A/N: This chapter was really hard to read and write. And it's only 800 words! Gah! I'd wanted to make it longer, but it seems that this story just isn't as easy to write for these days...

Chapter 41: Loose Ends

It was all over the Prophet the next day. "Mysterious Assassin Sends House-Elf to take out former Dark Lord". There were people who were applauding this 'assassin', saying that it was about time that someone had enough sense to get rid of the old fart. There were others who were so naïve that they actually believed that a war could be won without casualties; that if we just sat Voldemort down and asked nicely he'd stop terrorizing the country and leave us all alone. If only it were that simple.

I felt bad about it, myself. I hadn't wanted to ask it of Kreacher, especially seeing as how he'd just gotten his sanity back, but I realized early on that unlike my nemesis I don't have friends in high places that can get me into extremely secures areas. I had to do the next best thing – enlist the help of someone that was so far under the radar as to not be noticed. A House-elf was exactly that. The main flaw in humanity is our tendency to classify anyone unlike us as inferior. No one is more adept at this than Wizards. They believe that since House-elves are bound to humans as servants that they cannot commit acts that could be seen as 'bad', and therefore never bother to take any reasonable precautions against it. Until the article detailing the assassination of one Gellert Grindewauld, that is.

"What do you think Harry?" Ron asked around a mouthful of eggs at breakfast.

"I think that you should chew with your mouth closed, because that," I admonished while gesturing to the front of his shirt, "is disgusting."

Ron merely rolled his eyes and vanished the droppings of food from his robes. "I meant about Grindewauld."

"I think that it's unfortunate."

"How so?" Neville chimed in, helping himself to another piece of toast.

"Well… he used to be a Dark Lord right? His death can mean two things: that Voldemort tortured him for information and then killed him once he was no longer useful, or that someone else killed him to keep Voldemort from getting to him. Either way, the man is dead and any information he could have had for defeating Voldemort is also dead. So while his death could mean that Voldemort never received any instruction on how to win this war quickly, it definitely means that we didn't, and we could use all the help we can get."

Neville nodded thoughtfully. "But what if the assassin was on our side? What if they interrogated Grindewauld themselves? Wouldn't that give us the upper hand?"

"Only if the information gained wasn't something we already knew," Ron said shrugging. "Otherwise it would have been a waste. So," he continued after a few moments of silence, "who are you blokes taking to Hogsmead next weekend?"

Xxx

"It's done." Snape murmured as he passed my cauldron a week after news of Grindewauld's death made front-page news. I nodded, masking my acknowledgement as embarrassment over some fault or another. As the dour man swept on, I glanced across the aisle, catching Draco's eye and giving him the most subtle look of victory that I could manage. The blonde Slytherin only sneered half-heartedly in response.

Once classes let out for the day, I met up with Ron and Luna to brainstorm on our next course of action.

"I'm telling you Harry," Ron insisted, "you're going to have to ask Dumbledore for help. I know what he did to you for 'the greater good', and I know that he was wrong to have done it, but the three of us just don't have the resources to figure out what the other three Horcruxes are."

"But Ron--"

"He's right Harry," Luna said, placing her hand gently on my arm. "Just because you don't like Dumbledore or agree with his methods doesn't mean that you should discount him as an ally. He's still on our side, fighting for the same thing that we are. And the three of us are just students; we wouldn't be able to leave school grounds to per sue any leads even if we had them! It would look to suspicious and only draw attention to that which we need to keep hidden. Working with people you don't exactly see eye-to-eye with is part of life, so you might as well get used to it."

I sighed in defeat. I knew that they were right, I just didn't want them to be. Dumbledore had wronged me greatly, and being at his mercy wasn't something that I wanted to experience again if I could help it. But I guess that in this case I couldn't. Outvoted and outdebated, I nodded and hung my head in defeat.

"Fine," I said at last, "I'll work with the manipulating old coot."