Posted 2/21/2014, edited 3/5/2014

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This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.


Chapter Twenty-Three - St. Valentine's Day

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By Tuesday, Harry wondered when he would regret his decision to go through with the merging procedure. He could still see the benefits, yes. And in the long run, it would be very useful. But the downsides also weighed heavily. In preparation for the upcoming weekend excursion with Dumbledore to collect Horcruxes, Harry had tried to remember what he could about them. While this meant he could recall the hiding places as well as the protections around them, it also showed the problems connected to his new-found knowledge - he also remembered their creation and the looks on the faces of the surprised victims in minute detail. Harry now knew what it was like to kill in cold blood and for selfish reasons.

Another problem arose from the sheer complexity of the task. Hundreds of other memories were linked to the locket, thousands of connections going off from there as well. In a way, he felt himself confronted with billions of little facts stored all over the place, but without any register at hand he never knew just what he might stumble upon. And Harry really didn't look forward to a repeat of Voldemort's memory of handing off the Cup to Bellatrix. He could still see the face she'd made after receiving a precious item from her master. Ugh.

Every day, he took as much time as he could - which usually meant the evenings - to go over these connections, but he had a lot less to show than he had hoped.

"It's probably just the sheer amount of still unsorted memories," Hermione had told him, and Harry agreed with her on that account. Yes, the more he dealt with, the easier it would likely become, much like a puzzle in that respect, but that still meant the real pay-off would only come at the end, which he considered a poor motivation.

A part of him had hoped he would find his classes laughably easy, but they weren't. Yes, once the teachers said something about a spell, Harry occasionally had a flash of brilliance about it or downright remembered it from the past, but as with the Horcruxes, there were a lot of connections he had to keep in mind as well. When talking about precision in human transfiguration, he recalled Voldemort's demonstration on a Muggle, but also everything from harmless jinxes to the foulest curses all mixed and mingled into one tangle of memories. Slughorn's warning about the poisonous results should one accidentally wait too long to add the powdered unicorn horn brought Voldemort's experiments as well as dozens of flashes from other uses of unicorn horn to the forefront of Harry's mind. How was Harry supposed to know what actually mattered and what didn't? Then there was Defence against the Dark Arts. Snape had, for whatever reason, chosen to do a theory-oriented lesson on the dangers of the Dark Arts, and Voldemort's memory added numerous details Harry would have been happy to live without.

With all these new pictures in his mind, the nightmares had returned. Gruelling pictures cost him his rest at night, and the drab days added to his glum mood. He had hoped to be rid of the added stress when he had the Horcrux dealt with, but instead he had replaced it with a new and growing burden. Even with having looked through only a small fraction of the knowledge he had gained, he realized the many dangers surrounding him. Where old Harry would have trusted the school children he saw each day, new Harry also recognized just how easy it would be to turn them on one another. With just a Confundus Charm any halfway decent witch or wizard could cause serious trouble and strife. Add in Obliviations and the Imperius Curse, lies and blackmail, and even the most trusted of allies suddenly seemed a lot less trustworthy. In fact, Harry guessed he could have turned even the best of friends on each other, and for one sort moment, he had been tempted to try it to see how long it would take. As if to prove his point, Lavender had had a big fight with Parvati, and from what Hermione had told, it had been about one borrowing a cheap hairbrush out of a collection of a dozen Lavender owned and, according to Hermione, used.

One issue he hadn't considered until late Monday had been the consequences for his personal life. His friends couldn't care less about what he had or hadn't done; he was about as close to their Harry as they could hope for all things considered –they had gotten over their initial shock and had returned to treating him mostly the same. Ron was slightly annoyed about Harry's bouts of brilliance, Hermione had looked torn between envy and pity whenever she looked at Harry, Ginny and Neville –unaware of what had happened –were wary after they'd heard him laugh. Luna had cornered Harry and had introduced herself formally. As for his possessions and wealth, it was entirely possible and legally fine that he had inherited Kreacher and the Black properties with his little stunt from himself, basically being his own heir in a way. For people who had their shattered mind restored, their identities were sorted out like that occasionally, so he still owned everything Harry had had before.

But there was something he couldn't inherit from himself that easily –the marriage contract had been signed by the old Harry James Potter. The realization had hit Harry like a ton of bricks, and he had hastily written a letter to Gringotts to check about it. After all, wouldn't that be just the topping on the cake, to go to such lengths to keep Greengrass safe only to have that contract be the tripping wire that caused the whole mind-merging to become known? He still waited for the reply, but was unsure which outcome to hope for. On one hand the old contract would be out of the way so the obligation for Greengrass to marry someone from House Black would be as well. She'd gain her freedom years before she had expected it to and Harry would be free as well. But on the other hand, if the changes with him became known, it would mean a lot of trouble. And Harry really didn't want to tip off the Death Eaters about the advantage the light side had gained recently.

This however had led to another realization. When he had signed the contract, he had had a clear picture of the future. He had known without a doubt that he would have to die –and soon, to end the war –and hadn't thought about ever actually being married to Greengrass for any length of time. He had guessed he would sacrifice himself before their first year was up, maybe sooner; not because he had wanted to die, but because he would have had to, the destruction of the Horcrux would have required it. Their little procedure had done away with that problem though, and as far as the war was concerned, Harry needn't die anytime soon. He could grow old, he could plan for any career he fancied; he could spawn as many children as he wanted, fight in the war or, for the first time in the last fifteen years, simply walk away from it. And while surviving would make for a boring tale, he still preferred it to the alternative. Instead of a year or maybe two under the constant threat of war before his death, he would end it as soon as possible and then live. And unbidden, the image of a slightly older Harry returning home to a loving family had entered his mind.

Yes, reasonably speaking, as soon as the war was finished and normalcy would set in, he would try his hand at some work, but he would still be married until he was nearly twenty-four, and married to a woman he didn't even really know. Did she have any allergies? He should know about that, if only so he wouldn't accidentally kill her before the contract ended. Or ever, he had added after a moment. Did she have any favourite flowers? Women liked flowers, didn't they? True, he might not really care much for her at the moment and likely wouldn't in the future as well, but at the least he would need to keep up appearances. And once their marriage would become public knowledge –and without a war to keep people busy and distracted –he would need to act the part of a husband, contracted or not. With his contributions to the war, it was actually very likely that he would have to show his face for formal occasions now and then, and then she would be invited as well, wouldn't she? With the marriage looming over their heads, they would need to find some way to get along. Perhaps they might even get along very well, he reasoned, once they got over all that professionalism and left the road blocks like the war behind them.

