Author's Notes:

Hi everyone! Sorry this update is so late and it's not nearly as long as it would normally be. My wedding is literally tomorrow and then we go on our honeymoon and I've been so busy. But! I didn't want to not give you guys an update. This means I need to apologize in advance to Midnitewanderer for what I'm about to do in this chapter. Please forgive me!

Beer of the week: Founder's Rubeus. This is a raspberry ale that is absolutely phenomenal! It literally tastes like Founders juiced raspberries and then fermented them and put it into a bottle. It's smooth and deep and rich with a subtle sweetness to it. Definitely check it out!

Reviews: Midnitewanderer: Sorry! I know you hate cliffhangers but it needed to move to another scene. I promise I pick it up this chapter! Fl4v1nh4: Glad you liked the chapter! Bankerrtx01: Oh I have so many plans for Miss Ginny Weasley. Smallwjl: I definitely drew inspiration for him from Bree's "A Second Chance". I definitely think that Lucy's parents would have been super pure blood and super overbearing for the family to be the way they are. I don't want my Abraxas to be too similar to ASC but I definitely got inspiration there. Potter671: You'll have to wait and see! I have fun plans for the Yule ball. Nightwing2013: I'm so glad you've loved my story thus far! I really enjoyed getting your continual reviews over the last few days. They've been entertaining and uplifting!

Thank you everyone for understanding my belated updating schedule. I promise to be back to normal soon!

Posting Schedule: Once a week.

Chapter Forty-Five: Yule Tide Casualties

Draco looked up at the blue walls that surrounded him in the small drawing room he had been confined to since the evening before. He sighed as he rubbed the bandages on his legs, they were tight and felt like they were cutting off his circulation. He wondered briefly how long it would be until they finally sent an elf with some food for him. He hadn't had any since dinner the night before and even then he hadn't actually eaten much. He wished that he'd eaten more.

As he sat and stared at the walls, Draco could recall vividly the events of the prior evening. His grandfather had been most unhappy with what he perceived as Draco's decisions and actions from the last few months of his life. And Abraxas had made his displeasure clear despite protests from his mother and, surprisingly, father. His father had objected to the severity of Abraxas' discipline, claiming that he should be the one who dispenses any punishment upon Draco. His mother had objected to any discipline. She argued that Draco being sorted into Ravenclaw was hardly his fault and he didn't deserve punishment for the decisions of a centuries old hat. His grandfather hadn't bought either argument. At least the punishment hadn't been quiet as severe as he had anticipated.

Draco recalled the pain he had felt when Abraxas had used the curse on him. The way it felt when his bones seemed to break and crack inside of him. It felt like his arms and legs were twisting in ways they weren't supposed to—it was pain beyond anything he had ever felt. the pain had seemed to go on for ages. He remembered wishing that it would stop. But, in reality, it had only been a few seconds, a minute at most. And when it was over he had fallen to the floor and landed on the shard remnants of a glass that he had errantly knocked over during the curse. The glass had torn open the flesh on his leg, causing him to bleed profusely on the carpet. He glanced over at the spot on the floor where his blood still shone crimson against the white carpet. He suddenly felt nauseous.

Once his leg had been cut open his mother had tended the wound herself. Father had refused to allow her to use magic, claiming that the resulting scar would be a living reminder of what happens when Draco fails to comply to uphold the Malfoy name. Then his mother had insisted that he be locked in this room to have some time to reflect on the previous months. Draco had been silently grateful for his mother's insight and forethought to demand this punishment as it allowed Draco to avoid his grandfather's wrath. But as his stomach growled Draco wasn't so sure that it was as good of an idea as he had originally thought it was.

As he sat he carefully thumbed the square outline of the mirror in his pocket. He had managed to keep it concealed from his family because they were unaware of what the mirror really was. He had contemplated calling Sirius or James but he knew someone would come into the room any minute he couldn't dare risk anyone at his house discovering the secret of the mirror.

Now he was tired. So very tired.

Draco woke sometime later, his stomach aching from hunger and his eyes bleary as he blinked in the dim evening light. For a moment he wasn't sure what had woken him. All seemed quiet and still in the dying light but he knew something must have stirred him. Then he heard the noise again and turned his head. There were keys rattling on the other side of the door. Then he heard the lock turn.

