"Morning, sunshine," Ginny jested as Ron stirred from sleep.

"Ginny," Ron yawned. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About five hours," Hermione answered, dipping a rag in cool water. She wrung it out and laid it across his forehead.

His eyes followed the cloth. "What's that for?"

"You've got a fever," she told him. "You're getting sick."

"Thought I was just hurt." Opening his eyes a bit wider, he looked down at his dressings; his shoulder and his leg were both wrapped in clean white bandages. "Did you get the little git that did it?" He looked expectantly at Harry.

"Well..." Harry shuffled his feet. "Malfoy actually killed him."

Ron sank back into his pillow. "Sodding git. I don't want him defending me."

"If it's any consolation," Hermione said, "I don't think he was doing it for you. I just think he wanted to kill as many living things as possible."

"Mum came by earlier," Ginny told him. "She'll be back in an hour or so."

"Any messages from her? Like, you should have let the goblin kill you because now I'm going to do it instead?" He smiled weakly.

"No, just--" Ginny shared an uneasy glance with Harry. "She told us that the goblin population is split."

"Split?"

"Apparently Bill's trying to win more of them over," she explained, "but a lot of them have joined Voldemort."

"Bloody hell."

"Some of them are still against him, though."

Hermione sighed. "So," she said, "I hear we missed McGonagall's big announcement in the Great Hall."

"What's that?" Ron wanted to know.

"Hogwarts is having a Christmas ball," she told him, "before we let out for the holidays."

"If you think I'm going..."

"Just wear your normal school robes this time, Ron," Harry advised, and they all laughed, remembering his disastrous fashion statement from the Yule Ball.

"Ha ha," said Ron, but he smiled.

"Slughorn's going to be in charge of it," Hermione said. "Maybe he'll get the Weird Sisters to come... you know, since he's on such personal terms with them."

"There's something really outrageous about the Weird Sisters in here this issue," Ginny said, pulling out a copy of The Quibbler from her school things. "Aha. Lead singer of Weird Sisters: You-Know-Who in Disguise?"

Ron grabbed it from her, scanning headlines, and stifled a laugh. "According to Luna's father, Scrimgeour is under the Imperius Curse. The evidence for this is the "uncharacteristically decent decisions" he has made lately."

Harry laughed.

"Oh, and here-- apparently all four of the founders have living descendants and three are at Hogwarts right now." Ron covered the article with his hand. "Bet you anything he says Harry is Gryffindor's descendant."

Hermione took a peek. "Not at all... no names. You lost."

Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment, waving her arms at them. "Out with you," she said. "He needs his rest."

"My mum'll be back," Ginny protested.

"Then you stay, Miss Weasley, and we shall wake him up when she arrives." She turned to Harry and Hermione. "Scoot!"

They scooted.

"It's not like we wouldn't let him sleep if he wanted to," Hermione grumbled. "Besides, he's been asleep for hours." They shuffled down the hall in silence. "Have you found anything else out about the Horcruxes?"

Harry shook his head. "I've been back to look at the Pensieve, but I haven't found anything helpful."

"Isn't there a way to call up certain memories?"

Harry shrugged. "If there is, I don't know how to do it."

"I'll look it up."

"Hermione, you haven't got time. How many N.E.W.T.'s are you taking?"

"Enough," she said dismissively. "Don't forget, we have that Transfiguration essay to finish."

"Right."

"But you've figured out how to destroy them, then."

Harry nodded. "That's the problem, though."

"Problem?" Hermione was confused.

"Well... when you murder it rips your soul, and then you can put those pieces into items, making them Horcruxes."

"Right."

"So d'you remember the diary? I'm betting that it was created when Riddle murdered Myrtle. And his weapon of choice..."

"The basilisk."

"And when I stabbed the diary with the basilisk fang, the piece of Riddle's soul was destroyed." He paused. "So to destroy the Horcrux, you need to use the murder weapon used in the murder that created the Horcrux. Do you understand?"

"You have no idea how many murders he committed," Hermione said matter-of-factly, "or by what means he committed them."