He had really made an enormous blunder, hadn't he? He could see his parents frowning at him over his thoughtless actions while Sirius would probably laugh himself silly. Yes, Sirius would find it hilarious to see his godson bound to a pretty Slytherin in what everyone assumed had been a marriage by accident. And what's more, he had condemned himself to that life by averting his certain death.

There was also something else he had realized. While the merge had removed the Horcrux problem from the equation, he would still have to find a way around the twin cores. True, Voldemort was facing the same problem, but Harry had little doubt Voldemort would come up with some way to counter it. Perhaps he'd borrow someone else's wand. Harry could do the same, but he didn't feel good about borrowing a wand for an uncertain period of time. The best Harry had come up with was to get himself another wand as an reserve. He'd have to think some more about how to do it without drawing attention to his preparations. Maybe he could duck out of the wedding preparations some day and do a small trip to Ollivander's?

But then, he thought on Thursday evening, sitting cross-legged on his bed, it would be worth it, wouldn't it? If only they would bring Voldemort down faster, it would be worth it. Seven years of his life to bring down Voldemort would be a reasonable price for that. Stopping the Malfoy's greedy fingers from getting any wealth to hand their master would be worth it. Everything to slow down the forces of evil. Nightmares for who knew how long would be worth it to end the war. Growing anxiety around his peers would be worth it, if only to stop the Death Eaters. Oh, and if Greengrass survived, that would be alright as well, he mused.


Friday was a day she had secretly feared. Valentine's Day usually meant chocolate, perhaps some nice words from boys. Not that Daphne put any stock in them as she knew just what those same boys were thinking, but she still liked getting presents.

It had become something of a tradition in the past years to share the sweets with the other girls. But since last year, a lot had changed. At first, Daphne had feared her marriage to Draco would put a damper on the fun. He would have been obliged to gift her something nice and Pansy would have resented Daphne for interfering with her fantasy of earning the affection of the blond pureblood. Of course that danger was now successfully averted and Draco once more free to be pursued; Valentine's Day was saved, in a way, but another worry had arisen. Ignoring Potter who might or might not send a present –and reasonably speaking, he should, if only to keep up appearances –and the troubles it might bring, with the estrangement of her friends and house mates she wasn't quite so sure what to expect of the day.

At breakfast, she anxiously awaited the deliveries. In fact, she had little appetite and forced herself to eat. Around her some early birds already gave their presents, but Daphne did her best to tune them out. Mostly those were either overly eager or simply required. Finley got a nice box of chocolates and flowers from her boyfriend. Naturally, the lanky Ravenclaw slinked back, having made his delivery, without knowing Finley wasn't as devoted to him as he thought. But it didn't matter either way if what the rumour mill said about him and his night-time excursions to bathrooms. To each their own secrets.

Finally, the owls arrived. Some brought presents or cards from home. Millicent received a box of pricey sweets from someone, likely her father. He wasn't half as bad as some might say, even if he hadn't made much of himself and only worked a lowly job at the Ministry in one of the maintenance crews. It had stung Mrs. Bulstrode to find him such a failure and from what Daphne knew, it also caused the woman to blame Millicent's shortcomings on him as well.

When an owl descended in front of Tracey with a card, she clapped giddily. Good on her, Daphne thought, but then realized she would have to hear all about Tracey's admirer sooner or later. Oh well, sometimes sacrifices needed to be made. It was only luck Nott had lost his interest in the past weeks.

Pansy smiled when a regal owl delivered her present. If Daphne had to guess, Pansy had arranged for it to be sent herself. Friends or not, bragging with admirers would be right up Pansy's alley.

The owls cleared away, but none came for Daphne, not even one from her parents. That stung.

Pansy sent her a nod. "Don't worry about it," she commented, having noticed as well, "the day has just begun."

"You are probably right," Daphne tried, and watched absent-mindedly as Millicent ate some chocolate.

"And it's better this way in any case. Do you really want to receive something from... him?" Pansy whispered, glancing in the direction of the Gryffindor table. "It's bad enough as it is, just thinking about it would make me want to hurl. Having... him pawing at me... Eurgh. How can you sleep at night?"

Daphne chuckled. "Decently, thanks for asking. No, I do not want something from him, but the presents aren't about what is wanted, but what is expected. Sending something should be expected." She quickly looked, and had no trouble seeing Potter sitting there. He talked with Longbottom about something.

Pansy followed her glance. "Doesn't look too happy, does he?"

"Tired, more like," Daphne replied. "He is kind of busy this year, isn't he? School and Quidditch Captain? That must cost a lot of time."

"I'm a Prefect, I deal just fine with it," Pansy scoffed.

"But Draco left the team because he didn't want to stress himself out with Quidditch, Prefect duty and school work," Tracey threw in. "So there might be something to it." She winked at someone down at the table.

"Draco could have dealt with it just fine," Pansy told them with a note of finality.

Silence descended upon them, in part because others joined their group and talking about Daphne's betrothed didn't seem like a good idea. After a while, they left for their lessons of the day.

Time seemed to pass more slowly than usual that Valentine's Day. Or at least, Daphne thought so. During lunch, Millicent had offered to sort out the Common Room later that evening. With the Prefects busy running all over school, someone needed to keep an eye on those staying in the house as well. Tracey had blubbered on and on about her date with the plain but, from what she had said, very nice Adam Bryce. Daphne didn't resent her the fun, but she could have done without all the details of the planned evening. And Merlin had Tracey planned for it!

Dinner was even more tumultuous than breakfast. The last presents were exchanged, students planning their secret excursions all over school and the teachers already on edge, awaiting an evening of prowling through the corridors and checking hiding places. Daphne on the over hand wasn't as nervous as before. No present had arrived for her from Potter, but some boys had given her chocolate with one or two even asking for a date. They served as a nice distraction and kept her friends busy with gossip.

When Tracey made to leave for her meeting, the group split apart. "Keep away from the secret passageway on the second floor," she told Pansy who replied with a laugh.

"Well, now that I know about it..."

