"What do you mean destroy them? They're artifacts! You just said they would help us." Hazel couldn't understand what was going on. Why was Helga ordering her to destroy such valuable pieces of history? Those objects could be wielded for good and she wanted them gone.

"They hold terrible dark magic within them. They have been tainted. Abused. These objects, once great sources of power, have now been twisted into something darker than you have ever known."

"What are you talking about?" Hazel didn't understand. What did this all mean?

"I'm sorry we don't have more time to talk about this. The founders agreed to guide you, but not to tell you what path to take." And just like that, she vanished. She had shut Hazel out.

What did she do now?

With this new information, who would she talk to? Who could she trust?

The next morning, she found herself stood at the bottom of Dumbledore's staircase. Hazel didn't know how she had found herself there, but she had to talk to someone and Dumbledore was one of the most honest and decent wizards that anyone had ever known. If she could trust anyone, it was Professor Dumbledore.

As the stairs rose with her, she thought about what she would say. How she would even start. Should she tell him about her... powers? Or should she just tell him about the dreams and the research? It was all a very difficult decision. But suddenly there she was, at the top of the steps. Her heart pounded.

"Enter." Dumbledore's voice boomed through the door. The wooden door swung open, revealing the most powerful wizard of all time. "Come in, my dear."

So she did. Slowly, she stumbled over to the desk chair and forced herself into it. "What is on your mind, Arianna Black?"

And suddenly she found herself spilling everything to him. About her ability, and her parents, and the founders. Dumbledore listened intently to everything she had to say, never interrupting or putting her off. And once she was done, he spoke.

"Why did you come to me?" He asked, with no prejudice or assumptions about her intentions.

"Because this is important." Hazel began to explain. "If the Founders want the items destroyed then there must be something more to it than just dark magic. Something more dangerous than before."

He nodded. "Yes, you could be right." As he rose from his chair, he walked over to a box and lifted it from the shelf. Removing the contents, he began to explain all that he knew.

"These items," he gestured to the ring and the diary on the desk, "Are filled with dark magic. Magic belonging to Tom Riddle."

"Voldemort." She breathed, too afraid to make a real sound.

"The same. You see, each item has been destroyed by difficult and dangerous means." He lifted his hand, which was gray and frail. "Means that no regular witch or wizard would have in their possession."

"So you think that the same power is in the artifacts of the Founders."

"I do." He agreed. "And the fact that they are so concerned makes this a priority. We need to find them before anyone else can. So that we may destroy them, and weaken the Dark Lords power."

Hazel couldn't believe she had gotten herself so caught up in this danger and darkness. But she was too far in this depths of the mess to get out now. So she had to continue on. "How would we even find them?"

"Places that were of importance to Voldemort tend to be his hiding spots. I must figure out where these places are and search them."

"I want to help." This was her quest. Her mission given to her by Helga herself. She couldn't just back out now.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked. "Because once you are in, there is no way out."

"I'm sure."

"Then let's begin."

They spent the next weeks researching and trawling through belongings to try and find these mysterious hiding places. Hazel was tasked with interviewing as many ghosts related to Voldemort that she could, and try and piece together something to help them.

"You have to tell me something."

"Why should I?" She was staring into the face of the man named Marvolo Gaunt. "That vermin is nothing to do with me. My idiot of a child bred with a muggle to create a filthy half-breed. He doesn't deserve that heirloom or his name."

At least she had finally found someone willing to talk, even if it was all insults and anger.

"Does that mean he has it?"

"I don't know. But if he does, he is a thief and a disgrace to our lineage."

"Oh shut it." Hazel sent the grumpy old, piece of rubbish back into the abyss. "No one will tell us anything."

"Don't fret, my dear. We will find it soon. I feel it."

She hoped that was so. She was so tired from the summoning and late nights that she couldn't keep going. Her motivation was fading.

"Now you best go and pack. You'll be headed back home soon."

Home.

The thought made her happy, thinking of the Weasley house. Imagining the twins when she walked through the door. Being able to stay in the only place in the world she truly felt at home.

"But we haven't finished."

"I think it's time we call it a night." He insisted. She could see the pain in his face.

"Professor, your hand is getting worse isn't it?" Hazel was concerned for him. She hated to see someone in such pain.

He grimaced. "I'll be fine, my dear. Don't worry about me. Now run along back to your dormitory."

Hazel sighed. "Fine." She looked at him with concern, but didn't say anything more except, "Goodnight Professor."

"Goodnight, Miss Black. And Merry Christmas."