Disclaimer: The following characters, settings and referenced events are, and always will be, the property of J K Rowling.

– CHAPTER FIFTEEN –

The Eagle

'There's a good one.'

'Where's a good one?'

'Yes, that will do very nicely.'

It was two days after Remus and Tonks's wedding. Hermione had arranged with Ron to cover for them at the Burrow using some of Harry's Polyjuice potion while she and Harry (dosed up with Felix Felicis) had snuck off to Hogsmeade. They were presently hiding in a small alley beside Zonko's, surveying the main street. Harry tried to see what Hermione was looking at but all he could see was a trio of old witches heading towards the Three Broomsticks.

'Wait here.'

Before Harry could stop her, Hermione had slipped out from under the Invisibility Cloak, Crookshanks under her arm, and blended into the back of a young couple and three small children coming out of the Broomsticks. Just before she drew level with the witches, Hermione waved something under Crookshanks's nose, then surreptitiously tossed it at the suddenly-screaming poor old dears as the cat dived into the middle of them, followed closely by Hermione. It was one of the best tackles Harry had ever seen.

As Hermione got up off the two witches she had knocked down, struggling to hold a spitting Crookshanks, Harry noticed her slip something into her pocket before the family blocked his view as they crowded around the spectacle.

Half an hour later, Harry found himself outside the Shrieking Shack, holding Crookshanks and waiting for Hermione to join him. After scurrying back up the street, dodging curses, Hermione had handed Harry Crookshanks and gone 'shopping.'

He was about to head back down to Hogsmeade when he saw one of the women Hermione had flattened walking up the hill towards him. Swearing, he struggled to pull the Cloak over him as Crookshanks tried to jump out of his arms, yowling loudly enough to wake the dead.

'It's all right, Harry.' The old woman was running up the hill faster than her years should have allowed. 'It's me, Hermione.'

Harry dropped Crookshanks in shock, allowing him to streak down the hill and into the hag's arms.

And she really did look like an old hag.

The witch from the Broomsticks had grey hair smoothed neatly back into a bun (at least she did before Hermione attacked her), but now her hair was frizzled and slightly burnt-looking. Her clothes were different too – it looked like she had relieved an Oxfam shop of all the clothes even the poor didn't want. And she reeked of something really unpleasant.

'You nicked some hairs off that old lady you attacked, didn't you?'

'I didn't attack her. Crookshanks did.' Hermione scooped up some mud and began rubbing it into her frayed shawl. 'And that witch was no lady. Some of those curses she threw at me were downright nasty!'

'Remind me why we're doing this?

'So you can get that eagle from Borgin and Burkes.'

'But we don't even know if it is a Horcrux.' Harry argued.

'But this is the only way we can find out.'

'But why come here?'

'Because there's no chance that woman is likely to turn up at Borgin and Burke's while we're there; her friends will be too busy calming her down in the Three Broomsticks. Now, come on!' she said, tossing the Invisibility Cloak over Harry.

Following Hermione along Knockturn Alley wasn't Harry's idea of an afternoon stroll. The easiest way to avoid bumping someone was usually to hug the walls, but the walls in this street seemed to be heavily populated by some of the most unsavoury beings Harry had ever set eyes on. And he felt awfully exposed. The way some of the eyes followed him, he was certain they could see through the Cloak.

When they reached Borgin and Burkes, Harry muttered, 'Good luck' to Hermione.

'Of course,' she grinned back (Harry noticed several teeth missing), and pushed the door to the shop open, giving Harry a slight shove so he entered before her.

Nice touch, Hermione, Harry silently encouraged as she made a show of checking to see if anyone outside had noticed her. Harry moved carefully through the shop, positioned himself in front of the fireplace, and waited.

Hermione had her nose pressed against the glass-fronted case which had held Malfoy's Hand of Glory. The pack of cards was also gone, replaced by two hands joined at the wrist and looking like they were going to strangle something.

'We do not allow animals in this shop, Madam.'

Harry almost jumped out of his Cloak. Borgin had suddenly appeared at Hermione's shoulder, gazing distastefully at Crookshanks.

'But I couldn't leave Beelzebub at home.' Hermione's voice rasped like an old crone's. 'He's been cooped up for so long. He needed the fresh air. We haven't been out for some time; after all, it's not too wise to be seen coming and going too often these days, wouldn't you agree?' She fixed Borgin with a beady look.

'Indeed, madam.' Borgin eyed her with a mixture of suspicion and hope. Harry imagined that he was desperate for a sale, business having probably all but dried up due to the war, as well as the fact that Death Eaters had gained access to Hogwarts from this shop, but he would also be wary of a trap from the Ministry.

He glanced at the contents of the glass case. 'You were interested in the Hands of Garotte?'

'No.' Hermione shifted Crookshanks into a more comfortable position, dropping her handbag in the process. It clinked heavily as it hit the floor; Borgin stooped to retrieve it, weighing it in his hand as he did so. 'That eye. What can you tell me about it?'

'An excellent choice, Madam.' Borgin's voice oozed thickly with oil. 'The Far-Sighted Eye. Able to see…'

Harry knew Hermione would keep Borgin busy. He quickly began studying the high shelves around the shop. Finally, he spotted what he was after. The eagle was at the back of the shop, on the top shelf behind the counter, partly hidden behind … was that a shrivelled goblin head?

Harry glanced over at Hermione. Borgin had removed the eye from the cabinet and was demonstrating how it worked. Harry looked back up at the eagle. The easiest thing would be to levitate it down, but Felix was nudging him towards a ladder – similar to those used in libraries – at the end opposite the door leading to a back room. It didn't seem close enough to the eagle for him to be able to reach across without revealing his arm. Oh well, he would just have to trust to the promptings of Luck.

Very aware that Crookshanks's yellow eyes were following his every move, Harry carefully began to climb up to the top shelf as Borgin moved behind the counter from the other end.

