A/N: I know, I know, I know . . .
"Harry Potter have you lost your Merlin-be-damned mind?!" Tonks yelled from the bedroom doorway Harry had just walked through.
He turned to her, an innocent and inquisitive look on his face. "What? What did I do?"
"You've kidnapped a man!" she responded hotly, pointing at the still tightly bound and gagged Mundungus Fletcher that was laying on the same bed Kreacher had deposited him on earlier that day.
"I most certainly did not," Harry replied with his hands on his hips as if affronted.
"Then how do you explain that?" Tonks said, still pointing at Dung.
"Citizen's arrest," the teen answered.
Tonks opened her mouth to retort, then clapped it shut with an audible click as her teeth came together. She blinked a few times, then turned back toward him, and was just about to respond when Harry continued.
"Besides, technically it was Kreacher who kidnapped him," Harry said with a smile.
"Ugh," the Auror groaned, before turning and walking back into the hallway.
"Uhh . . . Tonks?" Harry began hesitantly, moving to follow her. "Aren't you going to . . . you know . . . take him in or something?"
"He's not going anywhere," she answered. "And Dung's been picked up by the DMLE so many times I'm sure he's used to it by now. Besides, I'm on my lunch break, so for the next –" she looked at her watch, "47 minutes I'm not an on-duty Auror."
"Oh, good," Harry said as they descended the stairs down to the kitchen, "because there's something I wanted to talk to you about and discussing it with an Auror might not be the best idea." Tonks stopped 3 steps from the bottom and turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Lunch first. I thought you were hungry," Harry said as he continued past her. Low growling was the only response he got to his last jibe. "It'll be fine. I seem to remember passing a takeout place not far. We can order from . . ."
Tonks didn't notice that Harry had stopped mid-sentence as she walked into the kitchen. She did however notice that he'd stopped dead in his tracks when she ran right into the back of him, as he was taking up the doorway. After steadying herself and looking around him, she couldn't blame him for being a bit stunned. The previously dirty and disheveled room was now spotless, and on the kitchen table there was platter after platter of food, ranging from simple sandwiches to what appeared to be a steaming Beef Wellington. Against the wall nearby leaned Remus, silently chuckling at their expressions, while at the far end of the table Kreacher was floating what appeared to be a tureen of some kind of soup onto one of the few open spots on the tabletop.
"Errr . . . Kreacher?" Harry began, "not that I'm not thankful, and not that this doesn't all look amazing, but what brought this on?" Putting aside Harry still being pissed that Kreacher had basically sold Sirius out to Bellatrix and Narcissa, until bringing in Dung the elf hadn't been the least bit helpful in the two years he'd known him, so this seemed exceedingly out of character. In Harry's experience, that usually equated to trouble.
"Half-blood Master will retrieve Master Regulus's locket and help Kreacher fulfill Master Regulus's last command. Half-blood Master is unafraid to do what is needed to avenge wrongs against the House of Black and reclaim what is rightfully ours. Half-blood Master will take our vengeance against he who killed Master Regulus. Half-blood Master killed Miss Bella, but she dared to attack the head of her true family and was punished for doing so. Half-blood Master has the heart of a true Black. Kreacher will serve."
"Well . . . thanks . . . I think," Harry stuttered, not really sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Tonks, meanwhile, had already taken a seat, served herself a slice of the Wellington, and was chewing with her eyes closed and an almost indecent expression on her face. "Merlin, this is amazing. Harry, you're forgiven for kidnapping Dung."
"Brilliant," he responded as he took a seat across from her, pulling a dish of roast toward himself. "With that out of the way and settled, how do you feel about aiding and abetting in the assault and robbery of a senior Ministry official, probably within the heart of the Ministry building itself?"
Remus's hand repeatedly slapping her back was the only thing that kept Tonks from choking on the piece of Wellington that had gone down the wrong pipe in her shock at Harry's statement. For his part, after making sure she was in fact okay the teen attacked the meal in front of him with gusto. After several minutes of coughing and a long drink of water, the Metamorphmagus turned her attention back to the black-haired wizard.
"Harry, I know you said a lot of questionable things about Draco last night, and I'm giving you some slack about Dung, but what you just asked is really serious," she began in earnest. "I can't just turn a blind eye to your threat to attack a Ministry worker. Hell, if the person is high enough up the food chain it could be even worse for you, with some serious time in Azkaban. I know you're getting buddy-buddy with Scrimgeour and Robards, but they won't be able to protect you if you go through with something like that. What on Earth would make you ask me of all people that question?" she asked, her voice rising. "Of all of the irresponsible, reckless, crazy things that I've heard about you over the years this has to be the most –"
"It's Umbridge," Harry stated simply.
