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

– CHAPTER NINETEEN –

Poison Chalice

'How many are dead today?' Ron asked Harry as he examined the Prophet over a bowl of porridge.

'You don't have to be so blunt about it.' Hermione shook her head at her boyfriend's lack of sympathy for total strangers.

'Er … just the one,' Harry told Ron. 'Plus two are missing and there's been another – oh, they've got to be joking!'

'What?' Hermione's eyes widened in alarm.

'They've arrested Perkins. Wasn't he the bloke who used to work with your dad?'

'Yeah.' Ron tried to wipe egg yolk from the front of his robes; he had dropped his spoon when Harry had said Perkins' name. 'What did they arrest him for?'

'Killing somebody called Bozo Benzali.'

Ron looked like he had been Confunded. 'Who's he?'

'Some photographer for the Prophet. What is it?' He frowned at Hermione, who was gazing into space.

'I've heard that name before.' She was still staring, unfocused, at nothing.

'What's so important about some photographer?' Ron attacked his egg again.

'He might have taken a picture of something he wasn't supposed to, like where Voldemort's hideout is.'

'Oh, come on, if he did that, it would be all over the front page.' Ron jabbed his spoon towards Harry's paper. 'The Prophet'd want everybody to know they were the ones who found You-Know-Who.'

'Maybe he didn't realise what he'd found. Or maybe the Death Eaters got to him before he could get back to the Prophet,' Harry mused.

'But why would Perkins be charged with his murder? He'd be the last person who'd become a Death Eater.' Ron was still struggling to understand why all of this had happened, let alone how.

Harry shrugged. He was at as much of a loss as Ron as to why the Ministry would arrest one of its own, a low-ranking officer in an insignificant department which looked after the interests of Muggles.

They spent the rest of breakfast in silence, each lost in their own thoughts of why the Minister would consider a low-paid employee would even be remotely connected to the death of a photographer. It wasn't until later that night, after he got back from his Herbology tutorial, that they had a chance to talk about it further.

'I found out why I'd heard that photographer's name before.' Hermione tossed a newspaper into Harry's lap as he collapsed with relief into a chair in front of the fire. Unfolding the paper, Harry didn't need to look far. Hermione had circled a name printed in small letters in the bottom corner of the picture occupying half of the front page. But the identity of the photographer paled into significance next to the photograph itself: it was the one which had been taken as part of the publicity for the Triwizard tournament. Harry gazed in mild shock at the photo, taking in just how many of the people present had fallen foul of Voldemort and his mates.

'So he was the creep who helped Rita Skeeter be a horrible, nasty –'

'Rita Skeeter didn't need help being horrible and nasty, Ron,' said Hermione.

'Looking at that, you'd almost think You-Know-Who had it in for the people who were involved with the tournament.' Ginny glanced across at the picture. 'Cedric, Karkaroff, Krum, Mr Ollivander, Rita Skeeter, Dumbledore, the photographer. The only ones who haven't been harmed are Fleur, Madame Maxime and Ludo Bagman.'

'And Harry,' said Ron.

Harry snorted. 'I'd hardly call myself unharmed where Voldemort is concerned.'

'What was Ollivander doing there?' Ron was frowning more closely at the picture now.

'He was there for the Weighing of the Wands,' Harry replied.

'What, he wanted to see how heavy they were?'

'No, he tested them to make sure they worked OK. He was really good at it, too. He knew who had made Krum's wand, and that Fleur's had a Veela hair in it; that's how I found out about her grandmother. And, of course, he knew all about Cedric and my wands since he made –' Harry stopped as a thought suddenly struck him.

'Where are you going?' Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all startled when he jumped up, sending the Prophet flying.

'To see McGonagall,' Harry threw back over his shoulder as he hurried through the portrait hole.

'Professor, I need … need …' Harry blinked stupidly as he gazed around McGonagall's office. He had apparently burst in in the middle of a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix; he recognised Remus, Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Bill amongst the dozen or so people blinking back at him in surprise.

'You need to discuss something with me?' McGonagall asked dryly.

'Er … yes.' Harry glanced nervously around the group. It was probably fortuitous that Bill was here, but he had hoped to keep this secret.

'And it can't wait?'

'No,' Harry told her. He didn't like the way Moody was staring at him. McGonagall also stared hard at him for several moments as his nervousness increased, then she sighed tiredly. 'Very well, everybody. I think we've pretty much covered everything for tonight.' She was watching Harry very closely. He felt for his wand inside his robes and gave it the tiniest of flicks, concentrating hard on the word Propositium. 'Bill,' she added as Bill gathered up his cloak, 'would you please wait downstairs? I'd like a quick word after Potter is finished.'

Bill frowned at her slightly, clearly not certain what more she had to discuss with him, but didn't start to pull his cloak about his shoulders as he left with the others.

McGonagall gazed up at Harry, her lips thin with displeasure at the rude interruption. 'Well, Potter, what was so important?'

Harry waited until he heard the door click shut behind him.

'I need you to hide Fleur Dela – I mean Weasley, Madame Maxime and Ludo Bagman.'