Glancing down, Harry was startled to see Borgin carefully placing the eye into a box as Hermione fumbled in her bag, awkwardly trying not to drop either Crookshanks or the shopping bag holding her normal clothes.

As Borgin shuffled to the antique register at the far end of the counter, Harry knew he wouldn't get a better chance. Abandoning all caution, he reached his arm from under the Cloak and grasped the eagle. Several items on the shelves shook slightly. Harry saw Hermione look up and spot his arm. She glanced quickly at Borgin rummaging deep in the till for change, then threw Crookshanks over the counter.

'Beelzebub, no!' she cried, then screamed as the shelves seemed to explode.

Harry only just managed to get his arm back under the Cloak before Borgin turned at Hermione's cry, then he was struggling like crazy to both keep himself covered and hold onto the eagle, which was putting up a good fight trying to fly out of his arms.

Getting down off the ladder in any manner, let alone carefully, was out of the question, but he still hadn't started panicking. He was confident everything would turn out OK.

Borgin dived under the counter with more speed and agility than Harry would have expected for someone his age, pulled out his wand, and sliced it through the air three times. With the suddenness of a light bulb blowing, the pandemonium stopped.

Holding the now-inanimate eagle against his chest, Harry quietly descended the ladder, surveying the damage.

Borgin was leaning on the counter, trying to ignore Crookshanks clawing his leg, and glaring at Hermione with a look which would have stopped a Dementor. Most of the contents of the shelves behind the counter were strewn halfway up the shop, cluttering the floor or resting alongside the contents of shattered glass cases.

And Hermione was shrieking.

'What kind of business are you trying to run here? Do you call this good service? Don't you trust your own customers, setting booby traps like that? Or is this how you make money? Kill the customers after they've paid, then steal their stuff back to sell it again! No wonder nobody wants to be seen shopping here anymore! I've got half a mind to report you to the Ministry, endangering lives…'

All through Hermione's verbal onslaught, Harry had been slowly edging along the far wall, picking his way past the debris until he reached the front door. Looking back he saw Borgin storm around the counter and thrust Crookshanks, the box and several coins at Hermione before grabbing her by the collar and almost dragging her through the wreckage to the front of the shop. He snatched the door open with such force, the hinges rattled.

Hermione, however, didn't move. She stood a foot inside the doorway, stroking Crookshanks and crooning to him as she balanced her bag. Harry took the opportunity to squeeze past.

'It's all right, sweetums. Mummy won't let the mean old man hurt you again.' She threw Borgin a scathing look. 'And if you had any decency, you'd apologise to him. He's always been highly-sensitive, and this -,' she tossed her head towards the back of the shop, 'will make him most difficult to settle at night!'

Borgin returned her look. 'Madam, if you have any problems, I can easily provide you with a fast-acting poison, good for unruly pets and owners!'

And he pushed Hermione the last couple of steps out to the street, slammed the door so that the glass shook, and swiftly turned the sign to Closed.

x

'Why on earth did you buy it?'

Harry and Hermione were sitting on the Underground as it sped from one station to the next. After regaining the relative safety of Diagon Alley, they had crossed from the Leaky Cauldron into Muggle London with seven minutes to spare, then ducked into the nearest public toilets so Hermione could wait out the effects of the Polyjuice Potion and Harry could pocket the Invisibility Cloak. Normal once more, they had laughed over Hermione's performance on their way to Charing Cross to catch the train to Grimmauld Place.

'I needed to give Mr Borgin a good reason to keep me in the shop, and it might be quite useful.' Hermione smiled mysteriously. 'Believe me, Harry; luck is very much on our side.'

Harry couldn't help but grin back at her. In fact, he was finding it very difficult not to laugh out loud. This was indeed turning out to be the luckiest day of his life. They had successfully gotten hold of Ron's gold eagle, and in less than half an hour they would know if it was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Harry didn't have any doubts though; Felix wouldn't have let them have such an easy time getting it if they weren't meant to.

As they approached number twelve, Grimmauld Place, however, Harry felt his confidence wane a little, almost as though the winter sun had slipped behind a cloud. He glanced around nervously but couldn't place just what had made him feel like that.

Hermione frowned slightly. 'What's wrong?'

'I'm not sure. I just had the feeling we were being followed.'

Hermione looked around as well. 'That potion shouldn't be wearing off yet, should it?'

Harry shrugged. 'Maybe Snape made it wrong.'

Hermione didn't seem to think this likely. 'Could it be a Dementor?' Her eyes widened.

'Let's get inside.'

Harry hurried up the steps and pressed his hand against the front door. As soon as the clicks stopped, he pushed it open and pulled Hermione inside with him. He was about to shut the door when their luck ran out.

Hermione seemed to trip on the hall rug and fell, knocking Harry against the troll's leg umbrella stand; Crookshanks disappeared up the staircase, a yowling ginger streak, setting Mrs Black off; Hermione lay flat on her face, making odd, bucking movements. Harry stared at her, perplexed, as she muttered, 'Get off,' then he understood.

Reaching his hand towards her, he groped around until he felt what he was after, then pulled. An Invisibility Cloak slid towards him, revealing … Ginny.

Harry glanced up at the two men standing on the first floor landing.

'Oh dear,' murmured Professor Dumbledore.

Snape clapped his hands three times. 'Congratulations Potter. That would have to be the worst display of stealth I have ever witnessed. Or was it Granger's idea that you be followed.'

Harry glared up at Snape's sneering face, but before he could reply, Dumbledore raised his burnt hand.

'Before we sink deep into the realms of intellectual debate, might I suggest that we first close the front door, and then make ourselves comfortable?' He arched a silver brow.

Five minutes later, they were all seated in the drawing room watching Ginny in silence, even if that silence was so thick you could have cut it with Gryffindor's sword. Ginny stared at Dumbledore over the rim of her teacup (very sweet, lot's of sugar). She hadn't made a sound since entering the house and didn't seem predisposed to start anytime in the foreseeable future. Harry kept sneaking glances between Snape's thunderous expression and Dumbledore's concerned one. Finally, Dumbledore spoke.