For the second time that day Tonks's jaw clapped shut at something Harry said. "Can we do it today?" she asked after a few seconds, an eager gleam in her eye. Harry could only laugh as he moved another forkful of the wonderful meal Kreacher had prepared into his mouth.
{-}
Tonks let Dung go after a promise that he'd keep his mouth shut about what happened, a promise Dung was more than eager to give after Harry's added incentives; that he could keep the profits from everything he'd taken from Grimmauld Place and that Kreacher wouldn't be nearly so forgiving if he had to track Dung down again. After the wretch's departure Kreacher was able to quickly tailor a set of Sirius's robes to fit Harry before he and Remus Apparated to the Granger house, Tonks having to return to work. After picking up Hermione the trio made their way to Diagon Alley, where Hermione ensconced herself in the backroom of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and began eagerly absorbing the research notes the Twins and their ladies had collected to date regarding their Portkey project. Nearly oblivious to the outside world, she gave Harry a distracted kiss before he headed off to the white marble edifice that housed Gringotts bank, Remus coming along so that he wouldn't be out in the Alley by himself. Harry knew that, if Hermione hadn't been so engrossed by what she was looking at that she would have been much more reticent to let him go. As it was, he expected a proper bollocking upon his return when she came up for air and realized where he'd gone, and that he'd leveraged her particular flavor of Kryptonite in order to do so without her.
As Harry and Remus waited for a teller, the teen recalled what had made him contact the goblins in the first place; one of Caleb's lessons.
"The Kriegsmager are warriors, battle mages who spend a lifetime honing their deadly art. Victory against your opponent is not only achieved on the battlefield, however" the war mage had relayed. "You must not only destroy his armies; you must destroy his ability and his will to fight. Strangle his supply lines. Drain his coffers. Remove his political power. Ruin reputations. Ruin plans. Ruin businesses. Ruin marriages. Ruin families. Do whatever is within your power to distract. Demoralize. Defund. And, eventually, defeat.
"To that end, there is no race in all the magical world that is better at destroying their enemies, in all senses of the word, than the goblins. Though for the last two centuries they've been known to wizardkind in Britain as bankers, the Kriegsmagier know better. Members of my order have fought both with and against goblins at various times through history, and it is only the stifling mandates placed upon them with the founding of the Wizengamot at the beginning of the 16th century that has relegated them to their current status in Brittania. To most of the rest of the world, however, they are known as masters at exploiting their opponents' pain points, weakening them before they ever step onto the field to strike the killing blow. I myself have gone to war both alongside and against the goblins, and I know which one I vastly prefer." Those words of praise, spoken by a man many wizards and witches apparently considered the best battle wand that has ever lived, were what prompted Harry's letter. But he and Hermione both suspected that the subject he was going to bring up might not be something the goblins would want to talk about, hence his comment earlier that day about getting beaten up.
Harry had asked Remus to wait in the lobby as the teenager was shown into the office of one of the floor managers a short time later, a possibly angry/possibly ambivalent goblin (it was hard to tell with them) seated across a very nice oak desk from them. "What do you want, wizard? Your letter said you needed to talk, so . . . talk," the goblin opened without preamble.
"Manager Krek, I'd like to discuss the war with the man who calls himself Lord Voldemort."
"A war the goblins have no part in," the manager responded quickly. "A war the goblins want no part in."
"You would allow the current government of magical Britain to fall?"
The goblin sneered. "What has your government ever done for us?" Krek shook his head. "No, the stance of Gringotts is that if wizards wish to kill each other with reckless abandon then we should let them. Whichever side wins will still need gold. I ask again, what do you want?"
Harry nodded, not really surprised at the response; if Binns had taught him anything it was that the animosity between wizards and goblins was strong and long-lived. He needed all the help he could get, though, and so decided to take the risk. "I've come to inquire about the Kaluresh."
The goblin's eyes got as big as saucers and a feral snarling visage overcame his face. "How do you know that name, wizard?" Krek growled.
"A very specialized history lesson."
Krek stood and started stalking around the desk; Harry involuntarily gulped as he saw that a short sword had appeared in his hand from somewhere. "Unless the history lessons have changed at Hogwarts in the last hundred years the only thing you'd have learned about my people is the ridiculous names your kind have given to some of our greatest heroes." The sword point raised ominously. "Tell the truth, wizard."
