A/n: I try not to raise any hopes but this came out of me...

Kurt checked his watch, he hated wasting his time like this but he had agreed to help Harry get back into Professor Slughorn's good graces and acquire the crucial memory- even if that did mean wasting time listening to advice on a test that he was more than ready for. He sat across the desk from the potions master as the man explained to him how isotopes work, how he needed to know the structural difference between graphite and diamonds in order to rearrange the molecules, and the basics of spellcasting.

Kurt had an incomparable understanding of diamonds, he had been wearing them since his mother's tragic death and, not to be crass, he wore them with an elegance that Christine Hummel could never manage. He was certain that he could turn anything into diamonds on demand but then, once more, Kurt wondered why poverty and hunger were still a thing in a world where wizards could enlarge food and make wealth from nothing?

Kurt couldn't bring himself to think of the countless children who went to bed hungry every day, he thought of people like the Weasleys, who lived a modest lifestyle and barely managed to make ends meet in order to send their children to school. Were they simply bad wizards? Should he be letting Harry spend as much time with them as he did? Would they be able to protect him adequately if the Dark Lord and his followers were to attack the burrow? Kurt didn't know who to ask, then it hit him.

"Professor Slughorn," Kurt stared the man down, "if it is possible to turn pencil lead into diamonds, then why does poverty exist in the wizarding world?" Kurt shook his head, "why aren't all wizards fabulously wealthy? With magic you can turn mundane, everyday elements into precious ones."

"Well," the man reclined in his seat and Kurt could imagine him disguised as an overstuffed arm chair. He patted down his lapels before he started speaking once more, "In the wizarding world, the gold that makes our coins is finite and marked. One could not simply create gold and pass it off as currency."

Kurt wanted to punch the man for his smugness, "yes, but it is possible to exchange muggle money into galleons and muggles go to war over these minerals that we can synthesise at the drop of a hat…" Kurt took a deep, steadying breath, "if we can turn silicates in sand into oil, isn't it our responsibility to bring peace to the middle-east by giving everyone who wants their oil some?"

"My boy," the man smiled a prison of tiny teeth, "the thing about muggles is that we have a long history with them, dating back to the witch trials."

"People of colour have a long history with white people but I might be one of the only people Tracey Davis calls friend," Kurt shrugged, "Padma Patil is dating my brother despite what our country did to her ancestral home and people."

Professor Slughorn shook his head and chuckled, "my boy, it simply isn't the same."

"You're right," Kurt nodded, "they invaded our countries, destroyed our way of life, stole a generation of our people and sold them into slavery, and killed many of us… wait, that was people of colour." He rolled his eyes, "has the wizarding world considered getting over it?"

"People lost their families!"

"They weren't the first or the last," Kurt uncrossed and recrossed his legs, "Grindelwald killed people in droves and people moved past that." He pursed his lips, "don't get me started on Anais Haddad-Schmidt."

The man leaned forward in his seat, his curiosity peaked, "Who?" There was a knock on the door, "Come in."

Harry entered, he stopped when he saw Kurt, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Not a problem," it took all of Kurt not punch Harry for his wooden performance, "we had moved past academics into the general ignorance."

Professor Slughorn had stiffened in his seat and his response was equally uncomfortable, "Harry, how can I help you?"

"I was hoping to have a moment with you," he looked to Kurt, "alone."

"That's my que," Kurt packed his notebook and got to his feet.

"Nonsense," the potions master exclaimed as Kurt moved to leave, "there is nothing Harry and I can't discuss in the presence of a peer, a Slytherin prefect none the less."

Harry shuffled uncomfortably, this performance was significantly more believable than his initial surprise, "I wanted to apologise for what I said after our first Slug Club supper, I wrote a letter but I wasn't sure if you got it-"

"Don't give it any further thought," the man waved off Harry's worry.

"I brought a peace offering," Harry produced a package of candied pineapple, "I remember how Kurt's offer of the same made you very happy at the beginning of the year."

"They are my favourite," the man chuckled nervously, "that is too kind but a gift wasn't necessary."

"Oh no," Harry shook his head, "it was, I was totally out of line."

The man nodded and had a piece of the overly sweet treat, offering some to Kurt, "that's water under the bridge."

