Thanksgiving, next week's update will likely not be until at least Friday. A very happy holiday to all who celebrate! I hope you enjoy this chapter - just one more plus a short epilogue after this! As always, thanks for reading. :)


As usual, our luck runs out much sooner than we would've liked. Just two days after Harry tells everyone Snape's story, our coins heat with a message from Draco – Voldemort is planning another attack, his biggest one yet. Harry disappears for several hours, presumably off to Kensington to find out more, and returns with the grim news.

"Voldy's going all out with this one," he informs the assembled members of GHRS. "Kind of like with the Tube stations, except this time, he's targeting famous landmarks around the city. And just like before, he doesn't care who gets caught in the crossfire – if he pulls this off, thousands of people are going to die."

"Then we must make sure he doesn't get a chance to do so," McGonagall says firmly. "Is your contact ready to act, Mr. Potter?" Harry nods.

"He can get us into the Ministry as early as tomorrow night," he says.

"Then that's when we've got to go," Bill declares. "You said Riddle's attack is planned for this weekend – we can't give him any time to change his mind and do it sooner." Murmurs of agreement ripple through the room, and we split up soon afterwards, each attending to whatever individual preparations we find necessary. I've been considering the contents of my beaded bag and wondering what I might need to add for less than five minutes when someone knocks on the doorframe. I look up to see Harry, his hair standing on end even more so than usual; I've no doubt he's been running his hands through it almost constantly today.

"Our…friend isn't very happy about this, you know," he says. I narrow my eyes in suspicion.

"I thought he was with us?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Harry says quickly. He chuckles and adds, "I guess I should really say he's not happy with you. You know, since according to him, you're still supposed to be on bed rest, and all." I roll my eyes and hurl my pillow across the room, Harry ducking the projectile easily.

"Good thing you're not trying out for Quidditch anytime soon," he deadpans. Seconds later, he yelps as I hit him with a Stinging Jinx.

"Hey!" he cries in protest. "Don't shoot the messenger!"

"Serves you right for being a prat," I reply, sticking my tongue out. "I'm going, and that's that. I'll behave when this is all over. And if our…friend, as you call him, objects, well, I've got another Stinging Jinx with his name on it." Harry laughs.

"I don't doubt it." He pauses, his expression sobering. "Are we ready for this?" I don't need to ask him what he means. We've been working towards this for so long, but now that the potential end is just a day away…it's both exhilarating and frightening, to say the least.

"I hope so," I reply, sighing heavily. "We don't even know what we're looking for…we'll just have to hope we can find whatever it is sooner rather than later. The last thing we need is Death Eaters – or worse, Riddle himself – showing up while we're still down there."

"Don't even suggest that, Hermione," Harry says with a shudder.

"Constant vigilance," I murmur. Things are bound to get ugly no matter what – we've got to be prepared. If we're prepared, we might stand a chance. We've been at this for so long, we can make it for one more day…right?

The next afternoon, after an early supper that most of us can't even stomach, Harry and I bid farewell to the rest of the group and head for the Ministry. The plan is for Draco to meet us there, and we'll enter the Ministry via the visitors' entrance, with Harry and I hidden beneath the invisibility cloak. It's not perfect, but it's our only option – the Ministry's Floos are carefully monitored, and Harry and I can't use the employee entrance if we're under the cloak. Lucius Malfoy is important enough that no one will question his presence, so that will at least get us into the building. Beyond that, however…well, we do have a plan, but Harry and I also have an alarmingly consistent history of our plans going horribly wrong.

The first leg of our journey is bitingly cold, but otherwise uneventful. The snow that fell earlier this morning changed over to rain that promptly froze – we don't need to worry about leaving footprints, but we slip and slide our way down the icy streets, trying not to fall in the slushy puddles. Despite our best efforts, we're both desperately in need of Warming and Drying Charms by the time we arrive. I quickly take care of both, and thankfully, we don't have to wait long to go inside. We've been in the alley with the Ministry's telephone box for barely a minute when a cloaked figure approaches, a strand of platinum hair escaping the hood to reveal the person's identity. He nods briskly, and Harry and I disappear under the cloak before following him into the booth.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic." It's the same cool female voice I remember from when we came here on our rescue mission all those years ago. "Please state your name and business."

