21. The Crux of the Matter.

Harry and Ron were sitting in the library watching nervously as Hermione piled books in front of them, muttering under her breath how they were going to do their homework "properly" this time. They had protested at first – they had wanted to go and join the school-wide snowball fight that had just started, but Hermione had launched into an explanation so long that the fight had started without them, and they had somehow found themselves being bodily dragged to the library.

"If you don't do this," Hermione had said ominously, even as they moaned and complained loudly, "you're going to fail your exams."

"Yeah, which are months away," Ron had pointed out.

"And you've not done your homework for months," Hermione had countered disapprovingly. "I'm surprised you're not both constantly in detention."

Ron had shrugged. "Professor Binns doesn't notice."

Hermione had sighed.

Now, as they stared at all of the books in front of them with wide eyes and slightly scared expressions, Hermione plonked herself down in a chair opposite them, having apparently gathered everything they needed.

"Right," she said, picking a book off one of the piles and opening it to the first page. "Let's start with the basics. When was-"

She was interrupted by someone running up to their table, breathing heavily and hands flapping urgently. Harry looked at the woman in confusion, back to the books, then did a double take and gawped openly as he realised that it wasn't just any woman – it was Mrs Weasley.

"Mum?" Ron squawked in astonishment.

Madame Pince glared at them and started passive-aggressively turning the pages of the book she was currently reading.

"What are you doing here?" Ron finished.

Mrs Weasley continued to gasp for breath, looking very red in the face. "Come with me," she said finally, grabbing Ron and Harry by the hands and towing them out of the library.

"Where are we going?"

"Don't argue, Ron," Mrs Weasley said. "There's no time." She glanced at Harry nervously. "Now be quiet – I had to sneak past that awful Umbridge woman and the guards at the gate, so they can't see us leaving."

"How'd you manage that?" Ron asked, his voice once again descending into a surprised squawk.

"I was a student here too," Mrs Weasley said shortly. "Fred and George aren't the only ones who know secrets about the castle."

Before they had a chance to ponder that, Mrs Weasley had "shush"ed them and was dragging them through corridors that they had never even known existed, Hermione trotting behind, struggling to keep up with the fast pace.

Harry, despite the strange situation, found himself staring around the corridors in amazement, feeling like a first year again. As Mrs Weasley pushed open a secret chamber hidden behind a strange display of Cauldrons through the Ages, he couldn't help but wonder if Fred and George knew about these places and, if they did, why they had never told Ron.

Mrs Weasley, still clutching Ron and Harry's hands and looking furtively from left to right as though she was breaking into a bank, sprinted through the snow as fast as she could. Before Harry even had enough time to realise what was happening, they were outside of Hogwarts grounds, Mrs Weasley had pulled Hermione into their strange circle, and they had disapparated.

Harry felt his stomach churn at the sensation, his lungs being squeezed as though they had never once had air in them, and then they were on solid ground again, panting and choking for air. Harry's eyes watered.

"Harry, dear, are you alright?" Mrs Weasley asked.

Harry nodded. "What-"

"Fastest way to travel," she replied quickly, before hurrying over to Hermione. "Hermione?"

"I'm fine," Hermione wheezed, sounding as though she had just run a marathon. She was bent over, clutching a stitch in her side.

"Mum's gone mental," Ron muttered from Harry's left, as Mrs Weasley bustled them into Grimmauld Place.

Harry made a vague agreement sound as his heart leapt into his throat at this sudden reminder of Sirius. Flashbacks of his death played over and over in his mind and he felt himself drawn further and further into them, until he could see that last smile on his godfather's face right before he –

"Harry?" Hermione asked quietly, and Harry realised with a jolt that they were already in the kitchen. "Are you alright?"

Harry shuffled into the chair in front of him, avoiding eye contact with everyone at the table. "Yeah," he said shortly.

"Right," Mrs Weasley said, bustling in with fresh mugs of hot chocolate for them all, "listen carefully everyone, this is very important." She sat down and remained silent for a few minutes, trying to find her words.

"What is?" Harry finally asked. "What's going on? Why are we at Grimmauld Place?"