Whatever McGonagall was expecting Harry to say, it certainly wasn't that.

'Why?'

'Because they know information which Voldemort is desperate to find out.'

McGonagall's face tightened at the mention of Voldemort's name but she said nothing about it. 'What information would those particular people possibly share which You-Know-Who would find of interest?'

'Just information,' Harry hedged. 'I'm sorry; I can't give you details because it would place you at risk as well. Just trust me though. Please.'

'Is anybody else privy to this … information?'

'Only me,' Harry told her. 'Even Ron and Hermione don't know it.'

'But Olympe, Miss Delacour and Ludo Bagman do?'

'Yes.' Harry gazed back at her, imploring her to just do as he said.

'I'm sorry, Potter,' McGonagall shook her head. 'I am afraid I cannot just pull three people out of existence and make them disappear without good cause. It is far too complex and expensive a procedure to waste upon the word of a student.'

Harry's eyes narrowed. 'I thought I was supposed to be a teacher.'

'You are, but –'

'If it was Professor Flitwick or Professor Capsworth who was asking you to do this, would you give them the third degree too, or would you just do it and trust that they know what they're on about?'

'I'm sorry, Potter.' She refused to back down.

Harry glared at her in frustration, reluctant to reveal his reasons to her. Why couldn't she just trust him for once, trust his judgement? He gazed past her shoulder at Dumbledore's portrait, which nodded at him and gave a small wink. Harry frowned at him. The snow-white head nodded again.

'Now, Potter, if there is nothing more –'

'They know about my wand.' Harry said in a rush.

McGonagall had started to stand up, clearly intending to show Harry to the door, but stopped halfway and slowly sat down again.

'Your … wand?'

'Yes.' Harry chanced another glance in Dumbledore's direction and got another wink. 'The night Cedric died, Voldemort tried to fight me but our wands didn't work like they should have. They went really strange. Now Voldemort is trying to find out why. He doesn't believe that it was because I'm a powerful wizard because he doesn't believe I'm powerful, so it had to be because of my wand. That's why Mr Ollivander disappeared. He knew Voldemort would try to capture him and quiz him about how my wand had been made.'

'How would he have known that?'

'At a guess, I would say Professor Dumbledore told him. He may even have been the one to hide him. When Malfoy was up on the Astronomy Tower, Dumbledore told him to come back to the right side, that he could hide him and his mum so well, nobody would ever find them, so he would have had no trouble with Ollivander.'

'And why would You-Know-Who believe that Olympe, Fleur and Ludo would know about your wand?'

'Because they were there when Mr Ollivander told everybody present about my wand at the Weighing of the Wands for the Triwizard Tournament. Of everybody else who was there, Rita Skeeter was abducted so Voldemort could check out her memory, and the others are dead. Dumbledore, Krum, Karkaroff, and Cedric. And according to the Prophet, the photographer turned up dead yesterday. Voldemort's going through everybody who had anything to do with that photo shoot, trying to find out what he wants to know.

'So you have to get Madame Maxime, Fleur and Mr Bagman hidden. Madame Maxime and Fleur probably wouldn't talk, so they'd just end up dead, but Bagman certainly wouldn't have any qualms spilling his soul if it could save his life. They might even be able to trick him into letting it slip. Just a couple of drinks down the pub, maybe offer to pay his debts for him …'

'All right, Potter.' This last part seemed to have finally swayed McGonagall. 'I'll get things in place. You may sleep easily tonight. The secret of your wand, whatever that secret may be,' her lips tightened a little, 'is safe. Now, if you wouldn't mind asking Bill Weasley to come back up as you leave.'

Understanding himself to be dismissed, Harry stood, feeling extremely relieved that she would finally do as he had asked. It was just a pity she couldn't have acted immediately without insisting on sharing in the secret first.

x

'Harry,' a voice called after him as he was about to unlock the door to his office. Turning, he saw Susan Bones running along the corridor towards him. 'Hermione Granger said you wanted to speak to me.'

'Yes,' Harry replied, holding the door open. 'If you have a moment.'

Dumping a pile of first-year essays on his desk, Harry indicated for Susan to take a seat. Once they were settled, he asked, 'What are you plans over Easter?'

Susan blinked. 'My plans?'

'Yes. Are you going home or staying here to do some extra studying?'

'I was going to stay here and study; I mean, the exams aren't far off. Why?' she asked, clearly confused.

'I was wondering if you would be interested in helping me with something … something of a dark nature.'

'Doing what?'

'I need help destroying a very dark object. And I must warn you that it will be very risky and dangerous, possibly even fatal.' Harry held his breath.

Susan gazed at him, perplexed. 'Shouldn't you be asking Hermione? After all, she was the best in the DA after you … best at everything, in fact.' Harry's face must have reflected his disappointment for she rushed on. 'Of course I'll be happy to help you … if I can … but are you sure you've got the right person?'

'I've got the right one all right,' replied Harry. 'It's not so much skill I'm after, not that I'm saying you're not talented,' he hastened to assure her, 'because I know you are. It's just that what I need is someone who is descended from Helga Hufflepuff.'