"Dumbledore said that he would have made Horcruxes from his 'important' murders," Harry said to her. "But don't you think Voldemort would have, say, killed some of those people with his own wand?"

"So you'll have to go after Voldemort's wand?"

"I think so."

"But you lock wands when you duel..."

Harry swore under his breath. "I don't know how I'm ever going to kill him, Hermione," he said. "Once I destroy the Horcruxes, there's still a piece of soul left inside him. I just-- I don't understand why Ollivander ever sold me my wand if he knew it was the twin to Voldemort's. You know? If he knew about Priori Incantatem... and you can bet that he did... he should have known that it would have this effect in the future!" Sighing, he gave the Fat Lady the password. "But," he said as they went through the portrait hole, "the wand chooses the wizard, right?"

Hermione's face was grim. She pulled Harry onto a couch. "There's an ideal wand for every wizard, Harry," she said slowly, "but there's no reason you couldn't have used another one. Look at Ron-- he used his brother's for a year before it snapped. Even Riddle used his uncle's wand to commit three murders."

"You think he gave it to me on purpose?"

"I wasn't saying that..."

"But it could be true. Look, they say it didn't look like he put up a fight when he was kidnapped. What if he is--"

"A Death Eater?" Hermione gave him a skeptical look. "Harry, not everyone's a Death Eater."

"That's what you said about Malfoy, remember?"

She sighed. "Fine, so I missed one. But I don't think this theory is very likely."

Harry stared into the fire for a long while, unresponsive. She became fidgety.

"Go, get to work on your Transfiguration essay," he said dismissively. "I know you can't wait to get to work at it."

She smiled. "That predictable, am I?"

Harry peered at her out of the top of his glasses. "You and homework... wormwood and asphodel..."

With a laugh, she headed toward the stairs. "You are getting better at Potions."

"'Night," he called.

"'Night."

Harry could not sleep that night, and found himself sitting in front of Dumbledore's Pensieve once again, plunging himself into the old Headmaster's memories.

Dumbledore was sitting in the Burrow's sunny kitchen, having tea with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"I've found out more about Regulus' murder," he said quietly, setting his teacup back on the saucer with a gentle clink of china.

The Weasleys leaned forward with grave interest.

"Drowned," said Dumbledore lightly.

"That's horrible," said Mrs. Weasley. She put her hand over her heart and looked to her husband.

A red-headed little boy toddled into the room, dragging a dirty blanket. He stood for a moment, blinking at Dumbledore, then promptly clambered up into his lap.

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "He's fond of you."

"He's just not afraid," Dumbledore said pleasantly, as the boy stuck the end of his blanket in his mouth. "He'll be a handful when he gets to school."

"George," admonished Mrs. Weasley, and tugged it out of his mouth.

"Have you any idea if it was... You-Know-Who?" Mr. Weasley's face was grim.

Dumbledore nodded. "We think it was on his orders, but we're not sure who carried them out yet."

As soon as his mother looked away, George grinned and shoved the blanket right back in his mouth. He sucked on it happily.

"Do you think it wasn't a Death Eater?" Mrs. Weasley leaned forward.

"Perhaps it was one in training. Perhaps it was someone's induction rite."

She shuddered.

"Thanks for the tea, dear Molly." Dumbledore lifted George off his lap and set him on the floor. He looked confused for a moment, then toddled away.

"Stop back soon," Mr. Weasley said.

And Harry was back in front of the basin, bare feet on the cold stone floor. Without a second's pause, he went back for more.

Harry landed in a small, dark room. The only light came from a pillar candle on the table, which cast spooky shadows on the uneven bricks of the walls. Dumbledore, looking much like he had in the Weasleys' kitchen, sat alone, scratching letters with a quill.

Without so much as a knock, the door burst open and a man who looked much like Sirius burst inside; Harry's heart jumped, but upon closer inspection, the man wasn't Sirius at all. Though he was just as handsome, he had a much longer face, and the mischievous sparkle that had always been in Sirius' eyes did not exist in this man's frightened gaze.

"Regulus," Dumbledore greeted.