"He does that," Kurt glared at his friend, "talks out of the side of his neck."

"That's me," Harry bowed his head in shame, "always putting my foot in mouth…"

"He always comes up with an excuse, so we have to forgive him."

"This one's good. It's just, after Voldemort-" Harry stopped suddenly, "I mean You-Know-Who, tried to kill me for the fifth time-"

"A fifth time?" the man moved to his liquor cabinet and produced an almost empty bottle of whiskey, pouring them each a double, "I know only of the Halloween night."

"Well," Harry made himself comfortable and began to recount the story of Quirreldemort, "The Dark Lord was on the back of our first year Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's head."

"You lie!"

"Truth," Kurt nodded, "he wanted the philosopher's stone; he tried to steal it from Gringotts but they'd moved it to Hogwarts earlier that day."

Harry blushed, probably thinking of how they had naively believed Professor Snape to be after the stone, "he went after the stone and the four of us followed him."

"Harry murdered Professor Quirrel," Kurt chimed in, "burned him with his hands in self-defence."

"I'm a murderer?" Harry's eyes grew wide.

"And nobody helped you," Kurt added with a nod of his head.

"Why do you always say that when Quirrel is mentioned?"

"Because I want no part of this narrative," Kurt shook his head, "I haven't killed anyone."

The elderly professor gaped at them, "Harry is a hero, taking on You-Know-Who all on his own."

"No," Harry shook his head, "I've only taken on You-Know-Who once and that was in fourth year. In second year, Kurt straight up murdered him."

"He, unlike Professor Quirrel, is still alive," Kurt smirked, "all I did was destroy a book."

"I don't follow," the man shook his head.

"He was using an old school diary to possess Ginny Weasley," Kurt explained.

"Kurt cast spells out of two wands at the same time," Harry gushed, "on a basilisk, even I know that they are almost impervious to magic and Kurt made it work."

"Harry slayed Slytherin's monster with the sword of Gryffindor," Kurt countered

Harry shook his head, "Kurt is being modest, he used three blood things-"

"Three samples of noble blood," Kurt rolled his eyes, "it's a blood spell I read in this Arabic book on obscure magic I bought in Japan."

"How does this spell work?"

"It separated Ginny's soul from You-Know-Who's and returned his fragment to the diary," the potions master paled and finished the remainder of his drink in a single swig, "it used the blood from Harry's injury, the basilisk's and my own to do so."

"Fascinating," the man charged his glass from a second bottle, "but that's three."

"The Triwizard Tournament's third task," Harry added, "when he came back."

"When he killed Cedric," Kurt looked down at his hands.

"The last time was at the Ministry," Harry extended a hand toward Kurt, he smacked it away, "when everyone found out he was back."

Kurt looked up suddenly when he heard the sound of breaking glass, Professor Slughorn was lying on the ground and frothing at the mouth. He and Harry looked at each other in confusion, "did you poison him?"

Kurt was aghast, "why would I poison the potions master?"

"Why do you do anything?"

"Do you want to get punched in the throat?" Kurt narrowed his gaze and the boy who lived shook his head, "because this is how you get punched in the throat." Kurt crouched beside the rotund man, "get a bezoar."

"Right," the boy nodded sarcastically, "let me find a goat."

"You are heading right for a smack bottom," Kurt countered, "in the professor's stores."

"Right," Harry nodded to himself, he searched the man's cabinets.

"By all means, move at a glacial pace," Kurt rolled his eyes, "it's not like someone is dying."

Harry put a bezoar in the man's mouth and forced him to swallow, Kurt moved to the man's stores and searched for a restorative draft. His efforts were rewarded when the man regained consciousness after being forced to swallow a dosage to counteract whatever effects the poison had on his body.

The aged man blinked rapidly as he looked up at the pair, "what have you done to me?"

"It wasn't us," Harry countered.

"It was probably the second bottle of whiskey," Kurt spoke as he helped the man to his feet, "you're the only one who drank from it, where as we both ate the candied pineapple and all of us drank from the first bottle."

The man nodded, eying the bottle that sat open on his desk, "I guess this is why they say it better to give than receive."

"What do you mean?" Kurt quirked a curious brow, "was this a gift?"