"Don't you dare!" Tracey warned with a challenging glare before running off. Millicent slinked off to the Common Room to do homework. But Daphne didn't want to. The day had left her a bit tense, and she had always expected something to happen, or to be precise, she had expected Potter to jump out from somewhere. Wasn't that the Gryffindor way? Daphne was grateful he hadn't done anything so stupid, but she still felt slightly restless and decided to walk her excess energy off.

From time to time, she made detours. Some of the couples she didn't want to interrupt. It wasn't her place, was it? And a small part of her envied them as well. She wouldn't have minded being on a date on Valentine's Day. It might have been fun, just talking for a while with a nice boy and then a bit of snogging in a quiet corner. Anyone else than Potter, naturally –if nothing else, she wouldn't have wanted to endure her friends' comments –but the idea alone of having a romance at school and not worry about anything at all was far from undesirable.

Other times though, she happily sneaked up on them. Daphne took special joy out of the scampering second-year Gryffindor who almost fell down the stairs to escape. Since when were these children so tiny, she wondered on her way past a rather ugly painting of an impaled horse with its rider gutted on top of it.

"Looking good!" a bust from an old wizard called after her, but Daphne didn't pay it any attention.

After a long flight of stairs, she reached a deserted corridor somewhere high in the castle. Looking out the window, she chuckled as she watched someone chasing a few students over the lawn. Well, she reasoned, the grounds were a decent hiding place with a lot of trees to sit under. If only it would have been a bit warmer, she might have strolled outside as well.

Her hair swayed slightly in a small current from somewhere to her left, and she pushed a few strands behind her ear. For a moment, she felt as if she wasn't as alone as she had thought, but peering around, she saw no one.

Her gaze wandered back to the window. Mid-February. It wouldn't be too long until summer would be upon her. She should have asked for a later date; she felt utterly unprepared to marry. Was it odd, she wondered, since she had had quite some time to come to terms with it? Realistically speaking, she had known for a long time about the possibility of the contract activating. Of course she had always assumed it would be Malfoy, but it really didn't matter all that much which boy she didn't love she had to marry. But at least she would only have to endure it for some years, or until Potter died, which, knowing his tendency to place himself in danger, might be sooner than she hoped. Expected, she amended after a moment. She didn't hope for his death, and not only because he had helped her out.

She turned to leave, feeling carefree and at peace all of a sudden as she forgot all about her worries for the time being. The day had gone well enough, hadn't it? It had been a good day, hadn't it? No reason to care for much, no reason to be troubled on that fine day. No reason to stand at a window when there was a perfectly good corridor to walk through, right? It wasn't as if she could see anything of importance if she just stood there, gazing outside, a voice in the back of her head told her. She wanted to walk, didn't she? That was why she wasn't cooped up in her dormitory. She had places to go, but she wouldn't reach them if she just stood around. So walking she did, humming to herself, heading over to that strange painting with the trolls.


"Professor," Harry greeted the Headmaster as he entered the office.

"Ah, yes. Thank you for coming today. I had half expected you to have plans this evening?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

Harry chuckled. "Hermione said the same. She's kind of annoyed, by the way. I think she might have enjoyed the evening herself in some quiet corner instead of patrolling to scare other couples."

"Duties come first, Harry, and as you might have noticed, a lot of students are eager to get together. I remember it from my own days at school, even if I never participated myself. No, I was always too dutiful to care much for the game. But from what I know, half the fun seems to be the thrill of the hunt itself. Sometimes I heard people call it a school-wide game of Hide and Seek."

"That does sound like fun, now that you mention it, Professor," Harry replied with a grin. "But I wouldn't want to complicate things by joining the game. It just wouldn't be fair with all the tools I have at my disposal. And in any case, with whom would I join?"

"Miss Greengrass would be the logical choice, but I agree; with your present situation, it might not be wise. You don't want to draw attention to it, after all."

"That too, yes," Harry agreed, "I asked the goblins for confirmation that the contract with Greengrass is still active, rattled child that I am. It is. Not sure how I feel about it. And unless I'm mistaken, we have our own plans for tonight anyway, so Greengrass will have to find something else to entertain her."

Dumbledore nodded. "Not sure whether it was wise to contact Gringotts, but I understand. And yes, we do have our own game of Hide and Seek to play. I gather you have prepared for it? Tonight will be your time to shine, remember."

"Oh, don't worry about it. By this time tomorrow, two more of his Horcruxes will be gone. The snake will be problematic; of course, we can't do anything about that one if it is one at all. And I agree with you, it sounds like something Voldemort would do, but he hadn't planned for it. Then there's the Cup. I think we could try breaking into the bank, but..."

"We'd better not, Harry," Dumbledore told him with a raised eyebrow. "It would be highly foolish to do so –although between the two of us, I wouldn't be surprised if we actually managed it. No, I think I know of a better way to deal with it."

"You do?" Harry wondered.

"Oh yes, I do. And I am guessing you would realize it as well. Tom really was foolish by placing it at Gringotts." Seeing Harry's curious glance, the Headmaster smiled genially. "He failed to realize the danger he put it in by trusting the goblins to guard it, even if unwittingly so. Let me ask you, Harry, the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, what do you know about it?"

"Well, it's small, I guess, but that's not what you are asking for. And old, but still a piece of marvellous craftsmanship."

"A good summation, yes." Dumbledore replied. "Yes, it is all that. Also, it was owned by Helga Hufflepuff's family some time in the past. Assuming Hepsibah Smith rightfully owned it by both wizarding and goblin standards, then with her death, by wizarding customs, her heirs would have inherited it, even if the goblins think otherwise."

"Her heirs still own it?" Harry guessed. "Or the goblins?"

"Yes, I believe so. But in any case, we can both agree that neither Tom Riddle nor Voldemort ever had any claim on it. Neither before nor after his transformation was it legally his; he had stolen it, nothing more. As such, he entrusted Bellatrix Lestrange with it, yes, but she too has no claim on it. You see Tom's folly?"

"He had it put in the goblins' reach? So you want to tip them off," Harry guessed.