'How do you know about that?' she whispered.

'Dumbledore told me,' said Harry quietly.

Susan's face paled. 'Everyone thought they were killed because they sided with Dumbledore or did something to make him mad, but Dumbledore always believed it was because of who we are. Dad thought it all ended years ago, but then Auntie Amelia died and …' She made an odd sound, like she had swallowed a sob in the back of her throat.

Gazing unseeing at Sirius's empty frame hanging on the wall behind Harry, she asked, 'Will what you want me to do help destroy him?'

'Yes.' Harry watched her closely.

Something steely flashed through her eyes as Susan brought her gaze back to Harry. 'Then I'll do it! I'll help you!'

Harry held her gaze. 'I must ask you not to mention a word of this to anyone – not your mother, friends or even Professor McGonagall. And definitely not Stanwick Fulstrum.'

Susan gazed at him curiously, but nevertheless nodded her agreement to his terms.

'Good.' Harry accompanied Susan to the door. 'I'll meet you in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom right after breakfast on the first day of the holidays.'

As he closed the door behind her, he heaved a huge sigh of relief.

x

The first morning of the holidays found Harry hidden under his Invisibility Cloak outside Myrtle's bathroom, having already received good luck wishes from Ron and Hermione (they were staying at school to study). He had been there about twenty minutes and was starting to think Susan had forgotten when he saw her turn into the corridor. He dropped the Cloak.

'Harry?' Susan jumped, startled, as he appeared out of nowhere. Then she noticed the Cloak at his feet and her jaw dropped.

'Where did you get that?' she almost whispered in awe.

'It was my dad's,' said Harry offhandedly. 'Dumbledore gave it to me my first Christmas here.' He slung it over his shoulders. 'You know how to use one of these?'

'Yes.'

'Then let's go.'

'Where are we?' Susan looked around the kitchen of number twelve with increasing puzzlement.

'My house.'

'You live here? Where are the Muggles?'

'This isn't my aunt and uncle's house; it's my place. I inherited it from my godfather.'

'And the dark thing you want me to help you destroy is here?'

'It's upstairs. Don't worry; we'll get to it soon. But first, I need to tell you a few things. How do you like your tea?' He reached for the pot which Dumbledore had welcomingly left on the table.

'Don't tell me you own a house elf as well?'

The teapot slipped.

'Yes,' said Harry shortly. 'But it's at Hogwarts. Sugar?' He passed her a cup as she sat down.

Susan peered over the rim as he took several deep breaths.

'Are you OK?' She set her cup down which, upon reflection, was probably fortunate because she wouldn't be able to choke or smash anything.

'What would you say if I told you that Snape didn't really kill Professor Dumbledore last year?'

She took it better that he had expected. As Harry led Susan upstairs, she didn't shrink from him or tell him he was touched in the head or anything. She simply accepted his explanations and instructions without argument. He should have known it was too good to be true.

Upon entering the drawing room, Susan only managed to get one piercing scream out before Dumbledore silenced her but it was enough to set Mrs Black going. When Harry got back upstairs (he really needed to get some paint stripper), Susan was sitting on the sofa next to Dumbledore, feeling his face like a blind person, all the while sobbing quietly as Dumbledore's pale blue eyes smiled at her through the half-moon glasses.

'You see,' he said. 'Harry was telling you the truth.'

'And Snape?' she hiccoughed.

'All true. I owe him my life.'

'But why?'

'I already told you why.' Harry joined them.

'Put yourself in my place for a moment, Susan.' Dumbledore held her gaze. 'You are the last of the Boneses. Lord Voldemort wants you dead and has ordered his Death Eaters to murder you. You've been lucky so far, but your luck is bound to run out before too long. What would be the only thing which would stop Voldemort trying to kill you?'

'Him thinking I was dead.'

'And would you tell anybody what you were planning to do?'

Susan gazed at Dumbledore a moment then, inexplicably, said, 'I'm sorry,' tears flowing freely again.

Dumbledore gently pulled her against his shoulder. 'Shhh … shhh … it's all right. It's all right. Shhh.'

When Susan finally sat back, the shoulder of Dumbledore's robe was quite damp. Blushing, she pulled out a handkerchief and tried to mop the cloth dry.

'You know,' Dumbledore leaned down to murmur conspiratorially, 'there is an easier way. You are a witch, after all.'

Susan frowned, puzzled, then gasped and pulled out her wand. Laughing, she gave it a flick, her good humour starting to return.

'Now that you are feeling better, do you feel up to tackling something bigger?'

Susan sobered her face into a serious expression. 'I think so, yes, Professor.'

Dumbledore continued to look at her with a penetrating gaze, as if making his own judgement of her readiness. Satisfied, he gave a small nod.

'Harry, if you could please fetch the items from the top of the cabinet, I think it is time we began.' Once Harry had returned and settled everything, Dumbledore began.

'Tell me, do either of you know how to perform the Tuc Charm?'