'It was not my intention that Miss Weasley be privy to our secret, but what is done is done. The question which remains to be answered is: what shall we do about it?'

Ginny's eyes widened fearfully. Harry was certain she thought her memory was going to be wiped. Dumbledore gave her a reassuring smile.

'Rest easy, Ginny; you are in no danger from either myself or Professor Snape. However, I would like to know how you came to have Alastor Moody's Invisibility Cloak without him noticing it was missing.'

'Just lucky, I guess,' she muttered evasively.

Snape's eyes flashed. 'Very careless, Potter; leaving highly potent potions lying around so small children can easily find them.'

Harry blinked. Had Ginny drunk some Felix Felicis? And if so, why?

'Of course Harry didn't leave it lying around.' Hermione jumped to his defence. 'He locked it in his trunk after we both had our doses. And Ginny's not a small child.'

'You both drank it?' Snape's expression darkened. 'Both yourselves and Weasley?' His eyes darted to Ginny, who shrank deeper into her chair, nodding almost imperceptibly.

'Idiot girl!'

'Severus!'

Harry was surprised by the amount of strength Dumbledore exuded in that one word.

Snape stopped mid-swoop and turned a very black expression towards Dumbledore.

'Will you not interfere in matters which you do not understand, Headmaster?'

Hermione gasped; Harry felt his jaw drop. But if Dumbledore was in any was surprised, shocked or angry at Snape's defiance, he didn't show it.

'I apologise, Severus,' he said calmly, holding Snape's gaze. 'As you correctly stated, I do not understand Potions as well as you do. I do, however, feel responsible, in part, for the present circumstances. I should have foreseen that Miss Weasley's curiosity might get the better of her and guarded against it more securely.

'Now, is there anything which you can do to assist her compassionately?' He nodded towards Ginny, who had started to hum quietly. She was also licking her lips more often than Harry would have thought necessary, dribbling slightly each time her tongue darted out; he was reminded of Luna Lovegood.

'Nothing which wouldn't do her more harm,' said Snape dryly, pulling Ginny's bottom eyelids down with his thumb and narrowing his eyes as he inspected them. 'Basically, it just needs to run its course. She should return to … normal … around sunset.'

Harry and Hermione exchanged panicked looks.

'But we've got to be back at the Burrow before then,' Harry pointed out.

'Then you should have thought of that before bringing her here.' snapped Snape, tearing his attention away from his examination of Ginny and frowning up at them. 'Why are you here anyway?'

'We managed to get this.' Hermione reached into her shopping bag and removed the golden eagle.

Snape's expression froze. 'Where did you get that?' He looked like he had seen a ghost.

'Borgin and Burkes,' Hermione answered uncertainly. 'We weren't caught though, thanks to your Luck Potion.' She tried to flash a brave smile, but failed.

Dumbledore leaned forwards. 'May I?' he asked, and accepted the bird from Hermione. He spent several minutes turning it every which way, finally gazing, unblinking, into the sparkling sapphire eyes.

'Is it the Ravenclaw Horcrux, sir?' Harry broke the long silence.

Dumbledore peered over the half-moon glasses. 'That is the question, isn't it?' he sighed, carefully passing the statue to Snape, who withdrew his wand. 'Do you recognise it, Severus?'

Harry frowned. Why would Snape recognise it? If Dumbledore's theory was correct, the statue had been hidden in Borgin and Burke's since before Snape was born.

'I've never seen it before,' Snape barely murmured, his eyes devouring the glistening metal. 'Not even in a picture.'

'But you do recognise it,' Dumbledore pressed.

'Only from a description,' said Snape distractedly.

He touched his wand between its eyes, muttering in a singsong style similar to when he had repaired Malfoy after the Sectumsempra.

Harry watched, amazed, as the eagle began to glow faintly, then he suddenly found himself lying flat on his back in a pool of sticky liquid out on the landing. He tried to sit up, but was stopped by pain stabbing all through his back; so severe, his vision blurred. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the contents of his stomach to stay down.

He moaned as a hand gripped his shoulder and slowly turned him onto his front (his stomach again threatened to rebel), then he felt a light floating sensation spread through his body. Opening his eyes fractionally, he saw a pair of worn shoes stepping backwards away from him, but not getting further away. Harry barely registered that Lupin had levitated him and was guiding him back into the drawing room, when everything spun again and went black.

'Come on Fawkes, just a little more.'

Harry opened his eyes and looked around. The first thing he noticed were the bodies.

He sat up suddenly as his heart froze. Both Dumbledore and Hermione were lying in the middle of the room, dead.

No! No, they couldn't be dead! How could they be dead? What had Snape done to them?

It was only as this thought sped through his mind, that Harry noticed that Snape was also lying on the floor, dead. Confused and panicky, Harry tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't support him and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Lupin looked over from where he was collecting Fawkes's tears in a goblet. 'Stay still, Harry,' he instructed. 'Your strength hasn't fully returned yet.'

Harry sat against the sofa, numb with shock (despite Fawkes softly singing in the background), as Lupin gently rolled Hermione up on one shoulder and let a few drops of the phoenix tears fall onto a bloodied patch on the back of her head. Hermione gave a soft moan.

'She's alive?' gasped Harry.

'They're all alive.' Lupin carefully placed a cushion under Hermione's head. 'But I would say it was due more to good luck than good management. What happened here?'

'Luck gone wrong,' groaned Hermione as she tried to sit up, but slumped back onto the floor. 'Ginny –'

'Where is Ginny?' Harry glanced around. Ginny was the only thing in the room which seemed to be untouched. She was still sitting in her chair, humming softly and licking her lips. The only thing missing was her teacup.