"Not necessarily, no. I intend to buy it from the rightful owners -both of them, in fact. They will naturally tell me they do not know where it is, but I won't mind that too much. Well, once it is mine, I can point the goblins in the right direction, can't I? They will remove it from the vault in question, and since it does not belong to the Lestranges, they will not gain any gold from it. The biggest problem will be to convince the goblins to not inform anyone the Cup has been found, naturally. That would be big news. But my name does carry a bit of weight, even within Gringotts, and I believe I can convince them. Once we have it, we will destroy it."

"The goblins won't like that, will they?" Harry asked.

"No, they won't. They do value fine craftsmanship, and it is their work. But then, there is little they will be able to do. I will be the one who destroyed it, and with my impending death, their anger will be directed at a dying or dead man."

"I really wish I could do something about that," Harry told him. "I thought about it in the last few days. I know the curse now, well enough to cast it myself in a heartbeat, but it is too late to counter it, unfortunately."

Dumbledore sighed. "I guessed as much already. It is regrettable, but not as dire as you might think. I have lived a long life, Harry, and I leave little unfinished business behind. Professor Snape has done a really good job in slowing the curse down; he has given me enough time to prepare you for the war that I leave behind."

"As much as it pains me to say it, and please believe me, it really does," Harry said, "Snape has done a good job, given what he would have known about the magic involved, yes."

Dumbledore chuckled to himself. "He would be delighted to hear that, no doubt. Since we are talking about him, Harry..."

"I know what you want to ask. I don't like him. I never will. I fear what I will learn from the memories in my head. Voldemort wouldn't like a traitor, Harry doesn't like the spiteful man. But I will try to work with him. I will try, Professor, I will try for the sake of the world. But you cannot ask me to just take everything he's dishing out, and you know he will never see eye to eye with me. Once the war is done, our paths will never again cross, I hope."

The old Headmaster sighed heavily. "I guess that is about as much as I can ask of you. But let us not speak about it anymore. We have a mission tonight, and if we want to finish before sunrise, we should focus on the Horcruxes. I will try to get the Cup. If I manage to do it, I will tell you, and you can witness the destruction yourself."

"That's fair, I guess. Tonight, we should take on the remaining two that we know of. Or, you know, that I know of with certainty. The locket is in a cave at the coast. He placed some nasty defences around it –curses, Inferi guarding the water, a potion that cannot be vanished or anything similar but instead must be drunk, spells that will confuse anyone trying to enter without a clear idea what they are doing. Wards to keep anyone from apparating. Portkeys are blocked as well, so we'll have to reach the cave by... other means. Ingenious, but it will not be all that difficult to get to the cave –a boat should work."

"That is heartening to hear," Dumbledore replied with a nod. "It is the cave he brought the children to, I assume?"

"Yes. And we won't have that much of a problem, I think. I have thought long and hard about it. I remember his defences and the counter-measures. He might think he's ahead of us, but it'll be easy."

"Which leaves us with the second Horcrux," Dumbledore said.

"Yes. You'll love it. Or you'll appreciate the irony, but hate it placement. It's the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. Voldemort wheedled its hiding place out of her daughter who is the Grey Lady. In life, she stole it, was followed and died when caught. Unfortunate. Well, Voldemort fetched it from the tree in Albania where Helena Ravenclaw hid it all those years ago."

"And it was still there, after all these years?" Dumbledore wondered. "Amazing."

"Well, if I had to guess, the Muggle-Repellant Charm she put up around the tree saw to that. Back to topic, Voldemort fetched it, made his Horcrux and hid it." Harry smiled at the Headmaster. "He did it on the way up to your office, back when he came to ask for the defence job."

"At Hogwarts!" Dumbledore exclaimed.

"Great, isn't it? It's in the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor, and indeed direct under our noses. He just dumped it there with next to no protection. It's cursed of course, and there are some minor spells on it, but otherwise it'll be a walk in the park. Right under our noses," he added, fighting the smile.

The Headmaster nodded slowly. "I think we should take care of that one right away. Do not think I am foolish or hasty, but I cannot allow it to rest there any moment longer. I cannot allow it to be near my students. I am assuming you know how to deal with its protections?"

Shrugging, Harry answered. "Sure. I came prepared. Fine, the Diadem first, then. I don't care either way. So how do we do it? We cannot simply stroll into the corridor, not with all the people around."

"Ah, Harry, did you really think I would be so thoughtless? No, it is because so many people are around that we will have no trouble moving through the castle. I hope you have brought your cloak?"

"You told me to carry it with me wherever I go."

"Yes, I did. You will wear it. I will use a very powerful Disillusionment Charm to conceal myself. With all the noise in the castle, the shouting and running about, any sound we make –and I hope there will not be much –will not draw too much attention from the students. And with the sheer size of the school, it should not be a problem to evade staff and Prefects as they are far too thinly stretched to catch us."

"So, while they play their game of Hide and Seek, we'll simply slip by them? Sounds like fun. Before we leave, though," Harry spoke up, "there's something I wanted to talk about with you, if you don't mind. See, with how things are going, I might be preparing to face Voldemort in the end, but there's still the issue of the twin cores to consider. True, he cannot really hurt me due to it, but neither can I harm him directly, I fear."

"He might prepare for that eventuality as well and plan to borrow a wand," Dumbledore pointed out.

"True," Harry admitted, "but should I hope for that? I had planned to find me a second wand just in case, but I doubt Ollivander will just smile and let it go. And walking in his store to buy one doesn't sound so secret when you think about it."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Well, I would like to have faith in Garrick..."

"But you've also advised me to keep as much of my preparation secret as I can," Harry countered. "So, where would I get a wand without people noticing?"

"Well," Dumbledore spoke after a long moment, "you could travel abroad, of course, but that would not guarantee you wouldn't be seen. You could try taking a wand from a witch or wizard, but whether that would work is debatable. Some wands bend to their new owner, others refuse to work at all." He stroked his beard. "I will have to think about it. Perhaps you might find the answer at Gringotts? Some families keep the wands after the owner's death, and from what I know of the Blacks, they might have done the same. They also had a reputation of being rather combative. Since wand and owner tend to match, you might find yourself a wand that is longing for a fight."

Raising an eyebrow, Harry asked, "And should I really just pick up any old wand lying around and try using it?"

Dumbledore peered at Harry. "Do you remember the Weighing of the Wands from the Tournament?"

Harry blinked. "Yeah, sure. Why do you ask?"

"He's not getting it," the painting of Phineas Nigellus Black sneered, "you should have guessed as much, Dumbledore."