"One I was going to give," the man shook his head, "to Professor Dumbledore but I changed my mind when he got me a cheap quill set, I was not going to be the boob who spent a fortune on a nice gift for someone who couldn't care less- not Horace Eugene Flaccus Slughorn."

"Which means that this poison," Kurt sniffed the bottle, "wasn't intended for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Kurt shrugged, "the bottle was intended for the headmaster and, by extension, the poison in said bottle."

"I don't like what I'm being accused of," the man's jowls quivered and he crossed his arms indignantly.

Harry shook his head, "You wouldn't have drunk the poisoned whiskey if you had poisoned it yourself."

"You probably got the idea to gift Professor Dumbledore with this bottle from someone who also had the idea planted in their mind," Kurt added.

"Rosmerta," the man gaped, "she sold it to me, I thought she just wanted the business."

Kurt waved the man's shock off, "she'd probably been bewitched to do so."

"The Three Broomsticks Inn," Harry smiled, "that's where Katie Bell got the cursed necklace."

Kurt tilted his head expectantly, "Are you going anywhere with this?"

A brooding Harry shook his head, "no."

~0~

Harry tugged on Kurt's sleeve, "What?"

"I need your help," the boy who lived troubled, like he had screwed the pooch, "in Mertyl's bathroom, quickly."

Kurt rolled his eyes, following his friend. He found himself running through the corridors as the young man before him moved as quickly as his little legs would carry him, they came to the flooded bathroom and Kurt's breath caught as he feared that the Chamber of Secrets had somehow been reopened. His fears changed instantly as the water turned red, then he saw Draco laying in the water sobbing.

Mertyl was hovering over his body and whispering comforting words to him, her aura turned dark when she saw them, "What are you doing back here? And why have you brought him?"

Kurt fell to his knees, soaking his pants, "What have you done?"

"I didn't mean to," Harry tried to reassure him, "he didn't even fight back, he just took it."

Kurt produced both his wands, "Vulnera Sanentur." He repeated the incantation over and over as he thought of his second incantation; the blood flowed back into his cousin's body as he sobbed and the deep cuts to his thorax healed. Kurt smiled gently and whispered soothingly, "everything is going to be fine, you're going to be fine. Narcissa is safe, you don't have to worry about anything. I'll take care of everything, I'll take care of you."

"Kill me," Draco sobbed.

Kurt was shocked by the words, he shook his head, "I'll see you through to the otherside, I promise that you'll be okay."

"Please," the boy sobbed, "Kurt please."

"You're going to be okay," Kurt spoke softly as the sobbing boy pleaded with him, "everything is going to be okay."

"Will he be alright?" Harry asked him.

Fire burned inside Kurt, "What happened?"

"I confronted him about poisoning the bottle of whiskey-"

"Despite the fact that I have told you multiple times that Draco needs to be helped, not persecuted?" Kurt narrowed his gaze, "what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking-"

Kurt shook his head, "Do you know what could have done?"

"I don't know what to say," Harry shrugged, "maybe I'm becoming like him-" Kurt slapped him, "what the fuck?"

"You're not becoming an idiot," Kurt shook his head, "that must have been the first thing you got from him because you've been dumb as bricks for as long as I've known you." Kurt let out a tired sigh, "I shouldn't have struck you, I'm sorry."

Harry balled his hands into fists, "You may think I'm stupid but-"

"But what?" Kurt tilted his head, "What was so difficult about following a simple instruction? Stay away from Draco, he's innocent in all of this."

"I'm not stupid!" Harry snapped, "I was just so angry, Sirius died because of these people and he's become one of them."

"And so you decided to double your body count?" Kurt put his hands on his hips and stared the shorter boy down, "do you know what it would have meant for you if he had died? They could have pinned Cedric's death on you or even Barty Crouch Sr's death, they would have labelled you as a mad man and a homicidal maniac."

"Kurt-" Harry grew angrier, "I'm not the bad guy here." He took a step closer to Kurt, "I'm not the one who is trying to kill Professor Dumbledore."

"Not being the bad guy simply isn't enough," Kurt hugged himself, he turned to the damaged sink, "Reparo." Water stopped gushing from the damaged faucet as it pulled itself toward itself, "you have to ask yourself if you are the good guy, if you can assure yourself that you're doing the right thing for the right reasons and not because Draco has been your rival since first year, then you can call yourself the good guy."

