Hogwarts seemed smaller to Harry. His childish imagination had fixed an imagine of vastness and hugeness in his memory, but now he saw it as familiar and so very homely, and seemingly much smaller.

It was early morning; the sun was rising, colouring the sky in all hues of minty greens, peachy pinks and pale oranges. The castle was before him, made of huge stones, and the grounds stretched in front of him, a carpet of rich green. Slowly, he made his way up the road and to the front doors of the castle. It felt like coming home.

It is not surprising that he decided to come here, now of all places. Firstly, he wanted to talk to the Headmistress – the present Head of the Order of the Phoenix. Another reason was that he was out of some potions that he needed to ask Severus to make. He guessed he also saw this as an opportunity to escape from the confinement of his apartment and do something that might take his mind, even it was not for long, off Draco. But probably the biggest reason was his desire to feel at home. And he could feel this nowhere but here.

Students gaped at him as he walked down the corridor; small, cute children who were so safe and happy in this fortress. It felt strange that only a few years ago Harry and his friends were here, laughing and talking.

The crowds parted for him, and he heard the faint buzz of whisper as he passed. The Potions dungeon was empty – Severus clearly had a blank lesson. The Professor himself was sitting at his desk, massaging his temples with two long fingers.

'Severus?' Harry said as he walked in. He felt eleven again, sitting at that corner table and being bullied by the Snape he hated then.

'Harry? What are you doing here?' the tired black eyes looked questioningly at him.

'You don't know?' Harry answered with a question.

'I can only see fear,' Severus said, quietly, as Harry felt him slip into his mind, 'but you are not afraid for yourself. Draco. He's -'

'He's gone. He's helping the Ministry.' Harry did not need to say anything else.

'I'm sorry.'

'What am I to do, Severus?'

'About what?' Severus pretended not to know. Harry knew that the Potions Master was making him say it aloud. He really was a brilliant psychologist.

'I love him, Severus. I love him so much it hurts. It hurts to know that he might not come back. It hurts to know that I can't just whisk him away and protect him from every evil to walk on this earth. It hurts when he is not near...

And it hurts that it's wrong. It so wrong, and yet it feels so right, so perfect, so wonderful. We belong together, Severus, and yet we should not. We're perfectly different, him and me -'

'Five and ice,' a small smile curved Severus' thin lips, 'heat and coldness. Black and white. Onyx and silver. Don't you see Harry? You're so perfect for one another because you are so different. You complete each other, you and Draco. And about it being wrong... My advice it – send everyone to hell. If Draco is who makes you happy, turn away from the folly, shallow prejudices of the world and just be happy.'

'Severus, you're close to Voldemort. What does he want from Draco?'

Severus suddenly became alert. His face became hard and serious, eyes – suspicious and intense.

'What did Draco tell you?'

'Nothing,' Harry said, taken aback by the reaction. 'That's why I'm asking you.'

'Are you sure you want to know?'

'I'm sure I need to know.'

Severus closed his eyes, as if preparing himself for something. Then he took a quill and began writing. A minute or so later he pushed the the parchment towards Harry.

Harry read -

I am under an Unbreakable Vow, so I am forbidden from telling anyone anything about it. Go to the library, Professors' Section, shelve five, third row from the top. Red book with a velvet front cover.

'Thank you, Severus,' Harry exhaled. He felt the familiar surge of excitement; he was going to uncover all the secrets soon.

'He would have wanted me to help you,' Severus said.

'You miss him, don't you?'

'Yes. I miss him indescribably. That's why I don't want you to have to go through the torture I am going through. Go, Harry. Go. Don't waste any time.'

Harry surged forward and embraced Severus for a moment, and after that he sped out of the dungeon.


The Professors' Section in the Library was so secret that the students knew nothing about it. Harry, as a member of the Order, was told about it on the night of his initiation. This was where the books on the Dark Arts were kept, books so dangerous that they were not even allowed to be kept in the Restricted Section.

Harry sneaked into the little room, and, having locked the door behind himself, turned his attention to the dozen shelves. It was dark here. So dark that the torch he bore seemed to not disperse the darkness, but make it seem even denser. The very air was foul in here, drenched with the Dark Arts; with ancient, forgotten evil.

The shelves were numbered, so Harry found the fifth easily enough. He stood on tiptoes to see the third row, and sure enough, there was the red book. It was disappointingly thin – he had been expecting a great big tome packed with spells of evil.

He slid down the wall, and, illuminating the book with the torch he held in one hand, opened it. The pages were faded yellow, dusty, thick and coarse – clearly about four or five hundred years old. The ink had been made pale by time, no longer black but a sort of faded grey.

It was a diary. Whose, it was not said. Actually, there was only one entry, in the beginning of the book, two pages filled with neat calligraphy.

'For the past five months I have been studying the artifact, and only recently did I, with the help of Father, discovered its true purpose.

Ever since I came across it, in a Muggle shop, I knew it to be an item of evil. I do not know how, but I knew it instantaneously. I have never seen the amulet before, neither have I heard about it. My Father had not, either. Most peculiar, seeing as we both work with antiques and artifacts, and have come across, I can surely say, almost every magickal item that has ever existed.

It is a most beautiful creation, too, made of purest silver, with the thinnest border of runes and sigils. These were what made me truly afraid – for I, who have studied runes for over ten years, do not know half of them. The ones I did recognize are all rules of evil – of death, suffering, pain. I have tried to trace the large and lovely emerald set into it, but again, all my attempts lead to nothing. Stones of this size – and it more than two carats – are usually marked with the jeweller's name, but this one is not. All in all, it is as though the amulet appeared out of no-where.

And only a few hours ago, I have found perhaps the only book in which this amulet is written about. It had been lost for many thousands of years; the last time it was seen was in the time of the legendary King Arthur. He gave it to Guinevere, his wife, as a wedding present. When she and Lancelot, her lover, ran away, Arthur, overcome with anger, asked his witch-sister Morrigan to curse the amulet to bring upon his unfaithful wife suffering and death. Legend says it was upon this day that the strange sigils appeared on the silver, although Guinevere was to see them. She died a week later, in great agony, and no doctor was able to help the cursed Queen.

The amulet had not been seen since, but it was heard of – as the Amulet of Death, and it was said that anyone who comes into it's possession will die a gruesome death. But many have sought it, because -'

The writing ended here – the bottom of the page had been torn off.

Harry lowered the book, head buzzing with the information he had just taken in. So Lucius had stolen this Amulet from Voldemort. This discovery posed more questions than it answered – why did Voldemort want an Amulet that killed people? Surely he had enough ways to kill? Where was the Amulet hidden? What did Draco had to do anything with it – he had said, and Harry was sure he as saying the truth, that he had no idea what his Father took and where it was hidden. What was – really - going on?