"I asked," the Headmaster replied, ignoring the painting, "because Garrick Ollivander showed you how to check a wand for damage."

"He looked it over and cast a spell with each, yeah," Harry agreed.

"And he used his years of experience to get a feeling for the wand," Dumbledore explained. "You might not possess the finely tuned senses of a wandmaker and I wouldn't expect you to know the necessary spells –although Voldemort might –but you should have the skill to feel whether something is off with the wand. Magical affinity, Harry. Let us test it, shall we?" He opened a drawer and, after rummaging through it unseen by Harry, produced two wands. "First, let us see what you think about this one," he spoke, offering a slender wand with an elegant design.

Harry took it, holding it between his hands. Focusing on his senses, he tried to find something he didn't know.

"Let your senses run over the wand and through it," Dumbledore advised.

It took a moment, but finally Harry picked up what he hoped the Headmaster had been trying to teach him. "There's something there alright –some kind of resistance. It doesn't feel like it's happy to be there, but I couldn't find anything else."

Dumbledore frowned. "Is that so? It doesn't feel welcoming. Hmm." He took it back and gently placed it in the drawer. "Well, at least we know you won't be using it."

"Whose was it?" Harry asked, curious.

Dumbledore sent him a sad smile. "It was mine many years ago. We headed down different paths eventually, but I still keep it for old time's sake."

"Ron used his brother's old wand for a while," Harry said, remembering. "Does that happen often? Wands and wizards no longer working properly with each other?"

"It happens occasionally," Dumbledore admitted. "The risk of it happening increases with age, of course, and some wands are fickler than others. Now then," he straightened in his chair. "Let us see what you think of this one." He handed over the other wand he had retrieved, and Harry found himself wondering about it.

The wood looked old and worn, but it seemed no less powerful on first sight. B once he held the wand with the tips of his fingers as he had seen Ollivander do, it didn't take long for Harry to notice something was off.

"There's some," he grasped for a better word before giving up, "tension, if you know what I mean. It's as if something's... interfering? As if... as if something's getting lost there."

Dumbledore nodded, taking the wand back. "Indeed. Although the wand might look perfectly fine and has only superficial scratches, its core has been damaged beyond repair. I wouldn't advise you or anyone else to use it."

"Another one from you?" Harry guessed, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"It was a friend's once," he replied, but didn't comment any further. "Well, at least you know now how to check wands."

"Fine," Harry agreed, "so I'll just check the vaults at Gringotts, then?"

"Unless I can think of a better way to come across a wand without drawing attention, yes," the Headmaster told him. Silence settled as both thought about what they had heard.

Together they left the office, Harry hidden under his cloak and Dumbledore somewhere nearby. On their way, they passed some people. Harry had to fight the gag reflex as he passed Romilda Vane and a boy Harry didn't want to recognize in a very passionate embrace. He also saw Ginny and Dean in a corner, but they didn't look too cosy. Even from the fleeting look, Harry could tell there was some issue between the couple, and they seemed to be talking about it in hushed voices. He had to jump aside some minutes later on a staircase as Professor McGonagall stormed past him. He could have sworn she had slowed down slightly, but as she had not stopped, he assumed he was just imagining things.

They reached the corridor in front of the Room of Requirement without any real trouble. Harry easily recalled the configuration they would need and quickly made the door appear. Once inside the room, Dumbledore dropped his Disillusionment.

"Astounding," he commented. "This seems to be a trove of treasures from many centuries. How Tom could have possibly thought this to be an appropriate hiding place I will never know."

"Well, I do," Harry told him. "He considered the room far too big for anyone to simply stumble upon it anytime soon. And he had expected to take control of the castle sometime, so all of his protections around here were only meant as a temporary measure. Until he could put up some real defences, he thought this would be enough. In here," Harry said, leading into a corridor. "Careful now, a lot of this stuff is not really stacked all that well. We don't want to be buried under the rubble with no one knowing where we ended up. Now wouldn't that hilarious? Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, champions of Light, dying under an avalanche of trash. Oh, look! They were alive when Voldemort was here." He pointed towards the remains of some pixies. "Too bad. –Huh. Professor Dumbledore, would you mind terribly if I were to raid this room some other time? There's got to be something useful or, barring that, expensive around here." He broke off as they had reached their destination. And there it sat. The fabled Diadem of Ravenclaw, not a bit dusty despite the years. Experimentally, Harry reached out and concentrated on his senses. Almost immediately he could feel the magic at work, both the dark presence, complacent and lazy, as well as the enchantments.

"That is it alright," he announced.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "It is a shame to have to destroy it so shortly after finding it." He pulled from his robes the sword of Gryffindor. Seeing Harry's glance, he smiled. "It is goblin-made. And you yourself imbibed it with Basilisk venom, creating a fail-safe weapon against Horcruxes. Very lucky."

Harry frowned. "So, it has the same poisonous properties as the teeth?"

"It has the same destructive properties, yes."

"But it still allows the destruction of goblin-made objects turned into Horcruxes," Harry questioned. "Could a goblin-made item be turned into a Horcrux? They'd take on the property then, creating a nigh-indestructible item that will take any property that could damage it –in this case, poison of a Basilisk, instead of being destroyed by it?"

"Ah, Harry, you forget something important. Ignoring for a moment that even goblins would not give that particular property to just about any item they make, the intention of destroying it is important as well. Not to mention, any new property cannot contradict an already existing one. A weapon cannot cause biting cold as well as searing heat at the same time."

"Or be a Horcrux and imbibed with Basilisk venom which would destroy the Horcrux."

"Yes," the Headmaster agreed. "Now, if you would be so kind as to place the Diadem on the floor? But be careful about it; do not touch it with bare skin."

With a roll of his eyes, Harry quickly undid the two spells he had been worried about and put the Diadem in the centre of the aisle. As soon as he had done so, he stepped away from it. Dumbledore nodded curtly, and with a pained expression, he used the sword to turn the Horcrux on its face. Then, he carefully took aim and stabbed it.

A scream escaped the Diadem. The pierced jewel blackened, and a whiff of black smoke rose and dissipated.