"I'm not answerable to you," Harry scoffed, "I don't have to defend myself to you."

"You actually are," Kurt smirked, "I'm a prefect. Fifty points from Gryffindor, a month's detention, no more Hogsmead visits for the remainder of the year, a ban from the remainder of the quidditch season and a notation on your permanent record."

"You think I care about any of those things," Harry snapped.

Kurt shook his head sadly, "you should, a notation like this might mean that you can never become an Auror."

"What?"

"It calls into question your mental stability," he put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "I'm not punishing you with that last bit, I'm concerned for you."

"I wish you wouldn't be," Harry bowed his head.

Kurt helped Draco to his feet and slung his arm over his shoulders; waving the water out of their clothes and with is, Draco's tears. He helped his cousin out of the bathroom and down the corridor, they navigated the stairs and Kurt paid no mind to the stares they received as they made their way to the Slytherin dungeon. Kurt didn't look at or speak to anyone, he took Draco to sixth year boys' dorm and laid him to rest.

Kurt waved his hands over the fair-haired boy's head, "Bad dreams, bad dreams go away. Good dreams, good dreams here to stay."

"What are you doing?" Gregory stared down at him.

"Don't interrupt me, I have to do it three times in a row in order for it to work!" Kurt snapped, "Now I have to start over." He started waving his hands again, "Bad dreams, bad dreams go away. Good dreams, good dreams here to stay. Bad dreams, bad dreams go away. Good dreams, good dreams here to stay. Bad dreams, bad dreams go away. Good dreams, good dreams here to stay."

The tension left Draco's body and he started to breath peacefully and rhythmically. Kurt turned to look at Gregory and the boy took it as his que to speak, "Was that a spell?"

"Sort of," Kurt let out a tired sigh, "it's kitchen magic, we'll learn about it next year in magical theory."

"What is it?"

"Magic so mundane and simple that even muggles can do it," Kurt explained as he got to his feet, "like warding off evil spirits with certain symbols or actions."

"Is everything alright?" the boy stared at him deeply, "that's what I meant."

"Yes… No," Kurt turned to Gregory and melted into the taller boy's arms with a heavy sob, "he looked relieved, like he was happy to be dying."

"What?"

"He even asked me to kill him," Kurt's whole body shook.

"Draco would never," the boy countered.

"This isn't the same Draco we once knew," Kurt shook his head, "he's been beaten down by the pressure of all that has happened this year."

"I can't believe it," Gregory shook his head, "I won't believe it."

"What kind of world is this?" Kurt breathed heavily as tears streaked down his face, "how has the world hurt someone so young so much in one year? He wanted to die…" the boy rocked Kurt comfortingly for a moment but he remembered himself, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to send you mixed signals- that isn't fair."

"I can be your friend," Gregory assured him, "I'm not socially inept, I can separate my feelings for you from our friendship." He pulled Kurt back into his arms, "this is what friends do for each other."

Kurt sobbed harder, "I have to help him, I might not like him but not even Draco deserves to feel like this."

"There, there," Gregory patted his back gently, "we all want to help him but…" he hesitated for a moment, "What Draco has to do, I don't think he can be helped. I don't want to be part of it but he's my friend."

Kurt smiled gently, pulling himself toward himself, "Something has to be done."

"Don't-"

"I know friends are supposed to worry about each other but," Kurt shook his head and gestured toward Draco, "you have enough to worry about."

~0~

Harry:

The corridors were almost deserted as he left Kurt's Transfiguration classroom after his thirtieth afternoon of writing lines, at the end of every week he had to write an essay on why his actions were wrong. Kurt had taken the punishment very seriously, seeming to switch their friendship off during their detention sessions. He knew that Kurt had meant well, his punishments meant to teach Harry a lesson, and he couldn't stay mad at him.

"Kurt," he stopped the boy as he was walking out of the classroom, "today is my last detention."

"Yes," Kurt smiled weakly, "I "hope you learned your lesson."

"I did," he nodded rigorously, "dark magic is a lot like a loaded gun, in the hands of a trained and responsible person it can be a useful tool but it can be very dangerous in other hands- my hands."

