A/N: The next chapter should be up in a week, or less. 14/16 Please review! Oh yeah, and you can make requests for my epilogue chapter if you want.

14. The Seventh Horcrux

Harry! Wake up Harry! What happened?" Hermione asked. Harry felt very groggy. His surroundings snapped into focus. He was in the Hospital Wing. Hermione looked as though she had just come from running a long distance, Ron by her side.

Ginny was sitting in a chair by the side of the bed. Wilhelm came in, followed by McGonagall. Both of them looked very worried.

"Potter. What's going on?" McGonagall asked sharply. Harry thought for a moment; what is going on? But then he remembered that horrid dream, if that's even what you would call it.

Was it real? Did Voldemort actually break into my mind to tell me I had three days? If so, does that mean he's actually coming to kill me?

"Potter?" McGonagall asked again.

"Oh, ah, well, someone -- I mean, Voldemort – he broke into my mind. He said I have – he said I have three days," Harry stuttered. Everyone's eyes widened with horror.

"Are you absolutely certain that you interpreted this dream correctly?" McGonagall asked tentatively. Harry nodded. McGonagall looked as though she was about to faint. The Hospital doors burst open, and Slughorn stormed in.

"Minerva, some of m'students are gone. Malfoy and his little gang disappeared. I think they've gone to be with their dirty, rotten, death eating parents. What should we do?" McGonagall was very white.

"Horace, contact the ministry and inform them of the predicament. Tell them we need all the back up and reinforcement we can get. We have three days Horace; they need to hurry." Slughorn left the room as quickly as he came.

"Ciara," McGonagall continued, "please inform the students in a casual manner of the same issue. There's no need to worry them, though I'm not sure how long we can refrain them from doing so. I'm afraid we'll have to send some home, but we really haven't the time. We must try our best. We'll start with the first years, but only go up to fourth. Fifth years and up have enough training to be going on by. So that's fourth and under to send home."

Wilhelm left the room.

"Now Potter, I really don't know what to say. I will inform members of the Order of this immediately. You have many challenges ahead, but I believe you are quite capable of handling them. So I place a great deal of trust in you. That's a mighty heavy burden to carry, but soon it will be over, no matter what the outcome of events."

With that, she turned away and exited the room.

Harry was trying to think as clearly as possible. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all looked at him, with a sense of sorrow, and regression forming in their eyes. None of them spoke, but they all seemed to understand what the others were thinking. Finally, Harry spoke.

"I don't know what to do. . . There's still two more Horcruxes out there, and I have no idea where they are. That's not even including Voldemort himself.

The castle seemed to be in an uproar. Word had spread quickly about what was going on. Students and teachers were constantly running about. It had been exactly one day since the dreadful dream. Harry felt very weak, and feverish.

"Harry, it's okay. You can do this. I know you can," Hermione whispered to him. It was early evening and everyone was at dinner. Harry had no intention of joining them. Hermione had somehow figured out that his secret hiding place was the library. He looked up at her and smiled wanly.

"I don't have much time. What should I do?" he asked, rather pleadingly.

"You know I don't have the answer. All I can do is guess."

"But that's what you're best at. You know, guessing, and usually coming up with the right answer. What do you think I should do?" Harry pressed.

"Well, we're going to have to find the other two Horcruxes. I bet Nagini, the snake is one of them. But there's something I've known for quite some time, that I probably should have told you a long time ago. I'm not exactly sure what it means, but somehow I get the feeling it isn't good. Once, I tried to summon a Horcrux. This was way before Ron had the idea. Well, when I did – well, that's when you fell off your seat. Remember? Harry, you are the seventh Horcrux."

Time froze. Harry felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach. That was pretty much all he felt at the moment. How could it be? It wasn't possible. . . was it? It only led to one solution: sacrifice. That's what kept him alive when Voldemort tried to kill him the first time, and it would be the death of him. Hermione started sobbing.

"I should have told you!" she wailed.

"It's not your fault Hermione," Harry said quietly, though he didn't think she heard him. "It isn't your fault. . ."

The third day. Instead of chaos, the castle had turned eerily quiet. Everyone was very fearful. Even the bravest. Harry was exasperated. He knew he had to die to save everyone. He would lose his friends, his enemies, and worst of all, Ginny.

At least he would die a heroic death. Or would he? No one from the ministry had come yet, but Harry didn't know if they even were coming.

The morning slipped by like water in a stream. The afternoon slowly faded and now it was evening.

The moon had decided to show itself early in the day, but now it was brighter, and full. Lupin must be having a dreadful day.

Whenever Harry walked past someone in the corridors, they would give him a watery eyed, pitiful look, that suggested it would be a loss when he died, but not a very big one.

Harry felt not even an ounce of determination. No one from the Order had come, which was quite surprising, considering, this is what they had been waiting for for so many years. Hermione said that Harry looked pale, but he felt much worse than he appeared. He was cold, and his hands were clammy.

Time elapsed into nothing, as Harry sat in the library, thinking about his life, which would soon be over. He saw a book open on the table nearest him, with a piece of parchment stuck between the pages. Harry got up and looked at the book.

Hogwarts, A History. That was the book that Hermione constantly mentioned. It was open to a page that showed a picture of the Hogwart's coat of arms. Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus was inscribed at the bottom. That rung a bell in Harry's mind. Salazar Slytherin had told him to remember that. But what does it mean? Well, that's why the book was there. Harry scanned his eyes across the page until he found what he was looking for.

"It means. . . . . Never wake a sleeping dragon?" Harry said aloud. He thought about it for a while, until he understood. Or at least he thought he did.

Is Voldemort the sleeping dragon? If he's asleep, imagine what he'll be like when he's awake. Harry walked over to the window, thinking deeply of this aspect.

He looked down at Hagrid's cabin; Madam Maxime's ginger bread house; the lake with the giant squid, having fun, without a care in the world about what was going on above his deep black refuge; the forbidden forest, with it's tree tops swaying in the gentle wind, the eerie noises emitted from the depths, with the strange green glow getting closer to the border of the forest. Green glow?

Harry opened the window a crack. Soft laughter carried by the breeze made it's way to Harry's ears. He knew that sound. It was Voldemort.