'Goblin steel through the gut' was supposed to be an exaggeration; Harry didn't think a banker would actually have a bloody freaking sword behind his desk. "That is the truth," Harry answered quickly, the realization that he'd be dead before he could stand or draw his wand keeping him in his chair. "We discovered the lost diaries of Lord Marshal Caleb Longbottom, which contained some lessons as well." That's close enough to the truth Harry thought. "One such lesson spoke of the Kaluresh and their place in war. We, wizardkind, are at war. I am at war. My friends, my family, everyone I care about is at war. And if we fail, Voldemort won't stop with Britain; his ego won't let him stay content with just the island for long. From Caleb's lessons, that sounds like something the Kaluresh would very much get involved in."
Harry sighed, partially in defeat and partially in disgruntlement. "There have been hints and rumors that there is a prophecy concerning myself and Voldemort. Well, I can tell you that is 100% true; I'm the only one that can beat him. I can't run. I won't run. I will kill him or die trying. I'd much rather it be the former, but for that to come to pass I need every weapon I can get my hands on, and so I came to Gringotts to inquire about the Kaluresh."
Krek stopped his approach and observed the teen, though the sword was still held menacingly in his grip. "The Kaluresh have not been called to service in Britain since Lord Marshal Longbottom's time," Krek finally said. "Indeed, no government in the world has summoned them since 1815."
"But they still exist, yes?"
The manager bore his gaze into Harry and took several deep breaths. "Yes, they still exist. Their services require the approval of the High King of the Goblin Nation."
"What can I do to help with that approval?" Harry asked, praying that he had something to offer to help make this work.
The manager returned to his seat and Harry felt his heart start beating again. "There is perhaps something," he began, and Harry already didn't like the look on the goblin's face. "It has reached our ears that the sword of Ragnuk the First has been found. The item you wizards call the Sword of Gryffindor," the manager continued at Harry's questioning head tilt.
"It has," Harry admitted. "Four years ago it came to me in the Chamber of Secrets when I fought Slytherin's Monster. It's currently at Hogwarts in the Headmaster's Office."
The goblin nodded. "Return it to us, and we may discuss the service of the Kaluresh."
Harry nodded in agreement. He had no use for a sword, and honestly it mattered little to him whose wall the artifact hung on. "I will speak to the Headmaster when I return to Hogwarts. It may be the term break before I am able to bring it here."
"That is acceptable, wizard," Manager Krek said. "In the meantime, I will bring your request to the king and see what he says." With that, the goblin pointed at the door. "We're done." Harry stood and tipped his head in a slight bow before heading as calmly as he could out of the office and, after grabbing Remus, out of the bank. It didn't matter how many times his life was in jeopardy, it wasn't something you got used to. He might have accomplished his goal, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to ask the Twins for a shot of whatever they had in the store when he got there to help settle his jangled nerves.
{-}
The rest of the weekend had been long but fulfilling for both teens. Friday afternoon at the Burrow had really helped to settle Harry; Molly simply hugging him as soon as he walked in the door went a long way toward soothing his still hurting soul. Arthur's fatherly embrace afterward just reinforced that the Weasleys were accepting of what Harry had had to do and thought no less of him for it. Ginny seemed friendly enough but distant; he figured walking through the door holding hands with Hermione might have had something to do with it, even though the redhead was still with Dean. Harry himself was surprised by his own reaction upon first seeing her; he still felt affection and even attraction toward her but the . . . hunger he'd felt inside for her previously was gone. He wasn't particularly distraught by that, not with Hermione's warm body snuggled up against him on the couch while the family shared afternoon tea.
That evening Harry braved having dinner with Hermione and her parents. Though they'd started off rocky, with that event and its repercussions behind them Harry discovered that he enjoyed their company, especially Catherine's. She was intelligent and engaging, and much more approachable than almost any other adult female he'd ever met. He'd helped her with dinner, and as father and daughter worked on dishes and cleanup they'd had a thoroughly enjoyable conversation that left the teen with a warm feeling inside. While he had started calling Molly 'Mum' he honestly had no idea how it felt having a mother figure. He appreciated how Molly was very expressive of her love for her children in any number of ways; physically, vocally, and in her actions; he felt a very strong emotional attachment to the matriarch of the Weasley clan. But at the same time he thought Cat's easygoing nature and sharp insights were also very appealing. He wondered if, had she lived, his own mother would have been some amalgam of both women.