"Where did you even learn that spell?" Kurt glared at him and it made him feel small, "it's not in any of the library books worth reading."

Harry looked around them, "the Half-blood Prince, it was in his potions book."

Kurt quirked a curious brow, "it was in a potions book?"

"The book has all these handwritten notes and spells scribbled in the margin," Harry explained.

"These notes are why you're suddenly good at potions?"

"Hermione thinks its cheating," he shrugged, "we had a whole conversation about this, where were you?"

"I'm assuming you had this conversation in the Gryffindor common room?" Harry nodded, "I'm not in Gryffindor, I was in my own house's common room."

Harry scratched the back of his neck to avoid facepalming, "I forget that you aren't in the same house as us, especially because you show up in my room all the time to scold me."

"Maybe you should be less scoldable," Kurt shrugged, "it's funny how you think I don't know about your attempt to sneak out to Hogsmead through the tunnels, I personally had them filled in."

"I-" Harry tried to defend himself but Kurt raised a silencing finger.

"You wanted to question Madame Rosmerta," Kurt was dead on the money and it made Harry feel predictable, "I know how that mind of yours works and I don't need little notes in the margin to do it either."

"That was unnecessarily mean," Harry sulked.

"Why?" Kurt tilted his head, "we know who bewitched her and why, did you not get enough out of nearly killing Draco."

"Draco needs to be stopped," Harry balled his hands into fists.

"Draco needs to be protected," Kurt put his hand on Harry's shoulder and looked deeply into his eyes, "from his task and from himself."

"I know," He nodded but he couldn't bring himself to believe it, he knew Draco believed the same thing as all the death eaters and he was faking this tortured victim thing to throw them off. Kurt was too close to see it, "think of the children."

"I wish you'd say that with more enthusiasm," Kurt gave him a small smile, "after all, you are the children."

"Think of the children!" Harry repeated with false mania.

"I'm not above slapping you again," Kurt shook his head at him.

"Or punching me in the throat," Harry rolled his eyes, "I live in constant fear."

Kurt chuckled, "what are you up to this evening?"

"I'm going to take my vial of liquid luck and try and get the truth out of Slughorn."

"Harry," Kurt took a step closer, his eyes growing bright, "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I-"

"I don't want to hear it," Harry shook his head, "trust me."

Kurt raised his hands in surrender, "be careful."

Harry walked away, before Kurt could try to talk him out of his idea. Harry ran up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, passed the Fat Lady without any thought and waiting for him in the common room were Hermione and Ron. Hermione handed him the vial of molten gold and started to recount Slughorn's schedule to him.

"Hermione," he stopped her, "we've planned this perfectly, don't stress too much."

Hermione gave him a look that reminded him of Kurt, "You aren't exactly known for sticking to plans."

"I followed Neville's plan for the second task perfectly," Harry countered.

"That was Luna," Ron and Hermione chorused.

"Right," he nodded to himself, "I forget that I only did the part of the Triwizard Tournament where I was almost burned to a crisp."

"we don't know how long the potion will last so-" Hermione gaped at him as he downed the chocolate flavoured potion, "you shouldn't take the potion till the last possible moment." She let out a heavy sigh and produced her hip flask, "use this when that brew's effects wear off, it's Tracey's one."

Harry shook his head, "I won't need it."

"Are you feeling any different?" Ron shrugged, "more chosen than normal."

"I want to go to Hagrid's, I miss him," harry smiled warmly, "he's barely been in our lives since we dropped Care for Magical Creatures."

Hermione shook her head, "this is why I don't go behind Kurt's back, you're having an adverse reaction. We were warned that this stuff was like drugs but I wen along with this stupid plan."

"I can hear you," Harry grinned at her, "I think Hagrid's hut is the place to be this evening, for me."

"Harry," Ron squared up with him, "what about Slughorn?"

"Don't over think this," He assured his best friend, "I know what I'm doing… or at least the potion does."

Ron turned to Hermione, "You or Kurt are taking the next dosage, Harry is clearly the one that flew over the cuckoo's nest."

"I have to go," Harry didn't wait for their responses, he just walked out of the common room and made his way down the stairs and through the various corridors and quads that led him to the castle exits near the greenhouses. Harry half hummed and half sang the song that was bouncing in his head, "Wise men say only fools rush in, But I can't help falling in love with you."