He got two blank looks in return.

'Very well, we shall start with that. The incantation is Phleshnit.'

'What's it for?' Susan asked as Harry shook his head.

'It's the spell which heals open wounds. We shall need to fill Helga Hufflepuff's cup with equal amounts of venom, Harry's and your blood and a small prick shan't be in any way sufficient. So you shall have quite significant cuts to heal.'

'Hufflepuff's …?' Susan's hand shot out, snatching up the cup and turning it over. 'How did you get this? This was stolen from the Smiths years ago.'

'You know you're related to Zacharius Smith?' asked Harry, surprised.

'Only distantly,' said Susan, as if it was on no consequence. 'One of their ancestors took this from one of our ancestors and we haven't seen it since. The Smiths made a huge noise about fifty years ago about it being nicked, but Grandpa always thought they really sold it and were trying to cover it up, as well as making sure everybody knew they were descended from a Hogwarts founder.' Her tone became steadily colder as she spoke. She glanced up at Dumbledore. 'Where did you get this?'

Lord Voldemort hid it in the Chamber of Secrets some time ago,' Dumbledore replied. 'Harry fetched it out a couple of weeks ago.'

Susan gazed back down at the items on the coffee table. 'A third of a cup, huh?'

'Yes, but not yet. First,' Dumbledore nodded at the cup in Susan's hand. 'I shall need you to perform the Copy-Cat Charm upon that cup.'

'Copy-Cat?'

'Yes. Am I correct in believing that you are studying Charms for your N.E.W.T.s?'

Susan nodded.

'Then, the Copy Cat Charm, if you please.' Dumbledore leant back against the sofa.

Susan glanced around at Harry, as if hoping he would explain what was going on, but found no help from that quarter. Scowling at him as though this was somehow his fault, she waved her wand and a second identical cup appeared in her lap.

After Harry had stored the replica safely in his bedroom, Dumbledore settled down to teach them how to perform a Drawing Charm.

An hour later, he was satisfied that they were ready. Harry measured out one third of a cup of the venom Snape had milked from the Basilisk, collected Susan's blood and then cut his own arm with Dumbledore's knife as Susan healed her arm. Holding the two wands together, they both carefully stirred the mixture.

The cup started to glow, becoming brighter with each turn as Harry spoke the words of the Drawing charm over and over. His hand was starting to burn from the heat of the bubbling brew, spreading slowly up his arm.

The temptation to let go was almost too much. Horcrux Exsilium! It was burning so much. Horcrux Invictus! His scar was exploding. Horcrux Funero!

x

'Harry …'

The voice sounded far away.

'Harry …'

With a struggle, Harry fought against the weight pressing his eyes closed. Blurred shadows swam before him for a moment, then a bony hand pressed his glasses onto his nose and Dumbledore's concerned face came into view.

'Drink this before you try to speak. Your throat will be quite parched.' Dumbledore held a cup to Harry's lips.

Cup …

Harry sat bolt upright, making Dumbledore spill liquid down his front.

'No matter,' Dumbledore assured him as he tried to stammer an apology. 'It won't stain; it was only water.' He pointed his wand at the cup ('Aguamenti') and it refilled.

'Susan?' Harry croaked, gulping mouthfuls of the cool liquid.

'Miss Bones has suffered no lasting damage,' said Dumbledore. 'Severus is tending to her as we speak.'

Harry choked. 'Snape's here?'

'Professor Snape, yes. It is thanks to his ministrations that you have only taken two days to recover.' He reached into his robes and pulled out one of Honeydukes eggs. 'I know it is a day late but … Happy Easter.'

Harry stared at the egg. 'Did we manage to destroy the Horcrux, sir?'

A wary light flickered in Dumbledore's blue eyes. 'This egg made you think of the Basilisk, didn't it?'

Harry frowned. 'Yeah, how –'

'You spoke Parseltongue just now.'

Harry didn't know what to say to that. 'I … I'm sorry, sir.' He repeated the question, making sure he spoke English.

Dumbledore's quiet smile returned. 'You were successful, though it is possibly fortunate that Helga Hufflepuff has long since left this world, for it will no longer serve as a vessel for holding liquid.' He directed Harry's attention to the small chest of drawers by his bed. Hufflepuff's cup was lying on its side, the emblem melted into the tarnished gold. Harry saw immediately why Dumbledore said it couldn't be used as a cup anymore: there was a large hole where the bottom of the cup had been, its edges burnt black like the base had been blasted away.

'Is it safe?'

He got a nod in return.

Picking it up, Harry turned it over in his hands, checking out the damage. He grinned nervously. 'It's a good thing we got Susan to make a copy before we destroyed the Horcrux.'

Dumbledore chuckled softly as Snape entered the room, a tray floating ahead of him. He sneered when he saw Harry sitting up. Harry glared back.

'How is Miss Bones, Severus?'

'Greatly improved since she has eaten. She is currently freshening up.' The dark eyes continued to bore into Harry.