He made a quick bow. "They are not far off. I'm not going to outlive this."

"You don't have to keep doing this, Regulus," Dumbledore said quietly. "You can hide with us."

"No," replied Regulus. "It's useless; they'll find me. I don't want to bring them upon you, upon my brother. Besides--" he laughed shortly-- "only three of you know I'm working for the Order in the first place."

"I assure you, everyone else would be just as welcoming."

Regulus shook his head. "No. My brother would be suspicious. Always. But you--" He came closer to the table. "You had faith in me. Thank you."

Dumbledore nodded.

There was a loud bang outside, followed by a series of shrieks.

"Here," Regulus said, pressing a small scroll of parchment into Dumbledore's palm. "I dare not stay any longer." And he rushed out.

And Harry was back in his own reality. He paused to think. So Regulus was working for the Order? But he was a Death Eater. Who was he spying for? Harry tried to reason it out, but his head began to hurt. I need more information.

This time, he was standing in Ollivander's shop.

"Ah! Albus!" Ollivander came around the counter and shook Dumbledore's hand with a smile. "What can I help you with? Surely you can't have broken your wand... you've had it so many years, it would be a shame to have to replace it now."

Dumbledore smiled politely. "I actually wanted to make an inquiry about that wand," he said indicating the one that rested on a cushion in the display window.

"Oh-- erm, that one?" Ollivander moved toward the window.

"Yes."

"One of the first ones we ever made," Ollivander said. "Back in the days of the Founders."

"I was wondering if I might purchase it," Dumbledore said.

"Purchase it?" Ollivander seemed taken aback at the very thought. "Why, Albus--"

"I have plenty of money," Dumbledore assured him, and produced a sizable pouch of Galleons.

Ollivander's eyes got big. "I'm afraid--" He sighed. "I'm afraid it's just not for sale."

"I understand." Dumbledore pocketed the pouch. "May I take a look, though?" He moved to the window and lifted the wand off the cushion. Ollivander drew in a sharp breath, as though the wand might shatter if anyone touched it.

"Beautiful craftsmanship," said Dumbledore, setting the wand gently back on its cushion, and Ollivander let out the breath he'd been holding. "If you ever do decide to part with it," Dumbledore continued with a smile, "it will be most welcome at Hogwarts."

"Thank you." Ollivander forced a smile, and hurried Dumbledore out of his shop.

Harry, thirsty for knowledge, peered over the edge of the stone basin and dipped into the memories one more time. This time, he found himself on the bank of a river, immersed in dense fog.

"Come on." Harry recognized the voice as Snape's.

"What if he floats to the top?" Pettigrew.

"He won't." Snape stood and watched Pettigrew for a moment, who was standing uncertainly on the rocks. Impatiently, Snape strode over and seized him by his robes. "Do you know what would happen if we were to be seen here?"

"Sorry."

"Now, come on." He pulled a curtain of greasy black hair from his face and marched forward, leaving Pettigrew to scamper after him.

"Is that it? Am I in now?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Always trying to fit in, weren't you, Wormtail?"

"I managed it better than you did."

What happened then caught Harry off guard. Snape turned in a rage and backhanded Pettigrew, knocking him to the ground. Pettigrew covered his face, whimpering.

"It's different now!" shouted Snape, ignoring his own warning about stealth.

Pettigrew took his hands from his face. They were covered in blood, and his nose was broken.

"Is it true that Lily has been engaged to Potter?" Snape asked suddenly.

Pettigrew nodded. "Yes. They--"

Snape kicked him sharply in the stomach. "I don't want to hear about it," he said, and walked briskly away.

Harry's hatred for Snape swelled; it was also the only time he'd ever felt sorry for Peter Pettigrew. And why had Snape been asking questions about his mother? His head spun as he tried to sort everything out. He figured that either Snape or Pettigrew must have murdered Regulus. Probably Pettigrew, since Dumbledore had said something about initiation in the Weasleys' kitchen. So what was the Horcrux he had to destroy?

The mantra ran through his head. Three items were gone; three were left. The cup. The snake. Something of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw's. He was halfway there.