"All very fair questions," an unfamiliar voice said, sounding out of breath.

Harry turned and saw a man standing in the doorway. He looked ragged: his lank brown hair had grown wild and he had a sizeable beard; both looked very knotted and unkempt, like Sirius when he had just broken out of Azkaban. His clothes – a white shirt, red braces, red bow tie and black trousers, hung off him as though from a hanger. He was clutching the doorframe with white knuckles, and Harry noticed with some alarm that his legs were shaking with the effort of standing.

The man stared back at Harry, his sunken, sleep-deprived eyes boring right into his. He had a serious expression on his pale face. "Hello, Harry."

"For goodness' sake!" Mrs Weasley suddenly erupted, making everyone at the table jump. "How many times do I have to tell you, Doctor – get back in bed!"

"And just lie around while the world is ending around me?" The man asked. "Not really my style."

He shakily made his way into the room, walking as though he was not quite sure he remembered how, and collapsed into the spare chair next to Harry. He rolled his sleeves up clumsily, and Harry noticed that he was sweating. Mrs Weasley, meanwhile, had run round to the man's side and was trying to help him out of the chair.

"No," the man said impatiently, "there's no time."

Mrs Weasley reluctantly resumed her seat.

"Mum, what's going on?" Ron asked impatiently. "And who's he?"

"He's the Doctor," the man replied.

"Doctor who?" Harry asked.

The man simply nodded. "Yes."

Hermione made a disbelieving sound. "You're a Muggle-born, aren't you?"

"Er… yes, I suppose."

"And you also told them that you travel through time and space?" Hermione asked.

Harry and Ron both exchanged surprised and very confused looks, neither really knowing what to add to that.

"You've seen it?" The Doctor asked with a grin. "What did you think of the – no, wait." He shook himself like a dog and smacked his forehead. "Getting distracted again – mustn't do that. There really isn't time. You," he said, pointing at Hermione, "stop distracting me."

"But it's a Muggle television show," Hermione argued. "My parents watch it – the Doctor isn't real."

Harry edged his chair further away from the Doctor and closer to Ron.

"Yes he is," the Doctor countered, waving. "Hello. I got dragged here by You-Know-Who so that he could get the secret of regeneration and live forever. Fortunately for you lot, I was rescued. Unfortunately, You-Know-Who decided to try somebody else and there are certain things we need to take care of before he does. Namely," he added, speaking over Hermione who was urgently trying to get Mrs Weasley's attention, "what that," he said, poking Harry's forehead, "is doing there."

"What?" Harry asked, reflexively leaning away from the Doctor's finger and almost falling out his chair.

"He is real, dear," he could hear Mrs Weasley saying.

"But that's impossible!"

"Not impossible, Hermione," the Doctor countered, "just very, very unlikely."

"How do you know my name?"

"I just do," the Doctor replied, flapping his hand in an 'it's not important' gesture. "Now, back to the scar."

He turned to stare at Harry. Harry shifted uncomfortably, not knowing how to react.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I really am, but that's a Horcrux."

Harry blinked at him. "A what?"

"The night that James and Lily died," Mrs Weasley said gently, "you got that scar, and You-Know-Who disappeared. Professor Dumbledore thinks that a piece of his soul attached itself to you."

Hermione gasped, Ron gaped, and Harry felt his blood run cold. "What?" he asked, hoping he'd misheard.

"It's true," the Doctor said when Mrs Weasley hesitated. "And it's what's been causing your visions – you have a link straight into his head because, technically, his mind is in yours."

Harry started to feel sick. "How much…" he trailed off and looked at Mrs Weasley.

Mrs Weasley took his hand in hers, and never had Harry felt like he needed it more. He only wished he could have the comfort of his own mother, in this case.

"We don't know how much it's influenced you," the Doctor replied, having understood what Harry had meant even though he had never finished asking the question.

"Is that," Hermione asked hesitantly, "why Harry can talk to snakes?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, probably."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Harry asked, looking between his friends and Mrs Weasley. "None of you look surprised," he added, his voice rising in volume along with his anger. "Am I that much like him?"