'Ah,' sighed Dumbledore, gazing at the steaming bowl. 'There is nothing like a hot bowl of hearty broth to restore one's strength. Eat up, Harry, so you may greatly improve, also.'

Snape's lip curled.

Dumbledore peered up at him over the half-moon spectacles. 'It's all right, Severus; you may go now. I've taken up too much of your time already but we should be able to manage by ourselves now. Thank you … for everything.'

Snape's eyes glittered almost menacingly but he said nothing, merely nodding curtly before sweeping from Harry's bedroom.

'Please tell me I don't owe a life debt to him.' Harry continued to stare at the door.

'Would it matter if you do?' Dumbledore sounded amused.

'Yeah. If Voldemort finds out, all he'll have to do is kill Snape and he'll kill me!'

'That is why Professor Snape will make certain Lord Voldemort does not find out. Now eat up.' He slid the soup bowl closer to Harry.

'So there is a life debt?'

'Eat, Harry.'

'But –'

'Uh, uh,' Dumbledore stopped him. 'Eat. When you have a full stomach, then we shall discuss this matter. For now, though –' He stood. 'I need to ensure Miss Bones doesn't become lost in this house.'

Harry was searching drawers when Dumbledore returned.

'I can't find my ring,' he said distractedly.

'You're not going anywhere, Harry,' sighed Dumbledore. 'And certainly not back to Hogwarts; not until the end of the holidays. Now, if you would kindly join Miss Bones and myself in the drawing room,' (he picked up Harry's empty tray), 'we can have our chat.'

'So, what did you want to talk about, Professor?' Susan still looked very washed out and Harry wondered absently if he was just as pale.

'How much has Harry told you about all of this?'

'Only that Professor Snape only pretended to kill you and that you needed my help to perform a spell on Helga Hufflepuff's cup. But there's more, isn't there?'

'I'm afraid so,' said Dumbledore gravely. 'We shall require your help opening and closing a door.'

'Opening …?'

'And closing.'

'Where's the door?' Susan looked very lost.

'At Hogwarts,' said Dumbledore. 'Or, at least it will be when it appears. Harry will let you know when it is time.'

Susan glanced warily from Dumbledore to Harry and back. 'What do I have to do to help open this door?'

'Prick your finger.'

'My finger?'

Dumbledore nodded. 'Basically, we shall need a drop of your blood.'

Susan's eyes narrowed. 'You mean Helga Hufflepuff's blood.' She didn't sound very pleased. 'Who else are you roping into this?'

Both men tensed.

'You said just now that you wanted me to help you open a door, not open it outright. So, like I said, who else is there?'

'Me.'

Dumbledore looked across at Harry.

'What? She's going to find out sooner or later.'

'I would have preferred it was later rather than sooner,' sighed Dumbledore.

'Why?' Susan was watching the two of them. 'What's wrong with me knowing the truth?'

'Nothing, except that the later you learn it, the less danger you will be in.'

'Danger?' Susan gave a bitter laugh. 'Most of my family have been killed around me and I was almost killed myself … by a gold cup. I think I can handle danger. So out with it.'

Harry's eyes flicked to Dumbledore who said, 'You can't argue with that.'

Sensing she'd won some kind of victory, Susan pressed her advantage, throwing question after question at Harry.

'If you need my blood because I'm descended from Helga Hufflepuff, then I assume you need the other founders' families, too?'

'Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, yes.'

'And we have to help you open this door?'

'You and the Ravenclaw heir do.'

'And what does Gryffindor's heir have to do?'

Harry could feel Dumbledore watching him. 'I am Gryffindor's heir.'

Susan jaw dropped slightly. 'I thought you were the Chosen One.'

'And the Boy who Lived,' said Harry in a bored sort of voice. 'But that's neither here nor there.'

'But you're the Chosen One,' Susan stressed. 'You've been chosen by the fates to destroy You-Know-Who.'

'Actually, I was chosen by Voldemort as the most dangerous threat to him,' Harry contradicted. 'That's why I'm the bait to lure him into that room.'

'And what's so important about the room? What's in it?' Susan sounded like she was facing a Boggart.

'Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's tombs,' said Dumbledore.

Susan frowned. 'What about Slytherin?'

'He had the Chamber of Secrets,' Harry reminded her.

'Wasn't that the place which had a monster hidden in it?' Memory sparked in Susan's eyes. 'You killed it; second-year, right?'

Harry nodded.

'So you've got Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and – oh … who's Ravenclaw's descendant?'

'I don't know, though I've been told we'll find out when the time is right.' Harry threw Dumbledore a frustrated look.

'And what about Slytherin's heir?'

'He's the one we're hoping to destroy.'

'Destroy?' Susan choked. 'You mean …? But I thought you were supposed to kill You-Know …' Dawning spread across her face. 'You-Know-Who is Slytherin's heir? I thought it was Draco Malfoy.'

'Don't worry,' Dumbledore consoled her. 'You weren't the only one.'

Susan stared at Harry and Dumbledore for a few minutes, taking it all in. 'OK, once we're all in this room, what then?'