~ID~

Harry, Ginny, and Ron found themselves sitting in the living room watching some muggle films the day before Christmas. The weather had been especially poor that day as sleet and wet snow poured down over Potter Manor. They had lit a fire in the hearth across from them to keep the room warmer while they sat on the couch under a massive pile of blankets.

Ginny had long since fallen asleep and slid sideways, her head laying on Harry's thigh as she breathed deeply, snuggled under a fluffy blanket. Harry glanced down at her and smiled as he noticed some of her hair had fallen in her face. Seeing her sleeping like this reminded him of when he met her and how young she had been then. Sleep seemed to make her look younger.

"So, muggles just watch these things all the time?" Ron asked as he looked at the TV.

"Yeah," Harry replied as he carefully swept the few tendrils of hair out of Ginny's face. Her nose scrunched as the hair tickled her and then she relaxed again, "Muggles watch movies all the time. They also watch cable television which is, like, shorter pieces of longer movies. Sometimes they go to movie theaters where they watch new movies on this huge screen in the dark with these special chairs and popcorn and soda."

"Really? They're so cool. How many movies are there? There can't be that many, right?"

Harry laughed, "Hundreds. Thousands, I expect. Why?"

Ron shrugged, "Dunno. Why hasn't Hermione mentioned these?"

"Why would she? I expect she's used to them like I am. There's lots of muggle things we don't tell you about because we don't think about it. Like, I don't know, Walkmans."

"What's a Walkman?"

"It's like a small, portable radio that also plays music that you put into it."

Ron frowned, visibly confused.

"Don't worry about it. Hey, how long do you think she's going to sleep like this?"

Ron glanced down at Ginny and shrugged, "I don't know. Gin-Gin has this weird ability to sleep soundly everywhere. Could be a few minutes or a few hours."

"Should—should I just stay here?"

"Up to you, mate. Careful, she'll start drooling soon."

Harry frowned and glanced down at Ginny's sleeping form, "Very funny," he mumbled.

"Butterfly…chicken fingers…puppies, please," Ginny mumbled in her sleep.

Harry jumped at the noise, and, thinking Ginny had woken up, moved slightly so she could sit up. Ginny's head fell the few inches to the couch, causing her to abruptly wake up.

"Huh? What? What's going on?" Ginny asked, her voice slurring with sleep.

"You fell asleep Gin-Gin."

"No I didn't," Ginny argued.

"You definitely did," Harry countered, "And I should know as it was my leg you were laying on."

Now fully awake, Ginny blushed in realization of what happened. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red as she averted her eyes.

Harry looked away and ran his fingers through his hair, "Hey, why don't we go see if we can nick some food from Cirri? I bet she'd let us have some treacle tart while dinner is finishing up."

"That sounds like a plan to me! I'm starving!" Ron said as he jumped up from the couch and made his way out of the room.

Harry and Ginny quickly jumped up and followed behind him.

"No, no that's fine. Yes, I won't mention it to the kids."

As the trio approached the kitchen they could hear someone talking.

"Who's that?" Ginny asked.

"Sounds like Uncle Moony," Harry replied.

"Yes, we're looking forward to it. Ok, see you then," Remus said.

The three of them entered the kitchen and found Remus talking to someone on the phone. Harry made his way to the kitchen island and took a seat as he nicked a square of treacle tart from the plate as he sat and turned to look at Remus. He noticed that Remus paled when he caught sight of Harry and turned his back to Harry and spoke more softly.

"Yes. Yes that sounds fine. I have to go now. Yes. Goodbye," Remus quickly hung up the phone and turned toward the children and smiled, "Hi kids. What have you been up to?"

Ron shrugged and grabbed an apple, "Harry showed us some muggle movies. Have you ever watched any of those? They're pretty weird, aren't they?"

"Well I liked them," Ginny said.

"What do you plan to do the rest of the evening?"

Harry shrugged, "Not sure. Maybe we'll play some muggle board games or go swimming again. We were hoping dinner would be ready soon?"

"It should be. I think Cirri was making a roast. Whatever it is it smells delicious."

"Who were you just talking to, Uncle Moony?"

"Ah, I was just talking to an acquaintance about a new rune text that was found out in the Ukraine. I'm having a copy sent to me by owl this week so I can review it."

"But you said you would see the person," Ginny commented.

Remus frowned, "Yes, I did. They're going to be visiting week after next. Why don't you three go find something constructive to do while wait for dinner to finish up."

The three of them nodded as they watched Remus leave the kitchen. They all looked at each other, confused.

"I wonder what he's up to," Ron commented.