"Four down, three to go," Harry said into the silence, scoffing. "You know, that was kind of anti-climatic. You've just killed one eighth of a dark wizard, and all we get is this? A puff of smoke and the wailing of a long-dead being? That's pathetic when you think about it. Say what you will, the diary at least had some fight in it, even if it had to steal it from an eleven-year old girl."

"Let us hope the rest are as easy," Dumbledore replied, and collected the remains of the once priceless artefact.

"Ah, no doubt about that," Harry said, turning away to hide his scowl. With a humourless chuckle, he continued, "But when Hermione and Ron ask me later, it won't make for a compelling story. Compared to my usual adventures, this one sounds downright boring. 'Oh, we went into the room, found the thing without any trouble at all. Then we destroyed it before anything could happen.' Really, that doesn't sound all that good. Would you mind terribly if I were to add a few dangerous traps? Or maybe the remains of some large beast guarding it? I mean, people still tell tales about your legendary fight with Grindelwald; this is kind of a let-down."

They reached the entrance faster than expected, especially seeing as how both found themselves looking all around the room for anything of interest. At the door, both concealed themselves again, Dumbledore with his Disillusionment Charm, Harry with his cloak, and together they left the room.

"Now that I've seen this place," Dumbledore spoke up when the door had closed, "´there is a chance you don't even have to go to Gringotts to find yourself a separate wand. You could look through the Room of Requirement. There might be something there among all that rubble."

"Why would someone leave a wand here at school?" Harry asked. "That's something people wouldn't let lying around."

"True," Dumbledore admitted, "but you are assuming –incorrectly, I think –that you are the first student passing through these halls to want more than one wand. You might find a wand if you search for it, and the best place to start just might be that useful room there.

"But enough of that for now. To the Entrance Hall," Dumbledore whispered before he fell silent once more. They watched the door fade from existence and left. But they didn't come as far as they had expected before their walk was interrupted. They had turned a corner and were heading to the staircase when Harry couldn't help but smile to himself. In front of one of the windows stood Daphne Greengrass, watching the grounds. Immediately, both Harry and Dumbledore fell very quiet and walked far more careful than before.

Harry couldn't resist. He slinked over, years of sneaking around giving him the edge to be completely silent. She was indeed looking into the grounds, but now Harry could also see what she was watching. Someone chased a few students over the lawn. Keen-eyed as Harry was, he was fairly certain it was Snape. Hadn't he seen the man walk often enough to recognize his movements? He thought so, at least. Turning to leave, Harry grinned and lightly blew at Greengrass. She pushed the hairs behind her ear and turned to face him. For a moment, Harry thought she might have noticed him, but she just looked back outside.

Not wanting to take any more risks, he sneaked to the stairs.

"Not wise, Harry," whispered Dumbledore, far too low for anyone else to hear.

"I'm allowed to have my fun," he countered as they continued on their path. "It amused me, and no one has to know. Or will you tell on me?"

Dumbledore merely chuckled quietly.

They met no resistance anywhere as soon as they were in the more frequented areas of the castle. Fear of discovery seemed to have made every couple avoid these places, and the teachers and Prefects seemed to have adapted their patrol schedules accordingly, but still people hurried through and the ever-watchful paintings still weren't to notice them. Harry made a mental note of the patrol schedules as well as he could in case he wished to play the next year.

Once outside, they sped up and reached the gates very soon.

"I assume you know the location?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry could picture his raised eyebrow.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Shall I apparate us?" he offered.

"I would feel better –and I mean no offence, please understand –if we were to keep the law-breaking to a minimum. If you would agree to it, I would like to apparate us to the village near the coast, and from there, we should be able to walk. Or at least, I hope so. It is not too far?"

Harry thought about it, but finally shook his head. "No, it should be alright." He felt something touch his shoulder, and grabbing it, realized it was Dumbledore's arm. As soon as he had a firm grip, he felt the strange sensation of being pressed through a tube, and the cold Scottish air was replaced with a breeze from the sea.

"Still not used to it," he commented, and knowing Dumbledore could see him even with his cloak, he led the way.

"Professor," Harry asked after a while, "why can you see through the cloak? Moody has his eye, so I guess that explains it, but..."

"Ah, Harry, that is a secret I should perhaps take to my grave," The Headmaster replied with a chuckle. After a moment, he added, "I helped Alastor with his eye and learned some tricks myself. Yes, it is a marvellous piece of magic, unique, as far as I know. And Alastor is many things, but neither patience nor a talent for such intricate magic is a gift of his. As such, I helped with his eye and might have picked up one or two tricks along the way. It is rather useful to know whether someone is around, but I lack the power Alastor's eye has. I cannot see you, but I have a very good idea where you are based on something like a sixth sense."

Harry blinked. It made sense, now that he thought about it. But he had no time to concentrate on it. They had reached the sea cliff. "Over there, that small island in the sea. That's pretty close to where we want to go. On the other hand, we can always climb down."

In answer, he felt the arm against his shoulder and grabbed it. Another tight tube later, they were standing on the small rock. Dumbledore shimmered into view and Harry hastened to pull his cloak off as well.

"From here on out, I think it will not matter if we are seen," Dumbledore announced. With a swish of his wand, a small boat appeared, big enough for two. They quickly jumped in, not trusting the waves, and with a small tap, the boat sailed over the water.

Harry pointed towards the small crack in the rocks, and Dumbledore easily steered their vessel into it. Once inside, both the wind and the waves left behind, they found a bit of ground and landed.

"This seems to be just the place Tom would choose, yes," Dumbledore said.

Harry pointed towards a nondescript piece of wall. "The entrance is over there, secured with blood." He quickly cast a small cutting spell at his own hand and opened the entrance.

Dumbledore frowned. "I would have been glad to do it, Harry." He cast a quick healing charm, but walked through.

The cave was cold, green light illuminating it from somewhere in the middle of a lake. Again Harry took the lead. "Here's a chain. Pull it and a boat will come up. It will carry us over to the other side. Voldemort added some spells so the protections will know whether it is a real boat or conjured, and since we don't have a boat of our own..."

Dumbledore had no trouble getting the small vessel to rise, and again both entered. The trip over the lake was quiet. Dumbledore was lost in his thoughts, but Harry tried his best not to. He had seen the cave numerous times over the last week and it always brought the images of the Inferi resting in the water. Hundreds Voldemort had killed for this protection; some of his earliest opponents rested in the water.