'Voldemort and I will duel,' said Harry. 'That's what all of this has been leading up to. Hopefully, we'll be able to get him in there by himself but he could have some Death Eaters with him so you might be busy fighting them.'

'That is why –' said Dumbledore, '– for the remainder of the holidays, both Harry and yourself shall practise your Defence techniques.'

'Look at it this way,' grinned Harry. 'It should help you get Outstanding on your exam.'

The following day, Remus and Ginny visited, arriving in time to find Harry and Dumbledore puzzling over how best to destroy the Ravenclaw heirloom … when the time was right to reveal the heir, of course. (Harry fumed frustratedly.)

'So what's the problem?' asked Ginny after Susan explained how they had destroyed the Hufflepuff Horcrux.

'Well, since it's solid, they can't exactly pour the potion down its throat, can they?' said Susan forlornly.

'How about stabbing it with a Basilisk fang?' suggested Ginny. 'Harry did that with the diary.'

'Ah,' Dumbledore looked over from his discussion with Remus, 'but the diary wasn't made of metal; Rowena Ravenclaw's statue is. And even if we did manage to lay our hands on something strong enough to penetrate the metal, I'm not certain that stabbing would be enough; I can't seem to be able to escape the feeling that the bird needs to be properly broken.'

'You mean, split it down the middle?' asked Harry.

'Probably,' Dumbledore agreed.

'What about an axe?' Susan put forward.

'Wouldn't it be easier to cut its head off?' asked Ginny. (Harry thought of the scene Kreacher had set up in the kitchen).

Lupin said, 'It would also need to contain sufficient magical power itself to withstand the magic of the eagle, the potion and the Drawing Charm.'

And, suddenly, Harry had it.

'Would Gryffindor's sword do the trick?'

Dumbledore's moustache stretched in a wide grin. 'It would, indeed. Very well thought of, Harry. And you also, Ginny; it probably will be easier to behead the eagle than split it in two. Not as much risk of losing fingers while trying to restrain it.

'Well, now we know what the next step is: borrowing Godric Gryffindor's sword from Professor McGonagall's office. I trust I can safely leave that task to you, Harry?'

Harry had no idea how he was going to achieve this without rousing McGonagall's suspicions, but felt it prudent not to deny Dumbledore's request, especially in front of two girls.

At Hogwarts a week later, Harry decided that the best time to approach McGonagall would be when she was warm, relaxed and well fed. He waited until after dinner on the second night back. He had wanted to change into his cleanest, best-ironed, most crisply-starched robes but Dumbledore had felt that McGonagall's suspicions would be aroused too much; it was going to be enough just trying to get the sword. This still didn't stop Harry nervously brushing at his robes as he reached for the griffin-shaped knocker on McGonagall's office door.

'So, what did you wish to see me about, Potter?' asked McGonagall as she settled herself behind her desk. Harry cleared his throat.

'I was wondering if I could borrow the Sorting Hat, please.'

'The Sorting Hat?'

Harry nodded.

'Might I enquire as to the purpose?' McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly.

'I want to show my second years how I defeated the Basilisk in my second year.' Harry threw her a look which he hoped said, 'You need to ask?'

McGonagall, in return, stared at Harry as though she thought he might be Lockhart on Polyjuice. She didn't say anything for several minutes, allowing silence to stretch between them and Harry's heart to bang erratically inside his chest. Finally, her lips thinned into their familiar line.

'How long would you need it for, Potter?' McGonagall's eyes drifted to the patched and frayed head covering occupying pride of place upon its high shelf.

The knot in Harry's stomach untwisted a fraction. 'Basically a week, starting with the Hufflepuffs tomorrow and finishing with Slytherin next Monday.' That would give him the weekend to deal with the Horcrux. He just hoped he didn't get knocked out for more than two days like last time.

'I thought you defeated Slytherin's monster using Godric Gryffindor's sword.' McGonagall fixed Harry with a suspicious glare.

Harry felt some of the colour drain from his face. 'I did; Fawkes brought me the Sorting Hat and I pulled the sword from it.'

'And why, exactly, do you wish to recreate your past endeavours? I don't recall seeing anything to that effect in your class outlines.'

'It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, really,' said Harry offhandedly. 'They've been doing pretty good and I thought I might give them a bit of a treat; let them see that what they've been learning can be very useful in a practical sense, that sort of thing.'

McGonagall's eyes narrowed further. Harry willed his face not to turn red.

'No, I don't think so, Potter.'

It took every ounce of strength to keep his voice steady as Harry said, 'May I ask why not?'

'Because I don't believe it is necessary.' McGonagall sounded so annoyingly calm as she crushed Harry's hopes. 'You have more than enough to be going on with and so cannot afford to be wasting time indulging in what ultimately boils down to recreational activities. Just stick to the curriculum outlined and your students will be the more grateful for it.'

For the next several weeks, Harry continued his efforts to get McGonagall to change her mind. As a damp April blossomed into a steamier May, the headmistress's patience stretched very thin. Even Felix couldn't get her to shift her position. Harry would have preferred to give the whole thing up as lost, but Dumbledore's unwavering belief in him (as well as Snape's snide comments during their Potions classes) kept Harry at it.