Harry waved his arms in the air and thought of Lisa, she was so pretty and she was always nice to him, "Something I don't know. Oh, if I can't help falling in love with you?" he wished he'd brought her but then something told him that it was best he was on his own, "Other lyrics I don't know, I can't help falling in love with you."

Harry watched the man hanging out of the greenhouse window by his legs for a moment, he approached his pray with absolute stealth, "What you doing?"

The potions master hit his head on the window's frame, "Harry, what are you doing outside at this hour?"

"I'm on my way to Hagrid's," Harry peered through the window, "what are you doing?"

"I…" the man shook his head, "You can't leave the caste at this hour."

"Why not?"

"It's not safe," the man proclaimed.

Harry rolled his eyes, "I'll be fine, I do this all the time." He started to walk off, "this is kind of how I maintain my friendship with Hagrid."

"Harry," the man followed him, calling out for him to stop and come back. Harry walked some ways from the entrance before acquiescing to the man's request, "I demand that you escort me back to the castle."

"That would be counterproductive to my mission to get to Hagrid's," Harry shook his head, "I can see him." He pointed to where the man stood near the whomping willow, "Forward we go."

Harry made quick work of descending the slope until he came to Hagrid, the large man was sobbing and staring down at an acromantula carcass. Harry recognised this particular acromantula as Arogog, he wasn't sure how he could distinguish him from any other acromantula when one considered that the only time he had met the spider it had been in the darkness of night. The smell of burning spiders tickled his nose and reminded Harry of how Kurt had saved their lives that night, Harry wondered where they would be without Kurt to look out for them- most recently, Azkaban.

"Hagrid," Professor Slughorn gaped at the groundskeeper, "however did you manage to slay this beast?"

"He didn't slay it," Harry shook his head, "Aragog was Hagrid's pet-"

"And friend," Hagrid wailed.

"And friend," Harry nodded, "he was the 'monster' that Hagrid was expelled for breeding, the alleged murderer of Myrtle." Harry turned to the potions master, "You should remember, you were around then."

"Yes," the man nodded, "I did read about your name being cleared when Minister Fudge was awarded the Order of Merlin, the beast was actually a basilisk."

"Which makes more sense, given that acromantulas don't petrify their victims and Myrtle didn't have any bite marks on her body," the pair and fang stared at him, "Kurt went on a tirade that includes a soliloquy on how the minister desecrated the Order of Merlin by taking credit for his work."

"Fair enough but he forgot to feed Fang," Hagrid shrugged and Fang barked.

Harry shook his head and addressed the dog, "Ron fed you." The dog barked once more, "well, in Kurt's defence, his pet feeds itself when he forgets to feed her. Once Bomballerina caught a first year."

"Professor Sprout was not impressed," Hagrid chuckled so hard he started to sob once more.

Harry laid a comforting hand on his elbow, "let's have a Viking funeral."

"Before you burn the body," Slughorn interjected, "might I milk a vial or too of venom?" the man looked into Hagrid and Harry's shocked faces, "it is a remarkable specimen for potioneering."

"And it fetches a pretty penny on the black market," the shocked faces turned to him, "Kurt's curriculum structure is more sound and consistent."

"That it is," Hagrid nodded, "help yourself to his venom, he won't be needing anymore."

Slughorn produced a vial and milked the spider's fang just as Goyle had described Kurt doing so, Harry made a mental note not to mention that Kurt had dismembered one of Aragog's children. The man produced a second vial and continued his task, accidentally snapping off one of the spider's mandibles and eliciting a gasp from Hagrid.

"Let's say a few words," Harry and Hagrid bowed, "Professor?"

The man sounded flustered but he started to eulogise a spider he never knew, "In his life, Aragog must have known many mates. His progeny will prosper and multiply in his death as they had in his life." He took a deep breath, "this majestic beast has left an impression on this world despite so few knowing him."

"It's like you know him," Hagrid sobbed.

"A quick song," Harry nodded to himself, "Although we've come to the end of the road, still I can't let go. It's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you." He sang the song on his own, "Although we've come to the end of the road, still I can't let go. It's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you."

"That was…" Hagrid wiped his tears away, "so bad, please never do it again." They all laughed and Hagrid blew his nose with duvet sized handkerchief, "thank you both anyway."