The rest of the room looked like a bomb had gone off. There was a body-sized dent in the wall beside the front window, the tapestry on the far side of the room had been torn from the wall and the mantel lay in pieces in the fireplace. Most of the furniture was overturned or smashed. And near the door, a section of the wall was missing, allowing Harry to see through to the landing where splintered pieces of plaster and timber lay in what looked like a large pool of blood.

'You were lucky to have survived that.' Lupin's gaze followed Harry's. 'Considering you were thrown backwards through a wall with considerable force, you should have come away with a lot more than just a severely cut back and concussion.'

'What about the others?' Harry was still trying to make sense of the view before him.

'Hermione was over near the window. She hit the wall hard enough to damage the plaster, but not enough to go through it like you did. Dumbledore was lying under the tapestry. The magic within the tapestry must have cushioned the blow. As a result, he only seems to have been knocked out, though he'll probably have a monster headache when he comes to.'

'And Snape?'

Lupin looked over at the fireplace. 'I think he hit the marble headfirst. As well as a smashed skull, he also tore his spinal cord in several places.'

'Shouldn't he be dead, then?'

'I Froze him so he wouldn't deteriorate any further before I had a chance to get to him.'

Lupin rolled Snape onto his front and flicked his wand so that Snape lay naked from the waist up. Taking out a small knife, he slowly massaged his fingers up Snape's spine, stopping occasionally to cut the skin and pour a few drops of phoenix tears into the wound. He then pressed his wand against the back of Snape's head and muttered quietly.

Snape growled softly. 'What do you think you're doing, Lupin? You're not a trained Healer.'

'No,' Lupin Summoned another cushion. 'But I'm the closest thing you're going to get unless you're willing to let St Mungo's in on your secret.'

He placed a cushion under Snape's head as Hermione tried to sit up again. Snape turned his head towards her, then tensed as he spotted Dumbledore.

'It's all right,' Lupin rushed to assure him. 'He's alive. He was merely knocked out.' He looked over at Harry. 'Don't let any of them move. I'm just going to get some ice for Dumbledore's head.'

As soon as he left, Snape tried to crawl over to Dumbledore.

'Remus said you weren't to move,' said Harry.

'You are not my keeper, Potter.'

'Where's the eagle?' Hermione looked around searchingly.

That stopped Snape. Harry glanced around. He couldn't see anything gold amongst the rubble.

'I would look up if I were you, Potter,' Snape's voice sounded stronger, 'which fortunately I am not. The bird will have tried to get as high as possible after the fright it suffered.'

'It suffered?'

Snape tried to get up, but failed. 'If that bird has flown the coop, Potter, the Dark Lord's obsession with you shall be nothing compared to the curse I shall place upon you for the next thousand years.'

'It's OK, Professor,' Hermione said gently as Lupin returned. 'It's perched on the valance above the window.'

Snape glared at Lupin. 'What did you do to me? I can't feel my legs. And will someone shut that bloody bird up!'

'That bloody bird -,' said Lupin quietly, 'saved your life.' Briefly, he explained Snape's injuries.

Snape froze. 'And I survived that?'

'With Fawkes's help, yes.' Lupin gently pressed a bundled tea towel against Dumbledore's head. 'Now, as you said, I am not a Healer, so if you can think of anything else which will help everybody recover faster, I'm open to suggestions.' He gazed at Snape expectantly.

Snape seemed slightly taken aback that Lupin had thrown the Quaffle to him but he still managed to rise to the occasion.

'In the bottom of the wardrobe in the headmaster's room, there is a Muggle doctor's bag. Fetch it here and I should be able to greatly improve upon your attempts.' The familiar sneer showed he was rapidly recovering himself mentally, if not completely physically. While Lupin ran the errand, Snape finally managed to drag himself over to Dumbledore and began to examine the former headmaster's head.

When Lupin returned, Snape touched the bag with his wand, causing it to sprout several layers of compartmentalised trays overflowing with every size and colour potion bottle known to wizardkind. Picking amongst them almost inattentively, Snape selected what was, in Harry's opinion, so tiny a bottle, it hardly seemed to have been worth the effort of filling it: it couldn't have held more than two drops. Snape added a drop of his own spit, then crushed the bottle against the bump of bone where his neck joined his back. As he pulled his hand away, Harry could see a few specks of blood where the splintered glass had cut the skin.

Snape then removed his shoes and socks and stared intently at his feet. Perplexed, Harry watched as Snape continued to focus on his feet until, a few minutes later, a toe wiggled. Then another. Then all ten toes.

Snape's eyes flashed briefly with grim satisfaction, then he selected another bottle.

'Milk?' Both Harry and Hermione were surprised to see what looked like an ordinary Muggle milk bottle.

'Pure calcium.' Snape poured three goblets and handed two to Harry and Hermione. 'It will instantly repair any cracked or broken bones and strengthen recently-repaired ones. Drink.' He sneered as he raised his own goblet and drank it in one. After setting the goblet aside, Snape leant back on his elbows and closed his eyes. Slowly, a look, almost of peace, settled upon his face.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who shrugged then drank her milk. When she didn't drop dead, Harry felt it was safe to drink his own.

'What do you make pure calcium from?' asked Hermione curiously.

'Liquified dragon bones.'

Harry choked.

'You would have been better letting them think it was milk.' Lupin looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Snape cracked an eye open. 'I might have known I could depend upon you to spoil a man's pleasure.'

'However perverse it may be.' Lupin earned a stern glare.

'Not to sound rude, but what are you doing here?' Snape's lips thinned.

'Ron alerted me to the fact that Harry and Hermione hadn't returned.'

'And how did you get in?'

'Ginny opened the door.'

Snape jerked up straighter. 'Weasley moved from her chair?' His eyes narrowed as he looked over towards her.

'Yes,' Lupin replied slowly. 'Why, shouldn't she have?'

'It means that her luck is finally starting to run out.' Snape had leapt to his feet and was examining Ginny's eyelids again.

Lupin looked confused.