Then, two weeks before his exams were due to start, Harry, Ron and Hermione were returning to Gryffindor Tower after studying late in the library when –

'The headmistress wants to see you, Potter. In her office. Now.'

Harry stared at Filch's snarling face. 'Did she say why?'

'Guilty conscience?' Filch snapped back, but his attitude spoke volumes; McGonagall hadn't confided in the crusty old caretaker and he wasn't happy about it.

Sighing, Harry passed his books to Ron and Hermione and assured them he would catch up with them in the common room soon (he just hoped that would prove to be true), then he beat the familiar path to the gargoyle.

'You wanted to see me, Professor?' Harry's eyes flicked briefly to the Sorting Hat.

McGonagall rose and walked over to the Hat's shelf. Harry held his breath, not daring to hope, as she reached up and took the Sorting Hat down. Harry slowly reached a hand for it but she held it back.

'You do realise, Potter, that I have not reached this decision lightly,' McGonagall said through very thin lips. 'I have examined the arguments, both for and against, and have decided that you have proved yourself worthy enough to be entrusted with the school's most prized possession … for a very brief period of time, of course. You should consider yourself most fortunate you have some very loyal supporters.' She looked very stern as she passed the Hat to him.

What supporters? Had Ron, Hermione and Ginny petitioned her on his behalf? Harry didn't have a clue what McGonagall was talking about but he could worry about it later; he had the Sorting Hat in his hands at last and that was the important thing.

'I'll expect you to return it here this time next week.'

Harry realised McGonagall was still speaking.

'What … er, yeah, sure. Next Monday night will be fine.' Harry went to leave.

'And Potter …'

Harry turned back. McGonagall had moved over to the window; faint starlight reflected in her eyes as she glanced around at him.

'Be careful you don't damage that Hat at all.'

'Yes, Professor.'

On the wall past McGonagall's shoulder, Dumbledore's portrait winked at Harry, and as the headmistress turned back to the window, Harry gave a wink in return.

'Why have you got the Sorting Hat, Harry?' asked Dean Thomas, making the Gryffindors in the common room, most of them seventh years, turn.

Harry collapsed into an armchair in front of the fireplace; he was quite worn out. 'I need it for the second years. I'm going to show them how I fought off the Basilisk and Voldemort in our second year,' he said, ignoring the wave of gasps and shudders at Voldemort's name.

The students abandoned their studies and crowded around.

'What does the Sorting Hat have to do with that?'

'Are you going to recreate what happened?'

'You're not going to bring another Basilisk into the school, are you? You'll lose us so many points!'

Harry waited for the commotion to die down.

'Yes, I'm going to try to recreate the events of five years ago, but no, Parvati, I am not going to use a real Basilisk. Hagrid is giving me a harmless python which I will have no trouble giving instructions to since I can speak Parseltongue.' He could tell by the sudden nervous glances flicking back and forth between his classmates that they were all remembering the disastrous Duelling class Professor Lockhart had held during their second year.

'But why have you got the Sorting Hat?' asked Neville. 'I thought you killed the Basilisk with a sword. Or were the stories wrong?'

'No, the stories weren't wrong … well, mostly,' Harry assured Neville. 'I did use a sword. But I didn't have it with me when I first went into the Chamber of Secrets.' He glanced around at the puzzled faces. 'It appeared by magic. Watch.' Crossing to the centre of the room, Harry tossed the Hat into the air and caught it with one hand.

The whole room's attention was focused on the Sorting Hat. Every one of them could tell there was something suddenly different about it.

'There's something inside that,' commented Seamus.

Reaching into the Hat, Harry pulled forth the ruby-encrusted sword to a chorus of astonished and impressed gasps.

'Cool trick!'

'You did that in second year?'

'Can I have a go?'

All the Gryffindors crowded around, reaching out to stroke the sword.

'Can anybody do that?' Lavender Brown ran her fingers along the blade.

'Only a true Gryffindor.'

'So would the other houses get something which belonged to their own founders?' Colin Creevey was one of the few sixth years still up.

'What are you talking about?' asked Seamus.

Colin pointed to the sword. 'Look at the name on it.'

More astonished gasps echoed around the room as the students noticed the name.

Godric Gryffindor.

'Wow!' Seamus's attitude was suddenly much more reverent. 'That's old!'

'And you just pulled it out of the Sorting Hat?'

Harry nodded at Parvati Patil, who promptly snatched up the Hat. Before she could do anything with it though, Seamus grabbed it off her, then tossed it to Dean before she could grab it back.

Dean threw it into the air and caught it one-handed just like Harry, but nothing happened. He threw it up again, but still nothing. He looked over at Harry, clearly puzzled. 'Do you have to be pure-blood?'

'I'm not.' Harry didn't want to voice his opinion that 'true Gryffindor' might mean descended from Gryffindor. The only people at Hogwarts who knew about his family were Ron and Hermione; he wasn't sure that McGonagall even knew. And that was the way he wanted it to stay.