Ginny shrugged, "Dunno. But I bet we find out soon."

"Hey, should we go do some of that research in the library? See if we can turn anything up on Flamel?" Harry asked Ron quietly.

"What's Flamel?"

"Butt out," Ron snapped at Ginny.

Harry lightly punched Ron on the shoulder and scowled before turning to Ginny, "We don't know who he is. Apparently he has something to do with whatever that Cerberus is guarding at Hogwarts."

Harry quickly filled Ginny in on what's happened since he last wrote to her about the mystery of the Cerberus. Elaborating in detail on his brush with death during his quidditch match and his subsequent conversation with Hagrid.

"He tried to kill you? Over, what, a petty childhood rivalry?" Ginny nearly yelled, her eyes mimicking the fire that was her hair. Harry could have sworn he felt the heat of a fire radiating around her.

"Yeah, so we've been researching him of late. We haven't found anything detailing what he's done. We've looked into everything regarding modern magical accomplishments and—nothing."

"Why are you limiting yourself to modern magical accomplishments? Who's to say that he didn't create or invent something or write some book back in the, I don't know, 12th century, and Dumbledore found it and is keeping it safe?"

Harry frowned, they hadn't thought of that idea, "Well, the way Hagrid said it made it sound like Dumbledore knows Flamel personally. Wouldn't he have to be more recent?"

"Maybe this Flamel is a descendant of the Flamel who's whatever-it-is is being housed at Hogwarts? I mean, the pureblood families have had their names for centuries, haven't we?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a shocked look with one another. It hadn't occurred to any of them that that was a possibility. Was it possible that the object, whatever it may be, was created by an ancestor of the current Flamel? Surely that makes sense, is at least possible, right?

~ID~

It only took Ron, Ginny, and Harry an hour to find a book in the Potter library about Nicolas Flamel. They discovered that he was a living, 600-something year old alchemist. They also discovered that he was the only known inventor of the Philosopher's Stone.

In their research the trio discovered that the Philosopher's Stone is the only known object capable of creating the elixir of life and transmutation. Apparently the stone could be used to transmutate any metal into solid gold. It's transmuting abilities alone made this stone invaluable but the addition of the elixir of life—none of them could verbalize how priceless, and dangerous, this stone was. Harry especially immediately understood the implications of the stone.

This discovery was wholly exciting to the trio and they contemplated how they would be able to communicate this discovery with Hermione and Draco. Harry had already attempted to use his mirror to contact Draco and was concerned by the fact that Draco didn't answer his call. James had been slightly concerned by that news but not overly so. He had expected that Draco wouldn't be able to contact them as much or as often as they had grown accustomed to while he was secluded at Malfoy Manor. James expected they would hear from Draco just as soon as the boy was able to get away for a few minutes. Until then they would have to assume that he was otherwise alright and safe.

It was later that evening, after the children went to bed, that James, Sirius, and Remus met together in the living room.

"Ok, so, I met with Dumbledore the other night," James began as he took a swig of his beer.

Remus practically choked on his beer in shock as Sirius replied, "What happened? You didn't tell us that you had planned another meeting."

"Well, it wasn't really planned. It was last minute. I got his owl and left right away. Everything has been so busy the last few days that I haven't had a chance to talk to you two yet. We watched another memory and it was certainly weird. I'm just—I'm starting to really question what the purpose of these memories are. How are these disconnected memories going to help us find the horcrux?"

"I understand what you're saying about wondering how these memories will help. It's certainly interesting and enlightening to learn about the young Voldemort, but I'm also not sure how they help with discovery of the location of the horcrux. Let's go over the information we have so far. What was this most recent memory about?" Remus replied thoughtfully.

"There were Dumbledore's memories about telling Moldy about him being a wizard and then Moldy trying to get the DADA post at Hogwarts," Sirius offered.

"Moldy?" Remus asked, confused and slightly amused.

"Yeah. Moldy. Like Moldyshorts. Sounds like Voldemort but funnier and more accurate."

"Moldysho—you, you're mocking the darkest and most dangerous wizard in history?" Remus spluttered.

Sirius shrugged, "He's not dangerous now, is he? So, yes, I mock the Dark Lord."

"Moldyshorts aside—" James started, "Yes, those are two of the memories. There was also the memory about Moldy's mother, Merope. And the one about the lady with the two founders objects."