'Hermione and I drank some of that Luck Potion Snape gave me last week,' Harry explained. 'The trouble is, Ginny took some too, and followed us.'

'The two runs of luck seem to have acted against each other,' added Hermione. 'Since we arrived here, nothing has gone right.'

'Is that what caused all this?' Lupin looked around the room.

'The Ravenclaw Horcrux was responsible for the scene which greeted you.' grunted Snape as he returned to Dumbledore's side and began rummaging amongst the potion bottles again. Lupin glanced at Hermione, who pointed over her shoulder at the eagle. 'There was an extremely powerful curse protecting it,' Snape continued as he finally made his selection. He pulled the stopper, then waved the bottle under Dumbledore's nose.

After a moment, Dumbledore gave a contented sigh and slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, then squeezed his eyes shut with a low moan.

Snape pressed the bottle to Dumbledore's lips. 'This will ease the headache, Headmaster.'

When Dumbledore opened his eyes a second time, his brow remained unfurrowed and he was able to clearly focus on Snape and Lupin as they helped him sit up. 'No burnt limbs, I trust?'

'Only severed spinal cords,' Lupin replied. 'But nothing Snape and Fawkes weren't able to put right,' he added, with a mischievous smirk as Snape stiffened.

'We shall really need to put our heads together to try to solve the problem of these curses,' sighed Dumbledore as he surveyed the damage, his eyes finally resting upon the eagle.

Harry followed his gaze. 'So it is a Horcrux?'

'It would seem so, although I personally do not recall noticing anything after it started glowing – old age can have that effect on one's memory.'

'Age had nothing to do with it and you know it,' corrected Snape. 'I doubt any of us remembers what happened, with the head injuries we all sustained.' He gingerly pressed a hand to his skull. 'Except perhaps … Weasley.' Snape's eyes flashed.

'Is her memory intact?' asked Dumbledore as Snape again peered into her eyes.

Harry felt a jolt in his stomach. How deeply would Snape examine her memories? Would he see intimate details of Harry and Ginny's relationship? As Snape turned back towards the room, his cold eyes lingered overlong on Harry, who willed his face not to redden. Judging by the glint in Snape's eyes, he didn't succeed.

'Her memories are undamaged, Headmaster.' Snape's lips barely moved. 'And retrievable.'

'Where have you stored the Pensieve, sir?' Lupin jumped up.

'Don't bother, Lupin,' drawled Snape, rummaging amongst his potion bottles again. 'Not until the Felix Felicis has completely worn off. And if Potter's protestations earlier were correct, we do not have time to wait for the momentous event.' He finally found what he was looking for.

Harry sat up a little straighter. 'Is that …?' He received a curt nod as Snape poured four goblets of a tar-like liquid.

'Not Weasley.' Snape stopped Lupin reaching for one of them. 'It will react with the Felix.'

'You'll like this, Hermione,' said Harry as Snape passed her a goblet.

She screwed her nose up at it.

'Don't worry,' Harry assured her. 'It smells and tastes disgusting, but it's a great pick-me-up.'

Hermione still looked doubtful as she watched Harry, Dumbledore and Snape empty their goblets. It was only when Lupin added his voice to their encouragement that she finally swallowed her own dose. Her eyes widened with surprise at the effect. Harry chuckled.

'Now,' said Dumbledore, sitting up straighter. 'We need to plan this carefully. Remus, does anyone besides Ronald Weasley realise that Harry, Hermione and Ginny are missing?'

'Both Molly and Moody. And Molly's probably told Arthur by now.'

Snape threw Harry a look that said he clearly felt Harry was to blame if their secret was discovered.

'Very well,' Dumbledore continued. 'What we shall do it this: Remus, you are to escort the three of them back to The Burrow. Say you found them in Muggle London, at Somerset House, researching Voldemort's family to see if they could find a weakness, someone he was close to.

'The rest of you -,' he turned to Harry and Hermione, '- are to accept your punishments like adults. Molly shall undoubtedly ground you for the remainder of the holidays, but that is only three more days. Once you have returned to Hogwarts, Miss Granger is to disguise herself as Ginny so she won't be missed from her dormitory, then Harry and Ginny are to come here via the Portkey so that we may examine her memory of today's events.'

Harry and Hermione nodded their understanding of Dumbledore's instructions as Lupin gathered Ginny from her chair.

x

'Are you ready?'

Four nights after the disaster at Grimmauld Place, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were to be found in Harry's office. Ron was keeping an eye on the Marauders' Map, Harry stood ready with his Invisibility Cloak and Ginny was passing Hermione one of her hairs to be added to a bottle of Polyjuice potion.

Their return to the Burrow hadn't gone quite as smoothly as could have been hoped – they had been discovered by Mr Weasley at the Leaky Cauldron two seconds after George had bumped into them to warn them that Mrs Weasley was on the warpath. As a result, the atmosphere at the Burrow had been very stony, as Mrs Weasley had also blamed Moody for leaving his Invisibility Cloak lying around where Ginny could find it, and Lupin for not alerting her the instant he had found them.

Now safely back at Hogwarts, they were finally free to implement Dumbledore's plan.

Hermione had claimed the post-holiday antics in the common room were making it impossible for her to study and had retired to her room where it would 'be quieter'. She had then returned to the common room under Harry's Cloak and followed Ron and Ginny to Harry's office, where they would be having an extra tutorial. They had then spent an hour explaining everything about Dumbledore and Snape to Ginny, having had no chance at the Burrow due to Mrs Weasley keeping the four of them confined to separate magically-locked bedrooms (even th phoenix feathers didn't work), only letting them out to use the bathroom and for meals, where she had watched them like a hawk.

Harry grinned as Ron's face tried to turn in upon itself as Hermione drank the Polyjuice, as if he was the one tasting the foul brew.

'I really don't know how that Barty Crouch bloke drank that stuff continuously for ten months,' said Ron, sounding like he wanted to be sick.