Finally, the boat hit the rock. "Now it'll be a bit tricky," Harry announced. "See this potion?" he pointed at the basin. "The Horcrux is in there, see?" He swished his wand over the liquid, and it turned clear. He had been very happy to have learned this spell, or rather, he had been very happy to learn Voldemort had invented it even if it helped them not one bit. It had given him a sense of accomplishment to learn as much about the defences as possible, and so, he was equally happy to show his progress.

In the basin a locket lay, and Harry turned to explain further, but something unsettled him. He looked closer. It wasn't the right size, was it? It looked... wrong, in a way.

"Professor?" he asked, dread sneaking into his voice. "Does it look... is it...?"

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, but stayed quiet. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he shook his head. "No, I don't think so. This is not Slytherin's locket. Harry, please try to remember. Did Voldemort turn his heirloom into one? Or was it this piece?"

Harry dropped the spell, and the liquid regained its colour. Was it possible? Harry needed to think. He sat down on the cold rock. He needed to know. Had Voldemort turned this locket into a Horcrux? But where to begin? He had already come from the angle of Horcruxes, hadn't he? Perhaps he needed a different approach. Perhaps he needed to look into Voldemort's visit in the cave?

Harry closed his eyes. He could picture it. He saw how he had enlarged the cave. He had put the boat there, yes. Then the Inferi. Male and female, old and young, some not in their teens –psychological torture. Far too many, far too many for Harry, but he forced his mind to stay focused on his objective. The old Muggle who kept looking into everything that happened. Another one for the army. That tramp. Worthless in life, but of some use in death. Another one for the army. That impertinent girl. She had been fun –for a while. She had looked downright peaceful as she had drifted down into the dark to join the new family.

Harry had to struggle very hard, seeing that memory flash his mind. It was a memory he could relate to far too well. With a lot of effort, he pushed the image of both the nameless girl and Brooks aside.

The spells on the cave finished, he had fetched the Horcrux. But it had been in a bag, of course –had it been Slytherin's? And he had come to the cave, had sailed over the water. And he had dropped the locket inside the basin, Slytherin's locket, no doubt about it, not the worthless piece of trash resting in the basin now. But Voldemort hadn't been alone, he had tested the defences. He had brought something with him to test it. He had wanted to use a Muggle he had kept prisoner, but Bellatrix had stumbled upon that one, and Voldemort had had to alter his plans.

A house-elf. He had used an equally worthless house-elf. Their pain wasn't as enjoyable, but it had worked. Bit by bit, the memories played before Harry's eyes.

"Yes," he finally said, more tired than he had in a while. "He used Slytherin's. He put it here."

Dumbledore blanched. "So he must have... but no, he wouldn't, not unless he suspected... Did he suspect anyone to know of his protections?"

Harry was stumped. How was he supposed to look through all of the memories with the idea of suspicion as his only lead? "But," he tried, "why would he switch the lockets afterwards? I can't remember him suspecting anyone of having found out, and he was proud of his work with this hiding place."

The Headmaster pondered this. "He might have suspected someone had found out about his Horcruxes. It is possible he had been careless in the past. He might have made this cave into a trap for whoever came here."

"If he did, then after he attacked me. I'm pretty sure the last time he was here before that, he placed the locket in there." Harry pointed towards the basin. "He brought it here, tested the defences, put the Horcrux in place..."

"He tested the defences? Before placing the Horcrux here?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah. He wanted to see whether someone could stand to drink that stuff, it's meant to drive the drinker mad with dark memories. Death Eaters, they think of the craziest stuff. He borrowed an elf for that part. After he was convinced it would work, he dropped the Horcrux in the basin."

Dumbledore started pacing. "He borrowed an elf?"

"Yeah, and let me tell you, I sure as hell wouldn't lend him anything; he'd just break it or lose it. Left the elf to die, croaking for his master," Harry spat, hoping to hide behind his jokes. Come to think of it, Voldemort hadn't paid much attention to the creature, and therefore, Harry hadn't either, but Voldemort had felt a spike of anger at the elf when it called for its master. Didn't that thing realize there was only one master, Lord Voldemort? What did it think calling anyone else master?

Harry could hear the voice in his ears, and he couldn't push that memory down. It had been the last words of a dying creature, and it deserved to have that bit of honour, being remember by someone aside from its murderer. The last Voldemort had seen had been the elf crawling to the water, begging for its Master Regulus.

Regulus.

Regulus? Why did that name sound familiar? Harry had heard it somewhere.

And suddenly, Harry jumped to his feet in shock. Sirius had said it, almost eighteen months ago, in Grimmauld Place. Regulus Black, Sirius' brother, the one who had joined the Death Eaters! How many Reguluses could there be?

Alarmed, Dumbledore jumped to Harry's side and followed his gaze into nothingness. But the teen didn't notice it. His epiphany consumed him. Regulus Black had lent the elf, and that had to mean... Harry tried to match the faces, but to no avail. Voldemort hadn't seen Kreacher, he had seen an elf, a faceless nothing. But the voices... he tried with those. His voice might have become more scratched over the years, and he might have taken to mumbling to himself, but they were very close. Could it be? Could...?

"Kreacher!" Harry called out, without thinking. And only a moment later, just as the master came to his senses, the servant appeared with a crack.

"Worthless ma..." he began, but stopped mid-word. He didn't bow; he simply locked up, blanching on the spot with eyes wide as saucers. Then, he swayed dangerously on the spot, and was halfway to the water to throw himself in, when Harry regained his voice.

"Stop!" he yelled, and although he would have loved to disobey, Kreacher, son of Slinky, grandson of Torben, was still a house-elf who took his responsibilities very seriously. No matter how much he despised the master he was forced to serve, no matter how much of a disgrace the master was, as a proud house-elf, Kreacher obeyed.

Harry's mind was working furiously. Every fibre of his being told him to send the elf away from the place, but he couldn't –not yet. Instead, he forced himself to be as cold and uncaring as he could. "Kreacher," he began. "Answer me honestly! Have you ever been here before?"

The elf shuddered. "Yes."

Harry licked his lips. "Have you ever been here with the one who calls himself Lord... who is also known as You-Know-Who?" he amended. They were still in a cave enchanted by the wizard himself, and it was completely possible some form of trap existed in case someone said the name.

"Yes, once Kreacher has been here with him," the elf croaked.