Saturday morning and afternoon were again spent with the Grangers; Harry had never been to Cambridge before and so found some of the history of the City much more interesting than anything he'd learned in Binns's class. The evening was spent with Tonks and Remus, solidifying plans for them to get together over the Easter holidays and see what the teens had managed to learn from the War Room before that; it was always better to be able to practice what you learned. Plans were also discussed for how to get the Locket back from Umbridge, with that mission also set to take place during the break before Summer Term.
Very early Sunday found both teens sneaking back into Hogwarts using the Invisibility Cloak. They knew as soon as their presence was known they'd be either watched (by all the gawkers who'd read the Prophet over the last few days), summoned (by Dumbledore), or smothered (Luna being the most likely culprit for that one). Before any of that, however, Harry hoped to achieve one of his tasks, so leaving Hermione in the hallway to the Room of Requirement he made his way to a set of rooms he'd really hoped never to have to enter again. They were the rooms where Ron had died just over a week before. God, has it only been a week? he thought to himself as he moved toward his goal.
{-}
Horace Slughorn had his usual Sunday lie-in, tying his dressing gown tightly and heading into his opulent sitting room, where he intended to ask an elf to bring him his breakfast. His surprise was total when he stepped in to see Harry Potter seated in one of the chairs by the fire, another chair across from him and a table with light breakfast items between them. "Good morning, Professor. I hope you don't mind, but I let myself in." That was a half-truth; Dobby had popped into the room and unlocked the door for him, but Slughorn didn't need to know that. "I was hoping that we could re-open the conversation that we can't seem to finish." He indicated the other chair with his hand. "Please."
Slughorn warily approached the teen wizard. "Harry, my boy, this is highly unusual, and not a little disturbing that you've come into my private chambers without permission."
"I find it even more unusual and disturbing that I have to once again ask you for your true memory of what you told Tom Riddle about Horcruxes all those years ago," Harry retorted. "I find it unusual and disturbing that you would continue to help the man who murdered my parents take over this country."
Slughorn recoiled as if slapped, and luckily he was already in front of the other chair as his legs seemed to give out and he crashed down into it. "How can you say that, Harry? How can you even think that?"
"What else am I supposed to think, Professor? This is a war now, and I need every advantage I can get my hands on to fight it. In this case, the weapon I need is information, information only you have. You not giving it to me might as well be the same as you being a Death Eater." Harry sighed. "I'm sure you've read the paper the last few days. I'm sure you've seen the headlines." The Potions Professor could only nod dumbly. "Well, I'll give you another one, Professor. I am the Chosen One. I'm the one the Fates decided to kick in the stones by saying 'only this boy can beat one of the most evil men who's ever lived.' I'm not being given a choice; this is now kill or be killed. And as for everyone else, you're either with me," Harry stared at the man hard, "or you're against me. There is no middle ground anymore, sir. There's no room for indecision or hedging your bets."
The teen examined the man across from him, who was pale, sweating, and breathing heavily despite the moderate temperature in the room. Harry sighed. "I understand you're afraid, professor. We're all afraid. Hell, I'm bloody terrified. But isn't that why you came to Hogwarts, sir? You didn't want to join him, and so you came where you'd be safe. You chose your side then, even if you don't realize it. And he knows it. Whether you tell me what you know or not, Tom Riddle knows that you have information that could help defeat him. You can tell him you've kept your mouth shut until you're blue in the face, he's still going to kill you if he gets the chance. The only way you get to live to enjoy the rest of your retirement is if Tom Riddle is dead. So help me, professor. Help me win this war. Help me get justice for my mother and father, and everyone else who has had the strength to stand against the dark." Harry stopped there, afraid that if he pushed the corpulent old man any more that he might suffer a stroke.
There was a long silence between them, Harry watching the professor as his breathing slowed and his color returned. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his brow. "It's . . . more than fear the has kept me from telling, dear boy," Slughorn began. "Even then, Tom Riddle was a master manipulator, and because of that I revealed far too much about a subject no one has any right to know about. Only after, when I saw the look in his eyes, and then much later when I saw what he had become, did I understand the damage I wrought that day. Not just fear, Mr. Potter. Shame. Raw, unadulterated shame stayed my hand from telling what I know all these years. I was ashamed of my actions; now, I find myself even more ashamed by my inactions." Slughorn pointed his wand toward a desk on the other side of the room, and an ampoule flew into his hand. He then turned his wand to his forehead and closed his eyes, and as Harry watched a long silver memory strand curl itself around the shaft of wood. The older man then slid his wand tip to the container, filling it with the information Harry sought. A shaking hand then reached across the small table as the elder wizard leaned forward. "I am sorry, Harry," he said simply.