A few minutes later, Ron and (Ginny'd) Hermione had headed back to the Gryffindor dormitories, and Harry and the real Ginny slowly made their way down to Dumbledore's tomb under the Cloak. Ginny struggled to suppress a giggle as Harry activated the Portkey ('I'll explain the origin of those words later,' Harry promised), then they were standing in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

Ginny glanced nervously for a moment at the Pensieve sitting on the table between Dumbledore and Snape, then seemed to steel herself.

'So, how do we do this?'

'Good evening to you too, Ginny.' Dumbledore's moustache twitched. (Snape's lip curled.) 'Nothing like a bit of bravado to mask the nerves. But I assure you, this won't hurt a bit.'

Once Snape had withdrawn Ginny's memory, having stared deeply into her eyes to pinpoint the exact location (Harry felt his face getting hotter), the four of them plunged deep into the swirling pool.

Looking around, Harry found they had arrived in the entry, just in time to see Hermione knock him against the troll's leg umbrella stand. Glancing around, he saw that everything appeared just as it had four days ago, except that the edges of his vision were slightly blurred.

'Shall we?' Dumbledore led them upstairs to the drawing room where, as the scene unfolded before them, everything became blurrier still. Blinking, rubbing his eyes, and even giving his glasses a good clean with his handkerchief did nothing to improve Harry's vision.

'It's all right, Harry,' murmured Dumbledore, his own eyes fixed upon the eagle. 'You don't need new glasses. Miss Weasley's memory is just a little fuzzy, no doubt due to the effect of the Luck Potion.'

Over near the sofa, the eagle began to glow faintly from Snape's spell. Harry held his breath and willed himself not to blink.

Suddenly, Riddle appeared out of nowhere before Snape, and the scene … froze.

Harry glanced around. Snape had dragged Ginny over to the memory Ginny and was holding two wands, one pressed hard against Ginny's temple, the other buried in the middle of her memory's head. As his lips moved silently, the scene moved a fraction, like a video that had been paused and was being forwarded one frame at a time.

Harry looked closely at Riddle. He had changed again. His hair was longer than it had been in Hokey's memory, though thinner and duller; the bridge of his nose had sunk slightly. His skin was paler, like he hadn't seen the sun for some time, though not as pale as it would become, and his eyes, full of the most malicious hatred Harry had ever seen, were slightly bloodshot. He was definitely older than he had been when he killed Hepzibah Smith, though not quite as old as he had seemed when Dumbledore refused him employment.

Riddle lunged at Snape and looked like he was going to snatch the eagle. A cold hiss (Ginny jerked with fright) echoed around the room.

'How dare you hasten my weak mother's death; you, who have not one drop of noble wizarding blood flowing through your veins.'

Throughout this attack, Snape merely stood still, his mouth moving extremely slowly into an 'O' shape. Harry would have said he was astonished by the onslaught, except that his eyes were focused upon the eagle and he didn't seem to notice Riddle at all. Then there was a flash, so bright it was like a star turned supernova. Riddle was suddenly gone, and the four of them were flying through the air, Snape faster than the others because he had copped the curse full on. Judging by the time it took the explosion to occur, Harry realised that, in real time, Riddle had appeared for no more than a microsecond.

He winced as Snape hit the mantelpiece headfirst, shattering the marble (why did Dumbledore give an understanding smile?), and heard Ginny sob softly as Harry disappeared through the wall. Part of him wanted to run over to the torn tapestry to see if Dumbledore was OK, but he stopped himself in time. It wouldn't do to let Snape see him affected by a mere memory. At a nod from Dumbledore that they had seen enough, Harry kicked off, allowing himself to rise with the others until they were once more standing around the kitchen table.

'So, Harry,' Dumbledore settled himself into a chair. 'What are your thoughts on this new evidence?'

'Headmaster,' Snape's cold eyes were boring into Ginny. 'Do you truly believe it advisable to be discussing these matters in front of such a young witness?'

'I already know what's going on.' Ginny's eyes flashed. 'And it's my memory you're discussing.'

Dumbledore gazed at Ginny, considering.

'In this instance, Ginny, I feel Professor Snape is correct. It would be safer, for your sake, if you were not privy to our conversation. The less you know, the less danger you will be in.'

'But – '

'No buts, Ginny.'

Ginny looked shocked that Harry was siding with Snape and Dumbledore.

'How do you think I would feel if something happened to you simply because of what you heard here?' Harry reached out and took hold of her hand, trying hard to ignore Snape's eyes burning into the back of his neck. 'Remember what I said last year – about Voldemort getting to people close to me?'

Ginny nodded.

'Then do this … leave us … for me. Please?'

Ginny gazed pleading at Harry for much less time than Harry expected before capitulating, throwing Snape a murderous glare as she stormed from the room. Harry cast an Impervious Charm at the door before turning back to Dumbledore.

Snape stared at the kitchen door. 'Are you allowing yourself to be distracted by unseemly pleasures, Potter?'

Harry lost the fight to ignore Snape 'Unseemly pleasures?'

Even Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. 'A rather Victorian sentiment, don't you think, Severus?'

'And highly necessary, Headmaster, if Potter is allowing his hormones to get the better of him.'

Harry snorted. 'I'm trying to protect Ginny. How were my hormones involved?'

'By that very public display of affection – '

'I held her hand!'

'– and declaration of concern for her welfare. You are allowing yourself to be led by your emotions and are not thinking!' Snape's nose was inches from Harry's. 'Have a care, Potter. Those who show they care about others are easy prey for the Dark Lord, incapable of even matching him, let alone defeating him, whether they have been chosen for the task or not!'

'That will do, Severus!' Dumbledore's cool tone cut between them. He waited until Snape had taken his place at the end of the table, then turned to Harry.

'You were about to give me your thoughts?' His brows rose expectantly.