"No!" Hermione immediately exclaimed, looking shocked. "Harry, you're nothing like him, not even close!"

"But you don't look surprised," he pressed. "You must have seen something!"

"Mate," Ron said, voice sounding shaky, still dealing with the news, "we had no idea."

"It just…" Hermione stopped, looking at Harry warily.

"What?" Harry asked angrily. "Just tell me."

"Well… It does sort of fit. I'm just saying it explains a lot!" Hermione continued before Harry could protest. "Your visions, your ability to talk to snakes, your wand… Harry, I'm sorry, but it fits. And…" she swallowed, "I think you're not surprised, either."

Harry let her off at that, knowing deep down that she was right, and turned instead to Mrs Weasley, anger still bubbling in his chest. "How long has Dumbledore known?"

"I don't know."

Harry shook his head. "He's been avoiding me," he said bitterly. "I guess this is why."

"Harry…" Hermione began, then trailed off.

"If you're going to say 'Harry it's ok'," Harry replied viciously, "then don't bother, because it isn't. It's not ok!" He shouted, jerking his hand out of Mrs Weasley's. "I have a piece of Voldemort's soul in me and NO ONE," he roared suddenly, losing his battle with his anger, standing up, "TOLD ME!"

He turned around and made to go out of the room, but the Doctor was suddenly in his way. The other man placed his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Get off!" Harry shouted, pushing the other man aside. He heard a crash as the Doctor fell to the ground, knocking a chair over in the process.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted. Harry heard the sound of footsteps following him as he started to storm angrily up the stairs. "Harry!"

"There's a way to fix it!" He heard Mrs Weasley shout after him. "Harry!"

Harry ignored them all and walked into the first bedroom he came across, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could. It wasn't until he had plonked angrily onto the bed and taken a look around that he realised that he was in Sirius' old room.

oOo

Dumbledore looked at the ring, sizing it up and evaluating how much of a threat it was. He could feel the dark magic pouring off it, revealing the true malevolent nature of what would otherwise appear to be a perfectly ordinary piece of jewellery. Next to him, Snape was performing spells on it, muttering under his breath.

Dumbledore gave the man a few more minutes before getting started. "Severus?"

Snape looked up, his lips pursed. "Definitely a Horcrux, Headmaster." He looked around, scanning the dilapidated hovel that they had found it in. "It is surprising that the Dark Lord decided to keep it here."

Dumbledore nodded. "Unexpected, and therefore completely expected."

Snape sighed. "How do you propose to destroy it?"

Dumbledore stared at it, feeling strangely drawn to it. He stretched his hand out, wanting to poke it, to see what would happen if he picked it up…

Snape batted his hand out of reach of the Horcrux before he could even touch it, and stared in astonishment at the older wizard. "What are you doing?" He hissed. "If you touch it, it will kill you."

He shook his head, feeling as though he was shaking off sleep, and felt his mind start to clear slightly though, to his consternation, he found he was unable to take his eyes off the ring. Suddenly, the ring was engulfed in fire and it was swallowed whole, melting and popping. The soul inside started screaming, and Dumbledore saw what could have been tiny projections of hands scrabbling in the air as the soul tried to escape. Finally, the fire began to die down and the screaming stopped.

Dumbledore felt his mind clear instantly, and raised his eyes from the charred ashes left behind by the Horcrux. Snape was staring at him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Fiendfyre, Severus? A very dangerous spell."

Snape's jaw tightened. "I have had much practice with it." He flicked his wand at the Horcrux, and nodded in satisfaction. "Besides," he said pointedly, "it works on Horcruxes, and someone had to do something."

Dumbledore cleared his throat again. "Well, yes. Quite."

"We have destroyed the ring and, as I understand it, Potter destroyed the diary?"

"Yes. All that remain are – if I am not mistaken and I do not believe I am – Slytherin's Locket, the Hufflepuff Cup, the Ravenclaw Diadem, Nagini and, of course, Harry."

"And you are certain we do not have to kill him?" Snape asked doubtfully.