Harry took the vial and smiled at the professor. "I forgive you, Professor. And, for what it's worth, I believe my mother would forgive you as well." With that, the Boy-Who-Lived stood and walked toward the door. As he closed it behind him, he heard the sound of quiet weeping from the room he had just left.
{-}
Instead of heading straight for the Headmaster's Office, Harry headed back to the Room and Hermione. He saw the door to the War Room appear as he approached and, upon entering, saw Hermione at the conference table perusing one of the many books the room offered. But he also felt something; a sensation like when he'd entered Grimmauld Place Thursday evening.
There was the 'scent' of a Horcrux somewhere nearby.
Hermione looked up from her reading and saw Harry staring around the room seemingly in confusion. She immediately marked her page and closed the book before rising and walking over to him. Her arms wrapped around him from behind as her head rested on his left shoulder. "What's wrong, Harry?"
"I think . . . I think there's a Horcrux in the Room."
"Really?" she said, turning herself to survey the space. "Are you sure?"
"Not sure, no. And it's not in this incarnation of the Room. Whatever magic allows the room to form what it's asked for, there must be some bleed over amongst them. I highly doubt Voldemort found the War Room, but he may have found a room good enough to hide one of them in."
Hermione nodded in understanding. "So, how do we get to it?"
Harry shrugged. "Maybe we just ask?"
"Okay. But what kind of room would a psychotic, narcissistic megalomaniac hide a piece of his soul in such that no one could find it?"
Harry's eyes blinked a few times rapidly as he contemplated the question. "If it were me, I'd just ask for a room to hide it in. My asking for this room was proof enough that the castle can produce rooms with rather vague requests."
"Could it be that easy?"
"Only one way to find out," he said. He checked the Map to make sure no one was near the corridor before he took her hand and they exited the War Room. As soon as the door disappeared, Harry began pacing back and forth. I need a place to hide something. Something important. Something I don't want anyone to be able to find. On his third pass a plan wooden door appeared and he smiled triumphantly. Opening the door and stepping inside, his eyes widened in shock, as did Hermione's when she beheld the space that had been created. The room was gigantic and filled floor to ceiling with every manner of object and detritus imaginable.
Hermione whistled in amazement before turning to look at Harry. He had his eyes closed and was breathing in and out deeply. "Is it here, Harry?"
"I think so," he responded. She allowed him to lead her through the narrow corridors that existed between the mountains of lost, broken, and illegal items that made up the contents of the room. The pathways twisted and turned through the piles, and they hit a few dead ends before Harry stopped them. Before them was a bust of a supremely ugly wizard, and on his head was a tarnished headpiece. "That," he said, pointing at what the bust was wearing. "That's it."
"We need Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said immediately. "We have no idea how to destroy one of these things, and we're pretty sure he's already taken care of at least one. He'll know what to do." Harry nodded; he had hoped to keep their presence in the castle quiet a little longer, but Hermione was correct that they needed the Headmaster to deal with this particular problem. Afraid to touch the thing, and confident they would be able to find their way again after retrieving the elder wizard, the couple quickly left the room and made their way across the seventh floor of the castle to the gargoyle that protected the entrance to the Headmaster's Office. They discovered a flaw in their plan, though, as neither knew the password.
Suddenly Harry snapped his fingers. He'd already gotten past one locked door today, maybe the same 'key' would work here as well. "Dobby," he called, and with a loud pop the elf appeared next to them.
"Is there something you be needing, Harry Potter sir?" Dobby asked.
"There is, Dobby. Can you see if the Headmaster is awake and, if so, can you let him know that Hermione and I are down here and need to speak with him as soon as possible?"
"Of course Harry Potter sir," the diminutive creature said before again popping away. Only a few minutes later the gargoyle moved aside and the teens rode the rotating staircase up to the office. The door was already open, so they walked inside.
Behind the desk sat Dumbledore, already dressed for the day. A guarded smile appeared on his face. "Good morning Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. I was not aware you had made your way back to the castle yet today. I trust that your days away from Hogwarts have been beneficial?"
"They have, Headmaster, and we'll discuss that a bit later. However, at the moment a more pressing item has arisen." At Dumbledore's raised eyebrow, Hermione continued. "We've found a Horcrux in the castle."