'Yes, sir.' Harry shot a quick glance at Snape. 'Voldemort changed again. He was less human than in Hokey's memory, but not as far gone as he was in your memory, so it looks like you were right about it being made when he killed Burke. It also looks like he did blame Burke for his mum's death.'

'Anything else?'

'Er … he thinks he's better than Burke because he's got noble blood?' Harry wasn't sure what Dumbledore was trying to get at.

Snape snorted; Dumbledore spared him the briefest shake of his head.

'I was referring to the changes you noted.'

Harry thought over how Voldemort looked in each memory. He had looked only slightly different in Hokey's memory to how he had looked in the diary, Bob Ogden and Slughorn's memories (when he had been wearing Marvolo's ring …)

'Professor?'

'Yes, Harry?'

'Why didn't Voldemort look different in Professor Slughorn's memory? He'd killed his father by then.'

'Because he hadn't created his first Horcrux at the point. As I explained on Christmas Eve, an act of murder does not, in itself, tear one's soul in two; it only weakens it. It is only when the complex magic needed to create a Horcrux is performed, that a fragment of soul is torn away. So, although Tom murdered his father and grandparents during the summer prior to him starting his fifth year (and Professor Slughorn's memory was from the following February), he did not place his torn soul in the diary until the next summer, after the Chamber of Secrets had been closed again.'

Harry was confused. 'But the Basilisk killed Myrtle, not Voldemort.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'He wasn't drawing from that murder, but his forebears'. When he returned to Hogwarts to begin his sixth year, all of the staff were surprised to see Tom altered in appearance, looking thinner, as though he hadn't eaten properly during the holidays. I remember Horace Slughorn, in particular, continually plied Tom with gifts of food, trying to restore his cheeks to their former healthier appearance, but most of the students (at least the female ones) seemed to find the change made him appear even more handsome.'

'So he looked like he did in Hokey's memory?'

'Yes; mind you, he didn't start growing his hair until after he had left Hogwarts; the school did require the students to be well groomed.'

Harry risked a glance at Snape, remembering his appearance in his fifth-year memory. Snape, in turn, was glaring at Harry's hair, which was refusing to lie flat, as usual. Just like his father's before him.

'Of course,' Dumbledore allowed himself a grin, 'fashions have altered since then.'

'So, if Voldemort had changed again by the time he murdered Burke, then he had already created the Horcrux from Hepzibah Smith's murder.'

'It would seem so.'

'So, he made the diary when he was sixteen, the locket when he framed Hokey, the bird eight years – '

'Why do you assume that his second Horcrux was Slytherin's locket?' Snape was glaring at Harry as if he had stepped in something unpleasant. 'The Dark Lord had two items with which to create that Horcrux. So why –?'

'Severus, that will do,' said Dumbledore quietly.

'No, Headmaster,' Snape's eyes narrowed. (Harry's jaw dropped; usually Dumbledore's word was enough to stop Snape's bullying.) 'I would like to hear Potter's reasons for choosing that particular artefact.'

'I chose the locket because it's more important than the cup, at least from a Slytherin point of view. And seeing Voldemort is Slytherin's last descendant, he would consider it the most important of all his Horcruxes. I think if he had had it when he created the first one, he would have used it then.' Harry held Snape's gaze. 'Why do you think he didn't use it for the second Horcrux?'

Snape's lip curled. 'For that very reason: the locket had belonged to Salazar Slytherin. After the Dark Lord had seen to the disposal of all of his living relatives, both paternal and maternal, he was completely alone in the world, with only a locket as proof that he ever had any family. As you correctly concluded, he prized it above all else – well, I suppose the laws of probability dictate that you will, on occasion, get some things right,' (Harry bit back a retort,) 'and so the Dark Lord would have kept it close for as long as possible. No, the locket would not have been one of the first Horcruxes; it would have been one of the last.' He allowed his gaze to rest on Harry's scar.

Dumbledore broke the silence starting to stretch between them. 'You have heard Severus's assessment of your conclusion, Harry; now, I should like to hear your assessment of his.'

Both Harry and Snape stared at him, though Snape schooled his expression into a non-caring attitude far faster than Harry.

'I think it has some merit, sir.' Harry refused to award Snape full points. 'I know I feel that way about things which belonged to my father, but then, as Professor Snape takes great delight in constantly reminding me, I care about people other than myself. Voldemort doesn't, nor has he ever. So would we be concluding correctly if we attributed those same emotions to him which we feel ourselves?' He left the question hanging, waiting to see if Snape would snatch it up.

He wasn't disappointed.

'The Dark Lord does have weaknesses, Potter, although they are very few in number and caring is not amongst them. The headmaster believes his greatest weakness is his obsession with his self-importance. His connection to Salazar Slytherin is part of that. So yes, he would have kept the locket safe until the last possible moment; do you not agree, Headmaster?'

Oh, very cleverly done, Harry thought. First, Dumbledore forces you to congratulate me for guessing some things right (although you still managed to rubbish me in the same breath) and now you're drawing Dumbledore into this – on your side.

'I believe both of your opinions have their moments.' Dumbledore settled for the middle ground of diplomacy. 'As you stated, Harry was correct when he said that Voldemort would have prized the Slytherin heirloom above all else,' (Harry tried not to look too pleased with himself) 'but I also agree with you, Severus, in that he would have postponed turning it into a Horcrux until the last possible moment. What we all need to do is put our heads together to work out when each Horcrux was created, and what was used in each case, in order to try to locate the last remaining one.

'The first Horcrux, there is no dispute, was the diary, created when Tom was sixteen, using the fragment torn from the Riddles' murders. The diary was almost like an experiment, a practice run, and not intended for some obscure, unattainable hiding place. After almost forty years, Lord Voldemort surrendered the diary to Lucius Malfoy and informed him that it contained information which would enable the reader to open the Chamber of Secrets. By giving Lucius his first Horcrux, Voldemort risked its discovery and ultimate destruction, which is exactly what came to pass.'

Both Harry and Snape nodded their agreement of this assessment.