"Yes. I'm not sure why those were important. As potential horcrux objects? We know from the young Moldy memory that he enjoyed collecting trophies. He would have seen the cup and the locket as trophies to be collected. Maybe he used one of them," Sirius added thoughtfully.

"That's exactly what I was suspecting," Remus said, "Perhaps he used Slytherin's Locket. It's a family heirloom and he probably felt that he was entitled to ownership of the object."

"He also took the Peverell family ring. Which irks me because my family should have received that object as we're the only other living Peverell descendants left," James added.

"You're related to the Peverells?" Sirius asked, surprised.

"Distantly. Ignotus, I think? I'm not sure. We still have his invisibility cloak in the family. The one we used when we were kids in school. Actually, I'm giving Harry the cloak this year for Christmas. He'll make use of it, I'm sure."

"Anyway," Remus interjected, "So we know of three potential objects that could have been used to make the horcrux. But do we have any ideas where Moldy—Voldemort—may have hidden it?"

"What about his old orphanage?" Sirius asked.

"Come off it—he hated that place and, on top of that, it was a muggle orphanage. Do you think he would carelessly hide a bit of his soul in a place he detested so much where a muggle might accidentally tamper with it?" James asked.

"No, I suppose not. Well, what about Hogwarts, then? It sounds like that was really the only place he ever enjoyed being at. Or Borgin and Burkes?"

"I can't see Borgin and Burkes," Remus commented, "Hogwarts is an interesting notion though. But when would he have been able to put the horcrux there? It's too well guarded."

"Maybe before or after his meeting with Dumbledore?" James suggested.

"Has anyone been back to the Riddle house? I wonder if he went back and put one there as, like, a final fuck you," Sirius pondered.

"Now that's a thought," James said, "I don't know if Dumbledore went and checked there. I can ask him and, if he hasn't, maybe we can take a trip over to Little Hangleton after the new year. If it's there, it isn't going anywhere anytime soon."

"That sounds like a plan. How, exactly, do we destroy a horcrux?" Remus asked.

James opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again, frowning, "I'm not sure. We didn't have any books on horcruxes here in the library. And there aren't any in the school library. I wouldn't even know where to find any information about horcruxes outside of the documents we found."

Sirius paled as he sat quiet and still, dreading wha the would have to say next, "The Black Library at Grimmauld Place would probably have books about horcruxes," he whispered, barely audible to the two men sitting around him.

James and Remus' heads both snapped up to look at Sirius, their expressions a mixture of confusion and shock.

"You knew that? Why didn't you tell us when we were researching them?" Remus asked quietly.

Sirius shrugged, "I didn't own the house yet and thought I never would. And Walburga wouldn't have ever let me into the house to get some books. It didn't seem worth the time when we would have left emptyhanded anyway. But now I do and, well, I can go in whenever I want, I suppose."

"Are you sure you're ready to go back?" James asked softly.

"I'll have to be, won't I? We need those books to keep Harry safe. We can go in the new year. Before looking in Little Hangleton."

James and Remus nodded their assent, both weary of what may happen if they allowed Sirius to return to Grimmauld Place right now, after everything that had happened. But they both knew they needed to go, they needed the information.

There was a sudden, sharp rap at the front door to the Manor, echoed through the Manor through an extension charm, causing all three men to jump in alarm.

"Who could that be?" Remus asked.

"I don't know," James replied, worried, "Whoever they are, they didn't trigger any of my alarms. There're very few people who are allowed on the property without doing so. The majority of them are already here."

"Who else is on the list?" Sirius asked, slowly, already knowing the answer.

The realization hit all three of them in the same moment as they jumped to their feet and raced to the entryway, all of them fearful as to the state they would find him in. Sirius dreading the worst, imagining dark red blood dripping off of the golden hair and down his pale skin.

Sirius reached the door first. He had always been the fastest of the three when in their human forms and he knew the house nearly as well as James did. He had known exactly where he could jump the railing from the stairs to make his descent quicker. He flung the door open, the dark sky a raging and terrifying backdrop to the boy swaying before him. He watched in fear as Draco stumbled over the threshold and fell into Remus' outstretched arms, his face grey and tired.

Sirius watched in horror as James and Remus carried Draco to the closest couch so they could examine him. Sirius was doing everything in his power to keep the memories and thoughts at bay as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. It took everything Sirius had to walk the few steps to where Draco was lying and fall to his knees, he took Draco's limp hand in his, and held tight, as if Sirius were Draco's only tether to the living world.