The headmaster jumped up out of his chair at that news. "You have? Where?"
"If you'll follow us, sir, we'll show you," Harry answered, and with the older man's nod the three quickly made their way back to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls. Harry once again made the door appear, and explained to Dumbledore how they had been able to discover it while they navigated the twists and turns back to their target.
Upon reaching it, Dumbledore carefully approached it with wand drawn. A few deft movements and mumbled incantations and he turned back toward his two students. "It is indeed a Horcrux. But even more amazing than that, I believe this is the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. How Tom might have gotten his hands on it is a mystery, it's supposedly been lost for centuries." At Harry's look and raised eyebrows, Albus nodded. "Of course, a mystery indeed, but one that does not need solving today." The headmaster turned back toward the diadem and Transfigured the ugly wizard bust into a sturdy looking box that now surrounded the diadem. "We shall take this back to my office immediately and destroy it." Both agreed, and another quick jaunt across the castle found them with Dumbledore pulling the Sword of Gryffindor down from its place on the wall in his office. He explained himself as he proceeded. "Horcruxes are particularly difficult to destroy; as they contain a portion of a human soul, which is itself believed to be indestructible, the dark magic that creates them imbues some of that into the object itself. The only way to truly rid the object of that taint is to damage it beyond the ability of magic to repair. Therefore, only exceedingly powerful methods can be used, methods that have no or unique counters. Fiendfyre, for example, has no counterspell and is only extinguished when its fuel has run out. Likewise, Basilisk venom has only one antidote, and it is exceedingly rare."
"Phoenix tears," Harry said immediately.
"Correct. With the Horcrux in your scar having been destroyed," Dumbledore winced at that comment, remembering too late that this would be a temperamental subject between them, but he kept going. "With it destroyed, I'm not sure if you'll still be able to speak Parseltongue, as that may have been an ability granted to you by the Horcrux. Perhaps not, but that is yet another mystery for another day." Albus held up the sword. "The Sword of Gryffindor is goblin-made, meaning that the metal is enchanted to only take in that which makes it stronger. When you stabbed the basilisk with it, Harry, you imbued it with the power of the creature's venom. Hence, it is able to destroy Horcruxes." The explanation complete, Dumbledore levitated a small table to the middle of the room and then the box holding the diadem onto the table. A few waves of his wand Vanished the box, leaving just the decrepit looking piece of jewelry waiting for the killing blow to fall.
The headmaster paused for a second before turning and offering the sword to Harry. "This is your discovery and your fight now, Harry. I know we have much to discuss, but let us be rid of this evil first." Nodding to the elder wizard, Harry took the sword that he had not held in nearly four years and somehow felt like he was saying hello to an old friend again; the weapon certainly fit better in his hands now than it had when he was twelve. Turning back to his target, he drew the sword over his head, his right hand tight on the grip while his left encircled the ruby-encrusted pommel for additional power and control. He swore he saw the diadem tremble slightly as his swung powerfully and true, the deadly sharp blade of the ancient weapon connecting solidly with the large sapphire at the item's center. The gem shattered, and all three occupants of the room stepped back as a dark, thick substance oozed from the broken Horcrux. The diadem began to shake in earnest, and the wizards and witch heard a faint scream of pain as the object stilled, laying broken on the table.
Dumbledore approached it and ran his checks again. He turned back to the other two with a smile. "The Horcrux is destroyed. Well done, Harry."
"Thank you, sir," the teen responded, turning and putting the deadly weapon in his hands down onto the Headmaster's desk. He had said he would return it to the goblins in return for the assistance of the Kaluresh, but now that he knew it was their primary method of destroying Horcruxes that decision became much more difficult. If only they knew how many more Horcruxes there were . . .
Oh, wait . . .
"Sir, we have another piece of news to relay to you this morning," Harry said as he pulled the vial with Slughorn's memory from his pocket and held it up triumphantly.
"Harry, is that –"
"It is."
With the speed of a man half his age, Dumbledore moved to the cabinet that held the Pensieve, retrieving it from its space and placing it on the table next to the destroyed diadem. Harry and Hermione approached and, at Albus's nod, uncorked the ampoule and poured the memory into the device. Taking deep breaths, both teens dove into Horace Slughorn's unedited memory of the night he'd told Voldemort about Horcruxes. The Headmaster quickly followed, desperate to put this missing piece of the puzzle into its proper place. Desperate to be one step closer to defeating Voldemort.
A/N: As always, thanks for you follows, favorites, views, and reviews.