'The second Horcrux was most likely Helga Hufflepuff's cup, stolen from Hepzibah Smith at the same time as Slytherin's locket, and created from her death. Where the cup is hidden, we have yet to discover. The one thing we can be certain of is that Voldemort did not leave it hidden amongst Hepzibah's treasures, for her family would have long since unearthed it and squabbled amongst themselves about who should inherit.'

Harry hid a private grin; he knew for a fact that this was the case thanks to Ron's actions at Gringotts.

'Then a period of eight years passed before he created his third Horcrux. We know this because the difference between Voldemort's appearance in Hokey and Ginny's memories suggests a change no greater than that which occurred when he created the diary. The third Horcrux – the eagle – he then hid in Borgin and Burkes.'

'But we still don't know where he hid the cup,' cried Harry frustratedly, earning a reproving glare from Snape.

'We shall get back to that, Harry,' Dumbledore assured him. 'But first, let us continue with what we do know.'

'OK, so what was the fourth Horcrux – the ring?'

Dumbledore nodded as his gaze dropped to his burnt hand. 'I was the one who destroyed it, remember, so I got to see what Voldemort looked like when he created it.'

'And he looked like he did in your office that night?'

Dumbledore looked up from his examination of his hand. 'Yes. So we know for certain that the ring was the fourth Horcrux. We also know that Voldemort hid it in his mother's family home, if it can be considered a home.'

'Who did he kill to make it, and when?'

Dumbledore shrugged. 'That I do not know. Voldemort kept himself separate from wizarding society for many years, travelling, experimenting and perfecting his control of the Dark Arts; changing to such an extent that, when he did finally make himself publicly known to the world again, very few people questioned that he had ever been anything other than what he had become.'

'But if he was still making Horcruxes –?'

'Ah, but he wasn't.' Dumbledore smiled slightly at Harry's confusion. 'The fourth Horcrux was created before his Reign of Terror began, so the Lord Voldemort which the world knew for ten years always had the same appearance – midway between when he came to Hogwarts forty years ago and the night he murdered your parents.'

'So when did he make the locket Horcrux?' Harry frowned in concentration. 'It was probably before I was born, because Regulus died right after, but who … Dorcas Meadowes.'

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged the briefest of glances.

'Where did you hear that name, Harry?' asked Dumbledore guardedly.

'Moody showed me a picture of the original Order of the Phoenix the night before I started fifth year. He said Voldemort killed Dorcas Meadowes personally. That's when he created the fifth Horcrux, isn't it?' He glanced between the two men. 'Who was she; why was her murder so important?'

'She was an … Unspeakable, I believe the term is,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'And one of the brightest students Hogwarts has ever known. She also had the most perfect memory I have ever encountered, and thus was perfectly placed to be my chief researcher.'

'You had somebody from the Department of Mysteries working for you?' Harry stared at Dumbledore. 'Did the Minister know?'

'Not to my knowledge; Dorcas was very good at operating outside people's notice.'

'Except that Voldemort noticed her.'

Snape tensed.

'So it would seem. The last message I received from her said she wanted me to meet someone, but she never got the chance to perform the introductions because she was murdered right after she left work that evening. We always suspected one of her colleagues had been working for Voldemort and tipped him off about her discovery.'

'She found out about the Horcruxes, didn't she? And because of that, Voldemort decided to make a Horcrux from her.' Harry was speaking very quickly, trying to keep pace with the thoughts racing through his head. 'He wouldn't have been able to get any of the Death Eaters to take care of her in case she let something slip, because then they would know his secret. Yeah, he'd have to shut her up before she could tell anyone – especially you – but Regulus must have found out, somehow. How? Did he pass the message on from Rookwood?' Harry looked across at Snape.

Snape's lip curled into the familiar sneer. 'Regulus Black could not have relayed any message, Potter, least of all the one which led to Miss Meadowes's death, as he had been dead for several months himself by that time.'

Harry's jaw dropped. 'But ... but how could he have nicked the locket if Voldemort hadn't hidden it yet?'

'Because Dorcas Meadowes's murder didn't herald yet another change in Lord Voldemort's appearance,' Dumbledore spoke up. 'That had occurred around the time of the Boneses' deaths.'

Now Harry was really confused. 'But I thought the Boneses were killed by a Death Eater?' (Snape gripped his left forearm.)

'I didn't say Voldemort killed the Boneses, Harry,' Dumbledore glanced very briefly at Snape. 'I said he created a Horcrux at that time.'

'So who did he kill?'

'There are several candidates – murder was, unfortunately, almost a daily occurrence back then – but it doesn't matter whom,' Dumbledore forestalled any further outburst from Harry. 'The important thing is that the fifth Horcrux was created, and Sirius's brother noticed.

'Now, do you both agree with the summary of which Horcruxes were created, and when?'

He was rewarded with two nods.

'Now, we need to analyse the hiding places – '

'I apologise for the interruption, Headmaster,' Snape sounded distracted as he stood, 'but I need to leave.' He was still rubbing his arm.

Dumbledore gazed from Snape's arm up to his face and nodded. 'Take care,' he implored as Snape gathered his cloak about his shoulders.

'And you, Headmaster.' Snape's attitude was even more abrupt than usual. 'Don't let Potter over-tax your strength any more than he already has.' He nodded a very curt farewell as he opened the kitchen door, barely noticing Ginny as she almost bowled him over in her haste to enter the room.

Ginny gazed at Snape's retreating back, then glanced around at Harry and Dumbledore. 'Are we all done, then?'

'Yes,' sighed Dumbledore, rubbing his brow tiredly; Harry noticed that his hand was shaking. 'It is high time both of you returned to Hogwarts. I believe I have managed to give Harry sufficient homework to keep him busy until our next meeting.' He caught Harry's eye. 'And remember what I said about why you can boldly demand an excellent price for this house,' he added mysteriously.

'Er…?'

'Location, location, location.'