"I trust the Doctor," Dumbledore replied.

"Very well," Snape reluctantly agreed. "But I must mention that the snake will pose a problem. The Dark Lord is very fond of it and, as such, never lets it out of his protection."

"Will it be at the Welcoming Ceremony?"

Snape nodded. "Almost certainly – he enjoys intimidating new arrivals."

Dumbledore nodded. "Then we shall have to deal with that particular Horcrux as we can. As for the others, I recommend we start on the locket."

"And where is that?"

"The beach," was all Dumbledore said, before grabbing Snape's arm and disapparating with a pop loud enough to wake the dead.

They reappeared knee-deep in a stormy sea, and Snape immediately found himself being knocked over by an incoming wave. Dumbledore, having seen this coming, simply held his breath and ducked under it, re-surfacing after it had passed, and made his way to a sputtering Snape, who was currently busy wiping seaweed from his eyes.

"I do love the seaside," Dumbledore commented lightly, helping Snape to his feet once the other wizard could see again.

Snape scowled at him. "Only you," he growled, "could make jokes while Horcrux hunting."

"Cheerfulness makes a difficult task easier," Dumbledore said, starting to swim to the cave.

Snape pointedly didn't respond and instead simply followed in the older wizard's lead, trying to ignore the waves repeatedly hitting him in the face, the cold of the water, and the fact that Dumbledore was simply breast-stroking through the sea, his beard floating behind him, as though he was on holiday.

Sometimes he really hated him.

When they finally did arrive at the cave, Snape was dismayed, but not surprised, to see that a blood donation was required in order to gain access to the inside. Snape swiftly withdrew his wand, made a small cut on the back of his hand, and pressed it to the stone. Dumbledore, who had also withdrawn his wand and made as if to cut his own hand, raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, and walked inside.

Having walked to the end of a smaller outer cave, they found themselves inside a slightly larger one filled with a lake. Dumbledore sent a light up to the roof of the cave, and Snape saw that there was a small island in the middle. On the island was a strange-looking altar, where he assumed the Horcrux was. There was no visible way to get across.

Dumbledore picked something out of thin air. "A chain."

Snape nodded. "Possibly a boat hidden under the surface."

Dumbledore tapped the chain with his wand and, sure enough, a boat emerged from the lake like a ghost ship, dripping water everywhere and creaking. Snape, having ascertained that it was safe, climbed in, Dumbledore following. Together, they made their way to the island, where they climbed out of the boat.

Dumbledore studied the altar: inside was an unidentifiable liquid, through which he could see the Horcrux. He attempted to summon it, and was not surprised when that didn't work. He reached over to try to simply grab the Locket, but Snape's hand clamped around his own.

"I promise you, I won't try and put this one on."

Snape shook his head. "I recognise this potion. It cannot be changed, drained, or reached through. You will be unable to get to the locket without first draining the basin." At Dumbledore's curious look, he added, "The Dark Lord often hides the wands of captives in this potion and forces them to try and retrieve it. The only way is to drink it."

"Somehow I doubt that it'll taste like apple juice."

Snape shot him a 'please focus' look. "It is designed to torture whoever drinks it, making them relieve their worst memories and suffer unimaginable thirst, before eventually killing them."

"Do you have an antidote?"

Snape pursed his lips, knowing that this would lead to Dumbledore offering to drink it himself.

"Severus, I know you – you make an antidote to any potion you see Voldemort using in case he ever uses it on you. Where is it?"

"I keep ample supplies of antidotes at every base," Snape finally admitted, "except, of course, the Dark Lord's own Headquarters. There will be some at Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts, unless it has been found."

Dumbledore gave a satisfied nod. "Excellent. Then I'll get started."

"No."

"What?"

"You are our only hope of defeating the Dark Lord," Snape replied. "I will not let you drink it."

"You have an antidote," Dumbledore pointed out, "and you're the Potions Master. Quite apart from anything else, Severus, it actually makes the most sense for me to drink it."

And, before Snape had a chance to stop him, Dumbledore had scooped up the shell lying on the altar, filled it with the potion, and gulped it down.