"Lucius Malfoy," Draco drawls. I suppress a shudder, reminding myself that it is indeed Draco and not Lucius who stands in front of us – Draco has his father's cold, crisp sneer down to a T. Of course, it probably helps that he emulated his father for so long as a kid – he really was a mini-Lucius when he was younger – but it's still eerie.

"Ah, yes – welcome, Mr. Malfoy," the Ministry voice says. I raise my eyebrows in surprise, forgetting that no one can see me. Clearly, they've changed the system a bit, if he gets a personal greeting and doesn't have to say why he's here. Without further prompting or questions – Draco doesn't even get a visitor's badge – the telephone box descends, and when we reach the bottom, the voice merely wishes Lucius a pleasant evening before the doors open and we're on our way.

"Stay close," Draco murmurs out of the corner of his mouth as we step from the telephone booth. He strides with purpose across the atrium, which is nearly deserted at this hour, just a few last stragglers heading to the Floos to make their way home after work. He doesn't even spare a glance for the witch sitting at the welcome desk – Lucius Malfoy would never deign to greet an underling – and presses the button for the lifts as if he has all the time in the world. While we'd love nothing more than to hurry, the nonchalance is critical to the plan – if anything seems amiss, we'll have Death Eaters on us faster than we can say 'Horcrux'. I hear Harry breathe a sigh of relief when the lift arrives empty, and we remain its only occupants for the entire trip down to Level Nine.

The hall leading to the Department of Mysteries is likewise deserted, and we waste no time hurrying through the entry door.

"Wait," I murmur as Draco makes to close the door. I cast a quick Hominem revelio, followed by a Flagrate. The first reveals that, unless the Department of Mysteries employs concealing charms that we don't understand, we've got the place to ourselves – perfect. The second spell is the same one I used the last time we were here and marks the exit door with a large, fiery X.

"Now you can close it," I say. Draco shrugs – a very weird thing to see Lucius do, by the way – and pulls the door shut. A grinding noise sounds as the room spins around us, the red X little more than a blur, but the mark holds strong as the room slows to a stop.

"What d'you reckon we're looking for?" Harry asks quietly. He's removed the cloak, but it's so dark in the department's entryway that I can barely see him regardless. Just to be safe, Draco reaches over and taps his wand on the top of Harry's head, activating his carriage driver disguise.

"Some sort of storage room, I suppose," I reply, although I'm not sure, myself. "Whatever it is, it's most likely somewhere it won't stand out…but we can't automatically rule out the specific rooms, can we?"

"We'd best get started, then," Draco says. He strides across the room and picks a door at random. The door, however, doesn't budge, not even when he aims an Alohomora at the lock.

"At least we got that one out of the way," I murmur as I mark the door with another X. Draco turns and gives me a questioning look, but it's Harry who answers.

"Dumbledore told me that there's a door down here that remains locked at all times, because the force contained behind it is one of the most powerful – and dangerous – in the world." When Draco continues to look confused, Harry adds, "It's love." The blond then nods in apparent understanding. We were all there, after all, when Slughorn told us of the dangers of Amortentia back in our sixth year, and Lily Potter's love is what saved Harry's life all those years ago. Draco's love for his own mother is the reason he's on this little expedition instead of rotting six feet under. We will likely never understand the full extent of the power contained in that locked room, and we're not naïve or stupid enough to try.

Harry chooses the next room, the door opening to reveal a giant tank with brains floating in an unidentifiable potion.

"This seems like a good place to start," I say. I gesture towards the room's walls, where several other doors lead to places unknown. "Just…be careful. Thoughts can be dangerous." Ron still has scars from his encounter with one of those brains.

We proceed with caution, carefully opening the Thought Room's doors one at a time. One leads to the Space Room, which we dismiss at once – there's no gravity in there, for one, and as far as we know, the only other door in that room leads to the Hall of Prophecy. There are several offices and what looks like a break room, as well as a door to the Time Room, but nothing that looks even remotely promising. Just to be safe, we comb through the offices and the break room, but we find nothing.