Harry pointed his wand at the acromantula, "Aro." Blue flames shot out of his wand and incinerated the dead spider before their very eyes in a matter of moments.

"I have rock cakes and a fresh brew of mead," Hagrid announced, seeming to have pulled himself together.

"I could go for a rock cake," Harry nodded to himself.

Professor Slughorn shook his head, "we should be headed back to the castle."

"Nonsense," he shook his head, "I'm enjoying being at someone who wasn't killed by Voldemort's funeral."

The potions master reluctantly followed them down the remainder of the slope to Hagrid's hut, Harry made himself comfortable on the oversize chair and waited while Hagrid served them. Professor Slughorn tried to play it cool for all of thirty seconds before succumbing to his base nature for self-indulgence, it didn't take long for the potent mead to work its magic and the pair were tipsy.

Harry leaned forward, "Professor Slughorn."

"Harry, my boy."

"I need to ask you for something," he spoke frankly.

The man shook his head, "I know what you want, I can't do it. I'm sorry but it would ruin me."

"I think you would suffer a harder hit to your image if people found out that you could have helped put an end to Voldemort's reign of terror but chose to remain silent to protect your reputation," Harry was channelling Kurt in that moment.

"Please don't use that name-"

"Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself," Harry countered, "Hermione taught me that."

The man shook his head, "do you know what you're asking me to do?"

"I'm asking you to honour my mother's sacrifice," Harry was playing the man like a fiddle, "I'm asking you to respect her refusal to let Voldemort kill me. I'm asking you to honour Cedric Diggory, who stood between me and the Dark Lord." Harry extended a hand toward the elderly man, "I'm asking you to put aside your instincts for self-preservation and try to act a little brave."

~0~

"Professor," Harry entered the headmaster's office, "I got it."

Kurt turned in his seat dramatically, "are you ready to hear what I have to say?"

"I have Slughorn's memory," Harry proclaimed excitedly.

"And I figured out what the conversation was about," Kurt smirked, "I was meaning to tell you but I got caught up in exam prep and being angry at you."

"How?"

"When I mentioned Tom Riddle's diary, Professor Slughorn paled when I mention part of Ginny Weasley's soul," Kurt smiled, "It triggered one of my memories, something I'd read about Harpo the Foul."

"The guy who used to own your wand?"

"The very same," Kurt pulled the boy who lived into the seat beside him, "in a biography of his that I read in Peru they mentioned a sort of black magic with which he experimented."

Harry winced, "Is it too dark to imagine or too boring to think of?"

"Too boring to think of," Kurt rolled his eyes, "it's a child's idea of dark magic, completely lacking in creativity."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I'll let you decide," Kurt shrugged, "it's called a horcrux."

"What does it do?" Harry leaned forward in his seat.

"One splits their soul and hides part of it in an object," Kurt explained, "so that if you're killed, part of you lives on. In theory- I guess in practice as well, seeing as Voldemort is still alive- the main soul piece cannot be killed."

"So," Harry slumped in his seat, "he can't be killed."

"Not unless his horcruxes are found and destroyed," Kurt smiled.

"You destroyed his diary, and Professor Dumbledore destroyed the ring," Harry perked up, "How many does he have?"

"Due to the Dark Lord's superstitious nature, he'd pick a powerful number," Kurt crossed his arms, "he would split his soul into three, five or seven pieces."

"So, either we've destroyed all of them," Harry spoke to himself, "or there are at least two more."

Kurt nodded, "basically."

"How do you do it?" Harry looked deeply into his eyes, "create a horcrux."

"There's a whole ceremony but the soul is split through murder," Kurt spoke coldly.

"What kind of objects are we talking about here?" Harry's mind was working behind his spectacles, "do you have to use a special object?"

"No," Kurt smiled, "a smart wizard would pick a random pebble and drop it the bottom of a lake."

"But Voldemort is stupid like me," Harry smirked, "that probably explains the trophies he took from his victims, like his uncle's ring."

Kurt's grin broadened, "you're thinking, that's a step in the right direction."

"So, we know of at least one more horcrux," the boy grinned, "Hufflepuff's cup."

Kurt nodded, "and so the chase goes."

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