Harry felt a sudden stab of guilt at having called the poor, disgusting, wretched little creature to the cave he had suffered in so much. About to send him away, the words were jumbled on the way to his mouth. Instead, a morbid curiosity came over Harry. It was a strange sensation, as, in the back of his mind, an idea began to form, one too good to be true.

"Have you been here on another occasion?"

"M... Master... Master, he..." Kreacher, for once and to his greatest shame, found himself unable to follow the order completely.

Harry forced himself to be as cruel as he could, and found it surprisingly easy. He couldn't let the elf leave without the answers he needed. But while he was watching Kreacher struggling with himself, another theory formed in his mind. House-elves were bound by orders so if Kreacher neither lied nor told Harry, could that mean he was tied between loyalties? Perhaps he was struggling between two contradicting orders. It made sense, in the same way as everything about magic made sense, by being utterly stupid. So how would Harry learn what he needed to know?

What did he need to know, incidentally? Did it matter whether Kreacher had been back in the cave? In a way, yes, but it wasn't the most important issue. A thought came to him and Harry said, "Kreacher, during the summer eighteen months ago, when we were sorting through the possessions," he licked his lips, "there was a locket. In the Drawing Room to be precise." Dumbledore tensed at his side, but Harry focused on the elf. "We threw it away. Do you remember the locket I'm talking about?"

Kreacher shuddered more violently than ever, and he nearly tripped into the water. But he turned around with fearful eyes. "Yes," he whispered, transfixed.

Harry had to keep himself from yelling. "That locket, where did it come from? Answer me honestly!"

The elf swayed on the spot, and Harry hastened to ask, "Did it come from this cave?"

Dumbledore at his side held his breath.

Kreacher nodded with a quivering lip.

Harry felt as if a huge load had fallen off his shoulders, one he hadn't even realized had been building up ever since he had realized Slytherin's locket had been replaced. He knew he was nearly done with the elf. "And... do you know where it is now? I know you took a lot of stuff we wanted to throw out, but did you..."

"Yes," Kreacher croaked. "Yes, Kreacher took it. The thief Mundungus Fletcher came. He stole it. He took everything he could find."

Harry groaned. "Just great. He causes more trouble than he is worth."

"Still, it is not impossible to find a solution for this particular problem," Dumbledore commented. "It seems I will have to visit him tonight, but I assure you, I will get the Locket from him."

"If he hasn't sold it already," Harry pointed out.

"Doubtful," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. "I have kept him very busy lately. Either way, we will know. Once I have it, I will inform you."

Harry nodded, unsure of what to do about it. "All right. Kreacher, you will return to Hogwarts following the orders you received in summer from Harry Potter. You will tell no one about this cave or what we were just talking about until I allow it." Once the elf had disappeared, he added, "We had one already. And we tried to throw it out."

Dumbledore nodded. "I must confess I had become worried for a moment, but it seems Kreacher has unknowingly done us a great service."

"Yeah, that's why I want him to be there. You found the ring and witnessed its destruction. I recovered the Diary and witnessed its destruction. We got the Diadem and witnessed its destruction. It's only fair if Kreacher sees just what his Master found here. It's just our typical luck that one of your pawns would undo what Kreacher managed."

"I will talk to him. If he still has the Locket, he won't for long. Come now, Harry. I think it is time we leave. Our business here is concluded, I think, and I don't want to wait for any protections to activate."

Together they embarked on their journey back, both thinking about the lucky coincidences of the night. Very soon but still far too late for their liking had they reached the entrance of the cave. Their boat was still in place, waiting for them to journey back into the wild sea. It looked at if the waves had picked up force, or maybe it just appeared to Harry as if they had after the eerily calm lake. They stepped on the rock, Dumbledore vanishing the vessel with another wave of his wand, and reapplied their covers. Dumbledore's Disillusionment Charm was as perfect as one could hope, and Harry's cloak too presumably left little to see.

"Now then, Harry, if you would be so kind?" Dumbledore's voice said from somewhere to the left. The water had begun to collect on the Headmaster's form, and Harry made note of the particular downside of the spell. It was far easier now to see the outstretched arm.

They apparated once more, and Harry found himself in front of the gates of Hogwarts. It was strange how much he wanted to be back on that small rock in the raging sea. He felt oddly exposed, surrounded by the deafening quiet around him. The cave still on his mind, he was alert and half expected curses flying every moment.

"What a trip," he commented as they walked through the gates and Dumbledore locked behind them. The rustling leaves in the forbidden forest were sounding more and more like a whisper in the air. Harry knew it was just his nerves, but he wouldn't have been surprised if he had heard words among the sound. In fact, he thought he did voices. His eyes darted around, and even though he knew he was invisible and probably safer than anywhere else, his anxiety rose. That dratted cave had gotten to him, he knew it. Death everywhere he looked, and the dancing shadows over the lawn were surely attacking Death Eaters. And somehow, he had a bad feeling about the night.

"Indeed," the Headmaster agreed, "but luck has been on our side. Come now, Harry, it is drawing late. Let us return you to the safety of Gryffindor House."

They walked towards the strangely quiet castle, but before long, Dumbledore stopped dead in his tracks and thrust out an arm, holding Harry back. Despite his sharp eyes, it took a moment until Harry recognized what they had stumbled upon. On the lawn in the shadow of a bush a little to the side lay Tracey Davis and another Slytherin, both motionless.

"Don't look, Harry. Keep back," Dumbledore ordered in a sharp hiss, but Harry had no desire to go any closer. Instead, he watched in morbid curiosity, transfixed, as Dumbledore shimmered into view, wand held high and casting a harsh, cold light over the scene in front of them.


Horcruxes. Had to be dealt with. I chose the quick solution - since Harry remembers putting them in their hiding places, he'll know exactly what protections are in place. On the plus side, they dealt with relatively quick, and it meant another scene to show just why Harry isn't suddenly all-knowing and has to retrieve the memories. Convenient plot twist to slow him down? You bet it is.

.

A reader pointed out that the Locket had already been stolen by Mundungus Fletcher at this point in time. That's true, my bad. I fixed the oversight since it doesn't really matter all that much.

I edited Harry and Dumbledore's dialogue in the office to reflect Harry getting his reply from the goblins. I knew I had forgotten something.