'I'm pure-blood.' A fifth-year waved a hand in the air, waiting to catch the Hat, but even when it reached him, it remained empty.

Harry grasped the sword a little more tightly as the boys began tossing the Hat from one to the other like a Quaffle – Seamus, back to Dean, to Colin, back to Seamus, to Neville –

Clunk!

Neville overbalanced under the unexpected weight of a suddenly-no-longer-empty Hat.

Harry realised, with a start, that Gryffindor's sword was no longer in his arms. He threw Ron and Hermione a puzzled glance, getting equally confused shrugs in return.

'How did you do that?' Seamus seemed angry that Neville had pulled off a magical feat he had failed to accomplish.

'I guess I'm just a true Gryffindor,' mumbled Neville as he avoided everybody's eyes, even Harry's, his face turning bright red.

'What are you all doing?'

Everyone jumped. Nobody had noticed McGonagall climb through the portrait hole. Neville scrambled to his feet, guilt flushing his face as he passed the Hat and sword back to Harry. McGonagall's eyes followed the movement.

'I was just showing them what I'm going to teach the second years, Professor.' Harry willed his face not to redden. 'Was there anything I can help you with or did you want to speak to Ron and Hermione about something?' He tried to school his features into an unconcerned expression.

McGonagall didn't look completely convinced that they hadn't been up to mischief.

'The sword disappeared from my office,' she explained, still eyeing Harry suspiciously. 'I came to investigate.'

'Well, as you can see, both the Sorting Hat and Gryffindor's sword are quite safe. I'd just finished demonstrating my lesson to everybody, and we were all about to head up to bed, when you came in.' Harry could feel several pairs of eyes boring into him as he forced a yawn. He imagined that most of the students had planned to keep studying; he knew Ron still had two essays to write.

McGonagall glanced around the room, perhaps forming her own assessment of whether beds had been on the verge of being filled.

'Very well, Potter; make certain you keep both of those items well guarded.' She glanced from Ron to Hermione. 'I'll leave you two to see these students retire immediately. And no more high jinks! Goodnight!'

x

'Are you sure you don't want us to come and help?'

Harry stopped and looked across at Ron.

'Well … maybe not help, exactly …' Ron started to redden with embarrassment.

Ron and Hermione were walking Harry down to Dumbledore's tomb. They had decided to start out just 'getting some fresh air', then they would say Harry must have felt he was something of a third wheel and wandered off, should anyone ask.

'I told you, Dumbledore wants as few people there as possible, in case we almost blow the place up again, like last time.' Harry's eyes did a rapid sweep of the grounds.

'Has Dumbledore said who the Ravenclaw descendant is yet?'

'No,' sighed Harry, trying to quell his anxiety. Hermione had thrown that question at him each time they had bumped into each other over the past several days – in the library, over breakfast, in the Charms corridor and even as Harry was coming out of the boy's bathroom, but since the only contact Harry had had with Dumbledore had been notification of the date they would attempt to destroy the Ravenclaw Horcrux, he hadn't been able to enlighten her at all.

'Give it a rest, Hermione,' Ron cut in before she could try a different approach.

They were almost at the lake; Harry withdrew his wand.

'Are you sure you don't want us to come?'

'Ron, stop badgering him!'

Harry's stomach began its familiar gymnastic routine as he pressed the ring into the eye socket. It winked up at him in the rays of the setting sun. He looked up, focusing on a point just past the end of the tomb.

'How did you know where I was standing?' Ginny let Harry's Invisibility Cloak drop to her shoulders.

'Keep covered!' Ron glanced anxiously around the grounds as he tried to pull the Cloak back up over her head.

'OK, keep you hair on! Here you go, Harry.' Ginny's arm appeared midair, holding a sword. 'Now,' her voice shook slightly, 'will you please go before Ron has apoplexy?'

'I am not having apoplexy!'

Harry shook his head at their bickering.

'Are you going to be OK?' Hermione glanced at him nervously.

'Yeah,' Harry donned what he hoped was a brave-looking grin. 'I've survived worse.' His little finger twitched. Gripping Gryffindor's sword firmly, he had his wand pressed against the ring before Ron and Ginny realised what was going on.

Amidst cries of 'Good luck' and an almost bone-crunching thump of encouragement from Ron, Harry allowed the Portkey to hook him into its colourful journey.

x

'You're late, Potter.'

Harry frowned. Why was Snape here? Had Dumbledore brought him in to save Harry's life again? And where was the Ravenclaw heir?

'What are you doing here?' Harry returned Snape's glare.

Snape's eyes glittered. 'I am here at the headmaster's invitation, as are you.' The cold voice betrayed a belief that he felt that Harry should not consider himself in any way equal.

'Where's Ravenclaw's descendant?' Harry asked Dumbledore, eyeing Snape testily.

'You're looking at him.'

Harry's head shot around. 'What?'

Dumbledore's moustache twitched. 'May I present the only surviving child of the late Eileen Prince-Snape, last remaining descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw.'