"This could take a while." Harry sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair. "Now what?"

"The Time Room, I suppose," Draco replies. "It's the most logical way forward from here, without going back to the entryway." His suggestion is as good as any, so we open the door to the Time Room and step through.

The most obvious difference in this room is the missing case of Time-Turners – a stray spell sent it into a continuous loop of destruction and repair the last time we were here, and I guess the Unspeakables couldn't find a way to reverse the damage. It's probably for the best, to be honest. Meddling with time can have disastrous consequences – even with their limitations, a functioning Time-Turner in the hands of a Death Eater is just too horrible to even imagine. The rest of the room seems to have been repaired, and we make quick work of two offices and another break room with nothing to show for it.

"We're missing something," Harry says with a frown. "We don't even know for sure that the Horcrux is down here, but if it is, we don't know where Riddle might've put it."

"Well, we're shit out of luck if he's hidden it in another department," Draco replies, frowning in turn. "Even if we stayed here all night, we couldn't search the entire Ministry – it's too big."

"No, I think this is the most likely place," I say slowly. "An entire department sworn to secrecy…there's no better hiding place. It's just a matter of which division…" My two companions look to me for an explanation.

"I don't think we're going to find a storage room down here," I say bluntly. "Not a generic one, anyway. We need to be more specific. Thought and Time both have their own break rooms, even though they're right next to each other – seems a bit excessive, doesn't it? But if the different divisions are essentially entirely separate from one another, it makes a bit more sense. The Unspeakables are notoriously secretive, so it might not be that far-fetched to guess that even their colleagues in other departments don't know exactly what they're doing."

"So, we're looking for a room connected to a specific division," Draco says. "Alright…but which one?"

"Death," I say quietly, giving Harry an apologetic grimace. Harry winces in reply.

"That sounds like something he'd do," he says. "Thumb his nose at Death by hiding a Horcrux in the Death division."

"I think we need to search off the Hall of Prophecy," I say. "I don't remember there being any other doors in the Death Chamber, so their offices and such must be somewhere else."

Just like the Time Room, the Hall of Prophecy bears scars from that long-ago battle. The shelving has all been restored, but many of the shelves are empty, the prophecy orbs they once contained smashed to pieces in our desperate flight from the Death Eaters. Harry shivers as we pass row ninety-seven, and I press a comforting hand to his back, urging him to keep going.

The back wall of the room is lined with dozens of doors, and we waste no time opening them and exploring, using the Flagrate spell to mark those we don't need. We find alternate entrances to Time, Thought, and Space, and we find the door to the Death Chamber, which I slam shut almost as soon as I've opened it. We find another break room and a series of offices.

"I think we're getting closer," Draco says, pointing. On the desk in front of him is a plaque with the office owner's name, and more importantly, their title: Head of the Death Division. The next door is yet another break room.

"I think this is it!" I whisper excitedly as I open the door next to the break room. It's clearly a storage room, with shelves and tables packed with objects of all sorts. There's no discernable order to the chaos or apparent theme to the collection, and my gut tells me we're on the right track. Death comes for everyone eventually, so it would stand to reason that objects associated with death could come in many forms as well.

"Best get to it, then," Harry says, stepping into the room, closely followed by Draco. We split up and begin combing the shelves for any likely candidates. It's slow going – we don't know what we're looking for, and the Horcrux will seem like just another innocuous object unless we actually touch it. My eyes flit over the menagerie of objects in front of me, some clearly connected to death and others not – skulls and death shrouds intermingle with precious jewels, weaponry, a gorgeous silk dress, a pair of dragonhide boots, books of every size and shape, candles, long-dead flowers, what looks like a mummified animal of some sort, dozens of bones, a glittering brooch, a trunk, an old map, coins from all over the world…

"Oh, no," I say softly. "Harry, Draco – over here." The two young men hurry to my side, and I point at the artifact that caught my eye.

"He got something of Gryffindor's after all," I say sadly. Old and plain though the object might be compared to its fellows, there's no mistaking what sits on the shelf before me. It's the Sorting Hat.